Title: The very best of times.
Author: Alice
Disclaimer: The title is in reference to "A tale of Two cities" by Charles Dickens and it's famous first words "It was the best of times, it was the worse of times.." Additionally, it references the last words Sherlock said to John in "His last vow". Also, the name Sherrinford has long been rumoured to be the 3rd Holmes brother so I take no credit for it. The creation of Sherlock Holmes of course belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and it's current popular incarnation, to the crew of BBC.
Rating: T
Summary: A third Holmes brother is revealed but his past as well as his present motivations are questionable and dangerous. Can Mycroft and Sherlock trust him? When Sherlock is poisoned, he and John must work against time to find an antidote before time runs out. What role does Sherrinford Holmes play in Sherlock's potential demise? Read if you enjoy Bromance. No Slash.
Chapter 1
Charles Augustus Magnussen had influence over many of the most important people in Britain.
Behind the frameless glasses he so tentatively cleaned, he saw the critical pressure points of anyone he chose to interrogate. His mind was a library of information. What he used with this forbidden knowledge was potentially detriment to the whole of the western world.
It took him several encounters with Mycroft Holmes, digging through the rubbles of a brilliant mind before stumbling upon his pressure point. The fact was, he had two pressure points. He had though it impossible, too good to be true- the ability to hold the most powerful man in Britain ransom with knowledge of a shady past, buried and long forgotten to those less observant.
His younger brother Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand was...different.
The tall, dark haired, and fair skinned consulting detective gives little away with his steely and enigmatic demeanor. However, very occasionally, concealed emotions escape his grey blue eyes, betraying his cold intellectual exterior.
He has many pressure points. In fact, more than most individuals and every one of them provided Magnussen with means of unleashing havoc. John Watson, Irene Adler (see file), Jim Moriarty (see file), Redbeard (see file), Hounds of the Baskerville, Opium...
Mycroft Holmes's profile on the other hand, was far less revealing, except for one very important detail.
British Government official.
Porn Preference: Unknown.
Finances: Unknown.
Brothers: Sherlock Holmes, M.I.6
Pressure Point: Sherlock Holmes, Sherrinford Holmes.
Ahh...Magnusson smiles, sitting back in his chair, his glasses glinting from the reflections of the crackling fireplace-A third Holmes brother. How very interesting.
With this knowledge, Magnussen had information which would allow him to blackmail the most powerful man in Britain.
5 months later, on Christmas day, Charles Augustus Magnussen was shot dead by Sherlock Holmes.
Deep in Sherlock Holmes's memory palace was a complicated but carefully catalogued tapestry of useful knowledge and information. Any useless facts are deleted as they slow him down.
Very occasionally, when he let his guard down, he saw the distorted face of his older brother. Memories of him were always hazy, covered by an impenetrable mist, set by the walls of his own mind. No, it wasn't Mycroft. He had another brother once. His name is Sherrinford.
Sherlock remembers their childhood with some fondness. In many ways, he was closer to Sherrinford then he ever was to Mycroft. Where Mycroft was reserved and read his way through the world, obtaining his knowledge from literature and astute observation, Sherrinford, much like Sherlock, preferred to explore, to go on adventures, slaying imaginary dragons along the way. Except that as one gets older, imaginary dragons becomes a metaphor, and growing up means understanding that evil can be like serpents, rising in defiance of order and control.
It has been 15 years since Sherlock last saw Sherrinford. He had been 18 years old, trying to navigate the likes of Oxford and Cambridge but finding its occupants frustrating, bound by bureaucratic nuisances and the games humans like to play.
Sherrinford was 22 at the time. He, like Mycroft before him, found his calling with Britain's secret Intelligence Service (SIS). Unlike Mycroft, he was a natural at field work and was soon recruited into M.I.6. That was the last time Sherlock ever saw of him. For 10 years since his absence, Sherlock received a card every year on his birthday, always with a hand written message.
His last birthday card was dated January 6th, 2009. 5 years ago.
Today is the 5th of January. Sherlock sits in his favourite chair, in nervous anticipation. He knew that John would be returning soon and would bring the mail upstairs with him. Sherlock had not ventured down to check the mail. To do so would be to admit that he had hoped for the impossible.
He heard John coming up the stairs now. His footsteps sounded tired from the day's work at the medical clinic. Someone had to pay the bills around here and detective work can be unreliable. There was a steady stream of work offers, but unfortunately, few that Sherlock considered worthy of his time.
"Hey." John said, as he set down the heap of mail he had collected from the mail box downstairs.
Sherlock did not answer. He eyed the mail on the table, searching for signs of familiar handwriting. There were none. A sigh escaped him.
"You alright?" John asked. He glanced sideways at Sherlock but assumed that he was just in one of his contemplative moods.
"Yes." Came the response, detached and uninterested. "Oh and don't mind the liver." He said as John headed towards the fridge, in search of an afternoon snack. "Molly Hooper donated it to me today. I am experimenting." He said simply.
John didn't even bother giving an exasperated sigh as he once would. This was life living with Sherlock Holmes and it was something he had gotten quite used to, even, he paused and smiled-quite fond of.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes sir," His informant said. "I saw them with my own eyes. They are experimenting on chemical warfare. 3 cannisters are set to detonate at undisclosed locations around England in the imminent future. Sir..." The informant said gravely, "this is war."
Mycroft Holmes did not respond.
"Sir, we need Sherlock Holmes."
"No." Mycroft said sternly. "He is not to get involved." This time, it is too dangerous. Mycroft thought. No, this was the responsibility of the secret services and the British government, not Sherlock, not his little brother. More than anything else he had ever asked Sherlock to investigate,Mycroft deduced almost immediately that this assignment could prove fatal to Sherlock.
"But Sir, his interest and expertise in biochemical engineering and chemicals make him an ideal candi-"
Mycroft shook his head. "No, leave it to me."
"Mycroft Holmes." A tall, imposing figure walks into the room. "You are not the British government as you may think. Also, I regret to inform you-" He takes a step closer to Mycroft so that they are almost face to face. "you are one of the targets."
Ciao until next time!