Sophia Holmes and the Geek Interpreter (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Three

We spend the next hours researching the KRATIDES, and three hours in, I feel that I'm more knowlegable about these heros than any of Chris's mates were. As it generally happens when dad is forced to fill up his mind palace with unneccessary trivia such as this, he soon becomes irritable, unable to stay in his seat for more than five minutes before getting up and pacing. I'm gritting my teeth and baring it, putting all the information I gather in the 'Short Term' section of my mind palace, which is actually a large wheely bin just outside the door. Some of it's interesting, however, such as the fact that the company which writes the KRATIDES is a fairly new group, having only set up shop two years ago. That would be too new to have three books out already and a forth on its way.

"I'm going to the comic shop," I burst, looking up from my screen. Dad doesn't look over, but John pops his head up from behind his own laptop.

"Alright, do you want me to come with you?" he asks, frowning in concern as I pull myself painfully onto my feet.

"You wouldn't know what to look for," I say. "You'd only slow the process down." He looks startled for a second before I realise that what I said may have offended him. I give him my attempt at an apologetic look setting off.

***

As I approach the shop, I brush my hair back into a tight and small bun with a wince as I pull against the bullet wound, but then slip on a pair of thickly rimmed glasses. The bell which hangs behind the door tinkles melodically as I push it open, a fair collection of white paint flaking off in my hand. The man behind the desk is an overweight drunk with suspected heart disease, and he looks like he's only just left school. I have to shoot the shirt which is pulled tight over his stomach a second glance, however, as I see the figure of a Weeping Angel, the monster we encountered with the Doctor several weeks ago, painted on his shirt, the slogan 'The Angels are Coming' written in white above it.

I walk over to him just as he draws the beer can away from his mouth, and rest my hands patiently on the counter. As he sees me, I can hear the liquid inside the can slosh around the sides as he jumps, the beer almost leaping out if the shop assistant hadn't have drunken so much.

"What do you want?" he asks me, wiping away the foam from his black moustache.

"I was just wondering where you kept your store of KRATIDES comics," I tell him, tapping my fingers on the counter. "I've just started reading them, I wonder if you can tell me anything about them."

"The KRATIDES novels?" he repeats, correcting me, and with a strained smile, I nod. "Yeah, those are the ones which have gained a lot of publicity lately. Have you seen the website a couple of lads set up a while back? One of them reckons they're real. A complete loonie, if you ask me, but it's good for sales."

"What, they've gone up?" I confirm, heading over to the direction he points and start flicking through a few of the books.

"Through the roof," he says. "Tell me if you need anything else." The shop attendant turns and heads back to his desk to help someone else who's just come through the door. I frown slightly at her appearance. She wears an old brown coat and a few fleeces layered over each other and the smell ... well, we won't go there. She's most certainly homeless, and the fact that she's here now seems to suggest that she's here for me - she clearly isn't here to buy comics, despite what she's saying to assistant. Eventually, she moves over to me, and I busy myself inside one of the books, but keeping a bespectacled eye on her.

"An Apple iPhone is more reliable than a Samsung." My head flips around to face her, my mouth falling open. Only one person ever greeted me like that, and she's dead.

"The data stored on a Samsung is more secure than one on an Apple device and it is also harder to hack," I say seriously before dropping my voice. "Where the hell have you been? I've covered half of London looking for you. If you needed to hide, we could have offered you a place in Baker Street."

"You should have looked in the other half," she laughs softly. "And you know how I feel about your dad."

"Fair point," I shrug. "So what brings you back."

"That father of yours wants you back home. He gave me cash for us to take a cab," she tells me, putting a filthy hand back inside her coat to feel at the fifty note that dad must have given her. "We have to pick some stuff up first though. He hasn't told me much, but I think he wants us to track some guy called Kemp. Do you know of him?"

"He's part of a case we're working on at the moment," I tell her, knowing that I can't be saying much more than dad has already told her, or that she's figured out since then. "Honestly, though, he's getting as bad as Mycroft," I curse in disbelief. How long has he known that one of my best friends is alive? "Alright. Let's go."