There wasn't much that Olesia was convinced about in her short life but she was dead certain that she was dreaming. However, this wasn't the kind of dream that was made up of rainbows and unicorn and it wasn't a nightmare either, at least it wasn't that at first appearances. This place that Olesia found herself to be in some hallway, it was cold and dreary which wasn't helped by the concrete walls and the bad luminescent lighting that was unflattering to everyone and everything in this world. She had this weird sense of déjà vu but she was certain that it couldn't be that as her somewhat amusing and often deranged uncle always said that déjà vu was something that people of lower intellect made up in order to convince themselves that they were smarter than they really were. Olesia was a bit sceptical about that but then again what did she know? It was a well known fact within her family that she wasn't quite as clever as the rest of them. But Olesia was certain that she had seen this place before as she had this feeling that she had walked down this hallway before, yet for some reason she couldn't recall how she knew that she had been here before. The cold walls and the menacing auras radiating from all the men standing guard with guns attached to their hip, seemed all too familiar to Olesia. Whatever they were guarding was beyond the door that Olesia could sense that much and she could feel herself being drawn towards the door at the end of the hallway.
Something was behind that door. Something dangerous, otherwise they wouldn't be armed guards and yet Olesia was all the more curious. People always said that curiosity killed the cat but Olesia had never been one to believe that, she had always been led to believe that being curious always led you to test the bounds of reality and that in itself was never a bad thing. For as long as she could remember, Olesia could recall her father telling her that intelligence was the most powerful weapon that she could possess. But right now? That was of no help to Olesia as she had no idea where she was, she couldn't gather any information about her location as this hallway was practically bare, it had only the essentials and a computer that looked at least ten years old. Somebody was sitting at the computer, they were watching something on the screen but the aforementioned person was obscuring Olesia's view of whatever it was they were watching. Slowly but surely Olesia began to take slow and careful steps towards the mystery door, her heart feeling like it was somehow lodged in her throat. The men with the guns made no attempt to stop her and Olesia realised that they could not stop her because they could not see her to begin with. She was invisible to them. Or rather they were just a construct of her imagination. Olesia was very much certain that this was now more than just your average dream, no this was something more than that.
"Daddy?"
Olesia was surprised to hear voices coming from behind her and looking over her shoulder, she saw two figures emerge from the lift and straight away she was taken aback by the people who had now joined her in whatever this dream of hers. They were the last two people she ever would have expected to see here. The first was man, about 6ft 1 in height with short dark hair that was perfect trimmed with not even a inch out of place. His eyes were a steely blue and so intense that Olesia didn't know where to look. But she found herself unable to stop looking away because she knew that man, she knew him probably as well as anyone could possible know such a standoffish man because she was staring at her own father. A one Mycroft Holmes. However, this wasn't the man that Olesia knew her father to be as the Mycroft before her looked about ten pounds lighter, had less of a prominent receding hairline and fewer wrinkles. No, this was younger Mycroft Holmes than the one Olesia currently knew her father as. Olesia's mind couldn't help but make the obvious Freud connection due to the appearance of her father in this so called dream, until she caught sight of the person with him. A young girl, she couldn't be anymore than seven years old. Her long dark brown hair that was almost black hung in a single braid over her shoulder, cold blue eyes that seemed filled with confusion and almost perfectly placed freckles plastered across her nose. She was dressed in a simple green and tartan pinafore dress with a black long sleeved top and dark tights. The thing that most struck Olesia was the Marie Curie doll that the girl was carrying in her left hand as she recognised that doll. It was a doll that she had herself as a child and the more Olesia looked at the young girl who was walking alongside her father towards her, the more she recognized that girl as herself.
She was staring at a younger version of herself. The one before puberty and multiple piercings kicked in. The one who was wholesome a general delight to be around. However something was rather off about her, as the younger Olesia was missing the scar that she had that cut through her left eyebrow. Olesia couldn't' remember exactly when she had received this scar, all she really knew was that she had the scar for as long as she could remember. She couldn't recall a time where she didn't have the scar.
"Daddy!" Olesia, the younger cried and the elder Olesia couldn't help but grimace as she watched her younger self casually address their father by his parental title. It was uncomfortable as hell for her to watch as Olesia had pretty much been on a first name basis with her father for the last five years, so watching herself, no matter how young she was calling Mycroft 'daddy' was rather an awkward thing for her to witness. "Why are we here? Daddy! We're supposed to be with Nanny, Pappy and Uncle Sherlock! It's Christmas today! Today is supposed to be about being with your family."
"I'm fully aware of what the significance of today means Olesia." Mycroft replied in a dry tone of voice, pursing hip lisp tightly together as he took it upon himself to take one of Olesia the younger's hand in his own and led her down the cold and hostile hallway towards the mysterious guarded door. Olesia couldn't help but watch what was unfolding right in front of her, she was pretty certain now that this was no longer a dream. It felt all too real to be some figment of her imagination that was playing out whilst she slept. This had to be real, Olesia had to be reliving some kind of memory whilst she slept but she had no memory of this day in the slightest. She had no recollection of going to some strange place with Mycroft on Christmas Day when she was a child, as for as long as she could remember, she had always spent Christmas with the rest of her family as per tradition. None of this really made any sense to Olesia but something was telling her that what she was watching was real.
"Are we here cause' I broke the window? Or because of what happened to your papers for work because I did say I was sorry! I don't want to be here daddy! It's scary… I promise I'll be good if we can go home. I promise I'll be good I swear it! I won't run away when Mrs. Linley comes for my lessons! I won't be rude to Sherlock and call Nanny when he smokes! I'll be a good girl!" Little Olesia pleaded as she pulled on her father's hand, her bottom lip quivering with fear and Olesia couldn't help but frown as she watched her younger self plead for them to leave this daunting place. She was amazed that even her younger self could sense that something wasn't quite right with this place, something was rather off and herself at seven years old had figured it out.
"You haven't done anything wrong Olesia." Mycroft responded after a moment, his voice tinged with some mild amusement and the elder Olesia felt a rather crushing wave of nostalgia hit her. These days, the only times she had any interaction with her father was when she was in trouble as most of the time he was too busy acting as the British Government to pay any real attention to her. Things had drastically changed since this moment in time, not that Olesia was complaining as the Holmes weren't really the touchy feely kind of people, well at least two generations of them weren't. To be honest the entire family were a bit off to say the least.
"Then why are we here?" Younger Olesia questioned, furrowing her brows together in annoyance and from where she stood, watching her younger self interacting with their father, Olesia couldn't help but take note of the pained expression on his face. Mycroft Holmes wasn't one for open displays of affection but even Olesia could see that being at this place, wherever the hell it was, deeply disturbed Mycroft. This uncertainty on her father's face was rare for Olesia to see as Mycroft was rarely ever troubled, the man was the smartest person that she knew and could never be shaken as he had nerves as steel. There was only once had Olesia seen Mycroft with such a grim look on his face and at the time it had something to do with Sherlock, Olesia didn't know the exact details but he had done something that had shook Mycroft to the core. This place had to be really bad if even Mycroft didn't want to be here, which made Olesia all the more curious as to what exactly this place was and why on earth her father had brought her here. This place was some kind of facility and by the looks of this hallway with all the guards and the guns, it was no place to bring a child and yet Mycroft Holmes was bringing a young child here.
"Obligation, my dear Olesia… Obligation."
"To who daddy?" Little Olesia questioned as herself and Mycroft grew increasingly closer to the mysterious doors and as the 16 year old Olesia idly trailed behind and followed her younger self, she caught sight of some of the guards nodding their heads ever so slightly to acknowledge Mycroft.
"The east wind." Mycroft responded in a dreary manner.
What the hell did that mean? Olesia was even more confused that she thought could ever be possible. None of this was making any sense. Somehow she was reliving some memory that she had no recollection of and the further along this whole thing went, the less answers she had. If anything Olesia had more questions than she had answers. She knew her father had a tendency to sprout of things that sometimes that went over her head but this was another thing entirely. She had no idea what the east wind was supposed to mean. It rang no bell in the slightest. If she had to venture a guess, Olesia could only assume that it was some kind of code name that Mycroft was using but why? Mycroft had never been like most parents when it came to keeping his child at arms length when it came to his job, if anything he had always encouraged Olesia to take an interest in his work, probably to prevent her from snooping around in his desk. It wasn't like Olesia would ever tell anyone, the official secrets act had prevented her from doing so. But from all the files she had read over Mycroft's shoulder, all the phone calls she had attempted to eavesdrop on, never before had Olesia heard her father mention the east wind. Maybe this was something that happened a long time ago. She wasn't sure anymore. Perhaps the east wind had something to do with this facility.
"Daddy are you okay?" Olesia the younger asked, and Olesia couldn't help but note that her younger self's question had knocked his father off guard. She had always known that her father's personal philosophy about caring not being advantage was something that he lived and abide by. Mycroft didn't do feelings and emotions like 'regular people' as Olesia liked to refer to people outside of her family as. Being raised by a man with a personal mantra like that had made Olesia somewhat immune to experiencing to normal emotions to an extent to the point where she would never dream to ask Mycroft about how he was doing. Apparently Olesia Holmes hadn't always been like that, she had been more normal as a child and become increasingly neurotic and surly as she grew older as now, she would sure as hell never ask her father about his wellbeing. If she ever tried that, Mycroft would without a doubt have her drug tested or dragged to Scotland Yard depending on what day of the week it was.
"I'm fine."
Olesia could tell from a mile off that her father was lying. It was a piss poor lie and apparently her younger self could see it as well as Little Olesia narrowed her eyes and glared at Mycroft in a way that no child should ever look at their father. "You're lying to me."
"How astute for someone so young." Mycroft replied, coming to a stop just shy of the mystery doors and before proceeding to get down one knee. Olesia could only watch as Mycroft was now pretty much an eye level with her younger self and proceeding to straighten up Little Olesia's appearance. Smoothing down her dress, making sure that her hair was presentable. "Now I need you to listen to me Olesia and do everything I tell you, can you do that for me? We're going to go through some doors to see someone and once we go through these doors, you must stay three feet away from the glass. Do not approach the glass Olesia…"
"I-I don't understand." Younger Olesia said, pretty much saying the exact same thing that Olesia was thinking. She had been right in thinking that something dangerous was lurking behind that mysterious door and now, everything she had suspected had been confirmed by her own father.
"I won't let her hurt you." Mycroft stated and Olesia was at a loss as to what on earth her father was talking about. Who the hell would try and hurt her? She was watching herself as a child? Why would Mycroft take her to see someone who would potentially try to hurt her. Olesia didn't understand what on earth she was seeing.
"Who daddy?"
"Your mother."
Olesia had lost track of how many hours she had been here. To be honest, Olesia wasn't even sure when exactly she had arrived in this place. She couldn't even remember falling asleep or waking up. All she knew was that somehow she had become aware of her surroundings. At first everything was so hazy for Olesia, like she was in the midst of a drug and alcohol induced high or in the midst of struggling for breath as she drowned in the middle of the ocean. Then came the headache. The pounding headache that seemed like it was on the verge of killing her, Olesia wasn't sure what had happened. All that she knew was that it felt like she had been hit over the head repeatedly with some kind of jackhammer. It felt like her head was going to explode although Olesia knew that was physically impossible as a person's head couldn't explode. An aneurysm could rupture. She could be decapitated. But a head couldn't solely explode on it's own. It wasn't scientifically possible as far as she knew.
At first Olesia assumed that she was suffering from some kind of hangover, caused by an excessive consumption of vodka. That was rather plausible. Despite the fact that she was currently under the age when it came to consuming alcohol, it had never stopped Olesia finding some means of getting hold of alcohol. However, this wasn't like any of those other times when Olesia had woken up the next morning after a night of drinking. She couldn't smell the alcohol radiating from her pores, she hadn't woken up in the guest bedroom of a friends house. This time had been different. She felt like crap, everything hurt and as she wearily opened her eyes, Olesia wasn't surprised to see that she had woken up somewhere and yet again she had no idea where she had woken up. This was kin d of the story of her life right now, lately nothing had really made much sense to Olesia. It was like there were dark and stormy clouds everywhere within Olesia's head and at the present it seemed that everything was just so dull and colourless. It was like her entire world had come to a stop and Olesia Ashby didn't know what to do, for the first time in her life she didn't know what to do and she couldn't think of some brilliantly sarcastic response. Right now everything was such a mess, it had been ever since Olesia had that weird dream and since that night, nothing had been the same. Awkwardly sitting up, Olesia had found herself to be in a very small room, except this wasn't really a room.
It was a cell. Small in size, rather ugly in colour and uncomfortable as hell. This hadn't indicated anything good for Olesia. This was not good in the slightest. Olesia had no idea how on earth she had gotten but she knew that she needed to quickly get out of here and get herself together. Crawling off the paper thin bed that she had been laying on, Olesia was surprised to find how much her body was in pain. Every single muscle in her body seemed to be crying out in pain. Her hands were a mess. Olesia only had to look down to her knuckles to see that they were torn up and bloodied, scrapes covered the rest of her hands and there were scratches across her arms. Something had clearly happened but Olesia couldn't remember what on earth had occurred. She had no idea how her hands had ended up in such a state. Her clothes were gone. God knows where. The only thing that Olesia had on was this hideous plastic white overall which apart form being itchy as hell, somehow managed to smell like cheap burnt plastic. Somehow Olesia had managed to get herself into quite a bit of trouble, she wasn't sure what kind of trouble she had gotten into but the fact that her clothes were missing, her memory of the last few hours gone and the fact that she was being detained in a police cell suggested that she was in quite a bit of trouble.
This was bad. Olesia had realised that pretty much from the moment she had connected the dots and figured out where she was. The police officer coming into the cell not long afterwards to ask Olesia for her full name and the number of a parent of guardian for them to get in touch with, just reinforced what she already knew. She was a hundred percent certain that whatever it was that had happened, it was bad enough that the police were wanting to get in touch with her family because it was no doubt serious in nature. Olesia hadn't given them her full name, nor did she give them her father's name as he couldn't be dragged into this. She couldn't call him for help.
Olesia knew she couldn't call her father for help. No, Olesia couldn't do that as that would mean dealing with the answers to the questions that she wasn't ready to deal with. Things with her father were already complicated enough without Olesia confronting the man who had raised her every single day of her short life. 5905 days to be precise or rather, 16 years and 2 months if you weren't smart enough to work it out for yourself. Olesia was in trouble and she needed help, but she knew that she couldn't go to her father, which meant the only choice that she really had was to go to the one person besides her father that she couldn't bring herself to ask for help from. Sherlock Holmes. He would never allow her to live it down. Oh no, he would hold it over Olesia's head for the rest of time itself. But Olesia had no choice in the matter. He was the only person who could get her out of this damn mess without her father finding out what had happened.
It had to have been hours since Olesia had told the police officer that the only person she was willing to talk to was Sherlock Holmes. It surely can't have been that hard to track the man down? Search engines did exist, even then that wasn't necessary as Olesia was well aware that the man in question was well known within Scotland Yard as being the world's only consulting detective and a major pain in the arse. From what Olesia had heard, half the Metropolitan Police force hated him. Olesia could perfectly understand that as she knew from personal experiences that Sherlock had a tendency to rub people up the wrong way but that didn't mean that the man wasn't useful. More than useful actually but Olesia would never bring herself to say it out loud. For the sake of her pride and keeping a certain know it all's ego in check.
Whilst she knew that she wasn't going to be here forever, Olesia wanted to get out of here as soon as she could. Eventually someone was going to notice that she wasn't where she was meant to be and it would only be a matter of time before it got back to her father. The last thing Olesia wanted was a pair of Spooks turning and getting involved. It was got messy at that point. The Official Secrets Act would end up being used to brush this all under some rug and all the information would be put somewhere no one could ever find it. Then the bollocking and a half Olesia would receive would come after that and she would probably be sent away again. She hadn't been sent out the country yet but it was only a matter of time. She had already been through four different schools in the last five years.
"I always knew it was a matter of time before one of us ended up behind bars and you most certainly didn't disappoint. Although I am slightly disappointed with the crime itself, I expected better from you. But then again this read as the desperate attempts of a little girl trying to get daddy's attention."
That voice. Olesia would know it anywhere.
Opening her eyes, Olesia caught sight of two men standing in the doorway of the cell. One of them was known to Olesia as she had known him longer than she had known herself. She'd know him anywhere as his tall figure had been darkening her doorway for many years. He looked the same as the last time Olesia had seen him, pale as ever which just drew attention to his dark curls and pale blue eyes that seemed as cold as ever. He wore an expression that seemed to suggest he had been sucking on sour lemons. Clearly he wasn't happy to see her. Olesia wasn't thrilled to see him either and she didn't appreciate such a snide comment so early in the morning. Normally she would have been quick to respond with a insult of her own but she forced herself to bite her tongue. After all she needed his help. If the two of them started volleying insults, she would never make it out of here.
"Whose the stooge?" Olesia began, averting her eyes away from Sherlock to the companion that he had brought along with him, which itself was rare. As far as she knew, Sherlock Holmes didn't do friends. Everyone was too slow and stupid to keep up with him. Herself included. So, even despite her rather frim situation, Olesia was intrigued to see who on earth had managed to capture the attention of Sherlock. There's no way the great detective would put up with some plain wallflower. Allowing herself to stand up, Olesia awkwardly took a few steps forward and took a good and hard look at the man with Sherlock.
He was shorter than Sherlock, marginally shorter but there was this commanding authority that came from him by the way in which he held himself. He was a stark contrast to Sherlock. Blonde hair with little tinges of grey, warm eyes that didn't threaten to turn you into stone if you looked into them for two was no aloofness plastered over his face. No arrogant smirk hidden in the corner of his mouth. Just a warm smile. There were wrinkles and laugh lines on his face, he seemed worn and weary but not so much for Olesia to believe that his life had been full of hardships. If it had been, he would have looked a lot older than he did.
"Dr. John Watson."
Olesia looked out to the hand that was being offered out towards her by Dr. Watson and she couldn't help but purse her lips together as that name sounded awfully familiar. Although she wasn't quite sure where she knew it from. John Watson? Dr. John Watson. This was going to annoy Olesia for a good while, at least until she figured it out. There was no way he was a shrink, even Sherlock knew not to get psychiatrists involved as that would only result in the two of them being locked up in some facility. No, that wasn't how Olesia knew of the good doctor. It was something else. John Watson. Sherlock Holmes. There was some sort of connection between the two men in front of her. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. Holmes. Watson. The two of them together. It took a couple of moments but it finally hit Olesia where she knew the name from. She had come across it in some file that she wasn't supposed to have been reading.
"Ahhh, yes… The roommate. Dr. John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. The one with the blog if I remember correctly." Olesia wearily announced before letting out an almighty yawn and wearily rubbing her eyes. She felt exhausted beyond compare and now, Olesia just wanted to get out of here and go get some sleep.
"Now that we've got that delightful bit of tedious conversation out of the way, what is it that you want? I doubt you had me brought all the way here because you were in search of stimulating conversation" Sherlock questioned and Olesia rolled her eyes. Of course he was going to make her say it, Olesia should have known better than to think that the great detective would make this easy for her.
"I need your help. I seem to have found myself in rather difficult situation and since I'm a minor, I needed to call someone. You may not be suitable to be an appropriate adult but even you can surely pretend to be one for the sake of getting me out of here." Olesia forced herself to admit through gritted teeth. Being gracious wasn't one of her finest quality and having to ask Sherlock to help her out was painful as hell. It would be easier to get blood out of a stone. But here Olesia was swallowing her damn pride.
"My help? The great Olesia Ashby needs my help? I thought you didn't need my help—"
"—Could you be any more louder? I didn't give the police my real name and I would like for it to stay that way. We both know what happens the moment they put my name through a computer and I'd like to avoid having the Spooks or someone from the MoD turn up. Just get me out of here and I'll sacrifice myself on the alter of dignity later." Olesia spat in annoyance, she was really regretting calling Sherlock.
"Why not call Mycroft?" Sherlock retorted and Olesia hissed in response, of course he was going to bring up the one person that she didn't want to mentioned. That was always his go to retort whenever they fell into their routine of volleying insults as if they were at Wimbledon.
"You know full well that I don't like bothering him besides I have no desire to speak to my father at this time, hence why I called you. Besides you still owe me for the Rice noodle thing, I took the fall for an international incident that you caused—"
"—Father? Mycroft is your father?" John interrupted and Olesia just frowned as she watched the good doctor look between herself and Sherlock. It seemed like he was unaware that this was a not so happy family reunion that he was in the middle of. Olesia wasn't surprised that this little fact hadn't been brought up earlier, she wasn't exactly Sherlock's favourite relative. "The two of you are related?"
"Supposedly, the whole thing is rather debatable… Allow me to properly introduce myself Dr. Watson, my full name is Olesia Winnick Ashby Holmes." Olesia began before trailing off before she could fully finish her explanation as her mind went blank and all of a sudden this wave of light-headedness hit her and she stumbled back a few steps, now there was this all too familiar metallic taste in her mouth. It was overwhelming and Olesia felt sick to her stomach. She knew what was coming. A bloody seizure. Olesia could not believe that this was happening. Not here and especially not right now. This day was going from bad to worse.
"Olesia?"
She needed to pull herself together for a second. Olesia wasn't going to be able to stop it, the warning signs had come. She just had time to prepare her companions for what was about to come. At least there was a doctor this time, that much Olesia could be thankful for. She probably wouldn't remember any of this in about half an hour. Olesia forced herself to look straight ahead to Sherlock. Her blue eyes looking into his own blue eyes.
"Oh fuck, I've got a visitor."