Chapter 10: The Fate of Their Father~

"Afterwards, there is little more to tell..."Mycroft began again, slowly. "We went into the Keys' home...And almost immediately, they detested Sherlock. It took a long time for his burns to heal, I think he was actually around 16 when they finally went away. Because of this he needed medications that were relatively expensive(which shouldn't have mattered,if they had cared about him, since they were so rich themselves). Our other brother, Lindor, we actually never really saw. He was only in and out every once and a while,and he was a drunk. Which contributed to Sherlock's problem, the child simply couldn't find any relief for his pain, so sometimes he would steal Lindor's liquor when he was at home...I found the poor boy curled up ,in the throes of a hangover, more times than I'd care to list. To shut up his whining, Lindor gave him(and me too,actually) our first cigarette. By the time Sherlock was 13, he was addicted to narcotics, was smoking heavily,and was the occasional drunk. Kids at school were calling him "Pirate". He rationalized that if he were a pirate, he could sail away, and find Sherrinford. He'd drag Redbeard along for alot of "tree -fort ship" adventures.

Sherlock's guilt was becoming excessive,(Mrs. Key's verbal abuse didn't help with this, either,anyway...) so ,thus, his abusive habits were increasing. At my wits end, I began to teach him the "brain sciences".With hopes of maybe finding what happened to Sherrinford,and our father, and because genius must not be denied, he developed, at the age of 12, the science of deduction. Deduction was something he'd already been doing since I could remember, since he learned to speak maybe ,for all I know. But he turned it into a science,and that is when the child I knew completely disappeared ,into the beginnings of the detective you know today."

John felt like he could just break out in racking sobs, but was keeping the "soldier's lip" as he called it, on, so that he could be sure and hear,and understand ,every bit of this.

"If not for Redbeard, I would have lost him sooner. But one day, the poor dog, not really so very old even ,for whatever little breed he was-Irish Setter I thought,or a mutt,maybe- got sick. It was nothing too serious, something that would have been easily treatable. But our foster parents were cruel, and they had him put down...That's when I started teaching Sherlock to wall off his feelings. And maybe it's my fault, but he did just that. The teenage Sherlock was almost non-responsive. He had absolutley no friend but the needle in his arm.I don't think I heard him utter a word from the time he was 12 to the time he was 16.I was shocked by the big man's voice that came out of him one day, saying that he would soon be a "consulting" detective, if he could just get a high enough score on a certain test for a scholarship to the university ,eventually, he did end up at. He had his bachelor's -I'm not even kidding-already, at age 19. Would have gone on to get his master's. But ,unfortunately, our Sherlock here was flirting with needles yet. Mixing things up. One day cocaine. The next heroine..."

John was afraid of what came next...

"I came home for a visit from Uni one semester, almost done in fact, expecting my little brother to be home.I was going to take him out for the weekend, just to do a few fun(or boring) even just for a bloody smoke, I don't know...Well, the Keys had kicked him out. Wouldn't tell me where he was..."Mycroft swallowed. "This was before I had people ,just so you know. I filed a missing persons report,and went to look for my little the police learned how heavy of an addict he was, they told me he was most likely dead, and that I should make arrangments for his memorial, and they would produce me with a body whenever they had one. But I wasn't giving up..."

Sherlock interrupted to tell this part..." I actually wasn't so far from the place we'd been constrained to call our home. And you found me quite by accident.."

"Under our apple tree, feet entangled in the suicidal noose you were too strung out to even tie..."Mycroft added, somberly."When I found him, he was in a coma, ..."

John was shaking now, but Sherlock laid a hand on his shoulder."And when I woke up, I didn't remember a thing. Sherrinford was no more than an imaginary friend ,from my childhood. I attributed Mrs. Key's mouth, and Mr. Key's heavy handed blows ,as what drove me to medicinal destruction. I had forgotten the letter from my father ,nailed to the wall of my tree-fort,in a special place.I had put up rat sheets ,and a few poster cards Sherry had sent in the beginning, before their mission went "black". I was developing a case...I was on the verge of solving it, before I put a near end to myself. But , Myc, I had concluded that our father was still alive at that time."

Mary nodded, "He ,he left me at a hotel in Berlin,Germany ,after one of his "Flock Thinning "missions, -missions to assasinate the terrorists linked to the Queen's assasination plan,and Mum's murder. Said I was old enough, and under the protection of the other agents. And that it would compromise this last mission,if I was to follow him...So, I don't know what happened to him, but he was alive last I knew."

Sherlock nodded, "My old tree fort,and the Key family home, is where we will ironically find the key evidence I will need to begin to solve this."

"The Keys tried to kill you...the last time you went there." John groaned.

"I can furnish a warrant for their arrest?"Greg submitted,as if it was obvious.

"And I can make some deductions to help close that case. A study in family feud, or "Study in the Fate of Our Father..."

Despite the drama,and his entire broken life being laid before them all, Sherlock was already enjoying this too much.

At least Sherlock's current addiction-solving crime- was beneficial to others, and didn't always harm him physically.

John felt his stomach wrench, now understanding the man he'd lived with for all those years so much better, and being trull amazed by his ability to survive...