Note: This is part of an AU series that tells the story of the Holmes family. This tale probably won't make much sense if you come into it blind, but you're welcome to stay nonetheless; I'll try to explain some things as I go along.
Also, please be warned: this particular story deals with aspects of animal cruelty, which I do NOT condone in the slightest. While I don't go into extremely gruesome details about the crimes committed, some parts of this fanfic may come off as disturbing, so please proceed with caution. I will make sure and issue trigger warnings as chapters call for them.
Origins
Chapter One
Kittens. There were kittens everywhere
Linda Holmes almost dropped the bag of groceries in her arm at the sight of the little balls of fur that seemed to be crawling out from every crevice. Some were climbing up the curtain by the window; some were walking all over the counters and some were merely playing with each other, seemingly oblivious to the family dog, Redbeard's, furious barking on the other side of the door that led to the backyard.
"Wha…" She couldn't even form a coherent sentence; she was absolutely mortified. Little animal paws were mucking up her spotless kitchen. She slowly placed the bag on a corner of the counter away from the kittens and looked around.
She knew exactly who was behind this madness.
She heard a noise and saw to her horror that a little grey kitten had decided to try and climb through the large bowl of dog food by the door. Some of the less active kittens suddenly noticed she was standing there and stared to mew and cry. At once, the rest of the kittens joined in, their soft cry crescendoing into a collective high pitched howl that made her flinch.
"Sherlock!" Linda roared, startling all of the kittens into a brief silence. "Come here right now, young man," she barked, taking up a kitten from where it was trying to climb in the fruit basket and placing it gently on the ground. "Oh, God," she whimpered, running to the sink to wash her hands. But she practically screamed and jumped back; there were even kittens in the sink! They stared at her and let out a joint lazy mew.
"They're in the sink." She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "They're just kittens, Linda," she told herself, trying her best to hold herself together. "Just kittens. You can clean up after kittens, you've had worse…"
"I can explain," Sherlock said from behind her, his fourteen-year-old voice slightly cracking.
"Oh, you're going to explain things, all right," Linda replied as she whirled around to face him. As Sherlock Holmes's mother, Linda was used to coming home and seeing a lot of crazy things. But nothing like this. Nothing ever like this. "Let's start with the face that there's about twenty kittens all over my kitchen-"
"Thirty-two, actually. Honestly, Mum, you call yourself a mathematician." At his mother's extremely angry glare, Sherlock slightly gulped and quieted down.
"Fine," she finally said through clenched teeth. "Thirty-two kittens. In my kitchen. Explain."
"Mr. Djardo asked me to find them."
"Who?"
"The pet shop owner in town," he clarified. Linda sighed.
"Why did you need to find them?"
"They went missing, of course," Sherlock replied flatly.
"Well, that part was obvious to me, Sherlock. But why did they go missing?"
"Dr. Hamburg."
"Who?" Linda asked again.
"A self-professed scientist. He kidnapped them from the shop last night because he needed something living to test his latest chemicals on."
"So, he chose...thirty-two kittens as test subjects?"
"Yes."
"What...how did you...it..."A beat of a moment passed as Linda tried to absorb Sherlock's explanation. But as much as she tried to reason her way through the whole ordeal, her mind still couldn't comprehend it. Maybe I'm finally losing my mind, she thought to herself. Instead of spending mental energy to try and figure out why Fate chose her to deal with the insanity of William Sherlock Scott Holmes, she decided to just back off and question him instead.
"How in the world did he manage to get them all out without being seen?"And how did Sherlock manage to get these kittens back and here, her mind wondered
"Oh, that was easy-" Sherlock began, but he stopped talking at the door opening behind Linda and in the doorway stood his father, Chris Holmes.
"Hello, everyone-" Chris said cheerfully. He opened his mouth to say more, but stopped at the mass of kittens that let out a joint cry to welcome him. Chris blinked and looked between his wife and son and the little creatures in front him. "You know," he said casually, trying his best to hide a smile. "I can always tell it's going to be a good time around our house when the kittens come to visit." Sherlock snorted back a laugh, and Linda sighed wearily. Of course, Chris had to try and make light of their youngest son's antics. It was usually his reaction to different situations that was Sherlock's saving grace in the end.
"You're dealing with the kittens," she ordered her husband, who nodded obediently. "You," she continued to Sherlock, "are going to call Mr. Djardo and tell him to come pick up his product immediately."
"And what are you going to do?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm going to go to my room to wait for them all to leave. And then I'm going to clean…everything," she finished with a pointed look to the kitten that was lying upside down and staring at her from Redbeard's food bowl. As Linda walked away to the stairs, Chris and Sherlock looked at each other.
"I'm surprised Mum doesn't have more grey hairs, what with her reactions to what I do," Sherlock said as he walked to the phone. Her overreactions, he corrected in his mind. Kittens in the kitchen was nothing compared to some of the other animals that he had brought into the Holmes household over the years.
"Oh, she gets plenty of them, believe me," Chris replied as he set to work with moving kittens down to the floor.
"And you pick them out before she can see them." Sherlock looked to his father, who shrugged lazily.
"It makes my life much simpler," he said with a smile. They shared a short laugh and Sherlock phoned Mr. Djardo, his pride swelling as the man's joyous cry rang in his ear at the news that his kittens were safe and sound. Chemistry was Sherlock's first love, and would always be so, but he found that as he took on more requests from the people around town to help them with solving different mysteries, it played to his strength of deductions. Without his older brother, Mycroft, around, Sherlock needed something to keep his constantly buzzing mind occupied.
And crime solving was a very acceptable alternative to being bored.
The lives of goldfish could be…somewhat entertaining.
Though Mycroft was quickly learning just how intelligent his little brother was compared to some of the sods that he went to class with at university. Thankfully, it would all be over soon and he would move on with his life. Mycroft was a term away from graduating at the top of his class, and was considering applying for a position within the British government via the recommendation of a professor. He had never really considered the prospect of working for the country, but the more he thought about it, the more he could see himself doing it.
Plus, it would help with keeping a closer eye on Sherlock, he thought dryly.
As he lazily walked down the sidewalk in the village just outside the university, a shape in the shadows of an alleyway caught his attention and caused him to slow his pace. The shape seemed to know exactly how to place itself to remain obscure, and Mycroft inwardly scowled. Though he could read a person as if they were an open book, he was at a disadvantage with the shadow's place in the darkness.
"Hello, Mycroft," a voice said coolly. Mycroft stiffened at the formal greeting and felt himself stand a tad bit taller.
"Hello," he replied levelly. A couple of extremely tense seconds passed in which Mycroft played with the idea to turn around and walk away, but the voice spoke again.
"Has the time gone by that fast?" There was an extremely vague tone of…something…familiar in the voice's words. "Seems like only yesterday you were in nappies."
"Theoretically, that's impossible. I'm twenty-one now; obviously I'm well past nappie age." Why those words came out instead of the typical 'who are you' and 'what do you want' was beyond Mycroft, He had meant to insult and belittle the shadow's (possible) intelligence, but he sensed that whoever was there was immensely amused by his lack of an intelligent response.
"Yes, I suppose it is." A pause. "So a position in the British government is your goal, hmm?" Mycroft blinked in surprise.
"How did you know-"
"You would fit their criteria to the letter," the voice interrupted. "They're always looking for people with a commanding sense of authority like yours. And also, your father told me about it," it added as an afterthought.
"My father?" Now Mycroft was suspicious. "You know my father?"
"Very well, actually." The shadow began to move toward the light with sure, strong steps. Click. Click. Click. Each click of the shadow's heels echoed all around the alleyway. As the light from the street lamp spilled onto the shadow's face, Mycroft let out a somewhat relieved, but annoyed sigh.
"It's been a long time." A smile met his statement.
"Too long."
