Where are you?- SH
Back of a taxi. Away to visit the brother - JH
It wasn't him. You're wasting your time. -SH
Need to be sure. -JH
WASTING YOUR TIME. -SH
James set his phone to vibrate, and ignored the periodical buzzes. As the car slowed, his phone blasted out his father's ringtone.
"what?"
"It wasn't the bro-"
"You haven't even been to the crime scene!"
"I don't need to. It wasn't him."
"I'm going to hang up now."
"Ja-"
James slided his phone back into his pocket with a sigh. He felt it vibrate, and had a sudden urge to throw the thing at the nearest wall.
He hated his father sometimes. First, he sent James pointlessly on a case; second, he questions his methods; third he badgers him about NOT interviewing his strongest lead. What next?
James's phone began to ring again. He had to try very hard not to crush the iPhone in his hand.
"what is it now?!"
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be questioning you. It's your first case, you're going to make mista-"
"This isn't a mistake. It's the only lead I have. And as you say, when the impossible is ruled out-"
"Whatever is left, however improbable, must be true. Yes, I do say that. But you don't have to waste time and energy confirming what you know already to be true."
James frowned. That's what his father always did- test theories, do experiments. He also had no care for how much time or energy it would take to make his theory fact.
"I've got to go. I'm outside the house."
"James, please-"
"Bye, Dad"
"Bye...good luck"
James was in shock; not only had his father apologized, but he had also said please, and good luck. James was also being tricked, for whatever reasons that his father had. Apart from the latter statement, something was extremely wrong.
He considered going home; but then that was what his father wanted as an end result. It could be scare tactics; it could be a serious problem. James eventually decided to go and interview the victim's brother; if he came all this way to do nothing, THAT would be a waste of time and energy. There was something seriously lacking in his father's reasoning that day.

He knocked on the door what was meant to be three times- he was interrupted half way through by a 'GO AWAY'.
"Mr. Riley, this is the-" James hesitated "police. I want to ask you some questions about your sister."
"I don't want to talk about her. Leave me alone"
"Mr. Riley, please. I understand that you are very distressed, but if you don't open the door, I will have no qualms as to breaking it down."
He heard footsteps, a thud, the sound of a man picking himself up from the floor, followed by more footsteps. When the door was finally opened, James was met by a pungent smell of alcohol.
"Who" he belched "are you?"
James, not sure what to say to gain the man's trust, said "Detective Holmes".
"Holmes? Like Sherlock Holmes?"
James smiled falsely. "I'm a relative."It was just as well the man was drunk; he would- or should- have been skeptical about this story, although it was true.

"As I had mentioned, there are some questions I would like to ask you in regard to your sister's..." how to broach the subject?"...passing. However, I see that you are in no fit state to co-operate at the present" said James, writing down his number on a scrap of paper. "Please, call me when you are feeling better." James feigned another smile as he handed over the note. He walked away without waiting for any kind of farewell from the man, and with complete certainty that he would never hear from him.
He decided to get the tube home, because he didn't want to rush home to his father. However, while walking to the station, a suspiciously Mycroft-looking limousine pulled up next to him. Winding down the window, Mycroft said 'get in'. James was suprised Mycroft had came personally, but that meant he couldn't refuse the offer. He got in without saying anything.
"Hello, James" said Mycroft, smiling.
"Hello"
This was probably Mycroft's attempt at making casual conversation. It wasn't working. After a few minutes of awkward silence, James said "Why are you visiting my parents?"
"Why do you presume that I am? I'm only here to see you"
"You always have an ulterior motive."
Mycroft sighed. "I need to see Sherlock about Hamish. The situation is not good...I would rather not talk about it in front of children, you and Harriet-"
"I'm fifteen, and Harriet can handle anything, even if she is only thirteen."
"Still, I...the situation is grave."
"If you don't tell us, Harriet will work it out and tell me. I'm not stupid, and she's a genius."
"You always value yourself below Harriet but you don't resent her. Why is that?"
"Because she's got one of the highest IQ's in the country. By the time she's my age, she'll be twice as intelligent as your brother. I'm more clever than most fifteen-year-olds but I'll never be a detective or a scientist at the same level as her. But anyway, you've changed the subject. I would ask to return to it, but since we're nearly at my house it won't be necessary as you are going to tell me what has happened to Hamish anyway."
Mycroft sighed. They drove the rest of the way in silence, as he couldn't think of another way to start a light conversation when there were pressing matters- and James knew they were pressing. Hamish was family, no matter how far apart they had drifted. He tried not to seem to anxious, to keep up his appearence of looking like his father, although he didn't know how he would react. He resigned to drumming his fingers on his knee, hoping he would look more impatient that worried.

Ten minutes later, the driver pulled up outside of James's house, just as it was starting to rain. He stepped out of the limo, holding the door for Mycroft without thanks. James walked ahead of Mycroft as the door would be locked- as always- and pulled his set of keys out of his pocket. As he unlocked the door, Mycroft said
"I think I should take the opportunity to...to apologize. I won't get an apology in later, when I'm speaking to Sherlock."
James wasn't sure what to say. Mycroft was right to apologise, though there was so much more he should be apologising for. Maybe everything he had given to his father, to him, was a way of apology.
"I'll accept your apology based on the situation." He said finally. Mycroft didn't reply. Walking through the front door, James felt a sense of dread at what he was about to hear; he was sure Mycroft felt it too, and worse, because he would have to say it.