Sherlock waited nervously outside the massive doors of the meeting room. It had been years since his brother had wanted to speak with him face-to-face. Why the sudden change of heart now? He remembered all too well the last time he spoke with his brother… That was when their parents had been killed by fishermen. Sherlock shuddered. Whatever Mycroft needed from him now, it wasn't going to be good.
The loud groan of the doors' old hinges nearly make Sherlock jump out of his scales. An elderly merman swam through the small crack in the doors, his nose held absurdly high and a look in his eyes when he glanced at Sherlock that told him that he was as stuffy as a thousand-year-old cave.
"Master Holmes will see you now," the old merman said in a dry, nasal voice that scraped at Sherlock's ears. He gave the merman a wide, toothy grin that made his eyes bug out. Sherlock chuckled and swam past him, briefly hearing the words "damned kids" being muttered underneath the merman's breath.
"Ah," Mycroft Holmes, the King's advisor and the head of the merfolk military, smiled his cold, non-feeling grin as Sherlock made his way into the meeting room. The merman had changed considerably in the years that had passed since Sherlock had last seen his older brother. His waist, which had once been fit and slim, had now begun to bulge unattractively. His hair was thinning quite a bit, as well as becoming gray at his temples. Even some of the scales on his long, powerful tail had begun to dull and fall off.
"Sherlock, my boy," Mycroft said, lazily drifting over to meet Sherlock. They clasped hands awkwardly, neither of them happy to see the other. "How are things?"
Sherlock began to grow impatient. He hated being indoors, even in such spacious rooms as the meeting room at Town Hall. He hated the feeling of being closed in. "What is it you need, Mycroft? The sooner you tell me, the sooner I can leave and you can go back to silently leading the entire ocean under the nose of the King."
Mycroft's eyes narrowed, but he quickly smiled and said, "Such a clever thing you are. Now, Sherlock, I've called you in today because I have been getting… complaints." Mycroft turned and swam to the window, holding his hands behind his back. "It has come to my attention that you have been straying far too close to the surface."
Sherlock held his breath. How the Hell did he find out? "I don't know what you're talking about," he said curtly as he slowly and quietly made his way to the doors. The faster he was out of here, the better. Sherlock knew all too well what happened to those who break Mycroft's rules.
"Now, now, Sherlock, you of all people should know not to lie to the likes of me," he said, and in an instant, he had Sherlock pressed hard up again the wall, his arm pushing against Sherlock's throat. Sherlock tried to gasp, but only wheezed feebly as his waterpipe was slowly crushed by his brother.
"I'll let you off with a warning, brother," Mycroft whispered dangerous as Sherlock weakly fought against his hold, "but if I ever get word of you returning to the surface again…" He let the threat hang in the water around them for a moment before letting Sherlock go. Sherlock inhaled as much water as he could through the violent coughing fit. The moment he could feel his fins, Sherlock bolted from the room, tore out the Town Hall and into the open water.
To be continued...