My first Sherlock fanfic. I hope you enjoy it.
In front of Mrs Hudson stood two teenagers; a boy and a girl. They looked very similar. Then again, they were twins. They were dressed scruffily, various stains adorned their oddly matched clothing. They each had a large backpack slung over one shoulder and did not smell particularly pleasant. It was rather obvious that they had been living on the street.
"Hello. Does Sherlock Holmes live here?" asked the boy. Both children had angular faces with wavy, dark brown hair and strikingly green eyes. They had an air of formality about them that contradicted their tatty attire.
"Yes dears. SHERLOCK! THERE'S SOMEONE TO SEE YOU!" They flinched slightly at the sudden loudness. Mrs Hudson gave them a large smile and gestured for them to go upstairs. The door was opened by a man with short, blonde-grey hair.
"Yes?" The twins could sense the annoyance in his voice. It was most likely because his roommate was 'toasting' eyeballs in the microwave.
"Sherlock Holmes?" asked the boy. The annoyed man gestured violently towards the kitchen. The teenagers drank in their surroundings as they walked into the kitchen, trying to imprint every detail into their memory. They stopped when their eyes fell onto the man they had been searching for.
"What?" snapped Sherlock.
"Sherlock..." warned John. Sherlock shot John an angry glare and their eyes locked.
"Hi dad." said the girl softly.
"What!" screamed John, turning to look at the teenagers in front of him properly.
Layla's POV
Why did I say that? It just slipped out. Connor shoots me a warning glare. We were meant to approach the subject lightly. I guess I kinda ruined that.
"Mr Holmes. I apologise for my sister's inappropriate outburst, but we have a rather pressing matter to discuss with you."
The blonde man is staring at me, his mouth slightly open. It's starting to make me uncomfortable. I think Sherlock senses my discomfort because he says, "John close your mouth. You look like a goldfish and it's incredibly rude." He raises his eyebrows at the man called John.
"Well-I-I mean-" John stammers.
"And I am not your father. There has been no opportunity. I'm sorry but you are sorely mistaken." No. I am not taking this. We have come too far to be turned down. To be told we are 'mistaken'.
"We have proof!" I cry. Ugh. I sound so desperate. I guess I am, this is our last shot. Connor looks at me angrily. I just can't control my mouth today. I reach into my bag and pull out my proof. It's a piece of paper stating that on the 15th November 1998, Sherlock Holmes donated his sperm to a sperm bank in Liverpool. Sherlock snatches it from my hands, looks at it for three seconds, and storms out of the flat.
"Stay here. Don't do anything" says John before following Sherlock. I suspect we'll be here for some time.
John and Sherlock sat in the cab. "What the hell Sherlock?"
"It's not forged John. My signature is not forged. It's my signature. MY SIGNATURE!" Sherlock roared. He began to grumble under his breath, no doubt muttering all the possible explanations for this bizarre phenomenon. John was dumbstruck. He did not know what was on the piece of paper, but he was certain it was not good news. The rest of the cab ride was in silence util they arrived at their location.
"The Diogenes Club? But Sherlock you-"
"Mycroft will know. Mycroft has to know."
They walked into the Diogenes Club and found Mycroft.
"John, Sherlock, how pleasant to see you both." Sherlock handed Mycroft the piece of paper. "It's not forged" says Mycroft.
"Your genius astounds me brother." Sherlock retorted sarcastically.
"How did you acquire this?"
"Twins showed up on my doorstep claiming I was their father. Did you know of this?"
"No."
"I thought you watched me constantly."
"When you were on drugs there were" Mycroft paused, searching for the right words, "lapses in my ability to track you. Complications arose."
"So you mean-"
"These could very well be your children Sherlock."
"I beg your pardon!" Until this point John had watched the brothers' interaction with amusement but the possibility that Sherlock may have children...it was too overwhelming to comprehend. Sherlock stalked out of the Diogenes Club leaving John standing in a room with Mycroft, his mouth gaping in shock. "Does this mean...?
"Very much so." replied Mycroft, "Did the children look at all like him?"
"Yes. Very."
"I would suggest you go to Baker Street John. I would not want my brother to do anything rash."
John hurried out of the Diogenes Club and managed to catch up with Sherlock. They caught a cab to 221B Baker Street. They argued for the whole journey.
Layla's POV
Connor and I are lounging on the sofa watching re-runs of the Big Bang Theory on Sherlock's TV. Connor had given me a mini scolding about my behaviour before. He was a minute and a half older than me and he felt like he could just boss me around. He had a point though. It could've gone better. I hear the door open and see Sherlock walk in. Connor and I promptly stand up.
"It's not polite to look through other's belongings" says Sherlock. My face turns bright red. We'd only snooped a little. We hadn't even gone into his room, we'd just looked on John's laptop and rummaged through the kitchen a bit. That was until we found the eyeballs in the microwave and decided it may be better not to delve any further. We read some of John's blog, some of it was really funny. We hadn't had time to Google Sherlock properly before we left. All we'd had was a name, an address, and one week to let our imagination roam. Our dad seemed quite cool if I was honest.
John comes up the stairs. "Umm...Sherlock. We need to talk about this-"
"They can't stay here John. There's nowhere for them to sleep."
"But we can't let them stay on the street. We don't even know if they have money for food." He turns and looks at me, " Do you have money?"
"Well-" Sherlock cuts me off. Now that's just rude.
"It's irrelevant John. They're not my children and not my responsibility"
"Sherlock, you're in denial. Look at them. They're obviously yours."
"Just because the look like me, doesn't mean they're mine"
"Sherlock-" John says angrily before Connor interrupts.
"It's ok. We'll go. We're sorry for the inconvenience. We won't be coming back." Excuse me? I, for one, will be coming back to see my father. I am not going to a care home when I could be staying with family.
"Now you wait there," says John, "You are staying here for tonight at least. I will not have you sleeping on the streets."
"John. There is nowhere here for them to sleep."
"We have sleeping bags. We could just sleep on the floor." I suggest. Connor may not appear too happy about it, but I'm sure he'd be grateful of the warmth.
"Ok. That's ok. You can stay here for the night and we can sort the rest of this out in the morning. And we'll discuss it calmly in the morning. Alright?" John looks over at Sherlock. They had probably had an argument or something whilst they were gone. Sherlock gives John an icy glare and storms into his bedroom. "I apologise. This is just a shock for him. Why don't you tell me how you got here and then maybe this will make a bit more sense to me?"