The Holmes' Sister

One Holmes Death

I squint as I open my eyes, bright light everywhere.  Sherlock's voice penetrating the silence but it's muffled,  he's outside the room I smirk, and I flatline.

-Sherlock's POV-

I hear the sound before registering what is happening, I rush into my sister's hospital room to see her heart monitor showing the flatline I despise.  Rushing over to her side I take her pulse, coming back without one I leave the room not wanting to be there, and I feel myself slowly lock up the feelings I had opened for my little sister.

-Anistyn's POV-

The machine screeched, soon it was turned off by a nurse and I am wheeled away.  Eventually I hear a door open, and Molly gasps.

"She looks so much like Sherlock,  do you think it's a warning?"  She quietly questions the nurse.

"It fact this was his youngest sister."  The nurse replies honestly. 

-

Soon Molly leaves the room, and Mary comes in, frazzled.  I open my eyes and see fake tears streaming down her cheeks, "Sherlock is devastated, and John doesn't know what to do."  She tells me quickly.  I get off the table, and quietly leave the room, while Mary places the fake body that looks identical to me.

~~~~~~

-One week later-

I frown as I type out the latest death into the article, my death.  Now I am a journalist by the alias of Summer Nielson, and my family would die a horrible fate if I hadn't faked mine, well the man doesn't know I faked mine so I'm in the clear. 

"Nielson."  My boss barks, and my head snaps up looking over to him, "We need this Holmes article on the front page, make it good."  I nod curtly as my reply, and type quickly finishing the article in minutes.  I guess it's easy writing about your life once it's supposedly over, I hit enter quickly to send the article in an email to my boss, he'll look it over and approve it.  I don't know why he wants to look it over himself, but it seems important to him I didn't know him,  well Anistyn didn't know him.  I gather my things, and walk out of the office with determination in each step.  I had dyed my hair a natural red, I now have green color contacts on, I quickly picked up a scottish accent, and to top it all off bought new clothes and makeup.  A smile creeps onto my lips, I am a true Holmes. 

Entering my small flat, I look around.  A small sitting room in front of the door making it the main room, the kitchen. Is off to the right side, and so is a bathroom, with my bedroom on the left.  Not much, but it will do for the next several years to pick off Anistyn's murderer slowly, and exact, before he knew what hit him he will be dead.  I flop down into the desk leaning against the far wall, with my laptop on it.  I pull up the tabs I had open before, I click unmute button, enabling the bugs I had planted in 221B when Sherlock was out, and before I had "died". 

"Sherlock, you can't just upturn your flat."  John scolds him, I smirk the bugs are working perfectly.

"Yes I can!  She was my baby sister, and I couldn't save her!"  Sherlock erupts, and I hear things being thrown about in anger, distress, and extreme sadness. 

"Seems odd when you say that."

"What."  Sherlock snaps

"Baby sister, it sounds like you have emotion."  John replies in thought.

"Not anymore."  Sherlock snarls, and the sound of a lamp shattering startles me, making me jump.  I hover my finger over the microphone button, tempted to make it so I can talk through the bugs.  I slowly put my hands in my lap, and listen to my brother and John bicker, then John eventually leaves slamming the door in his wake.  Leaving Sherlock to his own devices, not a good idea. 

Taking a piece of stationary and a pencil I write;  Sherlock, I knew it might come to this, and if your reading this I guess I'm dead.  I know you will blame yourself.  Don't, William Sherlock Scott Holmes don't you dare blame yourself for my death.  Sherlock I had a nagging sense I was next in line for the murderer, he was and maybe still is targeting your/our friends, and family now.  Please keep the rest safe, William don't lock yourself up, don't do anything stupid.  You always used to do that when you where little and someone you cared about went away, or something happened you didn't like.  Don't be alone, Sherlock be nice for once in your life, I'm sorry.  Hopefully, after I'm gone someone will drop this letter at your door, or somewhere you'll find it...  I'm gone know so don't pity me any longer.
So there's my note, isn't that what people do?

-Anistyn Jaime Maria Holmes

I flick my wrist on the s of Holmes concluding my letter.  Carefully I slide it into its envelope,  set it down and stare at it.  I don't want to cause him more pain,  of course mother, and father don't know I'm dead, I already filled them in along with the secrecy.  Wouldn't want them to get heart atracks. 

-The next morning, 2 am-

Sliding out of bed I swipe the letter addressed to Sherlock Holmes off my nightstand, grab my coat and stride out of my flat.  Not bothering to conceal my appearance, since I don't look like Anistyn anymore, I dont even sound like her anymore.  As I get to 221B I almost open the door to go up there, as if going home.  But I'm not going home, not yet.  I ring the doorbell and slide the envelope under the front door and walk calmly away. 

When I get to my tiny flat, I dash to my laptop, clicking the unmute button so I can hear inside 221B.

"Anistyn, what have you done."  I hear Sherlock say shakily, I can only imagine he just found the letter as I hear paper being cut (Using a letter opener, to open the letter...  Very smart.  Hah hah)  His voice becomes shaky as he reads it out loud to himself, and my heart shatters inside me. 

"Sherlock I'm so sorry."  I say under my breathe to the screen.  And once my brother finishes reading the letter, he replies to it, "I will, I will keep them safe Jaime."  I gasp, he never has called me that since Redbeard died.

I have to make this right.  I will make this right.