Hi peps!
I am full of stupid ideas, so as you can imagine, this story starts with a very strange one and to tell you the truth, this is different, but don't dismiss it. And by the way I mention Sherrinford Holmes (which is a character that only appears on the notes of Sir Artur but his existance spares a lot of troubles to Mycroft and Sherlock regarding the Holmes' family titles), I also could have go with Siger but I don't need a Sherlock wanna be. And of course Nero, because I actually love the jackass that he is in his own detective stories.
Enjoy, and you decide if I continue or not. If no one says anything well... I shall try something different... Oh and if you want for better understanding, you guys could read my previous fic. Thanks.
He had never felt so humiliated in his whole life.
There wasn't anything more uncomfortable than being forced to wait for someone, who was running late, in the middle of a country club tea room filled with a nauseating mix composed of sweet perfumes and perspiration. August had brought the heat with it and yet that didn't mean that the ladies of the upper society could wear anything less proper.
"Sherlock dear, don't divagate." a woman with whom he shared half of his being was gazing at him with a stern look.
It had been her… She was the one to bring him here… Many, such as John, would have a laugh and would remember the occurrence for future reference until the end of his days, however the question laid on the fact that he would never be able to say no to his mother, a characteristic that he was considering at that moment somewhat spiteful considering the actual location.
A date…
His dear old mother had brought him, William Sherlock Scott Holmes to a date, a blind date to be more precise.
It seemed that his mother had reached the age of craving for successors to their family. The inevitable had happened and by some reason that he was not able to fully comprehend, he had been the one, chosen by his mother, to continue their ancient and noble line, as Mycroft had put it. However, a few years ago, even that he nourished a relative amount of affection to that particular woman, he wouldn't care less how she obtained what she wanted, she could steal one of the heirs to the British throne that he would not move a finger.
Nowadays, even his undeveloped sense of guilt would make itself noticeable when he laid eyes on his mother, and all due to a disgraced situation with The Woman. His mother, so fervently searched for a way to pass on her heritage and him, so easily had abandoned its one offspring in the selfish hope that he could regain the life that he had lost with his supposed death. Not that the whole affair had been easy, but she had understood, the Woman could easily relate with him, if she had his chance, she wouldn't look back. And yet, his life wasn't the same, the sentiment had remained had most of days was impossible to suppress. The occurrence in John's weeding had brought her permanent manifestation in his mind place and it was getting more and more exhausting in each attempt to subdue her presence.
And now, his mother had come to him with the preposterous idea that he was in need of a woman in his private life, the same man that had just one serious relationship in his life with a woman and the main reason was that she had borne his child, or at least that was what he told himself.
"Sherlock dear, I am aware that this is not ideal, but just for once trust me. And don't make that face." He could only sneer, how could he trust her when she had placed him such position, why not Mycroft or even Sherrinford for all he cared. But no, it had to be Sherlock. "She is a precious young lady with a wonderful young son."
And there was the reason. The young son. The girl was being played by his mother, which shouldn't surprise him the slightest, however, he found hard to believe that his mother was desperate enough to actually manipulate someone else's emotions to acquire what she wanted.
"A precious young lady, you say… Without a doubt she's not more than a spoiled debutant with a new rich American for a father. Not to mention the fact that, for what you've informed me she's raising a young son on her own, hardly difficult to make a deduction…"
"Sherlock!"
"Mr Holmes, I am afraid that we never had the magnificent pleasure to meet you, Lady Victoria Somerset, the spoiled debutant with the supposed new rich American as a father." Now this, he was not predicting in the slightest. Her true self, as her biological family would say.
"I suppose you know the problem with disguises… It's always a self-portrait."
His mother had committed a mistake of colossal proportions… She had chosen Nero, his son, for a grandchild and consequently The Woman, his woman, for a partner. Now this was getting rather fun, his mother would never know what hit her…
Hope that you enjoyed it, there aren't many stories about mommy Holmes and that should be rectified.
Review or not...But it's you choice if I continue or not.
Have a great week people!