Chapter 2: Sherlock

"Great" Sherlock mumbled on the ride to Aldershot. He sat in the leather passenger seat, bored out of his mind. He hated spending time with his dysfunctional family, especially when he had other plans. And his mother was overbearing, just like Mycroft.

"Sherlock, she is your Mother, you can't just ignore her." replied John. The 3.5 hour ride was dreadfully boring but Sherlock tried to keep his mind occupied by deducing Amelia.

"John, did you know anything different with Amy?" inquired Sherlock, running his long fingers through his curly hair.

"No, she seemed worried about your mother, which is a quite normal response considering the situation. Why? What did you notice?" asked John, knowing that Sherlock noticed way more than him and he learned a long time ago to just accept it and go with it.

"Well, first off her posture was antithetic. She was slumped, afraid, clearly, and hiding something. And her eyes, John, normally they dance and have an edge to them, much like our father's, but today they were filled with pain and fear. She didn't hold her usually confidence and she was trying to cover her wrists. Something is wrong with her John. If only I could figure out what. I have about eight possible scenarios that could explain it but I want to be 100 percent sure." confided Sherlock.

"Do you think she is a cutter?" asked John, now worried.

"No, she isn't depressed, lacks most of the obvious signs of a suicidal person." said Sherlock with an eye roll.

"Then what could it possibly be Sherlock? Maybe you should just ask her. I am sure it is nothing. Teenagers are often moody and are prone to hiding things. Maybe she had a little domestic with her boyfriend."

"I bet Mycroft knows, he was going to tell me and Amy showed up to stop him." said Sherlock shaking his curls out of his eyes.

"Really Sherlock, even for you it sounds a little far-fetched. Mycroft probably wanted help with a low level case and Amy is about to start her second year at Oxford, probably just stress." replied John.

Aldershot was a small town and the Holmes family was well-known and well respected. Aldora Holmes was in room 202 in the small, but high end hospital. The dull yellow lights gave Sherlock a headache.

"Mum" Amelia whispered as she reached out for her frail mother's hand. Sherlock and Mycroft stood at the foot of the bed, both analyzing their dear mother's condition. Mycrfot had somehow gotten a hold of her chart.

"Amelia, stop this at once, I am fine, just a few bruises. Although I will need someone to call Humphrey and have him walk the dog. Oh and Mycroft, be a dear, and call Mrs. Wordshire, tea will need to be rescheduled, the garden is nowhere near finished and it is not suitable for company. Mycroft left without a word to do what his mother asked. Their mother was the matronly type and not even Mycroft would do anything that would displease her.

"How are you feeling Mother?" asked Sherlock, even though he already knew the answer. The chart was clear enough for him to understand that she would be discharged the next day.

"Oh don't you worry about me. How is Walter?" replied Aldora, being ever so courteous.

Walter had been the family chauffeur for a number of years and had walked away with minimal injuries.

"What hap-happend Mummy?" asked Amelia shakily.

Sherlock noted this and realized that she was afraid of the answer, which seemed silly even for his younger sister. She was clearly shaken and all of the blood had drained from her face, but he couldn't figure out why, surely it wasn't about their mother's injuries since they were minimal.

"Why, it was silly really, Walter said a cow stumbled on the road and he swerved to avoid it." said Aldora. "You know how it is, I told him not to take back roads." Just then the doctor walked in, in his spiffy white coat and smiled with his million dollar teeth. He sent Sherlock and Amelia out so their mother could get her rest. In the hall however Walter was telling Mycroft what had really happened.