Chapter 11:
Family Traditions
Sherlock had gone quiet at Anderson's words. Indeed, the silence in the room was so intense it could have been cut with a knife. Suddenly, Sherlock sighed dramatically, and began speaking in, to what anyone who didn't know him well, would have sounded like his normal voice when berating somebody for their own stupidity. John, however, knew his friend very well, and knew that this was very far from normal. He felt he was supposed to be preventing a terrible accident, but he could not quite see it coming.
"Thank you, Anderson. You obviously have some of the basics right, but I think you may have missed the most basic point of all." He paused, waiting for some response, but everyone seemed frozen in place. So slow, the lot of them.
"I presume you found the information about Sherlock Avery Holmes in the police reports when you were doing background reading for Operation Sealyham? Yes, I thought as much", he continued, his eyes glinting dangerously as Anderson nodded. "And, no doubt struck by the unlikely coincidence of there being two Sherlock Holmes's with no connection to each other, you looked up..." he fiddled with his phone for a moment, then held it out for everyone to see - "... this Holmes family tree on Ancestry?"
"Yes. Am I supposed to impressed?" snarled Anderson.
"No. That much is obvious. As is the fact that you have seen the family tree my Aunt Anneli drew - Ancestry will bring it up for you automatically if someone else has already researched what you seem to be researching. Now, what is slightly less obvious, but which still shouldn't be outside the capabilities of anyone possessed of a grain of logic, is spotting that she only used first names and surnames. You must have noticed all the police reports referred to Avery Holmes, mustn't you? Nobody called him Sherlock. Using the second name is a common tradition in my family - as is the name Sherlock - after all, we are rather posh."
Now Anderson was suddenly sure he could see where this was going, and he wanted to stop it, wanted to unsay his words, wanted to be sick and crawl home to rest in bed with the blanket over his head. Worse still, he could tell everyone else knew, but no-one knew what to say. Sherlock ploughed on relentlessly.
"For instance, my cousin Tom, Anneli's son, the one who was exactly the same age as me; his first name was Sherlock, but no-one ever called him that. See him here, at the bottom of the tree; the one you assumed was me, as I absolutely fit your profile of the spoilt only child. Wrong, as usual. Look again. Can you find me now? I'll give you a clue; I go by what used to be my second name too."
Sherlock was shaking as he spat out his words, his face waxy, and he thrust the phone at Anderson in a trembling hand. He was suddenly seized with a coughing fit, and he turned, and stumbled out of the room. There was a horrified silence, then John and Lestrade ran after him, leaving a stricken Anderson staring at the only other name on the family tree who could possibly be the arrogant consulting detective.
-oOo-
This all only goes to show you really should just stay in bed if you're ill, to avoid doing something totally stupid.
On to chapter 12 now - two chapters at once, as a special treat for you (although I'd still appreciate it if kind people could review them separately, of course - hint, hint!)