A Case of House and Holmes

By Michael Weyer

Yes, I know I mixed up Foreman and Wilson, no idea how that happened. Just assume in chapter two, it's Foreman House makes the disparaging remarks to G Hope this makes up for it.

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Holmes hadn't spoken at all in the carriage ride back to Baker Street. I knew when he was deep in his thinking processes and did not wish any interruptions or distractions so I left him in his thoughts. I was also puzzled as to what the cause of death of these people could be. While I admit I am not as learned as many other doctors in England, I have ample experience with poisons and diseases but this did not seem to conform to either.

As we stepped out of the coach, Holmes removed his pipe and finally spoke. "Thank you for leaving me to my thoughts in silence, Watson."

"Well, I've known you long enough to know when you need to think, Holmes."

Holmes nodded as we stepped to the door. "Well, perhaps a good supper will give us both a clear head to start going through what we've learned." He had barely gotten inside when Mrs. Hudson came to the foyer. "Ah, Mrs. Hudson, Watson will be staying for dinner, perhaps some duck can…"

"Mr. Holmes," she interrupted. "Your brother is here to see you."

Holmes stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your brother is here," she repeated.

"My brother?" Holmes asked. "You mean Mycroft?"

Her eyes widened. "Saints above, sir, don't tell me you have another brother!"

I did my best to keep a laugh from escaping my lips. I could understand her horrified reaction as the concept of a third Holmes wandering the Earth is more than the mind can bear. I do believe this was one occasion where Holmes' surprise actually exceeded my own. The few times I have met Mycroft was at the Diogenes Club and from the way Holmes described it, it sounded as if the man lived there. From the look on Holmes' face, I would not have been at all surprised to hear that this was the first time Mycroft had ever stepped foot inside Baker Street.

Holmes shook off his bafflement as he removed his cloak and cap, handed them to Mrs. Hudson and then headed upstairs. I followed quickly, interested in just what Holmes' reaction was going to be.

Holmes barged into his quarters to glare at the man in the chair. "Mycroft, what are you doing here?"

"And a good day to you, brother," Mycroft Holmes stated. He was lounging in a chair that seemed to strain under the rather ample weight upon it. In so many ways, Mycroft was the opposite of Holmes, especially in appearance. While Holmes was tall and lean, Mycroft was far more rotund, almost whaleish. He also appeared to have a far more dry humor than Holmes did, which he often used to needle his brother.

Of course, they did have some great similarities. The criminal element of London should be grateful Mycroft was born with what Holmes termed 'a case of constant laziness.' Holmes himself had spoken of how Mycroft was his intellectual equal. However, the elder man lacked Holmes' insight in human nature, not to mention, was unwilling to make the physical efforts needed to find the truth in a mystery.

"So, Sherlock," Mycroft began. He was the only man on Earth who ever addressed Holmes by his first name. It seemed to rankle my friend which was quite probably the reason Mycroft did it. "I understand you paid a visit to North London Hospital this afternoon."

Holmes' eyes narrowed. "Mycroft, if you've had someone spying on my home…"

Mycroft chuckled. "Really, Sherlock, I have better use for my resources than that. You and Dr. Watson were seen by one of my men at the hospital."

Holmes frowned. "Hmmm…I didn't see anyone suspicious and I presumed I know most of your men."

Mycroft snorted. "Sherlock, you don't know half of my men. They're trained to make sure they're not spotted, even by you. Remember, I know how you think." Indeed, Mycroft was the only man on Earth who could truly make that statement.

Holmes was nonplussed as he sat in an opposing chair. "Very well, Mycroft. Just what reasons do you have to place the hospital under your watchful gaze?"

He folded one leg upon his knee. "I cannot go into details right now, Sherlock. Suffice to say, my…office has been paying attention to these deaths almost since they began."

"You know the cause?" Holmes cut in.

Mycroft shook his head. "No. If we did, you would never have been called in. However, one of the fatalities was one of my men. As he was in the midst of an investigation, I naturally have taken interest in what happened."

"What investigation?" I asked.

"I'm afraid that must remain confidential," Mycroft rumbled. "Indeed, I would prefer not to involve you at all but now that you are, I felt it behoove to inform you of my role."

Holmes stroked his chin. "What are you not telling me, Mycroft?"

"Oh, I don't tell you quite a lot of things, Sherlock," Mycroft said dryly. "Let us simply say that my man was investigating something very serious, with broad ramifications for the nation. Whether or not his death is tied into it is unknown but I'm sure you'll find a way to discover it."

Holmes crossed his arms. "I see…But you will not tell me any more than that?" As Mycroft shook his head, Holmes let out a long sigh. "Very well, Mycroft. I can see you are enjoying one of your little games again. I suppose I will simply have to perform the task as I see fit." His lips turned upward. "Of course, if I am, in essence, doing your work, I will require compensation for it."

Mycroft's light smile vanished. "You want payment for aiding me?"

"If it's for the good of the nation, as you said, why not?" Holmes asked, sounding more confident now that he had an upper hand. "Of course, I can always leave you to handle it yourself…" He let his voice trail off, knowing that Mycroft would never get physically involved in the investigation.

The man sighed. "Very well, Sherlock. As long as you can------"

There was a knock on the door as Mrs. Hudson entered. "Pardon me, Mr. Holmes," she stated. "But Inspector Lestrade is here to see you."

Holmes nearly rolled his eyes. "I go over a week without visitors, Watson and now I'm flooded like a railway station. Show him in, Mrs. Hudson."

She nodded and left. A few moments later, Inspector Lestrade entered in his usual dark suit, coat and bowler hat. He nodded to me and stopped in surprise at the sight of Mycroft. "Inspector," Holmes said as he rose to his feet. "May I introduce my brother, Mycroft."

"The good Inspector and I have met before," Mycroft coolly said.

Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He turned to Lestrade. "I do not recall you mentioning that before, Lestrade."

The Inspector sniffed. "Well, your bother informed me it would be best if I didn't mention that particular investigation to anyone, Mr. Holmes. Particularly you."

I was quite curious to know more but I highly doubted Mycroft would go into the details of the story just now. Holmes was lighting up his pipe as he turned to Lestrade. "So Inspector, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

Lestrade turned to his official mode of behavior. "Mr. Holmes, I understand you and Dr. Watson were at North London Hospital earlier today?"

"Heavens, is it in The Times?" I asked sarcastically.

Lestrade sighed. "We heard it from a few witnesses. It appears there has been a murder there."

Holmes frowned. "Are you referring to another of the mysterious deaths?"

Lestrade shook his head. "No, Mr. Holmes. A patient was found stabbed to death. A surgical scalpel was found by the scene but at the moment, there are no other clues as to who committed the crime."

Holmes was instantly alert, taking a long drag on his pipe before pulling it out of his mouth. He placed it down as he called out. "Mrs. Hudson!"

Dependable as ever, our housekeeper entered, already holding Holmes' hat and cap. He nodded as he took them. "I fear we shall be dining later than usual tonight, Watson."

I nodded as I put my own coat back on. "Understandable, Holmes. Just a nuisance that we have to go right back there so soon."

"Sadly, Watson, murderers rarely have concerns for other people's timetables," Holmes dryly stated. He looked to his brother. "I may call upon you later for more details, Mycroft?"

Mycroft rose from the chair and I almost imagined hearing it sigh in relief. "I shall be at the Club, Sherlock," he intoned as he walked by us. "Do try to keep this low-key for a change?" He turned sideways to make his way out the doorway.

Holmes sighed as he placed his cap on. "I fear, Watson, that this case may prove even more complicated than we assumed."

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"What can you tell us of the victim?" Holmes asked Lestrade as the three of us took his carriage back to the hospital.

"His name is George Miller," Lestrade stated. "He's a banker who was checking in for what seems to be flu complications. A nurse found him in his bed with his throat cut and a stab over his heart."

I raised an eyebrow at that to Holmes. "Someone wanted to make certain that this man died quickly."

"Indeed," he concurred. "Whether this is tied in to the earlier cases remains to be seen."

The carriage came to a stop before the hospital and we exited. As we came up the steps, Dr. Cuddy was coming out to meet us. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson," she began. "If you'll forgive me, I'm not exactly pleased to see you both back so soon."

"No offense taken, Dr. Cuddy," Holmes said. "I assume the body is where it was found?"

Cuddy nodded. "Yes, we have had an examiner there but Inspector Lestrade insisted we leave it alone while he went to summon you."

"A most prudent move," Holmes stated as Cuddy led us down the hallway to the victim's room. I could smell the crime scene from down the hallway before we entered. The man was lying on a bed, dressing in what appeared to be expensive trousers and a light shirt which was stained with blood. A large gash was evident around his neck and the blood on his shirt was centered around a hole in the upper side of his chest. Lying on the floor next to him was a bloody scalpel.

"May I?" I asked. At Cuddy's nod, I leaned in to study the body. Behind me, I heard Holmes speaking to Cuddy. "When was this found?"

"About twenty minutes after you left," Cuddy said. "We summoned the police at once, of course and when Inspector Lestrade learned you were here, he insisted we bring you back to investigate."

"Holmes," I said. "Come here and look at this." He moved next to me as I pointed at the bloody gash along the man's neck. "Do you see what I see?"

It took only a moment for Holmes to nod. "Indeed. The blood has congealed far faster along the neck as well as on the man's shirt."

Cuddy leaned in, now interested, seeming to show no problems being around a murdered corpse. "I must have missed that before…Then again, we haven't done the full examination yet."

"What does that mean?" Lestrade impatiently asked.

We turned to face him. "What it means, Inspector," Holmes stated. "Is that Mr. Miller here was already dead when he was stabbed."

Lestrade's face drew into a truly puzzled look. "But…why stab and cut the throat of a man who was already dead?"

"Maybe it was a mistake?" Gregory House asked as he limped into the room. "Could be, he was trying to kill someone in the next room but mixed up the 6 with the 9. Happened to me, trying to come to work on the first day. Course, I was also hung over at the time…"

He looked at the body and winced. "Well, that's going to be a bitch to clean up later…good thing I don't handle that." He looked to Lestrade. "Ah, the gendarmes have arrived! Maybe you can find out which of my band of merry men have been stealing my morphine!"

"Inspector Lestrade, this is Dr. Gregory House," Cuddy introduced the two men. "House, we've just uncovered that Mr. Miller was already dead when he was stabbed."

"Wow, that is amazing, Dr. Cuddy." House made a show of being impressed. "Perhaps you missed your calling as an ear specialist, as I could clearly overhear that little revelation coming in."

Lestrade nodded to the scalpel. "Is that from the hospital?"

"It could be," Cuddy said. "Unfortunately, if it was being placed aside, it could have any number of people's fingerprints on it."

House had brushed past us to study the body as Lestrade used a handkerchief to carefully pick up the scalpel. "We'll have to check anyway. I'll need any other information you may have on Mr. Miller, family, friends, what he was in here for, all that sort of thing."

"I am interested in that information as well," Holmes said. "It could prove vital to figuring out who stabbed this man and why."

"The why I can tell you." We all turned to see House studying the man's mouth. "This man died the same way all those people died. He died that way and someone did this to make it look like he was stabbed to death."

"But why?" I asked.

House reached into the man's mouth and pulled out his finger, gazing at the drool that was on it. "That is the question, is it not?" He turned and began to pace by us, still holding up the finger. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Where are you going?" Holmes asked.

"Oh, just had a brainstorm and I'm planning on flying a kite in it," House replied. Holmes followed as I tried to catch up, certain that I was about to witness a very interesting exchange.