DISCLAIMER: THESE ARE NOT MY CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS.
Author Note: Please review and tell me if I have any mistakes. Thanks!
"I told you to leave me alone."
Sherlock burst through the double doors of the mortuary, long coat billowing out behind him. He pulled off his gloves and threw them on the table next to the microscope that he was settling down at. A slightly smaller version of Sherlock was trailing behind and was left standing a few feet away from Sherlock. He had thick retro glasses on and he was wearing black trousers, a light blue button-down shirt and a navy sweater vest underneath his beige trenchcoat. His hair was exactly like Sherlock's.
Molly pulled the sheet over the body she was working on, disposed of her latex gloves, and approached Sherlock.
"Hello Sherlock," she said timidly. "Anything I can get you today?"
"No Molly, just leave me alone. I need to do some important work," he said testily.
"Okay." She started to turn away when she saw the other man standing there. "Oh, hello," she greeted him with a smile. "I'm afraid I don't know you. Friend of Sherlock's?"
"No," he said, stepping forward, "his brother."
"Oh. So then you must be Mycroft, correct?"
He chuckled. "No, that would be our eldest. I'm the youngest of the family. My name's Asa. And yours?"
"Molly Hooper. It's a pleasure to meet you, Asa." They shook hands then there was a moment of silence. "Well," Molly said, "I must be getting back to my work. If you need anything, Sherlock, let me know."
"Get this buffoon away from me, Dr. Hooper," Sherlock barked.
Asa gave a tense smile and said, "All right, all right, I'm leaving. Just to warn you I'll be at your flat with John. If you do remember I don't have anywhere to stay currently."
"You should have just asked Mycroft to fix you up with something."
"We haven't spoken in five years, Sherlock. That would be one hell of a way to start a long-anticipated conversation."
"You know," Molly interjected, "I still live with my mum in her flat. It's okay not to be able to live on your own."
Sherlock groaned and Asa glared at him. Turning to Molly with a smile, Asa said,
"Well, um, I actually had to quit my small house in Kent to be able to move closer to my new job. I just haven't found a flat yet."
"Oh." Molly blushed and turned away, back towards the body she was working on.
"Well, Sherlock, I'll be off then. See you in a bit?" Sherlock did not answer. "Right then. It was nice meeting you Dr. Hooper."
Asa Holmes left the mortuary and left Sherlock and Molly in silence. They passed the day together, Sherlock at his microscope doing various tests, Molly performing autopsies and checking each body off her list. At the end of the day, as Molly was cleaning up and finishing some autopsy reports, Sherlock stiffly rose from his microscope after not having moved an inch all day. He put on his gloves and coat and left the mortuary without saying a word. Molly watched him leave, admiring his graceful form and how his coat accentuated his movement. Pulling herself out of her reverie, she filed away the papers and went to the locker room in the back to hang up her lab coat and gather her purse. She turned the lights off and left the cold room, walking through the hospital to the front where she hailed a cab. I know it's expensive, she thought, but I can indulge just this once. It's been a long day.
The cab took her back to her mother's flat. As soon as she stepped inside the door, Molly Hooper went straight to her bedroom, shed her clothes and walked to the bathroom where she made a hot, soothing bath for herself. As the water was filling the tub, she went to the door, called out for her mum. No one answered which meant she was already sleeping. Grateful for this, Molly left the bathroom without bothering to put a towel on and went to the kitchen. She took out a bottle of her favorite brandy and poured a small amount into a cup. Then she took that, and the bottle, with her back to the bathroom. She submerged herself in the water, and closed her eyes, taking deep, calming breaths. Molly felt she had had too much brandy because she was beginning to feel a little woozy.
"Never could keep my liquor," she muttered to herself.
Slowly getting out of the tub, she let the water drain and wrapped a towel around herself. She went to her bedroom, leaning against walls for support. Without bothering to get dressed, Molly collapsed on top of her bed and promptly fell asleep.
Asa Holmes returned to 221B Baker Street after following Sherlock to the mortuary. Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to let him in, saying,
"Next time, dear, carry a key. I'm not your porter."
Asa had thanked her and practically ran up to the flat, somewhat intimidated by the old lady's serious look. John had welcomed him into the flat the week before when he had moved in. The old soldier was nice enough to set up a camp bed in the living room for Asa; his suitcase was still mostly packed, but the youngest Holmes brother did not want to take space in John or Sherlock's closets.
John was out that day meeting a friend for lunch, so Asa had the flat to himself for a few hours. Taking advantage of this, he opened up his laptop and connected it to one of the five extra monitors in his possession. It was his favorite one since he had bought it right after university; it had many scratches on the surface, but nothing to detract from the monitor's "tech-appeal" as Asa called it. He had even named it Cindy so that he wouldn't have to lie about being with a Cindy all night to his university friends.
He set this up on the floor and laid down in front of his computer, putting a pillow underneath his elbows for cushioning against the hard surface. He typed in his passcodes and logged onto the MI-6 network. Asa worked relentlessly on new code for the security system, trying to fix what had been bypassed only a few days before when he was on his first real day at work. The skinny man pounded away on his keyboard, turning his head to the second monitor to look at the innards of the MI-6 security system then turning back to his laptop screen to fix the code accordingly.
The flat door slammed shut. There were the footsteps of two people just walking in, not talking but vigorously making out. They don't see me behind this couch, Asa thought. He decided to make a move and stand up, minimizing the windows on his screens. John and his blonde-haired friend that happened to be a girl stopped what they were doing and turned around at the sound of Asa clearing his throat. The girl blushed and John smoothed his jumper down and stepped forward.
"Asa," he said nervously, "I thought you and Sherlock were going out."
"Family outings were never his thing," Asa replied smoothly.
"Right then. Well, this is Angie. Angie, this is Asa Holmes, Sherlock's little brother."
Angie nodded and smiled at him. John stepped forward and asked, "Asa, can I have a word with you in the kitchen? We'll be right back Angie."
John took Asa's upper arm and steered him into the small kitchen, leaving Angie standing awkwardly by the door. He sat the young Holmes in a kitchen chair and settled across from him.
"Asa," he started gently, "um, really, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I told you. Sherlock doesn't do family outings," he replied indignantly.
"Well, that's not my problem, is it? Generally when I meet someone for lunch I like to have the flat empty just in case things go well. Now, it's true that I've never had to worry about that with Sherlock since he's usually gone or doesn't notice when he's here-"
"He notices."
"What?"
"He always notices. He just doesn't let on. Anyway, continue."
"Right, well, I can see with you that I need to explain that the flat is generally unused during the day and I would appreciate it if you could keep it that way."
"Sorry. I will definitely work on that. Thanks for the chat."
Asa stood up and returned to his computer. John followed him and before Asa sat he was stopped by John's strong grip on his arm.
"Asa, I need you to leave now."
"No, John, it's okay, we can do this another time," Angie piped up. "You don't have to leave Mr. Holmes. I'll be getting along then. We'll meet later, okay John?"
Without waiting for a reply, Angie left the flat. As soon as she left, John exhaled angrily and shoved Asa aside, making his way to his arm chair. There he sat, watching Asa for a while. The techie lay down before his computer once more but moved himself so that John couldn't see what he was doing.
"Oh God, you better not be watching porn," John moaned.
"I'm not John, don't worry," Asa replied, preoccupied with his code.
They fell silent. Eventually John fell asleep in his chair, listening to the rhythmic sounds of Asa's typing. When Sherlock arrived, Asa was sleeping on the floor and John had moved to the couch to sleep. Sherlock removed his outerwear and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He crouched beside his brother to look at his screens. Seeing there was important government things pulled up, he took the time to minimize everything and make the screens appear blank so that John wouldn't know what he was working on if he woke up that night.
Sherlock stood back up and settled into his own chair. He steepled his fingers under his chin and entered his mind palace; just that act of thinking calmed him down. He stayed like this the whole night through, thinking of his case and his tests he performed earlier that day. I must go back there tomorrow, he thought. There is one thing I must check up on. John will go with me.
Suddenly there was a shrill ring, causing John to stir but Asa to fly awake with a shout. Asa began to dash to his suitcase before he was fully standing; he fell flat on his face, his glasses flying across the room. Ignoring this he tried again and made it. He located his phone and turned it on.
"Bond?" he said into it with a worried tone. "I can't get over there in time, but I'll see what I can do from here. Hold on, Bond, don't hang up."
He set the phone down on the coffee table and yelled,
"Sherlock! Get my other monitors in here, now!"
Disturbed from his reverie, Sherlock got up and complied with his brother's order. With two monitors under each arm, Sherlock brought the remaining four to his brother and set them on the ground. Asa rearranged them in his preffered order and brought up several windows onto the screens. He pulled up CCTV feeds from around the city. Sherlock brought him his phone. With a nod of thanks, Asa took it and held it to his ear.
"Bond, are you there? Where in the city are you?" He was given the location and he searched for it. "Let me find you. Got you. What do you need? Hold on, I'm getting his file. Launching facial recognition software… and got him. He's heading east thirty degrees to your left along the sidewalk. Follow him. He's going into a shop. Wait a moment. There's a fire escape on that building and a back exit. Go around through that little alley and wait outside."
Asa worked furiously to find some CCTV feed that would allow him to see the back of the building. He found it just as Bond was chasing a man up the fire escape. Asa could do nothing at this point, so he sat back and watched. He got his wits about him then and he hung up on Bond only to phone headquarters.
"M? This is Q. 007 is in a bit of a situation. He may need help getting out of it. Yes, right now he's chasing a man on top of a building. No I can't do anything about it! I don't control his body, do I? I agree it would be nice if I did. Well, just get someone out there. There's only so much I can do from here. Yes, I am helping him as much as possible. Yes M." He hung up and pulled up a window of code. It was the new security system that he was working on. Occasionally he looked up and adjusted his CCTV feed so he had a constant eye on Bond.
Finally he noticed the room was eerily silent. He looked around himself only to find Sherlock mouthing something at John who was staring, open-mouthed at Asa. As soon as John saw Asa staring back he quickly looked away. Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh.
"For God's sake, John, it's not like my little brother could kill you! Look at him!" Sherlock said this and got up, exasperated at his flat-mate.
"Who the hell do you work for?" John demanded of Asa, approaching him steadily.
"Sherlock, get your boyfriend under control. I'm not in the mood for this kind of conversation," Asa commanded, retreating into his mask of bravado.
"For the last time, I AM NOT GAY!"
John threw his hands into the air and walked away, blowing out an obscene amount of air. Sherlock approached his friend and put his hand on his back. John threw it off. Then, taking his handgun from his belt he opened fire on the wall. Alarmed, Sherlock calmly walked to John and said,
"John, put the gun down. You don't want to hurt anyone, do you?"
Lowering his arm, John looked Sherlock in the eyes, anguish written all over his face. Sherlock took the gun from his relaxed hand and tossed it to Asa behind him who just barely caught it.
"Now John, sit on the couch and we'll explain everything to you when it's all over, okay? Just lie down and go back to sleep," Sherlock assured his friend. He pushed John back onto the couch and laid a hand on his chest, forcing him to stay lying down. "Now close your eyes. Good John. Relax, take a few deep breaths."
Sherlock made sure his friend was settled down enough before going back to his brother. Asa gave him a sidelong glance.
"What?" Sherlock inquired.
"Definitely not gay," Asa answered sarcastically.
