CHAPTER 3: Meet the Holmeses

''Until next time.''

''There won't be a next time Mr. Holmes.''

''Don't be so sure.''

Mycroft stayed true to his word. For the next two weeks after their first meeting he had kidnapped Jenny five times to ask about his brother. Those five encounters happened to some abandoned warehouse or an abandoned theater, which he seemed to find more agreeable. Mycroft being always dramatic, preferred to meet her on the stage sitting in a chair, fiddling with his precious umbrella.

Needless to say, that when Sherlock found out was furious. He hadn't seen his brother for quite a long time, but he knew that it would not take long for him to make his appearance. And he was right, as always.

A month and a half after Sherlock and Jenny had met, Sherlock was able to work for the Yard. They drove down at Hammersmith for a triple homicide. After a fairly long ride they reached the block of flats where the murder took place, this very morning. They took the elevator and went up to the fifth floor. When the doors opened they saw Lestrade's team already searching the place for clues. A man handed them some rubber gloves and they both entered the bedroom. Sherlock seemed excited, like a little kid who went to an amusement park for the first time and didn't know which train ride to choose. It was oddly refreshing to see a happy person there. Everyone was tired and gloomy, except for him.

''What have we got here.'', Jenny asked Sally Donovan.

''Triple homicide. Patrick Brown, age forty. Shot in the head. The women are unidentified. Underage prostitutes, if you ask me. We found the wife covered in his blood with the gun in her hands.''

''Who called?''

''Anonymous tip.''

''Too obvious isn't it!'', said Sherlock suddenly and he startled the Sergeant.

''Sergeant Sally Donovan this is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock this is…''

''Sally Donovan, yes.'', Sherlock said and examined Sally from head to toe, especially her knees, which were bruised. Jenny noticed that too and coughed awkwardly.

''Now if you allow me!'', Sherlock said with excitement and ducked over the three bodies. Sally was slightly irritated and Jenny gave her an apologetic look. After a few minutes Sherlock stood up.

''What have you got?'', asked Jenny.

''The man is a science teacher, judging by his three burned fingers. The burn occurred by Sodium hydroxide, also known as caustic soda. The burning occurred approximately one year ago, due to some experiment in class.''

''How do you know he is a teacher? He might as well work at...''

''He has a pack of sheets on the desk at the corner, marked with red ink, so they must be tests.'', replied Jenny before Donovan could finish her sentence.

Sherlock looked at her in appreciation. ''Well done, Detective.'', he replied. ''See, Sergeant, it's not that hard! You should be more careful, like your superior over here.'', continued Sherlock with a smug tone.

Sally turned red and was ready to respond, but Jenny gave her a look that pretty much said: ''We need him, do not insult him!''

''What about the girls, Sherlock'', continued Jenny, ignoring the look that Sally gave her.

''Underage, but not prostitutes, I'd say about sixteen or seventeen years old. Students, from the same school, both teammates, probably cheerleaders, you can see they wear the same bracelet with the team's name. The one aspired to be a writer, judging by the ink stain on her middle finger. She cleans her hands everyday but still the ink is too much she cannot remove it easily. The other one is a natural blonde but she dyed her hair black recently, on her own. You can see that from the amount of light hair she left near the roots behind her ears. The black of her hair made her appear a little older, old enough to enter a bodega and buy alcohol for her and her friend, Gin and wine judging by the smell. They came here intoxicated and the rest is obvious.''

Everybody was stunned and completely wide eyed. Jenny had seen him using his deductive skills, but at that time he was just a raving lunatic. Now he was more like a professional. After a while Sherlock looked at her and waited for her response.

''The gunshot wound, on the right side of their heads, is too precise. If the wife caught them in the act she would have shot them multiple times if you consider the surprise, anger etc. This though is very accurate. I'd say that she drugged them first and then killed them.''

Sherlock grinned. ''Very good Inspector. Yes, indeed. They were drugged maybe with some homemade chemical mix. Valium was the main ingredient. It's the most common drug you can find in a house. We better head back to the Yard and interrogate the wife.'', said Sherlock and with a dramatic swirl left the room. Lestrade barked some orders and so the rest of the team started preparing the bodies and packing up their equipment.

When she got outside the building, she saw a familiar black car parked. Jenny sighed as she watched Mycroft Holmes and Sherlock fighting. She approached the couple.

''You are not allowed to be here.'', she said coldly to Mycroft.

He merely raised an eyebrow. ''We are standing outside the crime scene, so I am. I'm here to see how my brother is doing Inspector, since you refuse to cooperate.''

''What are you doing here Mycroft?'', hissed Sherlock.

''As ever, I'm concerned about you.'', he smiled.

Jenny was looking at them as they kept arguing. Her headache was getting worse by the minute and the voices of the two brothers were not helping. She decided to walk away and wait for Sherlock in her car.

''Lestrade, where are you going?'', asked Sherlock who finally seemed to notice her.

''To my car!'', said Jenny and pointed the small blue car which was parked a few meters away. ''When you're done bickering like a four year old, you can follow me to the Yard!'', she continued in a firm tone. ''Same goes for you! Don't come to my crime scenes again!'', she said to Mycroft.

''I'm sorry if I caused you trouble, Inspector. But I had to see my brother for a family matter.'', he replied smoothly.

''Don't you have a war to start at some country, Mycroft?'', he said and headed for the DI's car.

''He's always been so resentful.'', said Mycroft to Jenny.

''I think he took after someone.'', replied Jenny, staring at him.

''You are not the one to judge me, Inspector.'', he said darkly.

''I speak as I find, Mr. Holmes.''

Mycroft inspected her from head to toe. ''You look tired.'', he said.

''It's my prerogative, isn't it?'', she chuckled. ''I blame Sherlock and his violin at three in the morning.''

Mycroft looked at her seriously. He came close, towering over her. ''Do you regret your decision?''

Jenny stood her ground. ''I never regret.'', she said boldly.

''My offer is still open.''

''There's no need for that. Good day Mr. Holmes.'', she said and walked away.

''I'll be around.'', he said.

''Indeed you will.'', she replied and got inside, driving away from the crime scene and the elder Holmes.

The light inside the interrogation room was dim. Jenny was looking at the wife, Adele Brown. She was holding her plastic cup with both hands and was looking at the liquid inside. She was looking tired and worn out. Sad and ready to burst into tears. Jenny pitied her. That was her weakness. Too much sympathy. She sighed and sprayed the photos of the crime scene in front of her. Adele winced at the sight of them and closed her eyes.

''Mrs. Brown let's make it easy, shall we? Why did you kill your husband and those girls? It was premeditated, wasn't it?'', said Jenny neutrally.

The woman nodded weakly, the locks of her blonde hair falling in front of her face. She looked at the photos, only to avert her gaze to her cup once more. Something about her behavior was wrong.

Sherlock was standing outside the room and observed the murderer, as she made her confession. ''School teacher, anxious, biting her nails… something's wrong.'', he said and looked once again as she stirred the tea with the small plastic spoon. And then he saw it. ''Oh!'', he thought and his eyes widened. He stormed inside the room.

''Lestrade get out, I need to talk to you!'', he said eagerly. Jenny furiously got out closing the door.

''Are you out of your mind?'', she cried.

''She isn't the killer!'', he exclaimed and some officers turned their heads and watched them.

''What are you talking about? She confessed every little detail! She even told me how she injected the poison inside the wine bottles!''

Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed a plastic cup from an officer ignoring his protests. He then produced a pencil from his pocket and started stirring the drink with it. Jenny raised her eyebrow.

''Do you see it?'', he said with glee.

''Not really.'', replied Jenny confused.

''Come on Inspector you're not that stupid! Look.'', he said and slowly turned the pen in a clockwise motion. Then he did it again, but this time in an anticlockwise motion. Jenny shook her head.

''Sherlock please stop this and tell me what this means?''

''This woman is not Adele Brown!'', he exclaimed.

''What?''

''The gunshot wound was to the right, that woman there is left handed. Although she holds the spoon to her right hand, she stirs her drink in a counterclockwise motion. That means that she is left handed. Even if she was ambidextrous, which I doubt, the precision of the wounds indicates that the murderer was right handed!'', he said.

''Wow.'', said Jenny stunned. They both got inside the room and Sherlock asked the woman to write down her confession. The fake Adele Brown stirred and looked at them with eyes fool of fear. She tried to hold the pen in her right hand, but couldn't. Eventually she burst into tears and told them everything.

In long story short, the woman was Adele Brown's identical twin sister, Ingrid. The wife knew about her husband's infidelities and with her sister's assistance, she drugged him and the girls, by injecting some homemade mixture of valium and painkillers in the wine bottles they had. Then the wife shot them, called the police and fled, leaving her sister to face the consequences.

''But why didn't she say from the beginning that she wasn't Adele Brown? Why would she do that?'', asked Sherlock, looking quite bewildered.

''I think Ingrid Thomas felt guilty and wanted to punish herself. Maybe she somehow wronged her sister in the past and thought that this was a chance to atone for her sins.'', replied Jenny. They had already sent a team to pick the wife. Jenny's phone rang. They informed her that Mrs. Brown was caught while she was catching a plane to Ireland. They were now bringing her for questioning, but frankly they didn't need to since her sister had confessed.

''Would you do something like that for your sister?'', asked Sherlock.

Jenny raised her eyes and looked at him, as they walked down the hall to reach her office. ''If my sister thought something like that, I would help her by bringing her to her senses. Murder is a crime Sherlock and I fight it.''

''Of course you wouldn't help her, Lestrade.'', said Sherlock. She fascinated him. No, he didn't feel attraction to her of any kind, but the simplicity of her mind amazed him. She trusted him and helped him, she gave him a place to stay and she was there when he was in need of something stronger than drugs. She saved his mind, in a way. She was like the sister he never had, but wished to. ''Maybe sentiment isn't that tedious after all'', he thought and smiled.

They both entered Jenny's office. Sherlock collapsed on the chair across her and Jenny sat at her office chair. She started writing the reports on the case, when she noticed an envelope under the sheets. She picked it up and examined it. It didn't have a name on it or a post stamp, so it was delivered by someone. Sherlock eyed her curiously.

Jenny took her metal paper knife and opened the file carefully. The envelope contained a white card. The texture of the paper was thick and the ink on it was from a fountain pen. Sherlock's eyes widened in realization and grabbed the card from Jenny's hands.

''Oi! That's mine!'', she cried, but he ignored her. His eyes roamed quickly over the fine lines many times and then he threw the card on the desk and sighed furiously. Jenny picked the card bewildered and read.

Dear Genevieve Lestrade, DI.

We would be most delighted to invite you to our house this weekend to make your acquaintance. We also request the presence of our youngest son, Sherlock Holmes. You can send your answer at the email address, which you will find in the back of this card.

Sincerely,

Clarence and Morella Holmes.

''Oh.'', she merely said. ''I believe we should go.''

''I believe we shouldn't!'', replied Sherlock grimly.

''Sherlock, these are your parents!''

''Nice deduction Lestrade!'', he said sarcastically.

''You know what I mean!'', she sighed. ''I believe that was what your brother wanted to tell you these morning, wasn't it?''

Sherlock nodded.

''Look, if you don't want me to come, I won't, but you must go and see them. I've never seen you calling or visiting them and since they require your presence, it means that they want to see their son. How hard can it be for the two of us to spend a weekend with your family?''

Sherlock looked at her with a mischievous smile on his lips. ''Very well Lestrade. That is a challenge! We'll see if you can manage a weekend with my family!''

''Oh, boy! I am so going to regret this!'', she thought.

''We could have called for one of my parent's cars! That way we wouldn't get lost!'', sighed Sherlock angrily and sulked in the passenger's seat.

''We took my car, because it is going to be easier to leave, if necessary and we didn't get lost! I'll find the way.'', replied Jenny, while trying to focus and get them to the right road.

''So, now, you regret it!''

''I don't regret a thing! But, who knows, they might need us for a case.''

''I tell you, every criminal in London will be on holidays. Mycroft is going to make sure of that. We are trapped for two days in my family's house and that's your fault!''

''Stop acting like a child and help me find that bloody road!''

They had been in the car for two hours. For two, long hours Jenny had to deal with the constant complaints of the younger detective. She was tired, hungry and they were out of coffee and biscuits. It was 9 o'clock and they were now completely lost, because of the stupid GPS system.

''On the next road, turn left.'', said the voice of the machine.

''Yeah, yeah you said that before!'', said Jenny angrily and ignored the irritating voice of the digital woman. She always forgot to change it to the male one.

''You are going the wrong way. Turn around.'', said again the passionless voice.

''Shut up!'', yelled Jenny and turned the machine off. Sherlock was looking at her with the ''I told you so.'' look of his. Jenny ignored him and after a while she found the right road. They were now approximately half an hour from Sherlock's house.

After a while they reached the house, which was nothing like a house. ''Good Lord! We arrived at Gosford Park!'', exclaimed Jenny. The mansion was huge and absolutely staggering. They were big windows everywhere and in front of the great entrance was a beautiful marble staircase. On the right and left of the house they were two big glasshouses. The day was sunny and that gave the estate a beautiful glow, giving someone the impression that the whole mansion was carved in marble. Jenny parked a few meters from the entrance and got out, still stunned.

''Don't bother taking the suitcases, the staff will. Just give them the keys when we enter.'', said Sherlock. Although slightly irritated and anxious, he was acting quite normal. This wasn't new to him and having others serve him was natural. Jenny felt like she was in an Agatha Christie novel, ready to investigate a complex murder that took place in the mansion's grounds.

They walked up the stairs and Sherlock knocked on the carved wooden door. Immediately, a valet opened it and they entered the hall. Another man appeared and took their jackets and after him another one, possibly the Butler, led them to the grand hall of the mansion. At the end of the huge room was another staircase, which led to the rooms. To the left and right of it were two long corridors which led to different rooms, probably the common areas where Sherlock's parents met their guests and spent most of their time. Jenny followed Sherlock and the Butler down the left one, which was big and sunny. Through the French doors she had a nice view of the manor's grounds and could see a man working in the garden.

The corridor was full off portraits and Jenny made a mental note to inspect it thoroughly later. She only glanced at them. Men and women, of the Holmes family apparently, were looking as they went past them. Jenny felt a little spooked but she was mostly intrigued. The family's history seemed to be endless, judging by the number of portraits that adorned the walls.

She followed the two men, noticing that the mansion was relatively quiet, except for a few people, who were moving around the house, making sure everything was in order. They reached another wooden door and the valet knocked twice, before entering.

''Mr. Holmes, the younger and Detective Inspector Lestrade.'', said the man in a formal tone and stepped aside to let them enter. They got inside the drawing room and saw immediately two people standing up. The woman, apparently Sherlock's mum, gave a small cry and hugged her son. Jenny smiled at this image.

''My little bubble! It's so good to see you! You look so handsome, as always. How are you?'', said Mrs. Holmes and kissed him in both cheeks.

''I'm fine, Mummy. You look superb!'', replied Sherlock with a genuine smile. He was right. Mrs. Holmes was superb. She was about sixty years old, but her skin was flawless, almost without a wrinkle. She was tall, taller than Jenny. She had short wavy auburn hair and blue eyes. Like both of her sons, she had high cheekbones and a sharp nose. She then averted her gaze to Jenny.

''Mummy, I'd like to introduce you to my colleague, DI Genevieve Lestrade. Lestrade, this is my mother, Lady Morella Holmes.''

Jenny shook hands with her and smiled. ''Colleagues?'', asked Lady Holmes suspiciously. Of course, this was her youngest son. She was careful and calculative to any woman who might stand next to him.

''Yes, ma'am. Sherlock is an invaluable member of my team. His mind and skills exceed those of other officers.'', smiled Jenny.

''Of course, he is, Detective Inspector. My Sherlock is far smarter than any of you.''

Jenny smiled awkwardly.

''Now, now Morella, no need to offend our guest!'', said Clarence Holmes who, thankfully, chose the right moment to interfere.

''Sherlock!'', smiled Clarence warmly, as he embraced his son.

''Father!'', replied Sherlock. ''Lestrade, this is Sir Clarence Holmes, my father. Father, this is...''

''DI Genevieve Lestrade! I know Sherlock. You don't have to be so formal among friends and family.'', said Clarence with a smile, as he warmly shook Jenny's hand. He was at the same age as his wife. Sherlock took after his father. They were almost identical! If you wanted to see how Sherlock would look like in his sixties, you just had to take a look at Sir Holmes.

''Allow me to tell you how happy we are to finally meet such a beautiful and charming woman!'', he said.

''Sir, I...''

''Please, call me Clarence. I insist!''

''Very well. Clarence, thank you for the compliment.''

''It's not a compliment, my dear. I merely observe and speak the truth.'', replied Clarence. ''Now, Sherlock, we've prepared your old room and you Genevieve will be in the one next to his. I believe that tea and coffee will be served in a moment.''

All four of them sat down, Sherlock and Jenny in one sofa and Sherlock's parents opposite them. Tea arrived after ten minutes with some scones, biscuits, small cakes and other things. They talked about various things and Jenny found that Sherlock's father was not at all what she expected. She thought that she was going to face a cold and distant gentleman, yet the person that sat across her was a clever, educated man, with a vast knowledge in politics and arts and a great sense of humor. She felt so relaxed and relieved.

Lady Holmes was reserved at first, but started to feel at ease after a while and took a liking to the DI. She seemed really happy to see her baby boy after so long and that was a plus point for Jenny. Morella was a smart, educated and charming woman and she was an opera singer in her youth, a passion she had disseminate to her sons.

''Do you like the opera Mrs. Lestrade?'', she asked.

''I do ma'am. I have to admit that I've been to the opera only three times in my whole life. My parents though have a big CD collection of opera music, that me and my sister used to listen to. So I consider myself a fan.'', Jenny said as she sipped her tea and Lady Holmes seemed pleased.

There was a knock and the valet entered announcing the arrival of Mr. Holmes, the elder. Once again Mycroft looked impeccable in his navy blue three piece suit. As he entered, Lady Holmes jumped once again to greet her son and Clarence followed suit.

''My pumpkin!'', she cried and kissed her eldest son in the same manner as the youngest.

Jenny arched her eyebrow and turned to Sherlock who was giggling hysterically.

''Pumpkin?'', she asked with a smile.

''That's a nice name for the British Government, isn't it?'', whispered Sherlock and continued his giggles.

''Not as nice as little bubble for the only consulting detective!'', replied Jenny, winking at him. Sherlock stopped laughing. The fact that Jenny knew about his nickname was too much for him to bear.

''Brother, you came.'', said Mycroft, sounding a little surprised. Sherlock scoffed and waved his hand in the air.

''Oh boys stop acting like that.'', said their mother warmly. Jenny noticed how happy she was, seeing her sons together after so long. Jenny felt proud and quite moved for being the catalyst for this meeting.

''Good morning, Inspector.'', said Mycroft extending his hand. Jenny stood up and shook his hand.

''Mr. Holmes.'', she nodded. They sat down again and Mycroft placed himself next to his mother. They started talking about Mycroft's week and how he had stopped several political conflicts around the continent.

''Sherlock I hope you don't mind that our dinner guests will also stay this weekend with us.'', said after a while Morella.

''What dinner guests?'', asked Sherlock suspiciously.

''The Verds my darling boy! They wanted to see you for so long, so I took the liberty and invited them over.'', continued his mother.

''Excellent Mummy.'', said Sherlock and sighed angrily. Jenny gave him a puzzled look, which Clarence seemed to notice.

''They are family friends.'', he said. ''Their twins used to play with Sherlock when they were little.''

''Played? More likely tolerate them. I couldn't stand them, especially that insufferable Louisa! Luckily she's still in Switzerland, so we won't be bothered with her presence.'', said Sherlock to Jenny, with a look fool of disdain.

''She's a wonderful girl.'', said his mother.

''She's an obstinate shrew, that's what she is.''

''Now, now bubble, don't act like that.'', his mother said. Mycroft smirked at his brother.

''What are you smiling at, pumpkin?'', replied Sherlock and Mycroft's smile vanished from his face, only to appear a few seconds later.

''Louisa returned two months ago. She will be here tonight.'', smiled Mycroft.

At the new information, Sherlock mumbled something and crossed his arms and legs. He gave a death glare to his brother, who was still smirking. Clarence then offered Jenny a tour around the house, which Jenny gladly accepted, feeling that Lady Holmes wanted to stay alone for a while with her sons. They left the room, ignoring the protests of Sherlock to follow them.

They walked down the corridor and Clarence told her about each of the family's members on the portraits. He told her all about heir funny and dark secrets. Most of the Holmes members were scientists and politicians, with two of them being members of the House of Lords, at the Victorian Era. The ancestors of the Holmes family seemed to be in politics and science since the beginning of time!

As they walked, a portrait caught Jenny's attention. It was a life size portrait and in it was pictured a man who was identical to Mycroft Holmes. The man was a little more ginger, but apart from that the similarity was staggering. Same icy blue eyes, cheekbones, height, lips. The man was wearing a black frock coat and held a black cane with a silver handle. Jenny smiled as she realized that the man was holding the cane, in the same manner the elder Holmes held his beloved umbrella.

''This is my great - great uncle Aloysius Mycroft Holmes, my eldest son's namesake.'', said Clarence who had noticed her interest for the picture. ''A very capable mathematician and a Grandmaster.''

''He looks a lot like your son.'', she remarked.

''Yes. And this was his wife.'', he said and pointed at a smaller portrait. In it was a woman with beautiful pale complexion and hazel eyes. Her hair was falling freely over her shoulders like a chestnut cascade. The painting pictured only her head and shoulders and the woman was looking at the viewer quite intently. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of pearl earrings, which made the painting resemble Vermeer's masterpiece, Girl with a Pearl Earring.

It made Jenny a great impression. Whereas the expressions of the other portraits of the Holmes' clan were serious or unreadable, this was the only one which had true emotion in it. The woman looked so sad. She seemed like she tried to communicate with the painter or the viewer, to let them know about her sorrow.

''What was her name?'', she asked.

''Cordelia Holmes, nee Moreland. She was the daughter of a wealthy landlord. My uncle married her when she was only seventeen years old. It was an unhappy marriage.'', he said thoughtfully.

''What happened to her?''

''Have you ever read The Oval Portrait ?'', he asked. Jenny shook her head negatively. ''It is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. The central idea of the story resides in the relationship between art and life. Let's say that my ancestor was more in love with his work, rather than his bride. But let's not get into details. Some things are better left in the past.'', he said and walked to the glass door. ''Shall we take a stroll to the garden?'', he said as he opened it. Jenny took a last look to this magnificent portrait and followed Clarence to the garden.

Maybe later in the evening, when the others would be preoccupied with their guests, she could find a chance and watch it more carefully, maybe even unravel its secrets.