Chapter 3
Book of Memories
Lestrade was angry…no, he was furious. Sherlock did it again! He stole the case files right from under his nose! It was an important case. That stupid idiot just can't take things without telling him. How stupid could he be?! Lestrade stopped outside the door to the flat. He took in several deep breaths, remembering that Mrs. Hudson was just downstairs sleeping. Not even noticing how quiet it was in the flat Lestrade threw open the door.
"Sherlock you-"
"Lestrade!" shouted a muffled voice. Lestrade stared ahead of him to see John sitting in his chair with a gun to his head and Sherlock standing by the window with his hands up and sopping wet curls atop his head. Lestrade stared at the gun pointed at John and then glared over at Sherlock.
"Really? Can we never just have a normal or easy day without getting attacked in our own home?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock shrugged, pulling the wet curls from his face.
"Good, question, but we sort of…brought him here-"
"You kidnapped me!" the man protested, pressing the gun tighter to John's head. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the man.
"You are the drug dealer we've been hunting down for a week! Why would we not kidnap you?!" Sherlock burst, throwing his hands in the air and turning to look out the window.
"Sherlock how many times must I tell you-"
"Not to go out on my own," Sherlock stated, copying Lestrade's voice. "Yes, a billion times, but I caught him didn't I?"
"Caught him?!" Lestrade explained in a high pitched voice. "He's got a bullet with your friends name on it!" Sherlock shrugged and pulled of his heavy coat. "And why are you soaking wet?" Lestrade added, nodding at Sherlock's wet hair. Sherlock's eyes rolled up to stare at the hair atop his head and he let out a stifled sigh.
"He tried to drown me in a fountain when we attacked," Sherlock stated. Lestrade's eyes widened.
"Sherlock! Sherlock, he could have killed you!"
"He didn't!"
"But what if he did?!"
"Umm…can I interject?"
"NO!" Sherlock and Lestrade shouted in unison to the attacker's question. The attacker stared down at John with wide eyes and John simply shrugged.
"You get used to it," John stated, turning his eyes back to the fight. Lestrade's body was practically radiating hate while Sherlock's was perfectly calm. He may be tied down with a bullet to his head, but at least he got a free show and they were wasting some time.
"What about you?!" Sherlock finally shouted. "If you didn't have idiots tripping over your crimes scenes I would have solved the cases right away." Lestrade stared at him, teeth meshed together.
"Like you aren't any better! Every day it's 'oh, I better keep an eye on Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum so they don't start a war with Anderson and Donavan'!" Sherlock raised a brow at the DI.
"Tweedle?"
"He means those characters from Alice in Wonderland," John clarified. Sherlock's facial expression didn't change. He simply just stared into space, searching his mind palace for a helpful definition. John, Lestrade, and even the attacker now rolled their eyes at the clueless detective.
Bing!
Sherlock glanced down at his phone, which was sitting on the couch arm. He scooped it up and flicked through the messages.
New Messages: 1
Photo Album page 13- MH
Sherlock frowned at the text, brushing back his wet curls and walked away into his bedroom. Lestrade and John both exchanged a look of confusion while the attacker just stared at them in astonishment. Sherlock emerged from his room, clutching a small book that had memories printed across the cover in golden letters. Sherlock slunk down into his chair and flipped through the book, eyes scanning every picture. Lestrade watched with him. The first few pictures Mycroft couldn't get a close look at, but once on page 13 he got a glimpse of the Holmes brother's childhood. The first picture was of a little baby in what looked like a woman's arms. He was wrapped in a blanket sleeping contently. The picture next to it was of a little boy of maybe seven, cradling a small infant in his arms. Lestrade felt the corners of his lips twitch as he realized the children were Mycroft and Sherlock.
"Since when do you keep a scrap book?" Lestrade teased.
"Shut up," Sherlock spat, his eyes finally falling to the picture he was searching for. It was a picture taken in the fall. Red leaves were falling from the trees around two children and pumpkins with their faces perfectly carved into them. One of the little kids sat on the ledge of a large maple tree. He was wearing a pirate coat and hat and was holding his sword out toward the camera. The other child looked utterly miserable. His was dressed up in reddish orange pants with suspenders and had one of those little propeller hats.
"Is that Mycroft!" Lestrade gasped, staring at the miserable boy. Sherlock nodded, a smile curving around his face.
"Now I remember," Sherlock stated. "Mummy wanted us to dress up as characters from Disney movies. I picked the pirate so Mycroft got stuck with Tweedle Dum." A soft chuckle left Sherlock's mouth as the memory made it past the locked doors of Sherlock's mind palace.
"He looks ridiculous!" Lestrade chuckled, joining in on Sherlock's laughter.
Bing!
Lestrade glanced down at his phone to see a new message from Mycroft.
Shut up, Detective Inspector. Maybe you should look through your own scrap book. I especially love the photos of you as Winnie the Pooh.-MH
"How…where did he…never mind. I don't want to know," Lestrade stuttered, shaking his head as his cheeks blushed a bright red.
"He's probably stalking you like he does with everyone else in this flat," John stated, walking over to Sherlock and looking down at the book.
"Oh, Mycroft-"Sherlock's eyes shot up to John in astonishment. "How did you…" Sherlock trailed off. His eyes falling on their attacker, who was laying on the floor with a dark bruise just below his eye brow.
"Umm…John, how…how did you escape?" Lestrade stuttered, completely forgetting about the memory book. John shrugged simply and walked over to the passed out body on their floor.
"You two were a perfect distraction, while I cut my bonds and knocked him off his feet," John stated.
"Glad to be of service," Sherlock shouted triumphantly, while turning back to the memory book. Lestrade stared at the man lying on the floor and then to John and Sherlock. He smiled at them and sat down, looking through the endless supply of photos.
"I'll have to use these as blackmail on Mycroft," thought Lestrade, devilishly. Lestrade felt his phone buzz, but he didn't touch it. He had a feeling he knew who it was from.