John stared into the bottom of his tea cup and started to slosh the remaining tea around the cup. He sighed ahead of tipping the remaining contents into his open mouth.
He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on each occupant for only a second before moving onto then next. John sat on the sofa next to Lestrade as a result of Mycroft, in his three piece suit, choosing to sit in John's favourite chair. Sherlock, the lucky sod, got to sit in his own armchair.
Lestrade was trying to convince Sherlock to take a case when the older Holmes arrived, entered without knocking, and offered his little brother a case. John didn't know why he was sat there. Apart from making tea he had nothing to do in this conversation. Nobody was hurt and nobody needed to be shot at so he had nothing to do but sit and make tea. He sighed again while contemplating returning to the kitchen to fetch some biscuits. Mycroft would like that, John thought sarcastically. He wasn't listening to the discussion so spent the time gazing into his tea feeling useless.
Sherlock and Mycroft stopped speaking at the same time to instead both turned to glare at the door. Seconds later there was a timid knock. The doctor rose, pleased to be doing something useful, and opened the door.
His mouth fell open in shock when he saw the elderly woman standing at the top of the stairs. She was a bit younger than Mrs Hudson and had a muddy blonde bob that framed her thin face perfectly. Her polite smile widened to a genuine bright smile at the sight of John.
"John!" The woman squealed pulling the aforementioned man into a tight hug.
"Margaret!" John smiled back happily and squeezed her tightly.
Sherlock lent where he was sat so he could see the woman in question. She looked strict and serious but the smile on her face softened her harsh features. He looked over at Mycroft with a confused expression. His elder brother was already looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. They both shrugged their shoulders at each other. John turned to address Sherlock.
"You don't need me for this do you?" John asked, gesturing to the living room, ignoring Sherlock's expectant expression. John wasn't going to explain himself to Sherlock Holmes not again. When Sherlock didn't answer Lestrade stepped in.
"No, no John! Off you go."
John turned and smiled at Margaret. Sherlock already didn't like her. She was distracting John from The Work, not that he was doing much at the moment. Sherlock didn't start talking again instead he kept his focus on John and this Margaret woman.
"Come inside. Come on. Don't just stand in the doorway. Come through to the kitchen so we don't interrupt. Tea?" John spoke kindly to Margaret but obviously hadn't seen her in a few years.
Sherlock went into full deduction mode. Married for most her life. Husband died about five years ago. John doesn't know about this. He would have been more sympathetic towards her loss meaning John hasn't seen her in over five years. Interesting. Mother? No dead. Aunt? Never mentioned one but could be a possibility. Old family friend? Seems most likely. It's obvious John holds some sort of respect for her so... a teacher maybe.
"Sherlock?! Hello? Earth to Sherlock Holmes!" Lestrade called in a mocking voice.
"What?" Sherlock snapped back.
" Who was that? I don't want to be a Nosey Parker but John seems very fond of her." Lestrade asked almost unaffected by Sherlock aggression.
"How am I supposed to know? It's John's business not mine." Sherlock resorted. Crossing his arms in a sulk.
"I know what is going on here. Sherlock doesn't know and can't figure it out so he's sulking. Don't give me that look baby brother. You know it's true" Mycroft gloated.
Sherlock pouted at Mycroft as a high pitched laugh, belonging to Margaret, echoed throughout the flat accompanied by John's rich chuckle. After a few seconds Margaret's laughing suddenly stopped and Sherlock could hear her fretting about interrupting the 'hard working boys'. This only made John laugh harder.
After that Sherlock tried to continue reading through both case files to see which took his fancy. Mycroft and Lestrade sat waiting, in silence, as he read through them slowly just to spite Mycroft. Sherlock looked up as John was leading Margaret through the living area and down the stairs. He listened as John promised to phone her when he had decided.
"Please, John. Think about it. It would help us out a lot." She practically begged.
"I promise I will have a think about it. It's been awhile though. I won't be any good." Sherlock could picture John rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. It was a nervous habit.
She said a quick thank you before John kissed her on the cheek and she left.
John made his way back up the stairs deep in thought and was surprised to see three curious faces looking up at him when he got back inside. He frowned, confused.
"What?!"
Sherlock was the only one rude enough just to ask the question on every body's lips.
"Who was that?"
"That," John said pointing at the door "was Margaret."
"Yes, John. I think even Lestrade got that. Who is she to you?"
Lestrade frowned.
"She was my choir director," John said nonchalantly "You might have heard of her. Margaret Pearson but I don't know whether you will..."
John let his voice trail off.
Sherlock had risen to his feet eyes and mouth wide. Next to him Mycroft was sporting a similar expression. Mycroft couldn't believe his ears.
"I'm sorry but did you just say Margaret Pearson?" Mycroft almost whimpered.
" ? You heard of her?"
Mycroft was about to answer but Sherlock beat him to it.
"Heard of her? Heard of her? Of course we've heard of her! Who hasn't?!"Lestrade started to raise his hand because he honestly didn't know of her. "Mycroft! How did we not realise it was her! John ,why didn't you introduce us?!" Sherlock raged nearly hyperventilating.
Lestrade looked at each face in the room searching for some kind of explanation.
"Greg, no need to worry. You haven't missed some great moment in human history or anything," John chuckled "she is just a choir director who did a few competitions and came first in most of them. I'm surprised these two know her actually."
"A few competitions?" Sherlock fumed at John " She entered 52 and came first in 50 of them. The others shouldn't count because on one she fell ill so her choir had to perform with a substitute director. The other time was their first attempt and they still came second out of over 300!"
"Actually, I believe the choir performed 53 times in total. Only counting competitions that is. Anyway, how do you know all this stuff?" John queried.
"Mummy was a big fan of choirs and group singing. We went along to the national choir of the year competitions and performances. My baby brother here was only young but he loved it." Mycroft explained with a reminiscing gleam in his usually cold eyes.
Sherlock frowned at his brother before dashing into his bedroom. The remaining men all looked to each other in bewilderment but Sherlock was back before they had a chance to speak.
He entered back into the room holding a dusty box. Mycroft's eyes lit up in recognition. Sherlock knelt in front of the television and pulled a DVD out of the box.
"This one was my favourite. The soloist was brilliant. Pearson matched voices perfectly and she always chose the most amazing songs. She knew how to create an atmosphere." Sherlock rapidly explained to Lestrade.
They all gathered around the television. John had never seen Mycroft so excited even though he was trying to restrain it. Sherlock was also getting wound up but he didn't bother hiding it.
The DVD started up as a choir of teenagers walked onto the stage. John cringed. He knew what one this was. Why did Sherlock choose this one? That was his worst one! The song started, every note was hit perfectly and every harmony was smoother than the last perfect blend. Then almost halfway through a blonde boy walked forward and stood in front of the group. He was obviously nervous but with a reassuring nod from the director he began his solo. He hit every note faultlessly and carried the melody easily.
John cringed even more as he could her all the non-existent imperfections and every not-really-there-wobble in the pitch. John covered his face with his hands before turning and lying face down on the sofa. Even with his hands covering his face it was clear that he was as red as a tomato.
Sherlock turned to gaze curiously at his embarrassed friend. Realisation sprang across his face as he stared open mouthed at John before pointing at the telly and back to his flat mate. John could see Sherlock from the corner of his eye so began to nod slowly into the cushion.
Mycroft then lost all restrain instead he just let his mouth hang open. Even Lestrade looked shocked. It seems nobody expected something so impressive from John.
"I know! I know! I was terrible. No need to tell me!" John mumbled into the sofa.
"Terrible, John? You practically won them that competition! It's one of the best solos I've ever heard and I've heard a lot!" Sherlock complimented.
Mycroft was nodding in agreement, which is rare, and Lestrade was agreeing with both the Holmes.
"You don't have to say that! I mean just listen," John grimaced as they all listened to the teenager's pitch perfect singing." See! It's painful!"
The other men in the room shared disapproving looks before turning on John and telling him how amazing it was. John blushed and shook his head.
"Anyway, I'm going to go and call Margaret. I need to tell her I thought about it but can't do it"
"Do what?" Sherlock inquired.
"Oh, she wanted me to sing that," he pointed at the screen. "In the Royal Albert Hall. There is the competition for national choir of the year and they asked her to come out of retirement and grace the stage one more time. Just a performance this time though. Naturally, she said yes but she is trying to get the old choir back together to perform that. She is having some trouble finding everyone. She found me through the blog but everyone has scattered around the country. I wish I could help her."
Everyone stood in silence staring at John while he looked down at his shoes. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Mycroft spoke up.
"If I can -and I always can- gather the entire choir together. Would you... Would you consider singing the solo?"
Sherlock's face lit up at the thought. John frowned before saying a very uncertain 'yes'.
The Holmes brothers smiled at each other before Mycroft excused himself. This didn't feel right to John. The brothers never agreed on anything, ever.
What had he just got himself into?