Hope your enjoying. Please review, I wanna know what you think or what you want to happen.
I Don't own anything except Melody and her family. BBC owns everything else.
John sighed sitting in the corner booth of the small Italian restaurant. From where he sat he saw Angelo chopping at some hamburger. This is where they'd had their first dinner together, worked on solving their first case together. Oh stop it, John thought to himself, you make it sound like you were dating the man.
"It's been almost six months." John snapped out of his daze to see the ice man himself sitting in front of him. Mycroft was nursing a glass of white wine in his hand and looking over the doctor. "Sherlock once told me this place serves an excellent linguini I suppose I shall finally try it." John looked the man over before looking around.
"When did you sit down?" John asked with a simply quizzical look.
"Right after you ordered your drink. I was going to wait for you to get done but then I thought, we're acquaintances and sometimes acquaintances have dinner together. Besides, I don't really have a reason to keep driving you around do I?" He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his wine. John looked the man over. He was the same old Mycroft with maybe a few more lines under his eyes. But then that was just it, he was Mycroft.
"You would be honest with me, wouldn't you?" John quietly asked. Mycroft seemed a little surprised.
"About what?"
"About Sherlock. You would tell me if he was alive and playing some game?" Mycroft shifted in his seat.
"Why are you asking?"
"I read the article this morning. The one that Riley took back everything she said." Angelo smiled as he sat the two dishes of authentic Italian food in front of the men. "No one would have done that. That story made her career. She wouldn't take it back it would make her unaccredited Then after the story comes out she ends up dead. And now here you are. So…you know that Sherlock was my best friend and I like to think that I was his and I like to think that you would tell me if he was really alive." John ignored his food as he search Mycroft's face for some sort of emotion, just the slightest twitch that would give him hope. Mycroft simply took a large bite and stared blankly at the doctor.
"I was wondering if I could ask for your help," he finally said avoiding the previous statement altogether. "There's someone that forced Ms. Riley to do what she did. I need to find them."
"Why did they do that?" John asked still not touching her food.
"Because they know something. What I'm not certain. But they did it to get my attention." He swirled his wine before taking a drink. "Are you going to eat?" John seemed to snap from his trance a bit and picked up his fork to poke at the pasta in front of him.
"Why?" John asked taking a bit. Mycroft shrugged.
"Until I know who it is, I'm not entirely certain." John nodded taking another bite.
"But how can I help?"
"They obviously think Sherlock is alive. And I think that they'll come looking to meet you." John nodded. He glanced around the restaurant. It was nearly empty save for a family of four and a gentleman at the bar. This was odd to him. Mycroft asking for his help. He'd only seen him once after the funeral, but of course he sometimes noticed the camera's moved at time as if they were following him.
"You didn't answer my question." Mycroft looked up at him and for once John could see he was turning an answer over, searching for the right words.
"I would. If Sherlock was alive I would tell you if I knew. The problem is that with our bad blood, I don't know. I keep looking for him. Hoping that I'd see him. But…alas…if he's alive only he knows it. He always was one for theatrics." He finished off his wine, his eyes coming back to the present.
"Do you think he is?" John quietly asked. Mycroft faintly smiled.
"Between you and me, it helps me to sleep," he pushed his plate away and looked at the watch.
"What happened? Between you two?" John looked up from his half finished plate.
"It all began with our father…"
"Hey Sherly!"
Sherlock gripped his school books tighter and quickened his pace as he made his way home. He wished his mother had either left work early or allowed him to wait with her. She worked at the school he and Mycroft attended. She was an English teacher and took her work seriously.
"HEY SHERLY!" the two boys yelled once again this time running to catch up with him. "Is it true what my dad said?" Sherlock shrugged. "He said your dad ran off with a woman. Who wasn't your mum. That true?" Sherlock shook his head and attempted to hurry up and get ahead of them.
"'Ey," the other said, "We talking to you."
"My mum said that he was in an accident over seas," Sherlock quietly answered. The two laughed at him.
"What's with your funny haircut?" the larger of the two shoved him onto the grown. Sherlock let go of his books, arms flailing out to the side as he landed hard on his bottom.
"Why you so strange?" the blonde asked.
"He's daft, that one. Maybe we should help him out," the big one said. The blonde one nodded and kick Sherlock in the face. They both laughed as Sherlock's hands raced to his face to stop the spurting blood.
"HEY!" came the shrill yell of another child. There was a whizzing sound as medium sized rock went flying through the air and collided with the side of the blonde ones head. "Git outta here!" Sherlock turned to see her. She was the mystery girl of their town. Recently moved in the old manor. Her father was one of the teachers at the school, but she didn't attend.
"What the bloody hell?" The fat kid yelled. "You're gonna get in trouble for this! I'm telling your father!"
"Go a head! I'll have kicked your ass by then." She pushed the sleeves of her hoodie up and marched herself over to the scene. She stepped over Sherlock and reared herself up as far as she could arms crossed against her chest. She only came up to his chin, but she had the look of a killer in her eyes. "Get the hell outta here!" She yelled again. The fat killed laughed. Though he would never hit a girl, he gave her a forceful shove.
"Come on shrimp, let us boys play. Get on your boat and go back across the pond."
When Sherlock would later explain what he saw that moment to the adults who were just now coming upon the scene he would only say one thing.
"It happened so fast."
In the moment they made physical contact, the girl had her knee in the fat kids groin. As he hit the ground her tiny fist made contact with his eye then his nose. It was at this moment both Mrs. Holmes and Mr. Ravensdale walked upon the scene, Mycroft in tow. Sherlock on the ground with a bleeding nose, the blonde boy laying seemingly conscious on the ground with a large cut on his forehead, and the fat one, curled up in fetal position with a bloody face.
"WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED HERE?" shrieked Mrs. Holmes.
"Shit," the girl hissed.
"Sherlock are you alright?" Mycroft said rushing to his side and helping him up.
"Melody Noelle Elspeth Ravensdale," Mr. Ravensdale calmly said, "What did you do?" At the use of her full name her eyes widened. She looked down at Sherlock then back at her father.
"Unleashed hell," she calmly said. Mr. Ravensdale shook his head and turned to Mrs. Holmes.
"My apologies," He said, "My wife and daughter have just arrived from the states. As they say she has a bit of fire in her belly. "
"Sherlock did you have anything to do with this?" Mrs. Holmes asked.
"Yes…I beat up him," he pointed to the fat kid. Melody simply cocked her head in surprise at him.
"Mycroft take the children to the manor," Mr. Ravensdale said, "Mrs. Holmes and I will assist these boys home. We'll negotiate punishment when we return."
Ravensdale Manor was a prestigious place. Mycroft and Sherlock had always said they were going to live there one day. Both boys were somewhat jealous of the girl who led the way. Once inside Mrs. Wallace fixed them up a snack and cleaned up Sherlock's bloody nose. He sighed when she finished, catching a look in the mirror he saw a huge piece of gaze taped to his face.
"What did those boys say?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock poked at the sandwich in front of him.
"Nothing."
"Don't lie. They said something about Father didn't they?" Sherlock's eyes met his brothers. Mycroft brought his fist down on the table. "Don't listen to them. And don't worry about Father. He's gone and he's not coming back. We don't need him." Sherlock glanced at his brother.
"But he promised for my birthday-"
"-he promised a lot of things. You've heard the rumors. I think it's obvious that he broke them." Mycroft rose from the table and left heading out the front door. From upstairs came scream.
"Just keep eating your snack sweeties," Mrs. Wallace smiled, "Nothing to worry about." She scurried up the stairs leaving Sherlock and Melody alone. She was a small girl. With a long strawberry blonde braid down her back, her dark blue eyes were locked on the boy in front of her.
"You need spunk," she said. "You shouldn't let people stomp on you. You got kick there ass. Show them whose boss. Stand your ground." She nodded as though it would solidify her statement and took a large bite out of her sandwich. Sherlock watched her. She wore jeans and a purple hood. They looked a little beaten.
"Why are your cloths torn. Doesn't your father have money?" Sherlock asked. It seemed to surprise the young girl.
"I get into stuff. Go on adventures. What about you? Your parents pretend to have money? Or do you just pretend to be better than everyone else?"
"Why do you say that?" Sherlock asked.
"Because," she said, "You live in the little cottage on the old farmland. Your shoes are kind of beat up and you need a new pair, but your school uniform is brand new." She took another bite. Sherlock looked over himself. She was right.
"How did you know that?"
"Daddy taught me. Says you can look a person and know everything about them. He's a doctor. Well use to be a doctor. So it's important to look a person and know what they do so he can tell them how sick he is." She took a long gulp on her chocolate milk. Sherlock finally picked up his sandwich.
"If he's a doctor why is he at the school teaching?" There came another scream followed by the muffled pleas of Mrs. Wallace.
"The accident. Hurt his hand. Can't operate anymore. SO now he teaches." Melody caught Sherlock staring at the ceiling. "It's just Mommy. She's have a bad day." Sherlock nodded as he took another bite.
"What do you mean?"
"She's sick. Everyone says she's mental." Melody finished her milk. She sat waiting for Sherlock to finish. "I'm 8," she said. He looked her over. She seemed to small for 8.
"I'm eleven," he pushed his plate away. "How come you don't go to school."
"I have tutors. Daddy says I'm to rowdy. Until I can be a lady I can't go to school." Sherlock nodded in agreement with her father's decision. She had spunk.
"Wanna go play?" she asked.
"Shouldn't we wait til our parents get home?" he asked. He knew his mother was already on a short fuse.
"NO. Daddy knows. And he'll be upset and well be punished. But…we can still go play. We have animals. There's a goat…and a hose…and a pony…and a peacock…and chickens…and a emu." She beamed.
"An emu? Why do you have one of those?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know."
"Let's go see it."
"Ok." The two kids bound outside tearing to the barn. Mycroft was sitting in a chair reading.
"You two better get back inside! Mother's going to be furious!" Sherlock stopped looking back at Mycroft. He looked at Melody and shook his head.
"He's right." She frowned and crossed her arms.
"You are going to see the emu." She said. "COME AND MAKE US!" She yelled grabbing Sherlock's hand and running back down the path. Mycroft shifted in his seat and shook his head.
"Children," he murmured returning to his book.
"Father was never there. So I felt that being seven years older. I needed to step up and be a father to Sherlock. It made mother proud," Mycroft said . "I stopped being the cool big brother and became the enforcer. That's when it went sour." John nodded finishing his water.
"Just call or text if I find anything out?" he asked. Mycroft nodded.
"I'll be in touch."