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

Chapter Twenty One - The Empty Hearse Part IX

"Are you sure about this?" Molly asks quietly as dad passes her on his way back over to study the couple again.

"Absolutely."

"Should I be making notes?"

"If it makes you feel better."

"It's just that that's what John says he does, so if I'm being John ..."

Dad frowns as he sits down in his chair. "You're not being John – you're being yourself." Molly smiles proudly in response and I can't help but smile too. They're perfect for each other.

"Well, absolutely no one should have been able to empty that bank account other than myself and Helen," Mr Harcourt explains. Dad looks at him closely before standing up again and walking over to them.

"Why didn't you assume it was your wife?" dad asks.

"Because I've always had total faith in her," Mr Harcourt replies, but the truth is clear.

"No," dad corrects, "it's because you emptied it." He points to Mr Harcourt's stomach, hair line and forehead as he speaks. "Weight loss, hair dye, Botox; affair." He whips out a business card and holds it out to Mrs Harcourt. "Lawyer. Next!"

Mr Harcourt looks awkwardly down at his wife as she stands up and walks out without paying him the slightest regard, before following her out.

"Since when have you carried around a solicitor's business card?" I question, curious. I reach into his pocket and find a whole stack of them inside. I'm stunned at the name I find on the cards. "Harriett Watson, family solicitor? John's sister?"

"Who else?" dad replies. I look at him pointedly, so he expands. "She helped finalise mine and your mum's divorce after she came back. I've kept her cards ever since."

My stomach clenches. "Wait, you divorced? When were you planning on telling me?"

Dad looks at me in regret. "We signed them just after Mycroft released her, but she was killed a few weeks later. I didn't have it in me to tell youat the time, and then the thing with Moriarty happened so I never got the chance. I'm sorry."

Molly watches on without saying a word, but my eyes narrow. "Wait a second, Molly, you helped dad fake the body and records, didn't you?" She freezes and looks to dad, but he nods.

"Yes."

"But you also faked mum's death, the second time around, at Christmas - didn't you? You did it again just after she was released as well to avoid her being followed."

Dad spins around to me quickly. "How do you know about that?"

"Same way I knew you were alive," I answer, getting angry. "So it's true, isn't it. Mum's alive." Dad's hesitation says it all. "I knew it. I bloody knew it. Anything else I need to know about me? Do I have a secret aunt hidden away somewhere? Where is she?"

"She's on a witness programme somewhere in America. I don't know where." I walk over to him and look him in the eyes, measuring whether or not he's telling the truth. The pain in his eyes suggests it's true. "Sorry, sorry again!"

I draw back, unsure what to do with this new information. I could have been in the same city as her when I was over there. We could have walked past each other and I never noticed. I bite my lip and move back over to sit in his seat, my silence sending the only message I want to send to him as Mrs Hudson brings up our next client.

"Miss and Mr Windibank," Mrs Hudson announces as they walk in.

"Just take a seat on the sofa and tell us why you came here," dad says, composing himself as the woman and an older man - her father - enters. I stand off to the side, biting the insides of my mouth and glaring at dad. I can't believe there's so much I didn't know.

The woman is clearly distressed and sits on the sofa, sobbing quietly. Her father looks at us. "She'd been conversing with someone she met online," he explains. "They seemed perfect for each other: he shared the same interests as her, talked about everything. Jodie suggested they meet up, but ... he never responded."

Dad pulls up a stool in front of the woman and clasps her hands, patting them sympathetically as he talks softly to her. "And your pen pal's emails just stopped, did they?" Miss Windibank nods, whimpering as she cries. Molly looks across to her but then continues writing notes at the dining table. "And you really thought he was the one, didn't you? The love of your life?" The woman takes off her glasses and cries harder and I whisper down to Molly.

"Stepfather posing as online boyfriend," I say.

Molly looks up, shocked. "What?!"

"Breaks it off, breaks her heart. She swears off relationships, stays at home – he still has her wage coming in."

Dad looks up to the father as he comes to the same conclusion as me. "Mr Windibank, you have been a complete and utter arsehole," he says and I snort.

The man looks up in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

Dad doesn't address him, but talks to the daughter. "Your father has been sending you emails pretending to be your boyfriend when his intention was to break your heart, keep you home, and maintain the quite comfortable wage you bring in," dad explains. "I'd suggest you have a talk, but not here," he looks up at me before continuing, "We don't do domestics."

After dad shows them the door, we get a call from Lestrade. Dad accepts the call, then puts on speaker, laying it on the table in front of me and Molly.

"Yes?" dad says.

"Alright Sherlock? You busy?"

I smile. "Where is it?"

Lestrade sighs, relieved. "You heard of the Skeleton Mystery that's been in the papers? Well, we've hit a brick wall. Would appreciate it if you guys could take a look at it now you're back."

"Dear, dear, Lestrade," I say, playfully. "How did you cope without us?"

"Oi, I did alright, thank you!" he replies and I grin.

"Where is it?" dad asks.

"Not too far from you, actually," Lestrade replies. "32 Boston Place."

I frown: that's just seven streets away. Surprisingly close, but certainly not a coincidence.

Dad nods. "We'll be there in five."