He was a tall, handsome man. He had what all women were looking for: good looks, a clever mind and a large fortune. He held himself with grace and always wore the best clothes, but what he had in these, he lacked in manners, and often, in empathy. He did not care for social standards and what was proper, but with a lot of fierce encouragement from his older brother, he acted as if he did hold these things in some regard. This man, sitting by the window in his black armchair, fiddling with his violin, was Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes was being forced out of his home. His brother had purchased a property in the country, and had decided that he and Sherlock were to move there, in order to 'rid their lungs of the London air'. It was also some kind of endeavour for Sherlock to 'socialize and meet new people'. Sherlock had agreed to go, only because he knew there was no getting out of it. Sherlock knew he would have no hope to make new acquaintances, and he really didn't mind this fact. He was moving to the country with his brother Mycroft to prove to him that he could try to change Sherlock, but it would never work. He would always be the unsociable, strange man who often made people uncomfortable, and he would never find a woman who interested him enough to marry.
John Watson and his sister Harriet had lived in Knightly Estate with their parents since they were born. Only for the last year had their cousin, Irene Adler, been staying with them since her father had passed away, and the Watsons were her next of kin. Over the past few weeks, Mrs Watson had been pestering Irene to find a husband, as Harriet was already married and Irene was already eighteen years old. It was crucial for Irene to find a husband as soon as possible, as she had no inheritance, so she needed to wed a man with a fortune. She had had several suitors, but they all left disappointed, as Irene was a very stubborn and opinionated young woman, which often drove men away.
John Watson had recently been introduced to a young woman named Mary Morstan. She had a few suitors, but Mrs Watson pushed John to see her as frequently as possible, as she was a kind woman with a good heart.
"Have you heard?" Harriet entered the dining room.
"Heard what?" asked Mrs Watson.
"A Mr Holmes has purchased Crowley Estate. He's just moved in with his brother."
"How's that Irene? Two brothers!" Mrs Watson beamed in Irene's direction.
Irene gave a dismissive nod and went back to her breakfast.
"How old are they?" Mrs Watson inquired.
"I think the youngest is one and twenty."
"How do you know all this?" John asked, perplexed by his sister's knowledge of two men who had only just arrived that very same day.
"Phillip went over to meet them this morning."
Phillip was Harriet's husband of four years. He liked to be in the loop of things and often stuck his nose in other people's business; not that John ever commented on it.
"Well, he'll have to introduce us." Mrs Watson smiled, and Irene groaned quietly.
It were times like these that John was extremely glad that he wasn't a woman and didn't have to worry so much about getting married. He was five and twenty years old, but if he wanted to, he could be a bachelor all his life, although his mother disapproved of this notion.
"You should meet them too John, it'll be good for you to have some friends you can go riding and shooting with." Mrs Watson suggested.
"Indeed." John replied, hoping to put the matter at rest for the time being.
"I don't know why you're making such a big fuss about your armchair Sherlock; there are plenty of other seats already here." Mycroft said, annoyed.
"It was my favourite armchair. It was very comfortable and good for thinking in. We should have brought it with us on the carriage." Sherlock collapsed on the new house's drawing room sofa childishly.
"What a ridiculous notion." Mycroft smirked at his brother's stupidity.
"I also don't understand why that Anderson fellow felt the need to come and talk to us. Couldn't he see we were busy? Can't we just be left in peace? This is the country; I thought it was meant to be more peaceful than in town."
"It is indeed the country, but people who live in the country like to know everybody, and you shall like to know them also."
Sherlock snorted. "I should not. How boring people are, with their 'How do you do' and 'It's a pleasure to meet you'."
"That is normal civility, which I have talked to you about, so you shall also be civil." Mycroft spoke in his warning tone.
The Holmes brothers followed Mr Anderson to Knightly Estate on horseback. They were going to be introduced to the Watsons, and their niece Irene Adler. They got off their horses and Anderson tapped the door knocker three times before a servant led them inside. They were led to Knightly Estate's drawing room, where the Watsons were situated.
"Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, this is Mrs Watson," a plump woman with blonde curls gave an excited nod. "Mr Watson," a short man with a moustache gave a gruff nod. "John," a young, short man with sandy hair smiled and nodded. "my wife, Harriet," a short, light brown haired woman gave a quick mouth twitch in the Holmes' direction. "and Miss Irene Adler," A young woman with dark brown hair curtseyed nervously. "and this is Mycroft Holmes," Mr Anderson gestured to Mycroft, who stood tall and proud with his cane. "and his younger brother, Sherlock." Sherlock gave a curt nod.
Sherlock and Mycroft were invited to stay for luncheon, much to Sherlock's dismay. During lunch, Mrs Watson asked most of the questions, and Sherlock left it to Mycroft to do most of the answering. After luncheon, they gathered in the drawing room for coffee; Sherlock sitting down on the sofa, shortly after being joined by John, and then Irene on the far left.
"Mr Holmes," John started. "do you enjoy riding?"
"It is tolerable." Sherlock answered without moving his gaze.
"Shooting?" John offered.
"I am not very good at it." Sherlock took a quick sip of his coffee.
"What do you enjoy doing?"
"Solving crimes." Sherlock answered shortly.
"Solving crimes? Do you mean to say that you are a detective?" John asked, suddenly intrigued.
Irene moved closer to listen in to the conversation.
"Of sorts. I am not officially a detective. What I mean to say is that I do not work for the police, but I do assist them."
"What do you mean?" Irene asked.
John turned to look at her, surprised at her interest.
"I am a consulting detective."
"I've never heard of it." Irene said.
"You wouldn't have. I am the only one. I assist Detective Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard with many of his cases. The police are more often than not incapable of solving the crimes themselves."
"So you do this work for them without payment?" Irene asked.
"Oh yes. I don't need any more money, and the results are enough of a reward for me."
"You are quite intriguing." John remarked.
"Well…" Sherlock started. "You could come to a case some time, if you please."
Irene looked wide-eyed and disappointed that she wasn't offered this excursion.
"I don't know if that would be very appropriate." John remarked. "Not to mention what my mother would think of me attending a crime scene by choice."
"Suit yourself." Sherlock took a long sip from his coffee, and set down the empty cup, getting up from his seat to speak to his brother. "Mycroft," he mumbled in his brother's ear. "I've had quite enough talk for one night, I should like to go now."
"Quite." Mycroft replied quietly to Sherlock, before clearing his throat. "Thank you for a wonderful evening; it was a pleasure to meet you all. I'm afraid we must be off, but I'm sure we will see each other again in no time at all."
"The pleasure was ours; you are welcome back any time." Mrs Watson smiled widely.
Sherlock nodded in John and Irene's direction before turning to leave.
"That was tedious." Sherlock remarked as he and Mycroft were on the driveway.
"Do try to give them a chance, Sherlock," Mycroft replied. "we won't find any better company."