Deductions (A Wholock Fanfiction)

Chapter 6

NARDOSA'S POV

I awoke to the unnatural silence of Sherlock's flat. Rubbing my eyes, I pulled myself into a sitting position and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I stumbled to the door, trying to get the feeling back into my legs.

"Sherlock," I called, my voice hoarse. I pulled open the door and found myself walking to the kitchen, immediately noticing Sherlock. My brother was peering into a microscope, turning the dials with precision.

My attention was then drawn to the object in the middle of the table: a simple metal pocketwatch with strange circular engravings.

"That's what he handed me last night, isn't it?" I questioned, my voice nearly at a whisper. "The man that kidnapped me."

"Yes." I looked back up at Sherlock, meeting his gaze. He stood up, walking around the table until he was right in front of me.

"W-Who do you think he is?," I asked, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. Sherlock merely stood in silence, refusing to admit that not even he, the world's only consulting detective, knew the answer. "You don't know, do you?" Sherlock sighed.

"Sherlock?" John called, ending the tension that had settled in the room. "Greg has another case for us!" Sherlock frowned, looking confused.

"Greg?" John's frustrated sigh could be heard even from the bottom of the steps.

"Lestrade!" My brother glanced over at me. The puzzled face he had a moment before was still present. I shrugged.

"I didn't even realize you had friends," I answered simply.

Running downstairs before he could reply, I snatched my leather jacket, which hung right next to the trench coat I had given my brother the last Christmas we spent together. I smiled, watching Sherlock as he grabbed it and slipped it on.

"You kept it," I mumbled, opening the door as Sherlock put on his scarf.

"Why wouldn't I?" Sherlock countered, ruffling my hair. I swatted his hand away childishly. "It was a gift from my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister," I huffed, crossing my arms. John waved over a taxi, and we piled in one after the other.

"Right you are."

Only ten minutes later, the three of us arrived at the crime scene. As soon as we got out of the taxi, we were met by a Detective Inspector, who started walking alongside us.

"Lestrade," Sherlock greeted, mostly for my benefit. "What is it this time?"

"A break in," he began, walking through the door, not bothering to make sure we were following him. "But this one's a little different."

"What do you mean, different?" John wondered aloud, just as we walked into another room.

His question was answered as soon as we entered the room. Blood covered the walls, forming fancy circular designs, not unlike the ones on the pocketwatch given to Sherlock. A smiley face was doodled on the door, a bloodstained parchment was attached to the mirror.

"I am coming for you, my dear Holmes."

"Sherlock," I called, reading the parchment to myself. Sherlock walked over to where I stood, having been examining the designs on the walls. "It's the same man."

"I know," he agreed, grabbing my hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He dropped it however when he went to get samples of the blood. I stood in silence, watching him carefully. "What do you think he wants with me?"

Sherlock dropped the magnifying glass he was holding, making it drop to the floor and shatter. He turned to me, setting his large hands onto my shoulders. His gaze burned into mine, almost searching (which they probably were).

"What makes you think he wants you?" Sherlock asked. I blinked, remembering how little Sherlock knew. I hadn't gotten around to telling him what happened quite yet.

"He - he thought that-"

"Who? Who are you talking about, Nara?" Sherlock pressured me, shaking my shoulders lightly.

"He thought you wouldn't save me," I whispered, haunted by the memory. "He called me his." I shivered, remembering his breath on the back of my neck.

Sherlock sighed, pulling me towards him. My head was rested under his chin, where I tried to prevent myself from crying out in fright. Sniffling, I pulled away reluctantly.

"Not yet, Sherls," I mumbled, passing the others on my way out the door. Pausing, I glanced over my shoulder. "Don't bother following, I'm sure Mycroft will pick me up and make you work on the case."

"Nara-"

"Nardosa," I corrected, putting some force into my tone. "Or Eloise, take your pick."

"I never asked," Greg began, interrupting our conversation. "Why Eloise?"

"Ariella Nardosa Eloise Holmes," I recited, turning on my heel. "At your service."