Short bit this round, but it's a needed short bit.

It wasn't long after my embarrassing performance that Mycroft appeared—now fully dressed.

"Well, aren't we a happy bunch?" he said as he looked around the room. His eyes fell on Sherlock. "Ah, we were up to parlor games again, weren't we?"

"It is hardly parlor games, Mycroft," Holmes responded, some brightness and fire coming back to his features. "I happen to make a living through deduction and…"

"Yes, yes, we know," Mycroft said as he seated himself in the only free chair, glass of port in hand. "The science of deduction, very important, how you earn your bread and cheese, and so on. I am merely referring to how you show off." He took a moment to sip at his port before adding, "Or rather have others show off for you. I see from your gloomy expression, doctor, that you were the one Sherlock picked to 'deduce'?"

"I was merely making a point," Holmes said before I could speak a word. "That I do occasionally teach."

Mycroft set down his port at this and looked at his father. "Oh dear, not that argument again. Father, you know that both Sherlock and I have serious professions to attend to. I know you wanted us to become professors…"

"Wanted you to? That's what I trained you to be!" Mr. Holmes said, suddenly incensed. "From the day you were born, Mycroft, you were to be an Oxford English professor."

"And look how well that turned out," Holmes said wryly, taking a sip of his drink.

Mr. Holmes turned to my friend with fire in his eyes. "You are not one to talk, young man. You were to be an Oxford professor too, once I realized that Mycroft had more of a head for figures than fiction. But then you had to go and apply to Cambridge! Cambridge of all things! What sort of decent man goes to Cambridge?"

"I've known several decent men who've gone to Cambridge, father," Holmes replied, his tone beginning to match his sire's.

Mr. Holmes did not seem to hear him though. He had gotten up from his chair and was now pacing around the room in an agitated state. "The one thing I wanted out of you boys was an heir to my legacy! Why couldn't one of you, just one of you, have been interested in English? If I could just know that a Holmes was to fill my place at Oxford, I'd be able to die happy."

"All may not be lost, father," Mycroft said. He glanced slyly at his brother. "Who knows, maybe Sherlock will settle down and get married one of these days."

Holmes gave his brother a look that could have chilled ice. Knowing Holmes' position towards romantic attachment, not to mention his thoughts on womankind, I could not blame him. It was a dirty trick on Mycroft's part to lure his father into thinking that Holmes would give him grandchildren. Thankfully, Mr. Holmes did not cling to the idea.

"Don't be ridiculous, Mycroft," he grumbled. "By the time Sherlock marries I'll be dead and gone. You on the other hand…"

"I haven't the time for a wife or children. Besides, there is scarcely a woman in London whom I would care to look upon as anything other than a lawful British citizen."

"Or unlawful," Holmes muttered.

"Well, you could at very least start teaching Mathematics," his father put in. "I know of a position in London that will be open soon. You wouldn't have to move."

Mycroft gave his father a stern look. "My country needs me, father."

"To audit her checkbooks and check her information? Surely, that's a waste of your talent, Mycroft," Mr. Holmes said.

Mycroft shrugged. "Perhaps it is, but it suits me," he said. "And after all, one's homeland must come before all else."

I could see Sherlock suppress a snort of derision at that. Mycroft was obviously exaggerating his sense of patriotism, though I knew both brothers to be true and loyal British citizens.

Mr. Holmes just glared at his sons and took a large gulp of port. He then fell back into his chair theatrically with the words, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!"

"That's from King Lear, isn't it?" I said tentatively. All three Holmeses looked at me in surprise. Apparently, my presence had been forgotten in the heat of their argument.

"Yes, yes, it is," Mr. Holmes said after a few moments. All the color had drained out of his face, and he had begun to fidget with his wine glass. A silence fell over the room.

Suddenly, Holmes, of all things, began to laugh.

"My dear doctor," he said as his laughter subsided. "I'm afraid you have gotten an unfortunately intimate view of our family life. You see now why I do not speak of it often." He took a long drink of gin and tonic before setting down his glass on the table next to him. "I do hope, Watson, that now your curiosity has been fulfilled."

I should hope that yours is not, though.

Reviews appreciated as always.