Chapter Forty One

On arrival at Caro's home, the family were met by Giorgio who showed them back to their old rooms and, before leaving them to settle in, announced that lunch would be served at midday. Sherlock sat on the bed, looking rather the worse for the car journey. He was anxious to get out of his dirty clothing, too, since the smell of dried blood was not helping the nausea situation. But, with nothing yet to change into, he was resigned to putting up with it for a little longer. Molly, however, had other ideas. She insisted he strip off and get into bed.

He put up a strenuous opposition but she was having none of it and, coming just short of actually undressing him herself, eventually won the round. Within moments of his head touching the pillow, he was asleep, proving the doctor's point that he really was in need of rest. She took his shirt to Giorgio and asked if it could be soaked in saline to remove the blood stains. The suit would have to be dry cleaned. The shoes may never recover from being dragged along the ground, with his feet in them. That would remain to be seen.

Molly and the boys went out into the garden to relax and play and put the awful events of the day before behind them. This was where Caro found them when she returned with Mycroft and their belongings.

'How are you all, my dear?' she asked, hugging Molly and waving to William, who was in his favourite spot in the crow's nest. Freddie had wrapped himself around her legs by way of a greeting and was currently nestled in her arms, smiling broadly.

'Well, as you can see, we all had a nasty fright but we survived – thanks to Agent Esteves and you – and Sherlock proved that he has a skull like a bison, although it's going to take a while for the concussion to ease. He's just having a nap, now.'

'I've advised Mycroft to do the same. He's been up and about for over a day and a half now, due to the overnight flight and the time difference, so I sent him to his room – like a naughty boy!' Caro and Molly giggled so Freddie joined in. 'They will both benefit from a few hours rest, I think. And then I must have a serious talk with Mycroft.'

Molly looked puzzled.

'He still doesn't know about what I told Sherlock and you about his parents' relationship,' Caro explained.

Molly's expression morphed to one of shock.

'Oh, my goodness! With everything else that's been going on, would you believe I had actually forgotten about all that? How is that possible?'

'Oh, easily possible, Molly dear. It's not every day you have members of a dangerous organised crime syndicate attempting to kidnap you, thank goodness! I can quite understand how that small detail might have slipped your mind! However, it's my responsibility to enlighten Mycroft. It would be quite unfair to expect poor Sherlock to do it. He's the main victim in all this – though Mycroft is a victim too, in a different sense.'

'I know what you mean, Caro. They both suffered consequences of that dreadful act. It's very good of you to take on this responsibility.'

'The responsibility has always been mine, Molly. I really should have told Mycroft sooner but it never seemed like the right time. However, that time has now come. Before he flies back to the UK, I must explain it all and he plans to return tomorrow, now he knows you are all alright...'

'It's such a pity Arthur wasn't able to come with him,' Molly mused.

'Arthur?' Caro asked.

'Oh, I see you don't know! Arthur was the Army psychiatric nurse who looked after Sherlock, after the incident with The Woman. He and Mycroft became very close and now they're an item!' Molly explained.

Caro beamed, broadly.

'That is wonderful news. I've always thought that what Mycroft needed was a good man. I take it Arthur is a good man?'

'He's a lovely man. He's very caring and considerate but also very down to earth and funny. He's a Lancashire lad, a sort of rough diamond but he really cares for Mycroft and the children. I think he's going to be around for a very long time. And Mycroft seems to adore him. You can see it in his eyes whenever he looks at Arthur or even just when anyone mentions his name. It's rather lovely to see them together. Which is why I wish Arthur were here now. Mycroft will need his support, afterwards.'

Caro looked troubled but she shook her head.

'But I do have to tell him, Molly. I can't put it off any longer,' she declared.

'Oh, no, you are absolutely right to do so,' Molly agreed. 'We'll be here for Mycroft and Arthur will be there when he gets home. I think he's about to get his discharge papers from the Army so he'll be living permanently at the family's house, soon. And anyway, Caro, I know you'll be sensitive when you talk to him. You'll know exactly the right way to put it all.'

'I wish I had your faith in my diplomatic skills, Molly, I really do. But I'll do my best,' the other woman promised.

ooOoo

Both Holmes men slept through lunch and for the entire afternoon but emerged from their respective hibernations, looking refreshed and well-groomed, in time for afternoon tea at four o'clock. Sherlock's hair looked a little tousled since he could only run his fingers through it because of the glued gash above his right ear but thanks to a long shower, a fresh shirt and his cream linen suit, he passed muster. Mycroft sported his usual business three piece and slicked back hair.

The cream and strawberry jam scones and three different blends of tea put everyone in a good mood, after which Caro turned to Mycroft and asked if she could see him in her study. He readily agreed. As they left the conservatory, Sherlock turned to Molly and gave her a questioning look.

'She's going to tell him what she told you, about your parents,' Molly explained, in a low voice.

'Then I should go, too,' he insisted. He went to stand but she put a hand on his arm.

'Let Caro do it,' Molly advised. 'It really is her story to tell. She was the person your mother confided in; she was the witness to the aftermath. I think it will come easier for Mycroft from her. She has no axe to grind and she knew both parties very well.'

He could see the logic in that but he still looked in the direction of the departing figures, feeling apprehensive about how his brother might take the information he was about to hear.

ooOoo

Once in her study, Caro invited Mycroft to take a seat on the sofa, in the same place that Sherlock had sat when she spoke to him. He sensed that whatever his mother's best friend wanted to talk about – and he knew it had something to do with Sherlock's formative years – was going to be unpleasant, both to say and to hear. That much was obvious. As to the content, he was completely in the dark and anxious to be enlightened. Caro collected her thoughts, as she had done last time she told this tale, and began.

ooOoo

Molly was about to suggest that she and Sherlock take the boys to see Caro's aviary when Henrique returned home and came straight through to the conservatory to greet the family. He was delighted to see them all looking so remarkably well, especially Sherlock. He was also bursting with news about what had happened after the covert ops team stormed the abandoned racing yard. Molly took this as her cue to take the boys away. She knew Sherlock would fill her in later.

'Sr Oliviera has been a revelation,' Henrique declared, once Molly and the boys were out of earshot. 'I believe the term is 'singing like a bird', to quote the old Hollywood gangster films. It would appear that he has been 'in bed' with the bad boys for most of his political career. In return for his assistance, the organised crime bosses have lent their support to his campaign budgets which has ensured that he could progress up the career ladder so successfully.'

'But how did he keep that a secret? Weren't his finances scrutinized?' Sherlock asked.

'In deed, they were but money laundering is always available to those who know how to do it. All these organised crime moguls have their legitimate businesses.'

'So how did he get involved in the first place? Wasn't he a military hero?'

'He was. And that's why he was targeted by the crime bosses. He had a ready-made platform and public profile but also a useful skill – that of a pilot. He was recruited straight out of the Air Corp. He was bank rolled to take his civil pilot training and qualification and started to work for them right away. His diplomatic immunity coupled with his flying ability have been very useful for transporting drugs, babies, women - for the sex trade - boys also, you name it. His plane has been very busy.'

'That's what gave him away to me,' Sherlock explained. 'When you gave me his card, something started to prick my memory but it wasn't until he showed me a photo of his plane and I saw that insignia on the tail fin that the significance became clear. The plane that brought me to Rio five years ago to meet with Moriarty's lieutenant, carried the same insignia.

My memories of that period were compromised and I'm obviously still missing some but the insignia was the key to retrieving that one. Then I remembered where I had seen Oliviera before. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of the pilot of that plane but it was definitely him. It seemed obvious to me, then, that a private plane and a diplomatic passport would be a gift to anyone wishing to fly stolen babies out of the country. Unfortunately, I gave myself away, either to him or to the heavies who were watching us.

I knew my cover was blown and I needed to warn Molly. I couldn't hail a cab because I suspected they would have one of their own waiting to pick me up. When I ducked down the alley, I hoped to evade the cabbie. I didn't realise I was being tailed on foot. I always miss something,' he confessed, ruefully.

'The first thing I knew was when I woke up in the boot of a car and then, again, being carried over a man's shoulder.' Sherlock smiled, much to Henrique's surprise.

'What is funny about that, Sherlock,' he asked.

'Being upside down and also concussed had an unfortunate effect. It caused me to vomit all down the back of the man's legs. He dropped me on the ground, not at all pleased, but when I saw his face, I knew him. It took me a while to recall from where but then it came to me. I had thrown up on him once before, in the back of a car, the last time I was in Rio. He must think I have a personal grudge against him!' and he laughed, a deep-throated chuckle.

Henrique shook his head, bemused at how his young friend could find anything remotely amusing about his near death experience. But he went on to describe how they tracked the car using the traffic cameras, and how the criminals were apprehended and Sherlock rescued.

'I'm very grateful to you and Sr Diaz for saving me but, more importantly, for rescuing Molly and the boys.' He spoke with sincerity to the other man.

'And we are extremely grateful to you, my friend, for uncovering this corruption within our own government. Oliviera picked the wrong man when he tried to use you to lay a smoke screen, by pointing the finger at Diaz. He grossly under-estimated you but he was in far over his head. His wish to slip away into retirement will come true, now, but not in the manner in which he imagined,' Henrique concluded, referring to the lengthy prison sentence the former minister could expect to receive when this eventually came to court.

ooOoo

Mycroft rubbed his chin then clasped his hands in his lap.

'I'm not surprised, Caro,' he declared. 'Shocked, but not surprised.'

Caro frowned, wondering what exactly he meant. He seemed to have taken her revelations remarkably well but she was accustomed to Mycroft's ability to conceal his true feelings behind a blasé mask of indifference. She remained silent, inviting him to elaborate.

'I remember the period of time you refer to. I was only a small boy – about William's age – when my mother employed my piano tutor, Mr Vara. Even though I was quite young, I was also quite perceptive. I knew my mother liked Mr Vara. I didn't know how much, of course.

I was at school when Mummy was taken ill. When I arrived home in the afternoon, she was gone, taken to hospital. That was all I was told. I couldn't understand how she had become so ill so quickly. She was perfectly fine when she kissed me goodbye in the morning. Then I didn't see her for weeks and when I asked where she was and what was wrong with her, no one would tell me.

My father was away on various diplomatic missions for most of the time she was in hospital and he didn't seem very concerned about her. He never went to see her and when I asked if I could go to see her, I was told she was too ill for visitors. That made me think she must be dying, which frightened me so much I stopped asking about her, just in case they told me she was dead. I used to cry in bed at night but Nanny Rogers told me I should be brave, like a little soldier, not cry like a little girl.'

He paused there, remembering those nights of trying to cry silently so Nanny wouldn't hear.

'When Mummy came home from the hospital, she was still very frail. I was only allowed to see her once a day and only for a few minutes. Father came and went, as he always did. I asked him, once, if Mummy would ever get better. He told me that caring was not an advantage, that all lives end and all hearts were broken. That just confirmed my suspicion that Mummy was, after all, dying. And I did try not to care but I failed, miserably.'

Caro's heart nearly broke at the very idea of a six year old boy trying not to care about his own mother in order to please his father. What a harsh man Randolph Holmes had been, on so many levels.

'I remember you coming to stay, Caro,' he went on. 'You were like a ray of sunshine. As soon as you arrived, Mummy started to get better. You got her out of her room, got her out into the garden. When I came home from school in the afternoons, we would all have tea together. She started to smile and laugh again.

Then she told me I was going to have a baby brother or sister and she seemed quite happy about that. I was happy about it, too, but Father seemed annoyed. I thought that maybe it was the new baby that had made Mummy ill and that was why he wasn't happy. But when the baby arrived, everything changed. Mummy seemed unhappy and Father seemed pleased. He didn't want to have anything to do with Sherlock but, on the odd occasion when he came across him – out in the garden with Nanny Rogers or something – he would smile and look rather self-satisfied. Now, at long last, I understand why.'

'I'm so sorry, Mycroft. I've kept this from you for far too long. I really should have told you sooner.' Caro was mortified.

But Mycroft reached out and took her hand.

'None of this is your fault, my dear lady. You've been a true friend throughout this whole sorry saga, first to our mother in her time of greatest need and then to me and to Sherlock and his family. You have nothing whatsoever to apologise for.'

He sat back and steepled his fingers, tapping his chin with the tips for a few moments then folded his hands once more in his lap.

'I always knew my father was a hard man – cold and utterly ruthless – and I learned, as I grew older, that his relationship with my mother was a business arrangement rather than a real marriage. I knew there was no love lost between them. But I never imagined he would be capable of such a barbaric act. Poor Mummy. Imagine finding love and then having it snatched away? She must have led such a sad life.'

He lapsed into silence again but Caro sensed he was not done with speaking so she waited for him to continue which, eventually, he did.

'I was also well aware that she spoiled me partly to annoy my father. He used to accuse her of trying to make me soft and she would say that she was just trying to redress the balance. They did argue over me quite a lot. Father could hardly wait for me to turn thirteen so he could pack me off to boarding school and remove me from her influence.

He always took me to school, you know. He would never let her do it. He said he didn't want any embarrassing public displays of emotion. If he wasn't available, it would be the chauffeur. I took Sherlock to school. Neither Mummy nor Father could be bothered. He was just an inconvenience.'

For the first time, Caro detected a hint of emotion in his voice but his eyes remained clear and his face impassive as he went on.

'I always blamed myself, you know. I felt guilty that Mummy obviously loved me more than she did Sherlock and I believed that somehow it was my fault. I did try to make it up to him, in the beginning, by being extra nice. God, that sounds terrible! I wasn't pretending to love and care for him. He was my brother and I really did – do – love him. And he was always so pleased to see me when I came home from school.

I used to read him stories and we would play hide and seek. In a house the size of ours – not to mention the grounds – a game of hide and seek could last for hours. He was very good at hiding. He could stay still for ever. I know he used to drive Nanny Rogers mad, hiding from her. Sometimes, he would just sit in a corner and disappear. She would be hunting everywhere and he would be right there, under her nose!' Mycroft laughed at the memory of it but his demeanour quickly sobered.

'He was such a sad little soul. When I went away to school, I know he missed me terribly but when I came home, he was so demanding. I started to dread coming back for the holidays. In the end, I pushed him away, too.'

He covered his face with his hands and now it was Caro's turn to be the comforter.

'This isn't your fault, either, Mycroft. You have always done the best you could for everyone. You tried to live up to your father's expectations – and succeeded, I might add, far beyond his wildest dreams. You were always caring and loyal to your mother, even though you knew she was over-indulgent partly to defy your father, and you have always tried to keep Sherlock out of trouble, despite his best efforts to find it around every corner. You have been the ring master, keeping this circus running smoothly for most of your life.

I loved your mother very dearly but I knew the way she treated both you and Sherlock was wrong. And, the thing is, she knew it was wrong, too, but she couldn't stop herself. She was never the same after that day.

But she did love you and your brother, both of you. She told me. She wrote to me and told me.'

Mycroft rubbed his face with the heels of his hands and looked up.

'After your mother died, the solicitor sent me a package. It contained a letter and some photographs. I gave them to Sherlock. But I also took the liberty of bringing them here, today, from the hotel suite. I think he will want to show them to you.'

Caro stood up and leaned over to hug him.

'I'm going to go, now, and send Sherlock in here. I think the two of you need to talk.'

ooOoo