A short chapter just to keep you updated, I recently took on another job so my writing is becoming a luxury as my life gets busier! I've taken a few liberties with the Holmes' that I hope you'll all accept with an open mind. I appreciate reviews so please send me one, good or bad I don't mind! Thanks for reading : ) Music97 x
Chapter Four. A Visit.
I waited in the forbidding foyer of the Diogenes club, wishing I was anywhere else. The silence was intimidating in itself, with its harsh oppressiveness forbidding even breath to escape my tense body. I looked around me, the dark walls of the place making it even more terrifying; exuding an authority I could not understand and had no part in. I waited anxiously and resisted the urge to tap my foot in my haste. Finally I could see Mycroft's huge form fill what little sunlight there was coming from the stairway. He did not smile when he saw me but outstretched his hand in formal cordiality.
"Doctor, How are you? It has been a long time." His voice was as deep and as slow as his brothers was high and rapid. They were complete opposites, Mycroft exuded a gentleness that Sherlock rarely displayed, there was age in Mycroft's eyes, youth in Sherlock's and mischief opposed with a lifetime of struggle and doubt which were just on the edge of Mycroft's. I shook his hand in solemnity.
"It has been, other things take precedence these days I'm afraid."
"Yes, Mycroft said slowly, leading me into a room where the disapproving eyes of other members would not constantly be following us around. I sat in the chair he offered but declined the drink, fearing my nerves were in too fragile a state.
"You have heard from my brother I take it, that is why you are here?" He didn't turn to face me but remained by the fireplace.
"Yes, he sent a girl, with a letter requesting me to go to France; I thought it would be best to talk to you about it first." I was aware how childish it sounded but Mycroft remained motionless, he turned slowly.
"You are wiser than you look doctor." He smiled briefly and suddenly reminded me of his brother and a pang of loneliness shot through me, I missed him, and I missed his quips. I longed to be in Paris to find him and unravel this mess.
"Sherlock is involved with our government and the French government, he is working on a case, not your typical crime I grant you, but a crime in war is somewhat more serious than a crime in peace." I nodded, confusion growing every minute. "I assume he has contacted you because he needs an extra pair of hands, which is understandable. The girl however is a mystery, I was aware of no girl. How old is she?" Mycroft's face had taken on an air of worry.
"About seventeen." Mycroft tensed and put down his glass; he came over to me and sat down.
"Be very careful how you answer this next question doctor; make sure you are sure of what you are saying. What is her name?" His voice has become strained, I could not think what had brought about this change, but I answered the truth.
"Alice, Alice Kendall. She is rather ill I'm afraid, she has some sort of brain fever which causes her to…" I stopped as I realised Mycroft was no longer listening to me. He had gotten up and walked to the window his hand across his mouth. I sat in silence and waited. Mycroft mumbled something to himself which I could not hear. Still I waited until again he turned to face me.
"You must go to Paris as soon as possible. Take Alice with you."
"Who is this girl, it is evident that you know something of why Holmes sent her, he seems to hold her in some esteem as she insists on accompanying me and Holmes also has made that request, she is an ill girl of seventeen, why on earth would two of the greatest men in England be so concerned about her!" My voice had risen to a pitch that was beyond acceptable but I could not restrain myself, I was annoyed at having been taken for granted, ignored and bullied. I wanted some answers. I waited as Mycroft looked at me, shocked that I had violated the silence of his precious club. He almost whispered the answer back at me, in the calmest voice I had ever heard,
"Because she is my brother's daughter."
I nearly fainted in shock,
"Sherlock's daughter."
Mycroft looked at me with something resembling humour dancing around his eyes,
"No, not Sherlock, Sherrinford, our youngest brother, he died seventeen years ago, not long after Alice was born and her mother died in childbirth. Sherrinford never really accepted the child and pined after his wife. It is, I believe what killed him in the end. Myself and Sherlock were at a loss what to do, shocked by our brother's hasty marriage, quickly followed by the birth of his daughter and his death, we were forced to give the child up for adoption." I must have gasped for Mycroft shot me a sharp look, "It is not a decision we are proud of doctor and certainly not our finest moment but the Holmes family, such as it is, or was; is unaccustomed to such things and the proper form of behaviour in such circumstances. It was unthinkable that either Sherlock or myself would take the girl on so we did what we thought was best. A decision we came to regret, instead of being adopted by a good, decent family, Alice was adopted by the Kendells, gypsies who forced her into work; we traced her across Europe as best we could but the Kendells were clever and hardened criminals, used to outrunning the law. Then the war came and we had to accept that our niece was forever lost to us – until now."
My head was in a whirl, Alice, Holmes niece? The thought was inconceivable, and a brother I had never heard of? Why had Holmes never mentioned him or Alice? I was becoming angry, I wanted to hurt Homes the way he was hurting me now, I thought about all the betrayals, this was just one more I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was, I was hurt and I wanted to get away to take Alice and escape to Paris, demand of Holmes what he always demanded of me, truth, loyalty and support. He constantly demanded my attention, pulling me away from my wife, my home and all he did in return was keep secrets from me and lie to me. I stood,
"I shall leave for Paris on the next available boat and I will take Alice with me. Goodbye Mycroft." I span on my heel and noisily left the club, I could feel Mycroft's eyes watching me, he knew he was powerless and I could feel his pain. I did not care, the war had begun to harden me and I had had enough of the Holmes' lies. I headed for home and as quickly as was possible packed, prepared and set off with a bewildered Alice in tow, for the continent, Paris, Holmes and the truth.
