The Case Of The Missing Hand

Chapter Three

"Sherlock, what do you have for me?" Captain Gregson asked on the phone. Our shoes hitting the pavement echoed through the night's air.

"Captain, I'm afraid this is more complicated then it started out as. Miss Cassandra Tate had a connection to the cartel, what that connection was is unknown at this point. She had a hit out on her by one of their assassins, give me the night to go through any files we have on them," I replied.

"Alright, let me know as soon as you've got anything, and Sherlock, DO NOT go anywhere near the cartel alone, we need evidence and a cause, you understand?"

"Yes, I won't," I agreed before ending the call.

"What did he say?" Joan asked, trying to match my speed, Mycroft trailing behind.

"Were going to look into the cartel and their current business," I replied, not turning around.

"So I take it you're not getting any sleep tonight?" Joan asked.

"What? Of cause not, not when this case is getting interesting," I said matter of fact. Joan sighed.

"Because the death of a girl wasn't interesting enough," Joan said sarcastically.

"We should have driven here," Mycroft said, complaining from the back.

"What's wrong Mycroft? A little bit of exercise not agreeing with you," I smirked.

"Hardly. I just don't see the point in wasting time, time better spent on the case," he replied. He had a point. Taxi it is. I pulled out my whistle and blew on it hard with my hand up in the air.

"What...what is he doing?" Mycroft asked. Joan laughed.

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As the taxi pulled up to the brownstone, I knew something was off. The front door was once again unlocked. Only three people on the planet owned keys to the brownstone...well four if you count Mycroft (I still don't know how he got keys), Joan, myself...and of cause

"Father," I groaned out.

"What? Here? How do you know?" Joan asked.

"I know," I replied, gritting my teeth. First Mycroft had the audacity to involve himself in my case, and now my father. Who next, my great aunt?

"What would he be doing here?" Mycroft asked, as puzzled as I was.

"To make me suffer," I replied back sarcastically, earning myself a smack on the arm from Joan.

Walking in, his cologne hit me. Yes, definitely father. He was sitting next to my fireplace, which was now lit.

"Ahh, there you all are. Mycroft, Sherlock, its been a while," He stated, standing up. My father may be older now, but he was still as tall and impressive as ever. I just reached his shoulders. I took after my mother, while Mycroft took after our father in height. Thank-you mother...

"Father, no orphans to steal candy from?" I asked. He smirked as Joan rolled her eyes.

"It's a pleasure to see you Morland. I wish I had of known you were arriving, we would have returned sooner," Joan asked, more politely then he deserved. Morland smiled down at her.

"No need my dear, I was happy to let myself in," he replied, earning an eye roll from me.

"What do we owe the pleasure of your arrival father?" Mycroft asked.

"I heard of your troubles, I knew you would be leaving for New York to help in the investigation. I currently have some business to attend to in New York, so I decided I would attend to said business with hast. It would allow me to assist alongside you as well," he stated.