"Ultra Infirmitatibus Meis"
Chapter 16
"Legend of Alekai."
Lady Smallwood couldn't say she was surprised when Sherlock Holmes appeared on her front porch in the middle of the night, demanding she talk to him about his brother.
She was surprised however, when he demanded to be told about "Alekai".
"How do you know that name?" Alicia's voice was a dangerous whisper among the nightly songs of the crickets.
"You may say the dead spoke to me." The Detective answered, and Smallwood couldn't tell if he's serious or not. "I know the truth, Elisabeth." He let himself in. "Now please… tell me the entire story."
I want to know why Uncle Rudy didn't want Mycroft to find out who his real father was.
Went unsaid, but Alicia still heard it.
She sighed heavily, knowing that this day would come eventually.
"I'm afraid I cannot do that."
Sherlock frowned, unhappy hearing that.
"But… you were mentioned by Rudolph himself!"
She chuckled.
"Not me, little Detective." Alicia shook her head. "But my mother."
Soon both she and Sherlock were in an old people's home, waiting to be allowed entry to room 456.
Where all the answers await.
"There we go… all the formalities taken care of." The nurse smiled at them, though only Lady Smallwood smiled back. "Now... You are ready to see Eunice Smallwood. Though I must warn you that she has been acting quite strangely for the past couple of weeks."
"It is quite alright." Alicia assured her. "I am fully capable of handling my mother's moods, dear. No need to be worried."
The nurse didn't look convinced, but led them towards the proper room anyway.
After going through a rather long, white colored hallway they finally reached the proper door.
"There we are." The nurse nodded, unlocking the door. "Be careful in there, alright?" She couldn't help but warn them. Sherlock could see the concern and fear in her green eyes. The woman he and Lady Smallwood were about to visit, seemed to be more dangerous than an usual lady over sixty should be.
"No worries, dear." Alicia repeated herself with a patient smile, which served as a painful reminder of what Mycroft used to be. Endlessly patient, professional and in control.
Now...
He's just… cold.
The nurse nodded and opened the door for him and Lady Smallwood.
What lay beyond it… was a simple room with an elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair, knitting something that looked like a red scarf.
"Oh, hello." The woman said, when the door closed. "Are you part of the new staff?" Eunice, Sherlock believed her name was, asked, amber eyes crinkling with mirth.
The question made the Detective flinch.
It looked like this poor woman's mind was already swallowed by dementia, as she couldn't even recognize her own daughter.
Was this some sort of punishment?
Was Lady Smallwood trying to rub salt into his open wounds, by reminding him that the same thing happened to Mycroft?
That his careless actions didn't just cost him his brother, but also took away one of her dearest friends.
'I'm not lonely, Sherlock.' His brother's words, said not that long ago though to Sherlock it felt like a lifetime ago.
'It seems you really weren't, brother-dear.'
Mycroft maybe didn't consider them anything more than work colleagues, but it was clear to Sherlock that Anthea and Lady Smallwood thought themselves as his friends for a long time now.
He couldn't help but feel responsible for Mycroft no longer being the man they once admired.
"You may drop the pretence, mother." Alicia's stern voice pulled him out of the downward spiral he was heading for. "He's here to learn about 'Alekai'."
Immediately, in response to the words, the kind looking elderly woman transformed before the Detective's eyes.
The soft mirth in her eyes, was replaced with steely determination.
The hunchbacked figure straightened up to a pose resembling that of Alicia's back in the office.
Even her voice sounded younger without the typical grandma tone.
Sherlock blinked, shocked that his deduction powers didn't see past her disguise, while Eunice looked him up and down from between narrowed eyebrows.
"This isn't his child." The elder Smallwood finally announced, amber eyes staring deep into Sherlock blue ones. "He looks nothing like him."
"No." Alicia agreed.
"Then how does he know about him, Alicia?" There was obvious scorn in her tone. "Only a selected few were to be aware of his existence."
"He's the boy's adoptive brother, mother."
Eunice's eyebrow rose questionably.
"Rudolph's nephew?"
"Yes. Violet's eldest."
That title stung.
More than it would have a couple of years ago.
Eunice hummed in thought.
"You must be Sherlock then."
He nodded.
"Yes."
"Tell me, boy, how do you know about Agent 'Alekai'?" She leaned back in her rocking chair. "I doubt Rudolph told you about this little secret."
"You're right, Mrs. Smallwood." He nodded again. "Me and Uncle Rudy were never close. He preferred to hang out with Mycroft, barely even acknowledging me and Eurus at all." He shrugged. "I only know about… the secret due to the journal I found in his abandoned home."
"So he didn't burn it after all." Eunice shook her head. "The poor sentimental old fool..."
The Detective didn't know how to respond to that.
Rudolph Holmes never struck him as someone he could call 'sentimental'.
Then again… neither was Mycroft.
Both of them hid their hearts under coats of ice.
Now one is dead, and the other is… lost.
"Does the boy, Mycroft, know about this?" Eunice asked.
Alicia shook her head sadly.
"No. He doesn't."
"Good." Amber eyes narrowed. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"
"But why?" Sherlock asked, before Lady Smallwood could answer. "Why can't Mycroft know about his real father?"
Eunice looked him deep in the eyes then.
Despite having the color of fire there was no warmth to be found in them.
"Maybe you should tell him the story from the beginning, mother." Alicia interjected before the elder Smallwood could answer. "He'll understand more if you explain everything clearly."
There was silence for a very long time before the elderly woman finally sighed and nodded.
"Very well." She turned around and patted the pillow behind her. "Settle down children. This might take a while."
"Perhaps I should explain who agent 'Alekai' was as a person." She smiled then, eyes gaining a far away look as if she was remembering a much happier time. "His real name was Duncan. Duncan Hawk. And he was a really close friend of mine." Eunice then blinked and pulled out what looked like a photograph. It was wrinkled, yellow with age and Sherlock could swear he saw a few tear stains on the edge.
She smoothed it out with great care evident in her movements, before placing it before him.
It depicted a person sitting in what seemed to be a med center.
Said person immediately caught Sherlock's attention.
And why wouldn't he?
The man looked almost exactly like Mycroft.
With the exception of his dark brown hair, beard, and greater height, there was no visible difference between him and his brother.
'This must be him.' Holmes thought, brain drinking in all the details it could. 'Agent Alekai''.
He was grinning sheepishly in the photograph, right hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck, despite it being covered in bandages.
Sherlock noticed that his hand wasn't the only thing covered in gauze and Band-Aids.
"He was a real fighter, that one." Eunice chuckled. "Addicted to the smell of battle, he called it, the fool." She shook her head fondly. "There was never a time when he was not covered up by some sort of bandage, he got into brawls so much. Worried I'd get sloppy, he said whenever someone asked why. Plus, how else am I supposed to test if my fellow agents are ready for missions?" She paused for a second. "He might have been reckless and had no regard for his own safety… but you wouldn't find a better man among our field agents. His loyalty burned like the sun, his physical powers vastly outshined that of his peers, and his immense experience made 'Alekai' the agent you called upon when you expected results." Eunice sighed. "There was one thing that you needed to be weary of, however, when assigning him to missions." She rocked back and forth in a futile attempt to distract herself from the memories flooding her mind. "And that… was his immense hatred for Russians. He never told anyone why he despised them so, but whenever they were involved he immediately got aggressive and very violent." She sighed sadly. "At first Rudy saw that as an advantage, that at least he won't be switching sides and going easy on them during questioning. But… as reports from his first information gathering mission in Siberia reached his office… we realized that sending him might have been a mistake." She shivered. "None of the Russians survived the onslaught. And the building he infiltrated was lost to an explosion." Eunice toyed with her scarf. "After that he only went on a mission to Russia once more. A mission that ultimately… led to his demise."
Sherlock kept silent, staring at the man in the picture.
"You feel responsible." He stated, not looking up.
"How can I not, Holmes boy?" Eunice's voice was filled with anguish. "Rudy may have been the one who signed the papers, but I had the power to stop him." She shook her head. "I may not have known about his marriage and impending fatherhood, but I could see that something was different about Alekai." The elder Smallwood lowered her head. "I should have done something, convinced Rudy to send someone else because Hawk was injured, make him postpone the mission until he's fully healed if he absolutely must send him, just… something."
Sherlock remained silent.
He remembered what Rudy wrote in his journal.
That he had no choice but to send 'Alekai' to Russia, as no one qualified was available.
Despite knowing that he knew, nothing he could say could ease the woman's guilt of being partly responsible for a good friend's death.
So instead of letting her dwell in those thoughts, the Detective decided to change the topic.
"I don't see how that explains why Mycroft is not allowed to know about his real father."
She looked up at him and sighed.
"That… is another matter altogether, I'm afraid." Eunice leaned back in her seat once more. "Since you read Rudy's journal I assume you know of Alekai's deception."
He nodded his head in confirmation.
"Very well then." Relief could be heard in her voice from not having to talk about the tragic death of a friend. "Despite what he might have written in that notebook of his, Mycroft's placement in your family's care was not something done immediately." Sherlock's eyebrow rose. "The both of us sat in Rudolph's office for many days debating whether raising Duncan's son in a normal family unit would benefit us once he follows in his father's footsteps, while the boy was under the care of nurses."
"You already assumed he would be an agent when he grew up?" Holmes whispered. "What if he wanted to be something else?"
"Alekai was a servant of the United Kingdom in mind, body and soul." Eunice responded mechanically. "We could find no better way to honor his memory than training his offspring to be as much of an asset to his country as possible."
Asset.
That's all Mycroft was to them.
An asset.
A replacement for his father.
They didn't even think of him as a person.
His life was theirs to command how they see fit.
But what was truly sickening, was the realisation that...
That's all he was to his adoptive family, too...