Chapter 1: A Boring Day at 221B Baker Street
A somewhat melancholy tune, which suited the rainy weather, rang out from the violin as Sherlock Holmes stood playing it in front of the window. His friend and flat mate, John Watson, sat nearby reading.
Sherlock was bored out of his mind. No new cases in three weeks, and no new clients for two. To bide his time that day, the one day he couldn't even go outside, he played his violin, but to no satisfaction. He had been playing for two straight hours. Suddenly, he stopped playing. John looked up.
"Sherlock?" He asked.
"Mycroft," Sherlock said, whipping around so fast he knocked a glass off the nearby table.
Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother, stood in the ever-open doorway of the apartment at 221B Baker Street, in suit and tie, holding a soaking wet umbrella.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, annoyance clear in his voice.
"Hello, Sherlock. Hello, John," Mycroft said in reply.
"Hi, Mycroft. You can put your umbrella down outside the door," John said.
Mycroft put his umbrella down at the same time Sherlock put his violin down. Mycroft walked in and sat down, and Sherlock slumped on the coach. John stood up.
"Would you like some tea, Mycroft?" He asked.
"Yes, please. Two sugars."
"Sherlock?"
"None for me," Sherlock said. He then stood up and followed John into the kitchen.
"I bet you've already figured out why your brothers here, then?" John said, putting a pot on the stove.
"No, not yet. But I can tell he's been to mum's," Sherlock said quietly, so Mycroft wouldn't hear.
"How can you tell?"
"He smells like her perfume, which she makes herself. He has a coffee stain on his trousers from when mum would have spilled it, due to her arthritis making her shake. He has cat fur all over him, from mum's two cats," Sherlock explained.
"Why specifically coffee?"
"Mum loves coffee."
They went back into the parlor, Sherlock sitting back down on the coach and John handing Mycroft his tea, then sitting himself.
"So, what are you doing here? And why have you been to mum's?" Sherlock interrogated Mycroft.
"I've come to remind you that today is Mum's birthday. You always forget," Mycroft said coolly, taking a sip of his tea.
"Damn!" Sherlock shouted. He grabbed his coat and scarf and darted out the door, leaving the room awkwardly quiet. Mycroft sat, drinking his tea.
"Well," He finally said, "I have a lot of free time for once, and nothing to do. If you have any questions about Sherlock, go ahead and ask. I doubt he tells you anything about his childhood."
John looked at Mycroft, surprised. But, actually, he did have questions. A lot of them. John had wondered what Sherlock's childhood had been like since the day he had met him. But there was one question that John really wanted to know the answer to, and whenever he thought of it, it bugged him.
"Has Sherlock ever had any friends? Well, besides me, of course."
"Actually, yes. In primary and secondary school he was very good friends with a girl named Kyra. They were so close, people would mistake them for siblings, sometimes. Poor girl had asperger's syndrome, and got teased for it. Sherlock stood up for her, and got teased too. Too bad the girl moved to Ireland for University."
After an hour or so of chatting, Mycroft left. John just sat there for awhile, thinking about everything he had learned, especially about this Kyra girl. He wanted to know what had become of her. Still wondering about this, John got up to go to the shop. They needed some food in the house.
0LF0
At the shop, John went through the tedious task of finding what they needed and avoiding annoying people. The cabinets and refrigerator where completely empty, save for some tea and a container of fingers Sherlock was using for one of his 'experiments'.
He better pay me back for this, John thought, annoyed.
After finding everything, he headed for the register. But not the DIY one, those never worked for him. One with an actual person running it. Not paying attention, he ran into a girl, causing her to drop her basket.
"I'm sorry!" John said, going to help her pick up the cans that had rolled out from the basket.
"Oh, it's quite alright. It's nothing new, nothing new," She said.
John and the girl stood up. The girl was very pretty, with shiny blue eyes and loosely curled copper hair. She wore a simple, knee-length blue skirt, a shirt with two weird looking cartoon characters, leggings, airwalk trainers, and a button-up knit jumper.
"Thank you," She said, and hurried on her way. John wondered who she was, but quickly forgot about the moment once he got to the register.