Since the Sherlock Special is going to take place in the Victorian Era I decided I too wanted to write a story with "our" Sherlock characters in it. I'm trying to be as accurate as possible in regard of that era but some things I just had to make up. At the end of some chapters you might find a note with facts that I wove into the story. Since the story is still in the process of been written I might not update as quickly and as frequently as usually.
At the time the story takes place, Mycroft is 27 years old and he is not the British Government like in the series but a man who studied history, anthropology and archaeology. Greg Lestrade is working for the police but when the story takes place, he has the rank of a constable.
Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade are the leading characters but Sherlock and some of the others are present too.
My thanks go again to my wonderful Beta Jack63kids. Without her the story would perhaps be possible but it wouldn't be half as good.
"How good of you to finally join us, Holmes. Do sit down."
Mycroft darted to the seat Lord Percy indicated with a nod of his head. He quickly scanned the three other people present. Prime Minister Robert Cecil, William Kent, a high ranking member of the Metropolitan Police, and a man Mycroft didn't recognize but whose uniform indicated his rank was that of a Major-General.
Mycroft was certain he knew what this meeting was about but was surprised that he hadn't been informed until three minutes ago.
"Holmes, I'm certain I don't need to emphasise that what is said in this room is to be treated with strict confidentiality."
Mycroft nodded, wondering why Lord Percy saw the need to point out the confidentiality, unless...
"Over the course of the past two years priceless masterpieces were stolen from museums all over Europe," Percy began. Mycroft gritted his teeth. He had been the one who had brought this information to Lord Percy's attention. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised that the man would present this information like he had uncovered it himself.
"A painting by Tizian from the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg, baroque jewellery from the Blue Vault in Dresden..."
"Green," Mycroft murmured.
"I beg your pardon?" Lord Percy glared at his underling.
"Sir, it's the Green Vault in Dresden," Mycroft replied, the adding of 'you fool' unvoiced but still in place if one was inclined to listen closely.
"Certainly," Lord Percy said. "The Green Vault in Dresden and a painting by Botticelli from the Ufizzi gallery in Florence, to name only a few. All these pieces of art were stolen from the museums and replaced with professionally made forgeries."
"About how many forgeries are we discussing?" William Kent asked.
"Thirty but it might as well be fifty."
The three guests gasped.
"Pray tell me, how exactly does this concerns us?" the Prime Minister asked, when he had recovered from the shock. "I believe nothing has been stolen from a British museum or you would have said so right away, am I not right?"
"Four original paintings were secured from a thief who confessed he had stolen them from a flat in Belgravia."
"Then perhaps Kent could get one of his lot to interview the owner of the flat and ask him where he obtained the paintings," Cecil suggested with an air of exasperation about the obvious lack of resourcefulness in the room.
"I presume that is not going to work because the owner of the flat is dead," the Major-General, who's name Mycroft had yet to learn, spoke up.
Lord Percy nodded, dumbfounded.
"Don't look so surprised. Every one who reads the newspaper", the Major-General winked at Mycroft, "knows that a resident of Belgravia, an Irish noble-man by the name of Patrick O'Shea, was found dead in Islington two weeks ago. His throat had been slit. I presume O'Shea is the former resident of the flat in Belgravia. The article said he lived alone and therefore there's no-one left to question."
"That is right," Lord Percy replied, having recovered from the surprise.
"What happened to the paintings?" the Prime Minster asked, looking both at Kent and Lord Percy.
"They were transferred here to confirm their authenticity," Kent replied. And with a nod to Mycroft he added, "by him."
The Prime Ministers eyebrows shot up. "Isn't he a bit young for us to base measures on his assertion?"
For the first time Lord Percy seemed to acknowledge Mycroft's abilities. "I dare say, without getting carried away, that young Mr Holmes here is the best qualified individual in London to make this assertion." Clapping his hands together he continued, "And his qualification is the reason why I asked him to join us."
That last sentence's message sounded rather positive but an uneasy feeling began to settle in Mycroft's gut.
"Proof was found that O'Shea frequented a gentlemen's club in Islington. William told me, that they already have a contact in that club."
Kent nodded his agreement. "Yes, although he is not very bright. I'm certain he wouldn't be able to tell a Michaelangelo from a Turner. But he is useful."
Lord Percy grinned. "Therefore I'm going to send young Mr Holmes here to get in touch with William's twit and perhaps together they can find out if the death of Patrick O'Shea was related to the pieces of art found in his flat or coincidence."
Fact: At the time the story takes place, Robert Cecil was Prime Minister.