A/N: Obviously, if you've read "Midnight Chats" this is off from that as Russell knew very little about Sherlock Holmes' family aside from Mycroft in that story, and if this happened before that, it would make no sense, but ah well… still the same general idea of his family life that was first sparked when I watched "Young Sherlock Holmes" some years ago. Onward!
The day was only slightly gloomy when I placed the last of my clothing that I intended to take with me into the bag and swung it over my shoulder. It had been a week since the closing of the our case. The one in which I had accepted my long time friend and partner's proposal. I'd taken very little time to reflect on it, and this was the first moment of silence, as I waited to go to the train station and meet Holmes. I had not spoken about it to a soul about it, secretly feeling as if I mentioned it, I might wake to find it all some cruel dream. That, and I had made myself a silent promise that Uncle John and Mycroft should be two of the first to know. I was sure Holmes had told Mrs. Hudson, but one could never be sure. The wonderful lady would be ecstatic.
"I'm just being foolish," I mumbled to myself.
"Are you now?"
I whirled around to see Holmes sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking quite comfortable with his long legs stretched out. "What on earth are you doing here?" I demanded, promising myself I would not blush at being caught speaking with myself aloud. "I thought we were going to - When did you come in?" Had I really been that absorbed in my thoughts.
"Oh, not five minutes ago," he answered as he pulled his pipe and tobacco from his coat pocket.
I shook my head with a smile on my face. "I was just about to be on my way."
"As well you should be. We'll be late if you don't."
I gave him a questioning glance as I looked down at the wrist watch I had bought. "But we still have a good forty-five minutes before the train leaves." And, I neglected to say, another twenty minutes before he was even supposed to be there.
He smirked slightly and motioned for me to check the sound of it. I lifted it up to my ear and frowned as the ticking that should have sounded did not. He held a pocket watch before me and I frowned even deeper. "Well let's go then."
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"You haven't said a word to either of them?" I asked as we made our way from the train station to Mycroft's rooms, where we intended to meet both Holmes' brother and Uncle John.
"I'd wager Mycroft knows something is going on, even if he is not quite sure of what, though I wouldn't put it past him to know exactly what."
I chuckled at this. "Yes, I would imagine that. And dear Uncle John? I'd venture to say that he is in the dark."
It was Holmes' turn to chuckle lightly as we made the corner onto the street where we saw Mycroft's rooms. I was shaking my head in good humour the rest of the way to it.
"Holmes! Mary!"
We turned to see Uncle John just making his way up the walk, his eyes positively twinkling in delight. It had been some time since we had seen him. He shook Holmes' hand and embraced me quickly, planting a light kiss on my cheek as he did so and then we were up to see the elder of the Holmes' brothers.
Mycroft met us nearly at the door, surprising me with his burst of energy. A rarity indeed. He welcomed both Uncle John and I before reaching over for his brother and muttering something in his ear. Holmes went white.
"What?" Holmes managed, his voice barely seeming to function correctly.
"Just as I said. Ah, Mary, I'm sure Sherlock has spoken little of our family. He tends not to often, so this is a pleasure indeed."
I had to admit that I was slightly lost in it all. "Excuse me?"
"Apparently," Holmes said through clenched teeth, not bothering to hide his irritation, "Mycroft's and my father has come for a brief stay. I take it she is with him." The last was directed at Mycroft.
"Yes. Sherlock, please try to be pleasant. I know your thoughts on the matter - I assure you mine are simply unspoken - but you must try to be civil. I fear he will not be with us much longer."
I saw Holmes' eyes harden slightly and his entire posture was that of one know he would not enjoy the time he would spend here, but would force himself through it for a sense of duty to family.
In the lingering silence that followed Mycroft's request, Uncle John voiced the thoughts that ran through my head. "I had no idea that your father is alive, Holmes. You'd never mentioned him."
"For good reason," Holmes mumbled under his breath. "You say he's in poor health, Mycroft?"
"He was eighty-nine this past year, Sherlock."
"Yes… And how old is she this year?"
I raised an eyebrow at the crisp tone of his voice and wondered, though only to myself, who the elusive "she" that he was referring to truly was.
"It's not kind to ask a lady's age, Sherlock," a voice entered the room. I turned my eyes to the woman who had entered. She was small (I was sure I would tower over her if she should approach) and dainty. Her dark green eyes flashed with an almost seductive fashion and she looked as if she were pouting. She was not Holmes' mother, I could tell, for she couldn't be much older than he was. Though I was sure that she looked younger than her actual age.
"Hello, Adeline," Holmes greeted her sharply.
She smiled and approached him, extending her hand to him as he brought it up in the traditional manner, but not to his lips. Certainly she caught the small action, but said nothing. "You haven't introduced me to your guests, dear."
He bristled at this and made no trouble at hiding it. "Dr. John Watson, a long time friend of mine and Miss Mary Russell who helps me on most of my current cases."
"Ah? John Watson that rights those lovely stories that show in the Strand? How lovely! And Miss Russell, what a pretty young lady."
I thanked her quietly.
"Well," Mycroft interrupted the none too pleasant pleasantries, "perhaps we should move to the sitting room." And so we did.
A/N: Well, there's the first chapter. It probably won't be too awful long. I have it written out my theory on Sherlock Holmes' general past and basically when he was born and all. I've taken part of it from LRK's "The Beekeeper's Apprentice" in which I found Holmes saying he was 54 years old in 1915. I had to rework the numbers that I had worked for my previous fic, but that was all right. In other words, in "The Case of the Haunted Room", it was really supposed to be about 1874 instead of 1872 and he was born in 1861 instead of '59. I was only off by a little, thinking him perhaps 56 instead of 54 in BKA, but all in all I'm more pleased that he is younger than I first thought b/c it's difficult to think of Holmes aging... He's been immortalized. Anyway, Hope everyone enjoyed. If you'd like me to post my dates up to have a general idea (personally, I like to have things like that written out nice and neatly in front of me, but some people don't care) feel free to tell me.
Also, as a final note as just a question getting people's ideas, and you might find me foolish for asking, but ah well. Does anyone believe the forwards that LRK writes in the beginning of her Mary Russell series about recieving a trunk from Mary Russell? Just curious if anyone believes it and the reasons for believing it. I've skimmed over (so quickly it shouldn't be called skimming) the first page or two of one of her other books and it looked nothing like the style of the Mary Russell series... Just an observation.
Please R&R. I'm an addict to reviews, though mine is a 100 per-cent sollution instead of 7 per-cent. :)