Chapter 2: Robert Brook

"Are you sure we haven't met before. Your name seems so familiar. And I feel like I've seen your face before," John Watson said to the thirty-five year old man seated across from him in the flat. He had black hair, black eyes, fair skin, and was just about six feet tall. His voice was soft, but not sweet. Almost like Moriarty's. John Watson shuddered at the thought.

After sipping some tea that Mrs. Hudson had ultimately made, Robert Brook replied kindly but quickly. "I can't recall ever meeting you before."

John Watson pushed the thought away and asked Robert Brook what he did for work. Watson assumed that he did something with high status as the man looked very well kept and rich by his clothing. However, he was taken aback when he said that he was out of work.

"I went to law school for three years before my mother became ill with cancer." He stopped for a moment and drew in a deep breath. "I was planning on becoming a lawyer but my mother needed me to care for her. I couldn't stand by and let her suffer by herself. You see, my mother and father had divorced a few years before the cancer started, and he refused to help with the medical expenses. I had no choice but to withdraw the money my father gave me for my college expenses and use it towards my mother's treatment. She passed away, to my greatest sadness…." A tear was rolling down his cheek by then, and Watson began to feel real bad for the man. "My father was absurdly angry at me for giving up my education," Robert Brook began again, "and so he cut off all contact. I was angry with him for that. I never wanted to hear him name or see his face again. However, before he died of a rare disease called Klytamuenza, he must have had second thoughts about leaving me all on my own. I received all of his money and property as was stated in his will. It was either take the money of my disgraceful father, or live out on the streets. I had decided to take the money and create a name for myself, but my opinion of my father hasn't changed. I plan on going back to school and finishing my education, but I don't have the money right now."

John Watson felt bad for Robert Brook, but he had to ask one more question. "If your father gave you all of his money and property, why do you need to share a flat?"

"You see my father wasn't the wealthiest man. He made a lot of money but he was a gambler. I had to sell the property a few years back because the mortgage was too high. It was bought for a reasonable price, but over the years my money dwindled back down again. Poor budgeting, I guess. The hotel I was staying at was pretty expensive, as well. Now I plan to get my life back on track, and so I ask for your help."

Watson replied, "Well, you seem like a reasonable person who needs some help and it seems like we could both use the extra dough. How about I talk to Mrs. Hudson and I'll phone you in the morning?"

"Brilliant," replied Robert Brook.

John showed him the way out and went back up into his flat to think. The man seemed kind enough, but there was something odd about him. Not Sherlock odd, suspiciously odd. The man was wearing top of the line clothing, but yet he seemed to be going poor. He must of bought that when he had more dough, John Watson thought quickly. And he seemed so certain that he didn't know me, even though he seems so familiar, he thought also. John decided that it was just his paranoia that was making him think this way. After all, he did have five assassins as neighbors a few months ago. You could never be too careful.

John Watson desperately wanted Sherlock with him right now so he could analyze the man that had just left. But Watson's hope of Sherlock being alive was dwindling almost as much as his wallet.

It was nearing dusk, and John Watson decided that he was going to go to bed. He would sleep on it and make his final decision in the morning. All that night, Watson tossed and turned. He couldn't stop thinking of how Robert Brook's voice was so similar to Moriarty's. That small fact bothered him more than anything else.