The Consequences of Sacrifice: Family Secrets (Part 4)
This is the last part of this drabble series. As always, I hope it makes you laugh or at least brings a smile to your face.
Warning: Some suggestive language and slight cursing. Nothing major!
Previously...
"But why CSI? Why would you call Sherlock that?" John asked.
Irene smirked. "It stands for 'cute, sexy, and irresistible!'"
The reactions of the people in the room were as varied as the colors of the rainbow.
Detective Inspector Lestrade sunk lower onto the leather couch, with his head lowered into his hands. Because his expression was hidden, it was impossible to tell if the noises issuing from him were muffled laughter or despairing groans.
Detective Inspector Hopkins, on the other hand, was easier to read. He fell down onto the floor, holding his sides as he laughed loudly.
Sergeant Donovan tried to discretely hide her amused expression by covering her mouth with her hand, but her high-pitched giggles gave her away.
John rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand as he engaged himself with an internal mental debate of whether or not he should post this latest incident on his blog. And if he did, he wondered if he would suffer any copy-right infringement by giving his blog the title of "CSI."
Clarky sighed and shook his head, his expression warring between irritation and amusement as he eyed Irene.
Irene sipped her tea in silent repose, her expression completely neutral. However, the amused glistening in her eyes indicated that she was enjoying herself emmencely.
No one could ascertain Anderson's exact views on the matter.
At least, they couldn't ask him directly.
No sooner did the words "cute, sexy, and irresistible" come out of Irene's mouth before Anderson turned an unnatural shade of green and raced to the bathroom, where he was presumably engaged in an in-depth conversation with the proceline toilet. In between his miserable retching, everyone could hear Anderson mumbling about "freak spawn" and how "we are all doomed!"
As usual, everyone ignored Anderson.
"Irene, there was no need for that!" Clarky finally said after a few minutes, nodding his head in the direction of the bathroom. "Shaggy seems to have a thing against Lucky having children…"
"STOP CALLING ME SHAGGY!" Anderson yelled from the bathroom.
His shouted command just earned another round of laughter from the other Yarders.
Clarky cocked his eyebrow in surprise. "Seems that there is nothing wrong with his hearing, at least. But seriously, Irene, he gets all bent-out-of-shape every time someone mentions Lucky having kids! Can't figure out why!"
"After all, Sherlock is such a warm, friendly person!" Lestrade muttered, his expression still hidden. It was obvious to everyone that he was being sarcastic, but Clarky, oblivious as ever, seemed to have missed the point.
"That's true, Greg. Now, Anderson's a good guy! A bit of a stickler when it comes to procedure, but he's good at his job! And once you get to know him and he loosens up, he isn't that bad! But it seems to me that he has this huge problem with Lucky reproducing! I mean, Sheri is Lucky's kid, and she's alright!"
"The girl shot a notorious sniper in the arse last year!" Hopkins hiccupped from his reclined position on the floor. He held up two fingers on his right hand. "Twice!"
"And she saved me and John from certain death!" Clarky pointed out smugly. He looked back at Irene and smiled playfully. "If anyone should be banned from having kids, it should be Irene here!"
"Says the man who lit my hair on fire when I was seven!" Irene smirked.
Clarky threw up his hands in exasperation. "I can't believe you still remember that! And it wasn't like I put a match to your braids or anything! I cut your pigtails off before I lit them up! You can't deny that!"
"Dare I ask?" Hopkins gasped from his position on the floor.
"Clarky was testing the flammability of hairspray, so he cut off my braids and sprayed one with Grandmother Lily's hairspray before putting a lit match to them both." Irene informed the group helpfully.
Clarky rolled his eyes in annoyance. "It was for an experiment!"
John's eyes almost fell out of their sockets, and Lestrade jerked his head up at the familiar expression. Although said expression was usually spoken with a British accent, and not with Clarky's up-and-down American lithe.
"Bloody hell! Clarky is the Americanized version of Sherlock!" Hopkins squeaked as he collapsed into hysterical giggling. "Either that or he is Sherlock's crazy lab assistant, like Igor, or something!"
Clarky immediately hunched over in his seat, raising his left shoulder higher than his right shoulder. He squinted his eyes and twisted his face into a lopsided smirk. "Yesssss, massster! I sssshall go find sssssome more cadaversssss, massster!"
John laughed at Clarky's impromptu version of the poor hunchback often featured on the parodied spoofs of "Frankenstein."
"Remind me again why we are doing a drug raid on just Sherlock's home!" Donovan giggled as she looked at her boss. "Explain to me why we haven't done one on Clarky's flat yet!"
"After today, I plan on making it a priority!" Lestrade said. His expression was stern, but his tone suggested that he might be joking. "But what I would like to know is why those men attacked you in the first place. What were they after?"
Irene sighed as she huddled back in her chair. "I can't be sure why I was attacked, but I suspect it has to do with my new job."
"What new job?!" Clarky asked, bewildered.
Irene smiled proudly. "Well, let's just say I am leaving retirement, Clarky. Oh, don't freak out! I don't mean that I will be doing the same type of work again…"
"Damn!" Hopkins muttered under his breath, looking quite chest-fallen.
Clarky shot Hopkins a glare before turning back to Irene. "So, what do you mean?"
Irene straightened herself in her chair with an air of pride. "After Moriarty died…well, the second time around, other groups have been emerging, trying to capitalize on Moriarty's collapse. Some of them are becoming a problem. I was contacted by some interested parties who asked for my help, and I decided to join them."
"So you are, what? A secret agent?" Donovan asked.
Irene shook her head. "Nothing as simple as that. But I had dealings with Moriarty before, as well as some powerful men. If any of them succeed in amassing the wealth and resources that Moriarty had, then we will have another threat to deal with. And I went through too much to live through another Moriarty! Or someone like him!"
"No!" Clarky growled, jumping up from his chair. "No, no, no, no! I refuse to let you do this, Renie! Forget it!"
"I don't have a choice anymore, Edward!" Irene shouted, then hissed as she grabbed her left side. John immediately shot up from his chair and knelt toward the injured woman, who weakly batted his hand away.
"I'm fine, John." Irene huffed. "I swear! Focus on Edward before he has a bloody heart attack!"
"You're as bad as Sherlock! Now stop fighting me and let me do my job!" John retorted.
"Renie, please." Clarky spoke up, instantly calming down at the sight of his family member wincing in pain. "John's a good doctor. He knows what he's doing."
Irene pouted, but grudgingly allowed John to check her over before he finally returned to his chair, statisfied that his patient was not killing herself, accidentally or otherwise.
"Why are you telling us all of this, anyway?" Hopkins spoke up. "I mean, isn't all of this supposed to be top-secret or something?"
Irene smirked. "Do any of you plan on telling any criminals about me?"
The following silence was answer enough.
Clarky just shrugged. "So I take it that Lucky is probably talking to his creepy government brother to get you protection, am I right?"
"Correction, Clarky. I have already talked to Mycroft."
Everyone turned around to the open doorway, caught completely unaware that they were being observed.
Sherlock Holmes was standing there in his Belstaff coat and navy scarf, arms crossed over his chest in a nonchalant manner. He looked over at the Yarders and finally locked his gaze on Lestrade.
"I deduce that you are all taking a respite from looking for my non-existent drug stash, Inspector." Sherlock replied, sarcasm evident in his tone. "And you also saw fit to meddle in affairs that do not concern you."
"Good to see you too, Sherlock! Or should I call you CSI?" Lestrade asked innocently.
Donovan's high pitched cackle escaped before she had a chance to clap her hands over her mouth. Meanwhile, the sound of Anderson being sick again filtered from the bathroom.
Clarky glanced down the hall with a sympathetic expression. "I never heard of someone throwing up so much without drinking before! Too bad poor Sil got the buffet for lunch today!"
Sherlock sighed, looking disgusted, as he turned to John. "I thought I made it clear that you were to guard the flat from intruders."
"Oh, brilliant! We are intruders now!" Hopkins mumbled sarcastically.
John held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "How do I keep them away, Sherlock? Besides, this is your fault! You know they do this every time you lift evidence!"
Sherlock scowled. "I have not lifted any evidence!"
"Then where is the gun from the Roberts case?" Lestrade asked pointedly.
"The Roberts case? You mean that dull murder that occurred near Fleet Street? The one where the wife obviously did it? At least, obvious to anyone with a functional frontal lobe…"
"So you don't have the gun?" Donovan interrupted, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she studied Sherlock's expression.
"No!" Sherlock protested. "Nor have I ever felt the slightest desire to involve myself in the Roberts case!"
"That's too bad." Clarky mused. "Now I actually feel guilty for helping to raid your flat."
"Bloody hell, Clarky! You practically jumped at the chance to be a part of this 'raid!'" Hopkins protested.
"Only because I was curious as to what Lucky was experimenting on!" Clarky defended. He then turned back to Sherlock. "By the way, what's with the two hands in the fridge?"
"An experiment in how waterproofing cement affects the rate of decay." Sherlock replied dismissively.
"Oh! So you are investigating the Surrey case! I was wondering why one hand was covered with gray stuff! Listen, will you let me know what happens with that? I may need to conduct a similar experiment soon on one of my cases, only this time the killer buried the victim in industrial waste product, and…"
"Oi! Body Farm people!" Hopkins protested, turning a faint shade of green. "Please stop, or I'll get sick! And since the bathroom is already occupied…"
John sighed. "I'll get the bucket from the broom closet. Because I refuse to have anyone vomiting on this rug! Mrs. Hudson just had it cleaned last week, and I want to enjoy it before Sherlock spills obnoxious smelling chemicals all over it!"
Sherlock looked over at John and smirked.
"Well, if you didn't take the gun, then who did?" Donovan challenged the consulting detective. "And if I find you have been lying to us, Freak…"
"I would deduce that your culprit is Detective Inspector Gregson." Sherlock said calmly as he went into the kitchen. "And I do hope none of you disturbed my sock index. It would be most tedious to organize it again."
"No one touched your stupid sock index, Freak!" Donovan shot back. "And why would Gregson take the gun?"
"It probably has something to do with the search warrant he was obtaining to gather evidence from the Roberts home." Sherlock said smugly. "Which is why he and Dimmock are over there right now."
"How do you know that?" Hopkins squeaked.
"I have my ways." Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. "I was delivering the two men who attacked Irene to the Yard…"
"So you did find them!" Clarky grinned wickedly. "I hope you didn't beat them up too badly, Lucky, because I want to teach them a lesson!"
"You didn't hurt them, right?" Lestrade asked hesistantly.
Sherlock shrugged. "Well, it depends on your definition of hurt. Technically, they are physically uninjured…"
"But?" John probed warily.
"Well, let's just say that Inspector Dimmock was surprised at how readily the two men took the keys to the holding cells from him and locked themselves in." Sherlock said, a self-satisfied smile gracing his features. "Although they were a bit dense, as they kept referring to me as a psychopath, no matter how many times I corrected them that I was actually a high-functioning sociopath."
"Bloody hell, Sherlock! What did you do!?" Hopkins gaped.
"Everyone always assumes that I have done something." Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance. He turned his icy eyes towards Irene, who continued to sit quietly in his chair. "And you are supposed to stay out of sight!"
"And miss the opportunity to catch up with my family? Really, Sherlock! How can you be so heartless as to suggest such a thing?" Irene replied back smugly. "Besides, you know how important family is!"
"Lucky, did you know that Irene was my cousin?" Clarky suddenly interrupted, looking at Sherlock quizzically.
"Of course. It's rather obvious, is it not?" Sherlock responded, looking bored.
"Is that a problem, Clarky?" Irene giggled as she looked at her cousin. "Surely you don't feel as though I need protection or anything. Right?"
Clarky glanced at Irene and shuddered. "Renie, I grew up with you, remember? Ever sense we were kids and we spent the summers at Grandma Lilly's house. You have always been able to take care of yourself. Actually, Lucky may need protection from you!"
Sherlock huffed, indigent, while Irene smirked like the proverbial cat who ate the cream.
Clarky rolled his eyes in dismay, and then turned back to Sherlock. "Lucky, do yourself a favor and run for the hills!" Clarky interjected helpfully. "Renie is not exactly a lady, if you know what I mean. Trust me! She's all sweet and innocent one minute, then she will drug you the minute your back is turned!"
"Too late!" John said to no one in particular as he ducked his head to take a sip of his tea.
Sherlock gave John a look that probably would have vaporized paint on contact. "Your warning is duly noted, Clarky. However, if Irene decided to be truthful, she would admit freely that I am her intellectual superior!"
Irene scoffed. "That's not what I remember!"
"Enough!" Lestrade broke in. "I don't need to know!"
"You needn't be so embarassed, Lestrade. Despite what you may be thinking, Ms. Adler and I are not discussing anything of an intimate nature. So kindly get your sub-pair mind out of the provential gutter!"
"And this is what we get for coming to the Freak's home!" Donovan snickered.
"It is what you deserve for conducting fraudulent drug busts." Sherlock retorted dryly before turning his attention back to Irene. "You will be relieved to know that the two men who attacked you did not know who you were. You were a random victim of a mugging, nothing more."
"I don't know whether to be relieved by that or insulted that two low-life criminals managed to sneak up on me without my knowledge." Irene muttered softly, taking a sip of her tea contemplatively.
"I would go with relief, Renie." Clarky spoke up. "That means those bad guys probably don't know you are still alive. It's a good thing!"
"True, but now your friends know." Irene nodded to the Yarders, who looked confused. "I don't suppose they can keep a secret, can they?"
"Like anyone will believe us!" Anderson croaked out as he stumbled back into the sitting room, looking distinctly pale as he did a good impression of a newborn foul. "The Freak managing to get a girlfriend!"
"I think Ms. Adler is asking for your discretion in keeping her existence a secret." Sherlock spoke up as he sent a glare in Anderson's direction. "As she has no doubt told you, she has enemies that will pay dearly to see her killed. There is no reason for any of you to mention her existence to anyone."
"And if we do, you will sic your brother on us." Lestrade grumbled as he sat up from the couch. "Well, I for one have no interest in pursuing the matter further. I think I have heard enough details for a lifetime!"
"Not me!" Hopkins snickered. He turned back to Irene with a gleeful expression on his face. "Imagine what type of blackmail she has on Sherlock and Clarky!"
"And on that note, we will be heading out!" Donovan said loudly, yanking Hopkins off the floor quickly. "Ms. Adler, it was nice to meet you. I am sorry what happened to you, and even sorrier that you are related to Clarky and are friends with Sherlock. I wish you the best of luck."
"But I'm not through yet!" Hopkins cried out.
"Yes you are!" Lestrade grimaced. "I don't want to find out anything else about Sherlock and Ms. Adler, if you don't mind! Or anything to do with Clarky carrying naked men around!"
"But I'm not gay!" Clarky whined.
Sherlock and John shared a knowing smirk before Sherlock stepped away from the door and waved his hand in a sweeping gesture as Donovan dragged a protesting Hopkins out by the lapels of his coat.
"Come on, Clarky! You can catch up with Ms. Adler later. But now we got to get back to the Yard." Lestrade said as he helped a stumbling and slightly green Anderson towards the door.
"Yeah, yeah! I'm coming!" Clarky grumbled as he got out of his chair. "And Lucky, I need you to get me in contact with your creepy government brother! Someone needs to lock Irene up before she gets herself hurt!"
"But Mycroft was the one who hired me!" Irene replied evenly. "It was his idea for me to go undercover! Something about doing it for 'God and Country' and all of that patriotic talk!"
Clarky's mouth hung open for exactly ten seconds before he finally closed it and turned back to Sherlock.
"Lucky…how do you feel about becoming an only child?"
Sherlock's answering smile was practically radiant as he rushed to the desk and began fumbling around for a pin. "He's currently at the Diogenes Club. Here, let me write down the address for you..."
"Fraticide is a crime, Sherlock!" John protested. "You can't use Clarky to kill your brother!"
"I won't kill Lucky's creepy government brother, John!" Clarky's answering smile was sinister on his usually handsome features. "I'm just going to have a pleasant chat with him, that's all!"
"Says the man with an unknown number of firearms at his disposal." John pointed out.
"You make me sound dangerous, John. Besides, only southern rednecks handle their problems with guns!"
"But you are a southern redneck, Clarky! You remind us all about that on a daily basis! Bloody hell, I never even heard of the term 'southern redneck' until you came!"
Clarky frowned as he considered that. "I...good point!"
"Clarky, as much as I would love to prolong this conversation, I do believe you have an appointment to keep with my dear brother, to remind him as to why Britain abandoned its colonies all those years ago." Sherlock said pointedly.
"Real subtle, Sherlock." John muttered under his breath. "No wonder Irene thinks you are 'Cute, Sexy, and Irristable!'"
Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I prefer to think of it as 'Can't Stand Idiots.' And since my brother is being idiotic right now, it is only fair that I do the honorable thing and allow Clarky to express his views to my brother. It is only right, as Clarky is Irene's closest living male relative, and thus is duty bound to protect her."
"Since when do you care about 'duty' and 'honor?'" John huffed.
"Since it helps him annoy his brother, that's why." Clarky answered, taking the address from Sherlock. "And personally, I don't mind in the least. There ain't nobody, and I do mean nobody, that makes our family do something that they don't want to do!"
"Clarky, were you even listening!?" Irene protested. "I want to do this! If I can help to ensure that another Moriarty doesn't show up, then I want to do everything in my power to do so! And you can't stop me!"
"I know that!" Clarky said. "Hell, Irene! You have always done what you wanted, and there is no stopping you when you do! So I am not even going to try! But Lucky's creepy government brother better understand something! He better do everything possible to keep you safe, or there is no power on Earth that will stop me from taking it out of his hide!"
And with that, the American rushed out of the flat, no doubt preparing to confront Mycroft in person.
The Personal Blog of John Watson
August 30
6:19 p.m.
To my ever-patient readers, it has been a few days since I have updated my blog, and I am only now having the chance to write about.
Earlier this week, a former acquaintance of Sherlock's had dropped by. She had been attacked by two unidentified men, and was in fear for her life. However, due to circumstances beyond her control, she was unable to go to the local authorities.
Sherlock took her case, of course, and managed to locate the men. But that wasn't the most exciting part of the case.
You see, the detectives at the Yard dropped by to locate some missing evidence that they believed that Sherlock might have borrowed (he didn't, by the way). While they were here, we learned that Clarky, the transfer from America, was actually related to Sherlock's client.
By the way, did I forget to mention that Sherlock's client, like so many hopeless romantics out there, actually has a crush on Sherlock?
Anyway, things got a little uncomfortable. Especially after the client revealed that she privately refers to Sherlock as "CSI," which stands for "Cute, Sexy, and Irresistible."
Personally, I don't see it. And neither did Sherlock, who felt that CSI should stand for "Can't Stand Idiots."
But I decided to post the question to you, my wonderful readers, and get your opinion as to what CSI should stand for.
Greg Lestrade (posted 6:27)
How about "Common Sense Impaired?"
John Watson (posted 6:29)
Ha ha! Good one!
Stanley Hopkins (posted 6:32)
Actually, CSI stands for "Cadaver Sniffing Investigator." After all, what else can you expect from someone who worked at the Body Farm? And to the mysterious acquaintance, when are you going to dump Sherlock and try someone new? Like me ;)
Edward Clarkson IV "Clarky" (posted 6:35)
Stanley! You. Are. Going. To. Die!
Sally Donovan (6:37)
You better run, Stanley!
Stanley Hopkins (posted 6:38)
Why are you so upset, Clarky? You are from the USA, right? The Land of the Free and whatever else you Americans say? Well, she is free to date me!
Silvia Anderson (posted 6:40)
I agree with Sally. Clarky would kill you in a battle to the death, Stan. And by the way, CSI stands "Certifiably Sociopathic and Insane!"
Sherlock Holmes (posted 6:41)
How long have we known each other, Anderson? Five years, eight months, and twelve days? And it has taken you that long to learn the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath?
Maybe you are not the complete idiot I have always believed you to be.
John Watson (posted 6:42)
Play nice, children!
Sally Donovan (posted 6:43)
Oh, I got one! "Client Satisfaction Index!"
Gregory Lestrade (posted 6:44)
Dare I ask? Client satisfaction for what!?
Sally Donovan (posted 6:45)
Oh, whatever the Freak decides! Use your imagination! ;D
Sherlock Holmes (posted 6:47)
John, what does Sally mean? All of my clients are satisfied with the results that I get for them.
Gregory Lestrade (posted 6:48)
There are just so many things wrong with that statement, Sherlock! Oh, great! Now Anderson's throwing up again! Good job!
Sherlock Holmes (posted 6:49)
Thank you, Lestrade.
John Watson (posted 6:50)
He's being sarcastic, Sherlock!
Sherlock Holmes (posted 6:52)
Oh!
Mycroft Holmes (posted 6:53)
Ah, Sherlock! I just wanted to thank you for sending the esteemed Dr. Clarkson to the Diogenes Club this afternoon.
Sherlock Holmes (posted 6:55)
John? Is Mycroft being sarcastic?
John Watson (posted 6:56)
Yes, Sherlock.
Edward Clarkson IV "Clarky" (posted 6:57)
Oh, grow up, Mr. Holmes! I didn't know that there was a ban on anyone speaking there! Would it kill your little membership group to post a sign near the door!? And Lucky, why didn't you warn me!? A couple of men tried to grab me outside, but I didn't know who they were. I gave one a black eye and the other one a broken nose!
John Watson (posted 6:58)
You did!? Great job!
Sherlock Holmes (posted 6:59)
I concur, Clarky. But did the meeting with my brother go well?
Mycroft Holmes (posted 7:01)
As well as can be expected, brother dear. Dr. Clarkson has be apprised of all the security measures to keep [DELETED FOR PURPOSES OF NATIONAL SECURITY] from undue harm.
Edward Clarkson IV "Clarky" (posted 7:03)
Yeah, don't worry Lucky. I didn't kill your brother. If I did, then we would have to be in a feud, and I don't think [DELETED FOR PURPOSES OF NATIONAL SECURITY] would forgive me if I had to shoot you.
John Watson (posted 7:04)
But what if Sherlock was ok with you killing his brother?
Edward Clarkson IV "Clarky" (posted 7:06)
Doesn't matter. He would still be duty-bound to revenge his brother's death, and I would be duty-bound to protect my life.
Sherlock Holmes (posted 7:09)
It is one of those ridiculous rules that they follow in the American South, John. Or so I have been told during my brief sojourn there. Try not to think about it too much. If I can't figure out with my vastly superior intellect, then you don't have a chance.
Sally Donovan (posted 7:10)
Ooooh! Get him, John!
Stanley Hopkins (posted 7:13)
Yeah, John! Kill Sherlock! That way I get a chance with you-know-who! :D
Edward Clarkson IV "Clarky" (posted 7:14)
For the last time, everyone stay away from [DELETED FOR PURPOSES OF NATIONAL SECURITY]. You have no idea what she is capable of! Trust me on this! I know!
[DELETED FOR PURPOSES OF NATIONAL SECURITY] (posted 7:16)
Good luck with that, Clarky. But I am my own woman, and I can take care of myself.
Sherlock Holmes (posted 7:17)
Oh, Clarky? I deduce you are currently looking for Hopkins right now, as he is currently in the same building as you. If you still wish to speak to him, he is currently hiding in Lestrade's office.
Stanley Hopkins (posted 7:19)
You bastard!
Sherlock Holmes (posted 7:21)
I assure you, Hopkins, that my family can be traced back nine generations.
John Watson (posted 7:22)
That's not what he means, Sherlock.
Sherlock Holmes (posted 7:23)
Not good?
John Watson (posted 7:24)
A bit not good, yeah.
Author's Note: And that is the final part of this drabble "Family Secrets." I hope you liked it!
By the way, does anyone have any ideas that they want me to write about? My muse has went on holiday, and I could really use some inspiration to keep me sane, as "Sherlock" probably won't air for awhile. If anyone has any suggestions, please share!
Oh, and no commentary today. My OC Chase Douglas is temporarily out of commission due to a serious injury which he is going to blog about soon. Very likely it will be the subject of the next series of drabbles, but it depends on how quickly he recovers!
And a special thank you to the following people:
Scottish Bluebell and chaoticmom-the people who have taken the time to consistently review my story! Thank you so much!
chaoticmom, TheAngelandtheDevil97, paula. ,-for following my story!
TheAngelandtheDevil97, paula. ,-for favoriting my story!
And to the rest of you: I take this as a challenge. I will continue to write until you deem it fit that I deserve a review, reguardless of its content.
Thanks for reading!