Growing up Holmes

Prologue: An Introduction to Beatrice

So you want to know what my childhood was like? What it was like to grow up as the daughter of a doctor and a politician? I shouldn't think it was all that different than how other children grow up. Then again growing up a Holmes is infinitely different from anything else. Maybe I should explain a few things about myself first. That might help you to understand a little better.

First off I should tell you that I hate my name. Beatrice. Ugh. It's awful. It sounds like an old spinster lady with about a million cats. I hate cats. Nasty little creatures they are, so smug all the time. Anyway, so I hate my name. Just call me Bea. It's pronounced Bay, by the way, not Bee, don't ever call me Bee, I hate that nearly as much as my full name. I like my nickname, Bay. It suits me. No I have no idea which of the adults around me gave me that nickname and I couldn't care less. It's just been what they've always called me. I don't remember anyone ever calling me anything else…unless I'm in trouble of course.

Second, I'm an only child…well, to be truthful only sort of an only child. I mean my parents only had me but well…my cousins spent as much time growing up with us as they do with their dads or their moms…depending on which cousins I'm talking about. Of course, I spent as much time with my uncles or my aunts as I do with my mom and dad. Though to be truthful my two actual cousins are closer to me than the rest and we're nearly inseparable. So the three of us may as well be siblings. The 'rents lump us together anyway. Sometimes I wonder if we're one of Uncle Shock's experiments. You know, some kind of social experiment to gauge the effects of parental involvement in child development or something. You know very well it's something he would do if he could.

Then there's my other quasi cousin who likes to hang out with us when his moms are having…well, I'm sure you know what I mean. Archie's a bit shy and more embarrassed by his mom's behavior than he should be. Not that their behavior is bad or anything because it's not. Just one of his mom's is a government agent that is my dad's bodyguard and the other…well, she used to be a…fallen woman? Yes, I'm trying to be delicate. Not exactly a Holmesian trait, I know, but I can try. And then there are all the Brody and Lestrade and Fallon cousins. They're Mr. Greg's grandkids and Sgt. Sally's kids. So there have always been a lot of kids around for me to play with. And they all grew up just like I did. Mostly anyway.

Third thing that you should know is; I am off the charts smart. I am not being arrogant. It's the truth. Uncle Shock says I'm smarter even than he is, which is enough to terrify just about anyone. It's a burden as much as a gift. I know myself and I know I have the Holmes gene that makes me…well, arrogant and uncaring at times. I really don't much care about anyone except my family. I've had some friends that have come close but…no, actually I haven't. Uncle John tells me not to worry about it and I don't. If I get lonely then I have my cousins. They're enough for me. Mom and Uncle John always snicker a bit when I say that but I don't know why. Uncle Shock and Father merely roll their eyes and glare at their spouses. Grown-ups are weird.

Fourth, well…I'm not sure really. Most of the things you need to know about me you'll learn for yourself as you read through my experiences. It is inevitable. You may also learn more about those close to me…if you're not idiots like I think you are. Then again…I find this a complete waste of my valuable time. Having to write this journal is an overreaction to a trivial matter but as I am still a minor the adults refuse to listen to me.

Right. So you're wondering why I'm writing this, aren't you? Well it's simple really. I was kidnapped…again. Only this time I was kidnapped from my school and so they can require me to get counseling. Which is stupid, utterly and completely unnecessary. My kidnapping didn't upset me. Being kidnapped has never bothered me…except for once. But my therapist won't release me from this purgatory until she can believe that I am over the shock and terror that other people would have in that situation. I am not other people though and this purgatory is far more upsetting than the kidnapping itself was. I don't need therapy and I am not traumatized.

Honestly! I'm seventeen years old and I've been kidnapped fifteen times that I can remember. The first time I was kidnapped was the only one that terrified me. It was the only time I was even remotely frightened during a kidnapping. I was five and Jim Moriarty took me from the street in front of my preschool. Right under my bodyguard and nanny's noses. Uncle Sherlock, Uncle John and Mr. Greg saved me though. In less than ten hours too. I've been kidnapped by armed gunmen who wanted something from Daddy, by drugged out thugs trying to get to Mr. Greg, disgruntled clients of Uncle Sherlock's to show him how they felt, art thieves trying to ransom me for Mr. Ian's paintings, all kinds of people and for all kinds of reasons. It's merely annoying now. Besides usually one of my cousins is kidnapped with me and that just makes it all the easier to escape. We're all fairly smart and crafty and have a touch of…evil, I guess.

Of course I can't tell my school that. Those instances are all classified. So they think this is the first time, well, the second as that first kidnapping when I was five was publicized. However, even if it hadn't been, even if I wasn't who I was and my family wasn't who they were this kidnapping wouldn't have even rated a two on the scare meter. Honestly! An eighteen year old boy, stressed by suddenly being second in class and being beaten by a girl at that? Not even worth the twenty minutes it took me to get myself free of him. Yes, Colin and the other cousins coming was very nice but it wasn't needed and Colin knows that even if the others refuse to believe it. He finds it hilarious that he isn't needed as my knight in shining armor because my own armor is good enough. Sometimes he's so much like Uncle John.

Anyway, my therapist gave me the assignment of writing what I feel about what happened. She's only forced this inane exercise on me because I refuse to talk to her. I know very well how she will twist everything I say and so I agreed to write it down. At least that way if she tries to twist it I have the proof of what I've written in black and white. Honestly, she's a nightmare! She wears a tweed suit! I am not kidding. And it's a terribly tailored one as well. And her glasses, which she doesn't actually need and only wears to make her look more professional, are from the 50s. They have to be. No one would still make those horned-rimmed, fake diamond encrusted monstrosities anymore.

Sorry, went a bit off on a tangent. I do that. It comes from having a family that can follow your train of thought with the speed of light or more in some cases. Exposure to a Holmes brings about an upgrade in intelligent thought. Just ask Sgt. Sally…though she's not a Sargent anymore. Still that's what we all call her. Even her kids and husband sometimes. Mr. Ian loves to tease her with it. And for the most part she just smiles and shakes her head. She hasn't been a Sargent for years but she still likes the name. But only for family. I've heard one of the bobbies call her that and she smacked him down hard for it. Course, that particular constable was a jerk anyway so…

And there I go again. Focus, Bea. At least Uncle Shock isn't reading this. He'd go spare at all the unnecessary data in it. And then he'd promptly delete it all from his memory.

Right. So I'm writing this stupid assignment. Even though I am not traumatized and I'm perfectly capable of speaking about my kidnapping, just not with her. I've told my father every detail and Colin and Mr. Greg and Sgt. Sally. Personally I think that's more than enough people that know, don't you? But keep a journal the badly dressed idiot tells me. Not a problem. But it won't be what she expects. Most likely she won't believe ninety percent of the experiences I've had but that doesn't bother me. She'll call in my parents who will listen politely as she tells them I'm traumatized and lashing out with lies to compensate. They'll nod in all the right places until she's finished and then Daddy will stand up and tap his brolly on the floor with a frown working its way across his forehead and lips. Mum will smoothly stand up next to him with her eyes snapping her ire and her face completely bland. And then one of them will calmly and with an icy voice tell her that she has no idea what she's talking about. She doesn't know their daughter. Their Bea is not traumatized.

Then they'll gather up the brood of Holmes/Watson/Adler/Brody/Lestrade/Fallon children and take us all home where there will be a family meeting. Then we'll all go to a new school. It is inevitable. So I may as well give the she-beast enough to hang herself with. Maybe she'll say something so outrageous Daddy will lose his temper and yell. I've personally never seen it but Uncle John says it has happened and he'd know. I should record my next meeting with her. That would make even Mr. Greg yell at her. Note to self: record and play a meeting for the family. It should be amusing at least.

And in conclusion: Yes, Daddy, there are two copies of this. One of them is the highly edited version which is for the she-beast's consumption and then this one which is for family. Honestly, now that I'm thinking about it we should all make one of these journals and then compare notes. I love to hear about you and Uncle Shock and Uncle John as children and I'm sure the others would love any stories any of you so called adults would like to tell. Give it some thought. After you get the she-beast fired and ruin her financially of course. Because we all know that's where this assignment is headed to. She should never tangle with a Holmes.