Sherlock x LittleSister!Reader - Crime Scenes! (2)

~CATCHING BUBBLES~

Minutes later, the cab stopped in front of a house - new by the looks of it - where officers are bustling around. (And when I say bustling, I mean walking around, gossiping and not doing their bloody jobs).

~SH~

John stepped out of the cab - after paying for it again - followed by Sherlock, who had his hand held by a certain little girl.

(Name)'s eyes were so alight with a mixture of euphoria, excitement and awe, while surveying the crime scene - John didn't know wether to be happy for her, or concerned.

They made their way to the police tape - and lo and behold - there was Sally Donovan - arms crossed over her chest, and a smug grin on her face. Sherlock sighed, and waited for the inevitable insult.

"Evening, John," she said, nodding in the doctor's direction. Her eyes then moved to Sherlock. "Hello there fr-"

She stopped mid-sentence when she spotted (Name), who was watching her with curious eyes. For a moment, she was struck speechless - the 6-year-old was just so bloody cute.

Shaking her head, and snapping out of it - Donovan finally found her voice.

"W-who is this?" she asked, gripping the police tape tightly - as if resisting the urge to pinch (Name)'s cheeks.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the policewoman's antics, and gestured towards the child.

"This - Sally - is my sister, (Name) Holmes," the little girl grinned, at the mention of her name - and Donovan face did a thing that Sherlock thought impossible.

Donovan smiled.

Not one of those smug or fake ones, or anything. A real smile - ringing with it's genuineness. It almost hurt to see it on her face.

Sherlock almost expected a remark along the lines of 'Oh lord, there are more of you?' - so to see that smile... Sherlock was hiding his shock quite well.

John cleared his throat, causing Sally to look up. Noticing her mistake, she pressed her lips into a line.

"Oh, um... Right," she said, then spoke into her walkie-talkie. "Holmes is here - and he's got company."

~SH~

When the three of them reached the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock turned to his sister.

"(Name), I think you should leave Shercroft here," he said, gesturing to the bear, safely tucked under the little girl's arm.

She looked at it sadly, as if debating with herself. As much as she wanted him to see the crime scene, she knew his fur might contaminate the scene. She didn't want that - it might make 'Lock upset - and she definitely didn't want to be the reason 'Lock was upset.

Coming to a decision, she carefully placed the stuffed animal on a small table. Before she left, (Name) stroked the top of his head first, and whispered into the fuzzy ear.

"Stay here, alright? I'll ask 'Lock to take some pictures and we'll look at them when we get back, ok?"

She then made his head move in a nodding motion - unbeknown to her, that the two men were looking at the situation, with barely concealed amusement.

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, she gave Shercroft one last pat, before running back to her place beside her brother - who took her hand immediately.

The three of them climbed up the stairs - the detective not bothering to inform a certain detective inspector of their presence.

~SH~

The three inhabitants of 221B, stood at the doorway, inspecting the scene with sharp eyes.

A man - late-thirties - was dead, lying face down on his bed. No blood, no wound. He was wearing a business suit - banker by the looks of it - who had recently got into some money, bought this house - only to be murdered in it.

After the general analysis, the two siblings stepped forward. Sherlock snapped a few pictures, here and there (he didn't eavesdrop on [Name]'s conversation with Shercroft - he just happened to overhear) and was now using his magnifier, observing god-knows-what.

(Name) stood a few feet away from the bed, hands behind her back, and eyes moving rapidly, as if taking in every inch of the scene - down to the last detail.

John stood there on the doorway, dumbfounded.

'Oh, so they're a team now?'

The exact moment when the detective slid close his magnifying glass, the little girl blinked - and together, they walked out of the room - leaving John leaning on the doorframe, trying to process what just happened.

The blogger followed suit a minute later - only to be stopped by a familiar high-pitched scream from downstairs.