In another part of London, Watson sat reading his paper while eating his breakfast at his dining table. Or rather, he was trying to read his paper while attempting to ignore the empty seat across from him while he waited for his breakfast to be served.
He rang the little bell on his table, before settling down again, and then paused. He glanced up as he heard no sounds, and Watson frowned before he rang the bell again. His frown deepened as there was no answer, and he checked his pocket watch to look at the time. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he pocketed the watch once more before ringing the bell again impatiently.
At last, there was a response as the door to the dining room opened and the maid came in quickly.
"Ah." Watson greeted with a raised brow. "Where have you been?"
"Sorry, sir." The maid, Jane, replied demurely as she stopped smartly at the opposite corner of the dining table. "I'm rather behind my time this morning."
"Are you incapable of boiling an egg?" Watson demanded, before he sighed and continued in a calmer but equally irritated voice: "The fires are rarely lit; there is dust everywhere; and you almost destroyed my boots scraping the mud off them!"
Jane just bowed her head, and Watson finished crossly: "If it wasn't my wife's business to deal with the staff, I would talk to you myself. Where is my wife?" He added as he gestured at the empty seat across from him.
"Begging your pardon, sir," Jane answered, "but the mistress has gone out."
"Out?" Watson repeated incredulously. "At this hour of the morning?"
"Yes, sir." Jane replied shortly. "Did you not know that, sir?"
"Where did she go?" Watson asked, ignoring Jane's comment as he glanced down at his paper and adding in a mutter: "She's always out these days."
Jane laughed a little as she pointed out: "Not unlike yourself…"
Watson lifted his head to look at her, and she quickly added as she clamped up her laughter: "Sir."
"I'm sorry?" Watson demanded, and Jane murmured: "Just observing, sir."
"Well, that's quite enough." Watson said sternly and warningly "Nobody asked you to be observant."
"Sorry, sir." Jane mumbled. "I just meant you're hardly ever home together any more, sir."
Watson almost gaped, and he said quietly but sharply: "You are dangerously close to impertinence."
He dropped his paper as he leant forward to stare Jane down as he added firmly: "I shall have a word with my wife to have a word with you."
He sat back in his chair, starting to look back at his paper and Jane replied: "Very good, sir. And when will you be seeing her?"
Watson looked up sharply once more, his eyes narrowing and he began sharply: "Now listen here-"
"Ooh, I nearly forgot, sir." Jane interrupted suddenly as she reached into her apron pocket and produced a telegram. "Er, a telegram came for you."
"You forgot?" Watson asked incredulously, and Jane replied in an almost retort: "No, I nearly forgot."
"What have you been doing all morning?" Watson demanded as he snatched the telegram from her, and Jane answered with a sly smile: "Reading your new one in The Strand, sir."
Watson paused, before asking curiously: "Did you enjoy it?"
"Why do you never mention me, sir?" Jane questioned, and Watson frowned.
"Go away." He ordered, and Jane left as he opened the telegram, addressed: "Dr. John Watson."
He quickly scanned it, reading: "COME AT ONCE IF CONVENIENT. IF INCONVENIENT, COME ALL THE SAME. HOLMES."
He didn't need to be told twice, and Watson was out the door before Jane had even returned to the kitchen.
"The what of the what?" Watson asked blankly, and Holmes repeated as they sat in the cab together: "The obliquity of the ecliptic."
Watson sighed, looking out his window as he said flatly: "'Come at once', you said. I assumed it was important."
"It is." Holmes replied shortly. "It's the inclination of the Earth's equator to the path of the sun on the celestial plane."
Watson scoffed and he asked with a raised brow: "Have you been swotting up?"
"Why would I do that?" Holmes countered, and Watson suggested: "To sound clever."
"I am clever." Holmes retorted, and Watson realized: "Oh, I see."
"You see what?" Holmes demanded as he glanced at his friend, and Watson answered with a small smirk: "I deduce we're on our way to see someone cleverer than you."
There was a slight pause, and then Holmes muttered sulkily: "Shut up."
Diogenes Club
The pair strode into the Club, Holmes smiling as he nodded at the elderly gentleman standing behind the front desk. Watson walked up behind him as Holmes signed his greeting to the elderly man: "Good morning, Wilder. Is my brother in?"
Watson blinked, not really following as his sign language wasn't that good, while Wilder nodded, signing back: "Naturally sir. It's breakfast time."
"The Stranger's Room?" Holmes inquired, and Wilder nodded: "Yes, sir."
Holmes smiled, before gesturing at Watson as he signed to Wilder: "This gentleman is my guest."
"Ah Yes!" Wilder signed back before he greeted Watson. "Dr. Watson, of course. Enjoyed 'The Blue Carbuncle', sir."
Holmes nodded as he glanced at Watson, before looking at him again as Watson just stared back blankly. Holmes nudged his friend with an eye roll, nodding at Wilder, and Watson blinked before smiling and signing back a little nervously.
"Thank you." He signed with a friendly smile. "I...am...glad...you...liked it. You are very...ugly."
Holmes did a small double take, staring at Watson while Wilder frowned and questioned: "I beg your pardon?"
"Ugly." Watson signed back obliviously. "What you said about… 'The Blue Fishmonger'. Very ugly... I am glad you liked… my potato."
Wilder glanced at Holmes, looking bewildered, and the younger man quickly rectified the situation as he signed rapidly at Watson: "Yes. Needs work, Watson. Too much time spent on dancing lessons."
He finished with a stern look, and Watson stared at him.
"Sorry, what?" He asked blankly, and Holmes rolled his eyes before stalking away in a huff.
"Oh." Watson muttered in realization, glancing awkwardly at Wilder. He gave an even more awkward thumbs up with his left hand, before quickly following Holmes inside.
Holmes had gone on ahead into one of the private rooms, specifically the Stranger's Room, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he was hit with the heavy smell of food, particularly distasteful at this early hour of the morning. He strode around the astonishingly large piles of food, moving to stand before the opulent man sitting in the chair with his back to the door.
The man was rubbing his fingers together as he chewed appreciatively on his latest morsel of food, and Mycroft said lightly as he addressed his brother: "To anyone who wishes to study mankind, this is the spot."
Watson closed the door behind them as Holmes faced his brother, commenting dryly: "Handy, really, as your ever-expanding backside is permanently glued to it. Good morning, brother mine."
"Sherlock." Mycroft greeted as he chewed on another morsel before glancing over at Watson to greet: "Dr. Watson."
Watson had moved to stand beside Holmes, and he was staring at horror at mountain of food surrounding Mycroft Holmes, before he noticed the man holding out a pudgy hand towards him. Watson took Mycroft's hand as he said slowly as he endeavored to be polite: "You look ... well, sir."
"Really?" Mycroft asked with a raised brow. "I rather thought I looked enormous."
He picked up a glass of port, drinking from it as Watson gaped in a mix of horror and worry, and the good doctor murmured concernedly: "Well, now you mention it, this level of consumption is incredibly injurious to your health. Your heart-"
"No need to worry on that score, Watson." Holmes interrupted, and Watson asked in confusion: "No?"
"There's only a large cavity where that organ should reside." Holmes explained shortly.
Watson gaped at him, before glancing between the brothers incredulously as Mycroft smiled mirthlessly while commenting dryly: "It's a family trait."
"Oh, I wasn't being critical." Holmes countered, and Mycroft challenged with a raised brow: "I know. Pity you didn't inherent the trait quite as well as I, though."
Holmes's eyes narrowed at the not-so-subtle jab and Mycroft smirked. Watson interjected quickly as he attempted to steer the conversation away from Holmes's sore spot: "If you continue like this, sir, I give you five years at the most."
Holmes raised a brow and glanced at Watson, while Mycroft repeated almost in amusement: "Five? We thought three, did we not, Sherlock?"
"I'm still inclined to four." Holmes replied with a tight smile, and Mycroft taunted with a condescending smile: "As ever, you see but you do not observe. Note the discolouration in the whites of my eyes, the visible rings of fat around the cornea…"
He trailed off suggestively as he pointed out his symptoms literally and figuratively, and Watson could only gape while Holmes replied swiftly: "Yes, you're right. I'm changing my bet to three years, four months and eleven days."
"A bet?!" Watson demanded incredulously as he turned to his friend indignantly, but Holmes cut him off as he replied lightly: "I understand your disapproval, Watson, but if he's feeling competitive it is perfectly within his power to die early."
"That's a risk you'll have to take." Mycroft replied with a sly smile, and Holmes could only look at him haughtily while Watson looked between them incredulously.
"You're gambling with your own life?" He asked as though he could hardly believe what he was seeing and hearing.
"Why not?" Mycroft challenged. "It's so much more exciting than gambling with others'."
Watson didn't know if he should be horrified or not – or rather, he didn't want to dwell too heavily on the horror of what he was hearing – when Holmes abruptly chimed in as he nodded to something on a table beside Mycroft: "Three years flat if you eat that plum pudding."
"Done." Mycroft answered, and he immediately reached over, picking up the pudding with his hands. Watson looked torn between disgust and professional concern while Holmes looked completely disinterested as Mycroft licked his lips before sticking the pudding in his mouth.
The trio sat with the two visitors facing the grotesquely overweight man as Mycroft commented: "I expected to see you a few days ago about the Manor House case. I thought you might be a little out of your depth there."
"No." Holmes returned as he placed down his teacup. "I solved it."
"It was Adams, of course." Mycroft commented condescendingly, and Holmes acknowledged a little grudgingly but also quietly and a little defeated: "Yes, it was Adams."
Mycroft turned to Watson as he explained: "Murderous jealousy. He'd written a paper for the Royal Astronomical Society on the obliquity of the ecliptic, and then read another that seemed to surpass it. "
Watson stared in surprise, while Holmes said calmly: "I know. I read it."
"Do you understand it?" Mycroft challenged, and Watson glanced at Holmes, who glanced furtively back as he replied shortly: "Yes, of course I understood it. It was perfectly simple."
"No, did you understand the murderous jealousy?" Mycroft corrected sternly, his eyes fixed on his brother. "It is no easy thing for a great mind to contemplate a still greater one."
He gave his younger brother a look, and Holmes straightened. The air turned just a shade colder as Holmes gave his brother a tight-lipped smile, asking flatly: "Did you summon me here just to humiliate me?"
"Yes." Mycroft replied with a sly smile, before he chuckled as Holmes stood up sharply, his face set in a furious scowl.
"Of course not," Mycroft chided as Holmes paused, "but it is by far the greater pleasure."
Holmes snapped back irritably: "Then would you mind explaining exactly why you did summon-"
"Our way of life is under threat from an invisible enemy." Mycroft said over him and Holmes paused, a brow lifting as he listened. "One that hovers at our elbow on a daily basis. These enemies are everywhere, undetected and unstoppable."
He looked over at Watson, who leaned forward in his chair.
"Socialists?" He asked seriously, and Mycroft lifted a brow as he replied: "Not socialists, Doctor, no."
"Anarchists?" Watson tried again, still serious, and Mycroft replied shortly: "No."
"The French?" Watson wondered. "The suffragists?"
Mycroft paused, staring at Watson, before he asked dryly: "Is there any large body of people you're not concerned about?"
"Dr. Watson is endlessly vigilant." Holmes replied as he gave Watson a look before turning back to his brother to order: "Elaborate."
"No, investigate." Mycroft returned. "This is a conjecture of mine. I need you to confirm it. I'm sending you a case."
Watson had been frowning thoughtfully, and he suddenly piped up as he had another idea: "The Scots."
"The Scots?!" Holmes repeated incredulously, while Mycroft chuckled: "Are you aware of recent theories concerning what is known as 'paranoia'?"
"Ooh," Watson murmured, "sounds Serbian."
Holmes rolled his eyes before freezing as an all-too-familiar voice replied: "I doubt you'd know what real Serbian sounds like, Dr. Watson."
Watson also started, looking up in surprise to stare at the woman who had appeared in the doorway, dressed in a dark purple dress, and carrying a tray of freshly baked pies.
"Rose-Marie?" He asked incredulously while Holmes stared at the woman, having lost his tongue as she came to a stop by one of Mycroft's tables.
"John." She greeted before looking across at the man beside the surprised doctor.
"Mr. Holmes Jr." She greeted coldly, and he managed to unlock his jaw enough to get out: "Marie."
"Er, no, Rose-Marie." John corrected hastily as both Rose-Marie and Mycroft lifted their brows.
"Right, of course." Holmes said distractedly, before tensing as Rose-Marie said scathingly: "Perhaps you need a list."
Holmes straightened as he replied a little sharply: "Not necessary."
"Hmm, seems nothing has changed since I left." Rose-Marie noted as she deftly set up the pies on Mycroft's table, and Watson asked incredulously: "You're working for Holmes's brother now?"
"A girl's got to eat." Rose-Marie shrugged. "Although maybe not quite this much."
She nodded at the piles of delicacies, to which Mycroft snorted while Watson let out a surprised laugh.
"So, back to business." Mycroft said brusquely as he fixed a critical eye on his brother. "A woman will call on you – Lady Carmichael. I want you to take her case."
Holmes glanced at his brother with a frown before his eyes flitted back to Rose-Marie's as she watched him coolly, while Watson protested as he returned to their earlier subject: "But these enemies: how are we to defeat them if you won't tell us about them?"
"We don't defeat them." Mycroft replied shortly. "We must certainly lose to them."
Watson frowned in confusion and he asked: "Why?"
"Because they are right," Mycroft replied as he glanced at Holmes, "and we are wrong."
Holmes's eyes narrowed just slightly, and he kept his gaze on Rose-Marie's piercing green eyes as he asked his brother: "Lady Carmichael's case – what is it?"
"Oh, rest assured, it has features of interest." Mycroft replied slyly, and Holmes frowned as he muttered: "I never really say that."
"No, you really do." Watson mumbled, and Rose-Marie added coolly: "Yes, you really do."
They all paused as Holmes glanced back at her, and she added with a suggestive purr: "I would know."
Watson blinked, alarmed, while Mycroft lifted a brow and Holmes' eyes narrowed. Rose-Marie simply gave him a cold smile, the flirty attitude dropping in a chilling manner as she added, throwing the words in Holmes's face: "Isn't that right, ex-husband?"
Mycroft lifted his other brow as well, impressed by the bold blow, while Watson winced and Holmes's jaw clenched.
But otherwise, the consulting detective didn't show any other response as he turned to his brother and inquired in a neutral tone: "And you've solved it already, I assume?"
"Only in my head." Mycroft replied pointedly. "I need you for the, er ..." He grimaced. "... Legwork."
"Why not just tell us your solution?" Watson wondered, and Mycroft scoffed: "Where would be the sport in that?"
He then turned to his brother as he demanded: "Will you do it, Sherlock?"
Holmes gave him a cold stare, but Mycroft prompted: "I can promise you a superior distraction."
Holmes's eyes were angry slits before he smoothed out his expression.
"On one condition." He returned as he looked at his ex-wife and then his brother. "Have another plum pudding."
"There's one on the way." Mycroft answered lightly, and Watson blinked as Holmes straightened his suit, saying blithely: "Two years, eleven months and four days."
Mycroft chuckled as Holmes walked out, brushing passed Rose-Marie without another glance as she in turn ignored him.
"It's getting exciting now!" Mycroft mused as Watson belatedly realized Holmes was leaving without him and hurried off after his friend while giving Rose-Marie an awkward greeting.
"Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock." Mycroft mused as Rose-Marie moved to stand before him.
"The obliquity of the ecliptic?" She asked once the door had closed behind Watson, and Mycroft smiled.
"Obviously." He replied and she nodded.
"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes. I shall see you later." She said coolly and he waved her off as she left through a hidden doorway just before Wilder entered, pushing a trolley with a silver-covered plate.
"Thank you, Wilder." Mycroft beamed, and Wilder nodded while he added politely: "Also, a Mr Malice to see you, Mr Holmes."
"Ah." Mycroft murmured with a thoughtful frown. "Give me five minutes. I have a wager to win."
He smiled, leaning forward and Wilder nodded as he removed the lid on the plate. Mycroft paused as he saw the three plum puddings sitting in a neat row on the plate, before he looked up at Wilder.
"Better make that fifteen." He corrected, before he leaned in, licking his lips.
"Tick tock." He murmured as he grabbed a plum pudding in both hands with another loud squelch.
