Sophia Holmes and the Empty Hearse (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

They waste no time in taking us back to their interrogation centre and chaining our arms up to the walls. They strip dad of all the clothes on his upper half, but the man who looks to be in charge intervenes before they can remove mine as well. He doesn't stop them from taking a whip against me once they realise I'm dad's weak point, however.

I cry out in pain as he strikes me again. I've lost count of how many times he's done it, and I groan as he hits me in the stomach again. I lean into the chains which are the only things keeping me standing upright, exhausted by the repeated blows and unable to support my own weight.

Eventually, the torturer stops this most recent wave of whipping to pace the room, demanding answers from dad. "You broke in here for a reason," he says in Serbian, picking up a large metal pipe and walking towards dad. "Just tell us why and we'll let her go and you can sleep. Remember sleep?"

He walks over to me and draws the pipe back over his shoulder, preparing to strike. I give a desperate shake of my head at dad to stop him saying anything, but dad whispers something quietly, something I can't hear. The torturer stops, lowering the pipe and walks back to dad, leaning forward to listen.

"What?" he asks, reaching down and pulling dad's head back by the hair, leaning closer as dad continues to whisper.

"Well?" the man in the corner asks. His Serbian has a heavy accent to it, which I find odd. "What did he say?"

Straightening up and releasing dad's head, the torturer looks down at him in puzzlement.

"He said that I used to work in the navy, where I had an unhappy love affair." Through my pain, I grin slightly, but it's masked behind the strands of hair falling in front my face.

"What?" the other man says in surprise, but dad continues to whisper and the torturer relays his words to the other man.

"...that the electricity isn't working in my bathroom; and that my wife is sleeping with our next door neighbour!" He reaches down and pulls dad's head back up by his hair. "And?" Dad replies briefly and the torturer releases his head. "The coffin maker!" Once again he bends down to dad, lifting his head with a fist in his hair. "And? And?" Dad continues whispering, then the torturer drops his head and relays the words to the other man. "If I go home now, I'll catch them at it! I knew it! I knew there was something going on!"

He storms out of the room, and I relax slightly. I don't know how dad was able to deduce that: doubtless he was already looking into his family in case this situation arose.

"So, my friends," the other man says. "Now it's just you and me." He takes his feet off the table and stands up. I brace myself again for more whipping as he walks closer. "You have no idea the trouble it took to find you." He stops in front of dad and grabs a fistful of hair, pulling his head up a little again. He leans in close, and I can just about hear him as he speaks, his Serbian dropping as he assumes his usual well-spoken English. Mycroft! "Now listen to me. There's an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear." He releases dad's head and straightens up. "Back to Baker Street, Sherlock and Sophia Holmes."