Fate Comes Crashing In
At the time I write this, Claire has been working for Holmes for the better part of three years and has learned when to keep her tongue in check - when he is in one of his cocaine-induced moods or if he is badgering a client, for example.
I have long since dashed all hope in her changing Holmes's perception of the entirety of her sex, but still there is something about having her around that makes the rooms in 221b a little more charming and welcoming.
Claire is getting used to never being mentioned in my novels unless she gets hurt because the audience would think it scandalous if Sherlock Holmes's assistant outwitted him.
I have never seen my fair cousin's use of disguises and I had begun to doubt her expertise in the matter until she mentioned it a week ago. It was a cool and breezy June day, and Holmes was flipping through his letters.
"Miss Watson, does the name Mary Bellows mean anything to you?"
Claire looked up at him from the newspaper; the poor girl had gallantly decided to update the index and was pursuing every newspaper in the city.
"Perhaps, why. Is she a new client of yours Mr. Holmes?"
Holmes shook his head and turned to face me with a slight smirk on his face.
"I should say not, Miss Watson. Mary Bellows is in fact in this very room."
I gasped at this deduction, "Holmes, you're not telling me that you of all people..."
I was cut off by my sharp-witted friend.
"No, Watson, I have never played that woman, I was referring to your cousin," he said, pointing over to Claire who smiled in return.
"Well, well, you've found me after all. Yes, Mary was my old cover when I had to infiltrate the red scarf gang," she said with a nostalgic sigh. "But that was so long ago; did they finally run a missing persons advertisement?" she asked Holmes.
My loyal friend shook his head.
"Well, your cousin has never seen you in costume, but I have."
My mouth dropped with an audible pop at this.
"When did you see her in costume? Claire, did you know it was Holmes when he saw you?" I asked her frantically.
She was genuinely surprised, of course.
"I had no idea he saw me in my disguise, but how, Mr. Holmes?" she asked him through narrow eyes.
Holmes rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering in a harbor-like dialect.
"I can't believe you don't remember yer old mate Roger, how could you forget my beautiful face?" he demanded of her.
Claire began to laugh until her shoulders began to shake as she laughed.
"You were Roger, my comrade at arms? I truly had no idea it was you, Mr. Holmes."
I was in complete confusion, which helped Claire's infectious laughter.
"Are either of you going to explain this to me?"
Just as Holmes opened his mouth, Mrs. Hudson came in with a letter. Holmes opened it in a hurry.
"Well here is the chance you have been waiting for Watson - you get to see Claire disguise herself in an hour or so."
Both Claire and I stood up in surprise.
"My brother Mycroft has just sent me a letter asking me to come to The Diogenes Club as soon as possible."
I had never heard a word uttered about Holmes's family and assumed he was an orphan - but the prospect of a living relative intrigued me. Claire was still confused, however.
"How would this make me wear a disguise?" she asked, pondering.
Holmes shook his head.
"The Diogenes Club is male only, and women are never permitted inside expect on special circumstances."
I heard a sigh from Claire.
"Well, it seems worthy enough. I shall return in forty-five minutes and then we can depart."
And with that Claire put on her hat and ran out the door to catch a cab back to her home. I sat there, wondering what she would come back as, but Holmes on the other hand just checked his reflection in the mirror.
"Holmes, how is it that you never mentioned you had a brother?" I finally gathered up the courage to ask him.
Holmes gave me a swift glance before putting on a fresh waistcoat. "It never occurred to me to tell you until I thought the information was useful to you."
I sighed and went back to my paper. "So, what does he do this brother of yours? Is he a detective like you or something else?" I questioned him while making sure to keep an eye on the door.
My flat-mate shook his head as he resumed his position behind the desk.
"Mycroft works for the government as an agent of some sort, but he does all his reasoning from an armchair; the man has no drive whatsoever," he exclaimed before lighting his pipe.
"So he shares your gift of observance and deduction," I said, making the local conclusion.
But I was shaken when Holmes looked at his magnifying glass.
"Mycroft has a better power of observation than I do, Watson," he responded quickly.
I was taken back by this sense of humility coming from Holmes, when Mrs. Hudson could be heard calling after someone, "You can't just go up there sir, Mr. Holmes doesn't just see anybody who comes in the door."
The door opened to reveal a smartly dressed young man with black trousers and a matching coat. The mustache was smaller than my own and the jaw seemed very chiseled from my view.
"It's quite alright, Mrs. Hudson - I was expecting this young man," Holmes bellowed out the door.
Mrs. Hudson closed the door with a humph and clomped out of sight. The young man took off his top hat to reveal a nice head of dark brown hair.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I perceive." said a low voice that reminded me of someone I could not quite place.
Holmes looked at the young man intriguingly from every angle.
"Well done, Miss Watson - one could hardly tell that you were a woman. Except for the shoes, these shoes are for a more well-off gentleman, next time I should suggest something more subtle."
My reaction was one of almost gasping.
"Claire is that really you?" I asked examining her in the seamless disguise she had put on.
Claire laughed her regular laugh which made her disguise look like a sham.
"Is it that hard to believe, John? Remember, I used to do these things for a living."
"But how..." I began, wanting to know how she did it.
"We don't have time for explanations, we must be off!" Holmes said loudly and as soon as we could the three of us were in a cab to the Diogenes Club.
Once we were inside, I began to observe Claire's movement, she walked so much like Holmes and I it was almost uncanny. After trekking up flights of stairs, we made it to a large study where a larger man had his back turned to us.
Claire's POV
As we stood there, I couldn't help but wonder about this elder Holmes, and if he was as masterful as Sherlock made him to be.
"So, why have you brought such a group to my office, Sherlock?"
My employer stayed silent and let the elder turn around to see us.
"Well, it's nice to finally meet Dr.Watson and this young lady, who I assume is Miss Watson, your other assistant," he said, looking at each of us.
I thought I heard Watson say something but I was too amazed that he saw through my disguise quicker then his younger brother.
"I suspect it was the shoes that led you to that conclusion, Mr. Holmes." I found myself saying as if I was back in training at Scotland Yard. Instantly I felt the temperature of the room get colder as all three men stared at me.
"Interesting input, but no; it was how your carried yourself, Miss Watson. When I heard you walk into the room I heard the steps of a lady, not a man." I tried to figure out how to deduce that when Sherlock thankfully cut in.
"My purpose of bringing Miss Watson was not for you to judge her disguise, brother, but she is my assistant and as such she is here about your case."
My mind was at ease for once although it still feels weird talking in my normal voice when I am in a male disguise.
"You are quite right, Sherlock; my apology, Miss Watson."
The brother inclined his head to me and I could not help responding to him.
"It is quite all right, Mr. Holmes; it was my idea to come here in disguise to avoid any inconveniences, so if anyone should be blamed it is I," I said, returning the bow.
Mr. Mycroft Holmes must have been flattered by my willingness to take the blame that he turned a most becoming rosy color. I had to bite my lip to keep from saying anything about it, and my cousin looked to be doing much of the same.
"Well, moving onwards, I have a gentleman who works across from me at Whitehall by the name of Mr. Melas." The elder brother introduced a middle-aged man who was a Greek interpreter. We all bowed, including me and were introduced.
"This is my brother Sherlock, his friend Dr. Watson, and his assistant who ironically is Dr. Watson's cousin," he said, pointing at the group of us.
I thanked the Lord above he did not mention my name or actual gender, and the meeting continued on until Sherlock told Mr. Melas that we would take the case and that we would have answer for him shortly.
I was glad to get back into my normal clothes; even with my experience with male costume I can't wear the special breast flattening corset for more than 2 hours without any breathing problems. Back at Mr. Holmes's flat we scoured the evening newspaper for any indications onto the whereabouts of our Greek captives.
My cousin didn't seem satisfied by my normal attitude towards Holmes's older brother and decided to bring him up.
"Claire, what did you think of Mycroft Holmes?"
I had to think about it for a moment and I could not help smiling a little when mentioning him.
"To be honest John, I thought he was quite the gentleman, and I was very gratified that he didn't reveal me to Mr. Melas."
Third-person POV
Both Holmes and Watson were surprised by this compliment of Mycroft.
"But weren't you disappointed that he saw through your disguise so quickly?" Watson asked, still stupefied.
Claire looked away from her cousin and focused instead on Holmes.
"Not really; since Mr. Holmes told us that his brother was far superior than he in observing people, I knew to expect him to deduce something very quickly," she said politely.
The assistant then saw something in the column of a newspaper.
"Mr. Holmes, you had better take a look at this," she said, throwing him the paper before grabbing her hat and getting ready to chase whoever had the information.
Sherlock slapped his hand on the paper with glee.
"She's right! Quickly Watson, we must be off!"
Soon the three of them were on their way to see a Mr. Davenport who revealed that the location of the house was in Beckenham. Claire volunteered to get Mycroft while Holmes and Watson wired for Inspector Gregson and Mr. Melas for assistance.
Claire sped along the cobblestone road towards the Diogenes Club, hoping to catch Mycroft before he left. She was breathless by the time she reached the door.
"Mr. Mycroft Holmes is needed immediately - his brother calls for him," she managed in one breath to say to the doorman.
After standing in the giant stone archway for a few minutes, Mycroft Holmes emerged with his walking stick, cloak and hat.
"Miss Watson, where is Sherlock?" he asked her hurriedly as she waved down a cab.
"He sent me to get you, Mr. Holmes, he and John went to get Inspector Gregson and Mr. Melas."
Mycroft looked at the unwavering woman as they stopped in front of Whitehall. Holmes, Watson and Gregson rushed over to their approaching cab.
"Mr. Melas has been taken by those two blackguards Latimer and Kemp to Beckenham!" Holmes shouted before hopping into the cab along with everyone else. Scrunched in the cab, the five of them hurried towards the house.
Just as everyone feared, the house had been abandoned; but upon further inspection they found Mr. Melas and Sophia's brother in a room being poisoned by sulphur. The brother was unfortunately dead, but thanks to Watson Mr. Melas was pulled out in time.
"They've gone and taken Sophia on the next train - if you hurry you might catch them!" he yelled at the group. Gregson offered to stay behind while the rest of the group raced to the nearest station to catch the criminals.
Claire was winded by the time they boarded the train.
"I forgot how much exercise it takes to run after fleeing criminals, I need to sit down," she said apologetically, sitting in the dining car at a table.
Mycroft sympathized with her, "I shall join you Miss Watson, I'm not the sort of person who can chase criminals for very long."
Claire was glad of the company and the pair of them soon began to talk of foreign affairs and how the French were trying to horn into the colonization in Africa.
"I'm glad I've found someone to talk about politics with; since your brother and John never talk about current affairs I always feel a bit awkward," she admitted to him while the two more athletic members ran around looking for Sophia and Kemp.
Mycroft shook his head.
"Sherlock never did like politics, he always said it didn't matter if a chimp was ruling England; just as long as his work is unobstructed by the government he continues on his ignorance of it."
Claire giggled lightly making Mycroft blush for the second time that day.
"That is your brother in a nutshell, Mr. Holmes, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks that," she said quietly.
Soon the momentum of the train caused Mycroft Holmes to fall asleep and Claire kept a sharp eye out, but suddenly she thought she heard the sound of a man falling from the train.
Claire was about to join Mycroft in falling asleep when the man in front of them stood up and revealed himself to have dark glasses and a peculiar look about him. Claire knew at once that it had to be Latimer and nudged Mycroft. The larger man woke to see Latimer and got up in a hurry as to be in his way.
"I'm terribly sorry, let me move past you," he said apologetically to him, and then in one fell swoop disarmed him and gave the gun to Claire. Holding Mr. Latimer at gunpoint, Claire moved until she was in front of him, and Holmes and Watson soon came behind them with Sophia in tow.
"Here's your last witness, Mr. Holmes," Claire motioned to Latimer with hard cold eyes.
Once the train got back to the platform, Latimer and Sophia were taken away by the police headed by Gregson. Mycroft, Sherlock, Dr. Watson and Claire Watson shared a cab into the city and the first stop was to Mycroft's rooms.
"Good evening to you two gentlemen - Miss Watson, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance." Mycroft bowed his head in ducking out of the cab.
"As it was mine Mr. Holmes, I hope we should see you sometime in the near future," Claire called out after him.
Holmes and Watson chuckled as Mycroft tried to hide the redness spreading across his face as the cab pulled away.
"What did you two talk about while we were gone?" asked Watson, wondering what Mycroft and his cousin could have in common.
"We talked about politics and foreign affairs," Claire said with a knowing smile.
Sherlock snorted loudly.
"I knew he would take a liking to you, your fascination with the government along with the world around you makes you an ideal candidate for a possible friendship with him."
She looked at Holmes oddly, "Possible friendship? Am I to be congratulated for just keeping him company?"
Before Holmes could answer her, the cab pulled up to her own home.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, John, this is where I say goodnight. I shall see you in the morning." Claire said with handshakes to the pair of them before heading into her house.
The cab ride to Baker Street was silent except for the clopping of the horses' hooves. Watson turned to his friend.
"It seems to me your brother is far more interesting than you are to Claire," he said with a wink.
Holmes eyed his friend oddly.
"That's only because she has only just met him; once she knows him as I do she will realize what a waste of time he is."
Watson was taken aback.
"I disagree with you, Holmes, I say that she will become his friend."
Holmes took his hand.
"Very well, then the bet is on!"