Favorite Uncle
By
Michael LaMonte
A cool breeze brushed up against young Sherlock's shoulder as he tried to catch a glimpse of the outside world.
"Are you paying attention?" John asked.
"Yes sir" Sherlock said as he tried to focus on what his father was trying to show him.
"I'll never understand what's so fascinating with that street out there when there's perfectly good material staring you in the face."
"Doesn't it get boring looking through the same papers everyday?" Sherlock asked.
"What are you talking about?" John said with a puzzled look. "This bank changes along with the economy of the town. Just as the market gets better or worse, people's need of our work varies from keeping their nest egg safe to holding onto their last few pennies."
Hearing this speech for the tenth time this week the young boy was only able to surrender a slight shrug as a confirmation.
John saw this motion and interpreted its meaning right away with a heavy sigh of his own. "I'm sure someday you and your brother are going to realize just what kind of opportunity is being handed to you on a silver platter. You know, when I was your age…"
Sherlock's eyes roll over as he lets his mind winder onto something more interesting.
"Hey!" John snapped his fingers to get his attention back. "I would've killed to be in the position that you're in when I was a kid. Instead I had to build this bank from nothing with your grandfather, and we'd like to image the business staying in the family for a long time."
Sherlock sighs and offers up the words that he knows will get his father to drop the subject. "Ok, dad."
"Good, now I want you to go back and take inventory of everything in the stock rooms. It shouldn't take you more than a few hours, so if you'd like you can get started now."
"But its already four o'clock, remember how mad mom got last time you were late for dinner." He let a small smirk escape as he states the facts that he knows will get his father willing to leave.
John's only reaction is an impressed glare as he nods slightly. "Fine then, we'll head home but I want you to get straight to work on your homework." Sherlock jumped out of his seat with joy as John followed him towards the back entrance to the bank. "You know I had another meeting with your teacher the other day?"
"Yeah?" Sherlock asked, though didn't seem surprised in the least.
"The only word that I could think of to describe them was baffled. They've never seen anyone do such little work inside or outside of class, yet have such a deep understanding of the material."
The two walked from the bank into the parking lot, where John's car had been parked in the hot summer's sun for the past few hours. "Just promise me that you'll do the work that they give you." He said as he sat down in the driver's seat of the car.
"Its stupid," Sherlock said in protest, "I don't see any point in doing something over and over again if I already get it."
"If it's really that easy, then it shouldn't take you too long to finish it before dinner tonight."
The car ride home remained silent for the extent of the trip as Sherlock constantly watched the people they passed by with fascination. His eyes would light up whenever he happened to catch a glimpse of someone doing something odd. Much like Mr. Anderson sitting outside of his building smoking a cigarette in the small alleyway that he used as shelter from his life.
It wasn't long before the car pulled into the driveway of Sherlock's home. Barking could be heard immediately as a dog ran up to the white picket fence surrounding the house.
"Now I want you to go upstairs and get to work on whatever homework you have." John said as he got out of the car.
"I'll get to it as soon as I can, dad, but look at poor scruffy here." Sherlock ran over to the dog pawing at the hinge to the fence door. "He's excited and I think a nice long walk will be just what he needs to keep him from eating another part of the couch." He opened the small gate and went straight to petting the dog as he knelt on the ground.
"Fine," John said sounding defeated, "give him a quick walk around the block and then go right to your room."
"Ok" Sherlock seemed excited after being able to push his responsibilities back just a little while longer. He quickly went inside the house to get the leash off from the table before running back outside to hook it onto the dog's collar. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He said while taking the dog through the gate and started on what he was hoping would be a long walk.
Young Sherlock walked down the long street as he thought long and hard about the future that his father wanted for him. "My god, that bank sure is boring." He said to himself as he turned the first corner and suddenly recognized a car in the distance coming towards him. "Is that?" He mumbled under his breath as his hand rose to his forehead trying to shield his eyes from the blinding sun's light. It was his Uncles old Firebird rolling down the street. He could spot the black paintjob with the red stripes from a mile away.
"Uncle Ivan!" He yelled as he waved his free arm in the car's general direction. The car slowly pulled to his side of the road and the window rolled down to reveal an older man with a great big smile being hidden under the huge mustache that went down to his chin.
"Sherlock!" Ivan said with surprised joy. "I thought you would still be at the bank with your father."
"No, we decided to cut it short." He gave a short shrug. "The only thing I could make out of that place is a bunch of numbers and a sort of arrogance that goes with someone handling all of your money"
"I see," He laughed slightly, "you know your father really wants you to learn that stuff so you can take over that business one day."
"I know, but its just so boring. I would much rather work in that police station that you brought me to last time."
"You would honestly rather spend your time running around the town collecting up the worst kind of people than sitting behind a comfortable desk all day?" He asked in disbelief.
"Of course! I always like to look into the behaviors of people, and the reasons why they do the horrible things that you talk about."
"Things I shouldn't have told you." Ivan said correcting the boy.
"But I love that one you told me about the man who got killed over by the park. Did you ever catch the guy who did it by the way?"
"Yes," He said somewhat shamefully, "it turned out it was his friend who wanted to make it look like a robbery."
"I knew it!" He exclaimed in excitement. "I told you if that had been a real robbery then they would've taken that nice watch that you told me about, and there would've been a lot more signs of struggle."
"It would seem that you have a natural eye for details Sherlock." He said trying to congratulate the boy on his find.
"Then can I go back to the station with you? We can solve another case!"
"I'm not sure that would be the best thing for you, or at least not for your father."
"Dad just thinks that I can't handle anything that mature, but I can!"
"I know," Ivan said as he tried to fight the thought, "but the station isn't really the best place for a boy. And your father made it very clear…"
"He doesn't have to know." Sherlock interrupted. "We can just go there for a little while and then make sure that I'm home for dinner."
"I'm not sure that's the best idea." Ivan sounded hesitant, but willing to bend.
"There must be some case there that you're having trouble with, something that a fresh pair of eyes might do some good." He could see his opinion changing slowly the more he thought about it.
"All right, fine, get in." He waved his hand and unlocked the doors for Sherlock to get into the other seat.
"Great!" He yelled in excitement. "I promise you won't regret this."
"There is this one case we have on this burglary in this man's home. We've hit a dead end due to lack of evidence, but I have a feeling that something isn't right."
The car ride to the police station seemed short as Sherlock continuously thought about the different motives and probabilities that he would be able to think of for this case. It was long before Ivan pulled the car into the parking lot of the station and Sherlock jumped out of the car.
"Slow down," Ivan said while trying to keep a low profile, "remember we're trying to keep this little field trip between us."
"Sorry, I'm just really excited." He said standing by the side door to the building waiting for Ivan to let him in.
After opening the door Ivan found that he had to chase Sherlock down the hallway towards his office. At the end of the hallway, where the boy was trying to stop short, he instead bumped into the chief. His face hit the bulge that existed in his midsection, underneath the white buttoned up shirt that appeared wrinkle free.
"Excuse me." Chief Dunham said as he put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"I'm sorry chief," Ivan said once he caught up, "Sherlock just got away from me for a moment."
"Sherlock?" He said as he finally recognized him after getting a good look at his face. "You must be John Holmes' boy, right?"
"Yes sir," Sherlock responded, "he is my father."
The chief's quickly gaze went up to meet Ivan's. "I don't think it's the best idea for you to have brought him here Ivan."
"I thought it might be a good chance for me to spend some time with one of my favorite nephews." He said with a smile.
"Ivan said that I might be able to help you out with this tough case that you've been trying to crack." Sherlock said.
"You know as well as I do that if we need any outside help I'll be sure to hire a private consultant, otherwise there shouldn't be anyone outside of the station wondering in here to look at sensitive case files. Do I make myself clear?" He said sternly.
"Perfectly sir." Ivan said
"Good, now make sure that this young man finds his way home." The chief left with a serious glare pointed at Ivan.
Sherlock watched the man walk into his office on the other side of the hall before continuing with his plans. "Ok, so where is this case?"
"Its right over there on my desk," Ivan pointed to the office two doors down the hall with the door wide open, "but we have to make sure that its just a quick look. I don't think Chief Dunham will give me much time before feeling the need to check up with me."
The boy wasted no time as he run into Ivan's office and sat in his chair in order to get a better look at the piles of papers sitting on his desk. Ivan followed closely and made sure to shut the door behind him.
"Which one is it?" Sherlock asked.
Ivan pointed at the folder sitting on the top right corner of his desk. It was clearly something that he tried giving some thought to but eventually pushed it aside because of the frustration it caused him.
The boy quickly whipped the folder open and began studying the contents like he was opening a present on Christmas morning. "Whom did the house belong to?" He asked without even lifting his eyes off of the case.
"The victim's husband owned the house and has been living there for many years now. It's assumed that the crook broke into the house to find a major score, but when darling Scarlett went down stairs for something she met with her demise."
"What about her jewel box?" The boy asked.
"What jewel box are you talking about?"
"This one" Sherlock pointed at the small box that appeared to have been kicked to the far corner of the room.
"In this case it's clear that there was not only ransacking that took place, but there was most likely a struggle also."
"Look at the box though, it looks like it has a lock on the front and a decent amount of carvings into the natural wood."
"What about that?"
"If I saw that sitting on top of the mantle, and I knew that I only had a few minutes to find something to steal, I would just take that and run. But there it is, sitting there on the floor like it meant nothing to the person who created the mess."
"My god, I think you may be right." Ivan said in disbelief.
"I know I'm right, I'm just trying to show you how." Sherlock saw as the look of brief contempt crossed over his uncle's face, though it was quickly replaced by an impressed smile.
The two continued to look over the pictures over the next few minutes with little concern for what could go wrong. That is until a loud knock came from the door that startled both of them.
"Who is it?" Ivan asked.
The door suddenly burst open as John stood there with a look of rage in his eyes. His glare switched back and forth between Ivan, Sherlock, and the pictures that they were both looking over. "Ivan, I need to speak with you."
Ivan looked more annoyed as he rose from Sherlock's side and followed John out into the hall. He made sure to close the door behind him in a vague attempt to shield the boy from what was able to happen. Although there was a thin piece of wood separating them, he could still clearly make out the two of them yelling at each other. He tried to clasp his hands over his ears to try to block out the argument that was only getting worse until the door opened once again by his father.
He took a moment to look at Sherlock before stating his ultimatum to his brother. "I'll give you a minute to say your goodbyes." He second after he said this he went back down the hall where he must've come from.
Ivan swallowed hard as he approached Sherlock and got down on his knee to look the boy in the eye. "I'm sorry Sherlock, but it looks like I'm not going to be able to see you again for a while."
"How long?" He asked.
"Not for a long," He swallowed again, "long time."
"But what do you mean, we can't come back here? Is that all?"
"Listen, I want you to remember to follow that natural sense of reasoning that you have. You may not believe it now but I'm sure it will lead you into some great adventures one day"
"I'm sorry I got you in trouble." Sherlock's head lowered in shame. "If it weren't for me you wouldn't have had to go through any of that."
"Its fine, maybe its for the better"
"Sherlock!" John said from down the hall. "We're going home, come on."
The boy gave one last look at his favorite uncle before turning to walk towards his father.
"There's just one thing I have to know." Ivan said. "How did you know so much about that case without even having been in that room?"
"It was simple." He said with a small shrug and a smile, while a tear rolled down his face. "To me at least," he tried to think of the right word to describe it, "it was simply elementary."