II

A/N: The basic idea of what happened between Siger and Violet Holmes (names taken from William Baring-Gould's theory on Holmes)is derived from the movie Young Sherlock Holmes. I get my theories onHolmes from veriety of things. Collect the data and deduce :)

Siger Holmes was the man who fathered both Holmes brothers and apparently the husband of the mysterious Adeline woman that my husband-to-be seemed to despise with an intensity I was not sure I had seen. I was sure of several things about Adeline Holmes: First, she was, as I had said, not Holmes' nor Mycroft's actual mother. Not only did her age play a part in this knowledge, but also that she was not the woman in the picture at Holmes' home that I had spoken of when first analyzing him those long six years ago. Second was that she had not been of a well-to-do family before she married Siger Holmes, though she did seem quite confident in herself. Thirdly was blatantly obvious to anyone with half a brain cell: she and Sherlock Holmes had something in their past that caused the coldness between them, though what it was I was not sure about.

Siger Holmes, unlike his younger wife, looked his age. I was sure that Holmes had received his youthful appearance from his mother, whom I deduced to be long since dead. He was drooping in his old wheel chair and he hardly looked as if he might be able to stand. It was in his eyes that I caught the family resemblance. Those sharp grey eyes that were not only seeing, but observing. That, at first glance, was the only resemblance between Sherlock Holmes and his elderly father that I saw.

Introductions were made and Uncle John was quite eager to shake hands with the man that had never been mentioned. Siger Holmes looked at me, blinked once and then again, as if he were worried his eyes were not focused well on me. "It's a pleasure," I said as I gripped his hand.

"Mary Russell, you said?"

"Yes."

He looked at me, eyes searching for something I was sure. A strange smile crossed his face. "So Sherlock has finally, after all this time, found himself someone to match."

I stood speechless. Dumbfounded, really.

He chuckled at my expression. "And here I said just yesterday, didn't I Adeline, that Sherlock would be a bachelor for the rest of his days like Mycroft."

"If you don't mind-" Holmes cut in, his voice bordering on anger, but dripped only with irritation.

"Ah, yes, Sherlock. I'm sure you would like to announce all that yourself. A much younger girl, isn't she."

Holmes straitened his shoulders at this, his entire posture that of someone who might become defensive.

"Ah Holmes! Is this true?" Uncle John asked, sounding positively delighted.

I cleared my throat and mumbled towards Holmes, "Well that didn't go as planned."

Adeline walked towards us. "How wonderful, Sherlock! It's simply wonderful. Mary – you certainly won't mind me calling you Mary, will you – I'm so very pleased for you! I've always wanted a daughter…"

"She will not be your daughter," Holmes growled before I had a chance to respond. "Just as I was never your son."

"Sherlock…" Siger Holmes began, seeming upset over his son's low tones.

"Don't even begin with it all… Should I have known you were here, Russell and I would have chosen another time to visit. As it is, I do not want to regret what I say to my brothers' guests. Good day." He turned to Mycroft. "Yes, Russell and I are to be married, to confirm his theory, and that was the purpose of this visit."

"Perhaps you can come by the Club later."

"Thank you."

I looked at Holmes – or rather his back as he turned for the door – and then to Uncle John and finally to Siger and Adeline. Uncle John and I nodded once to each other and excused ourselves. I ran to catch up with Holmes' long stride.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, irritation and an illogical anger at being left in the dark bubbling up to the surface.

He turned to me. "Watson, a moment if you please," he said crisply.

Uncle John nodded, unruffled, and left Holmes and me standing on the street corner. He motioned for me to follow and we ducked into one of his many bolt-holes. I watched as he turned on the light and sat himself down. "That, was my family."

"Obviously."

"You might want to narrow down your inquiries if you are to have any questions answered."

I snorted, to which he replied, as he did so often, how unbecoming it was. "Fine then," I grumbled. "Who is Adeline?"

"She and the man in there that I am still forced to call 'father' killed my mother," he answered as if it were simply a fact from a case.

I felt my eyes grow wide. "Murdered her?"

"No… Well, perhaps, but not technically of course."

"Holmes, you're not coming in clear. The full story would be helpful."

He nodded, relenting far to easily for him, and settled back for what appeared to be a long story. He lit his pipe as I took a seat on the floor – waving off his offer of the chair he had taken, I was perfectly capable of sitting my self on the floor – and slouched, stretching his long legs out.

"I've told you bits and pieces of my childhood, over the years, and you deduced some when we met. My father moved my mother and I around quite a bit. Mycroft, being seven years my senior, was in school a good portion of my young childhood. Our eldest brother, Sherrinford, was more like a distant cousin than a brother, as I saw him only on very rare occasions. Perhaps every four or so Christmases. He and I were, needlessly to say, not close.

"I believe I have told you I was thirteen when we settled in London and I began attending an all-boys school until I reached an age I might attend University. I was thirteen then.

"Mother fell ill just before my fifteenth birthday and I returned home from school as much as often as possible."

"You and your mother were close," I said before I meant to.

Holmes smiled ever so slightly. "Yes. Father made it clear that my aspiration to be a convulsive detective was foolishness. Mother encouraged it." He waved his hand, as if to dismiss that as not important, even if it was.

"Father brought in a sick nurse for my mother by Christmas that year. She'd been in bed nearly since that summer, and he was 'growing sickly caring for such a stubborn woman,' as he put it.

"Adeline Anderson was twenty when she entered our household as a nurse to help my mother. I must admit, while my mother was brilliant and had an eye for the smallest details, she often missed flaws in personality. I never decided whether it was that she blinded herself to it or if it was a natural blindness. Either way, she saw only the best. She adored Miss Anderson.

"I returned home from school early that Christmas, so that I might check in on my mother. Father had specifically told me that I shouldn't rush home, she was perfectly cared for my Miss Anderson and she would be happier if she knew I was attentive to my studies. I rarely listened to my father's instructions.

"Mycroft had not returned home yet, and Sherrinford was not set to come in until the new year. I fully expected to be alone. That is, until I heard someone in my father's study.

"We had never had an burglary at our home, but of course I did not write that off. I assumed – always a mistake, of course, but I was only just shy of sixteen – that Miss Anderson was in with my mother. She was, after all, her nurse. Father should have been out at this hour of the day. I stepped into the study, fully intent on seeing a man steeling our things." Holmes averted his eyes at this point, but then they came back to hold mine even stronger than before. "I wish that had been all it was. Father was home. As was Miss Anderson."

"My word…" I breathed. "She and your father… Were they…?"

He nodded, a tight smile appearing on his lips. "I remember yelling at him, in a burst of emotion Watson would not believe. I believe it was something to the effect of, 'She's not even dead yet.'

"My father gathered himself as best he could. At that point, he was much taller than I was and he had a tendency to use that against a person. We screamed a bit more, which is more than I had ever done. While it was known that Father and I did not agree and he rarely supported me, if ever, we never voiced it. I was not, obviously, going to stand aside."

"Did your mother find out?" I asked quietly.

"The screams brought her in. She was not a dull witted woman, mind you. She saw Miss Anderson with a sleeve down from her shoulder and her hair rumpled and saw Father with his tie off and shirt unbuttoned… She was not dull witted. If you were to be naïve, Russell, she would have been a bit like you." I took it as a silent compliment. "'I knew there was something wrong,' she said, and told us that she would be in her room. She had all but recovered, they had said. She died a week later."

I watched Holmes as he relit his pipe and fiddled with it a bit, his last words hanging in the air. I could piece together the rest, obviously. Miss Adeline Anderson had married the widower Siger Holmes – I should say soon after, rather than some time – and tried to take Holmes' mother's place. It did explain a bit for his distrust of the opposite sex.

"We should be getting back," Holmes said suddenly, breaking my train of thought. "Watson, I can assure you, is waiting where we left him."

I knew he was right. I unfolded myself from where I had sat and allowed him to help me up. "Holmes."

He turned to me from where he was about to duck out of the bolt-hole. "Yes?"

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him, kissing him like I had on the dock. When we pulled away, he smiled at me. "Certainly that wouldn't have been because you're getting all sentimental over a long-passed story, would it, Russell?"

I grinned at him. "Of course not."

A/N: My eyes are now dead… My main computer has been on a slow death the last couple of weeks and I've been pulling files from it today so that I can cure it. (hopefully it won't have the same type of nearly-cure and then sudden death that Violet Holmes had… :( That's sad…) Anyway, my eyes are dead, but here's the next chapter. It's got one short little bit to wrap up in the next one, I believe. Poor Watson… standing out in the cold.

BlackMoon13: I have a loyal fan! Wow! Makes me feel special :) I was afraid no one would read my work on the Sherlock Holmes fics. Yay! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Ophilia Russell: I love your name, just thought I'd let you know! Ophilia from Hamlet (don't know if that's where you got the name) is an awesome character. I absolutely adore her, even though she goes crazy, but that's her best feature… anyway, back to the subject at hand (I'm not ADD… oh look! A butterfly! Lol) Glad you liked it! What interviews did you read? Do you remember? I'd like to look into them. Me having a frighteningly active imagination, I'm leaning towards believing the forwards (and I don't have the excuse of being twelve… that was a loooooong time ago)

Dixielou: Yes, I had heard of it, thank you, but at the moment I'm trying to fix my main computer and I can barely keep up with the PotC listing I'm on… but I might look into it at a later time. Who knows? When life slows down… Nah… before that or it'll never get done. Lol. Thanks :)

A/N2: Also, I might be writing a more detailed description of the whole event Holmes described and posting it separately b/c I have a habit of loving detail in those type things, and I didn't want to add it into this story. So keep your eyes opened for that, if you'd like to.

TS