Chapter Four
John, Mycroft, the Lord and Lady and a man called James or Jim. Never Jimmy!
Two Days later John hailed a taxi and headed to the Holmes Family Home. It was just gone seven in the morning and he was wearing his best clothes: a thick white jumper and dark navy jeans. The rest of his (very limited) wardrobe was in a suitcase in the boot and he had a separate bag for his laptop and a medial journal or two he'd picked up when he was laid up in the hospital.
The day before John had gone with Harry to the nearby rehabilitation facility in a taxi provided by Mycroft. After seeing it he had looked up how much it cost and nearly fallen out his armchair. To think that these new employers were willing to pay him on top of a room there – if he hadn't been so determined to help his sister he would have refused such obvious charity.
After John had talked his heart out to his sister she had snuck off and gotten drunk. John had let that one go – it hadn't been a Disney tale he'd recited after all. But the same thing happened again the next night. The next day he had repeatedly asked her to talk to him but she finally said she wasn't as brave as him and wanted to speak to a stranger. If she had any chance of getting her life back on track she needed him to keep this job – he would be more confident except he didn't really know how he had gotten it in the first place.
The brief encounters with the Holmes aristocratic family replayed in his mind as the taxi made the slow journey through rush hour traffic to the busy Baker Street. Given it's location between Baker Street and Marylebone stations John was really beginning to wish he had gotten a tube (even though that would mean dragging his suitcase and heavy backpack through the crowds). Turning onto the street John groaned as the way ahead was at a standstill despite being four lanes of one-way traffic. To his right was some old stuffy museum and he noted the address – 239. On the other side a hairdressers said 234 and he only needed to get to 221. Checking his watch, John decided to get out. He looked ahead to a couple of grand buildings and wondered if the Holmes family owned all of one of them. He paid the quiet driver, got his bags and started walking.
Although he had researched them on the Internet the Holmes family were very private and carefully guarded what information on them was public. Only Sherlock had a website of his own and it had nothing on the family. It was just a personal site dedicated to something he called the science of deduction. John had found it fascinating and rather startling – had the teen done it all himself? Some of it seemed completely ridiculous – knowing a pilot from his left thumb? Really? John would have completely dismissed it but the teen had been right about Harry's fight. The young siblings had talked about the job offer and she had told him everything she had overheard – which wasn't much:
"Ordinary rich folks." Maybe that was true of the older three but John sensed they were more than rich and Sherlock was anything but ordinary.
The entrance to the Holmes residence (mansion) was grand and classically beautiful and up seven steps. John clambered up them stiffly going up each step individually. Just as he reached the last one the imposing double doors opened and a large redheaded man, bursting out a neat black suit, hurried out to greet him,
"Doctor Watson – you're as early as Mister Mycroft expected here let me take your bags for you," The smiling man had a thick Scottish accent that instantly relaxed John.
"Thank you," he said relinquishing his bags with gratitude.
"Jimmy here will show you to young Sherlock,"
"My name is James or Jim if you must," John's attention was drawn from where he had been gazing around the entrance hall in awe to quickly focus on this man who had almost been hiding behind one of the doors. He spoke with a Queen's English accent and his tone was haughty, sharp and unforgiving. A slender, short man he fitted neatly into his very nice (and probably expensive) three-piece suit. John felt very under-dressed in his woolly jumper and baggy jeans.
The entrance hall was two storeys of open space with a balcony overlooking the main doors and a beautifully decorated lift under that. The top of all the walls were painted white and the bottoms were panelled with sharply carved light wood. The staircase was at least ten paces away in the corner curving up from the right corner to the centre with a black iron intricately designed flower handrail. The floor was lined with patterned white marble and the windows were long and obscure, providing a fierce security blackout whilst allowing sunlight to fill the room.
"Pleased to meet you James . . ." John dragged his attention from the room to hold his hand out but received only a sneer,
"Jason will take your bags to your room, the lord and lady are currently eating breakfast in the sun room."
"Ease up a bit Jim, John 'ere is gonna think we're a right unwelcoming pair,"
"The bags, Jason," the Scottish man sighed and bent down to whisper loudly in John's ear,
"Maybe you got something in 'ere we could mellow 'im out wit?"
"NOW Jason!" the sudden order offended John and he tapped his crutch against the majestic floor slightly in protest,
"No funny bone at all," Jason muttered finally moving away.
"As I was saying Lord and Lady Holmes are in the sunroom and asked me to bring you to them when you arrived," he paused waiting for Jason to completely disappear through a door to the left of the lift,
"However Mister Mycroft would like a word with you first," his words sounded innocent enough but the way he spoke and grinned . . . John had the strangest feeling he was supposed to feel threatened or perhaps afraid,
"Ok I'll follow you then," John was trying for friendly but James wasn't making that easy.
"Yes, yes you will," James' tone would probably have sent shivers up a lesser man's back. And the way he smiled, like he knew something John didn't … it unnerved the soldier slightly.
The butler (John assumed that was his job title) spun on his heel and strode quickly across the grand hall. John followed quickly and glanced at the lift; James grinned as he saw this and increased his pace. Looking up John noticed the stairs space went up for at least five storeys (though past this one floor they narrowed).
"Keep up Doctor Watson," James challenged with another sneer from the top of the stairs. The army vet was not about to be bested by some stuck up butler with an attitude problem. He lifted his crutch out the way and motored up after his very rude guide.
They just about reached the top of the second set of stairs together.
"Very good John, now another!" James mocked and leapt up the stairs with the ease of practice. John increased his speed again and was not too far behind.
"Yes I can see why Sherlock likes you." John didn't know how to respond to that so stayed quiet.
"Be brave," James said with a grin – his eyes twinkly manically. He crossed the hallway and rapped three times on a heavy dark door, which swung open.
"Ah John you arrived," Mycroft sat behind a dark wooden desk facing the door. Between them screens covered almost the entire wall. The majority were turned off but three nearest the desk were on and John was surprised to see they were of the inside of the house: Mycroft had been watching him from the moment he had arrived. Even more disturbing was one showing Sherlock sitting up in bed. Mycroft followed his eyes and frowned. He pushed one of many buttons on his desk,
"Sherlock what did I say about moving?"
"I'm BORED!" John jumped as Sherlock's voice came out from some sort of hidden intercom system.
"Try to contain yourself for just a little while longer – your doctor is here," and again John was perturbed by the way that had been said despite the innocent words.
"Good, good … wait is he there with you?"
"I'm here," John, answered confused by the concern in his question,
"Be a good boy for just a little while longer Sherlock,"
"Mycroft don't you . . ." Sherlock was cut-off mid-word as his brother took his finger off that particular button. John turned back to Mycroft to demand to know what that was all about but the other man was watching the screen intently. John turned to see what he found so interesting and watched as the teenager threw a pillow in the direction of the camera. Mycroft sighed again and pressed another button, this time the door opened,
"Sir?"
"Please go see to my brother Mr Moriarty."
"Of course sir," John wondered if he was the only one to notice how the man's eyes light up at the request.
The door closed by itself as Mycroft pressed the button again and John was left feeling more than a little restless. He waited for him to speak but the other man seemed content to simply study him. Finally John asked frustrated,
"What is going on? Why am I here?"
"I wanted to speak with you before James takes you to my parents," the eldest son spoke slowly, considering each word and watching John's reaction to each of them,
"Why?"
"I wanted to let you know how seriously I take looking after my brother," despite the loving words Mycroft could have been speaking about the weather for all the affection in his voice.
"By spying on him?"
"By all means necessary," Mycroft eyed him carefully after that statement and John wondered what he expected. Finally the elder Holmes brother moved his eyes back to the computer screens and John followed his eyes just in time to see James Moriarty enter the bedroom holding a pair of handcuf … wait handcuffs?
"You're handcuffing him to the bed?" John yelled in outraged and whipped his head back to face Mycroft,
"For the past three days it has been the only way to keep him still," Mycroft stayed relaxed at his desk – not at all worried by John's anger.
"That's just … I mean …" John spluttered as he watched Sherlock wriggle around trying to avoid James who by now had a very large syringe,
"What are you drugging him with?" John stood rigid angrily clenching his free fist and clutching his walking crutch,
"You're very loyal very quickly,"
"I'm really not … what are you giving him?" John's feeble attempt at disinterest failed,
"Just a sedative Doctor, it's the only way to stop him slipping out the handcuffs – don't worry they don't put him all the way under. And this is much better than the alternative drugs he would take himself,"
"Sherlock does drugs? Seriously him?" John asked in surprise,
"My brother is brilliant; Doctor Watson, quite simply the second most intelligent man you're ever likely to meet,"
"Who is the first?"
"Me of course. The only real difference between us, other than a few extra IQ points, is that I can cope with the emotional strain of my intellect and Sherlock struggles with his. He uses drugs to pass the time, to avoid being bored and to forget just how difficult he finds social situations."
"What does that mean?" Mycroft's mobile phone buzzed on his desk but he ignored it.
"Sherlock struggles to understand emotions; in other people and with how to express his own. Our parents therefore distanced him from people in order to protect him. This has led to a certain apathy, which many people interpret as cold-heartedness but that is simply not accurate Doctor Watson." Mycroft's expression was so empty and disinterested John wondered if his concern was genuine,
"My brother has emotions doctor; he just doesn't know how to express them."
"Unlike like you, you mean! What does all this have to do with me?"
"As I just explained Sherlock does not do well around people – he usually ends up frustrated with them … or them, him,"
"What?"
"Don't act a fool John; I have the results of every exam you've ever taken and quite a lot more," John didn't doubt him for even a second,
"Who are you?"
"Lord Mycroft Holmes the fourth,"
"The fourth … really?"
"Yes which reminds me your mother and step father have recently celebrated the birth of their fourth child would you like to know her name?"
Mycroft pressed a button and a screen turned on: a happy picture of John's mother, stepfather and four young children frozen on it. John stared at them, taking in all the details. Two boys and now a second girl; it had been over five years since John had received a letter from his mother. She had never sent him pictures though.
"Or perhaps you would like to know the names of your uncles' children? Your mother resolved her differences with her family I guess since you …" Mycroft paused to get out a notebook,
"And Harry weren't around . . ."
"Don't!" even as John protested, Mycroft pressed a button and the picture changed, flashing between two families.
"I even have the name of your real father, it wasn't too difficult to find," the screen changed again and on it stood a man so very much like John smiling into his mobile. This picture was not a family portrait but one covertly taken.
"Really who the HELL are you?" John forced his eyes from the screen to glare at the seated man,
"I worry about my wayward sibling … I'm sure you can sympathise,"
"Is that a threat?"
Mycroft pressed a button and the door opened,
"Mr Moriarty – Doctor Watson is ready to meet with my parents now,"
"This way doctor,"
John followed in silence, letting himself be led to the lift. James Moriarty pressed the button for the lift and smirked as John mindlessly followed him, attention clearly elsewhere. John finally noticed they were going all the way up to the ninth floor and saw James' vulgar expression,
"What?"
"You look rather shell-shocked," he gloated. John was embarrassed by how much that meeting had affected him; all he could think about were the photo's of his family.
James Moriarty strode out the lift and John limped out after him. Walking down a rather long hallway the doctor caught sight of a camera high up on the wall and was sure Mycroft would be watching him.
"Lord and lady – Doctor Watson has arrived,"
"Thank you James, Doctor Watson please sit with us a while." A maid, an actual maid in a maid outfit pulled a third chair out,
"Would you like something to eat or drink?" Lady Holmes asked politely, distracting John from gazing around in wonder,
"Oh a cup of tea please, milk and one sugar thank you," he smiled at the maid causing her to blush and smile back.
John could see why this was called the sunroom – it was a large dining room at the very top of the building, which overlooked all its neighbours. The front and back walls had floor to ceiling windows and the back wall had a set of doors opening out onto what he guessed was a massive roof area.
While John was gazing around the maid quickly made his drink and then scampered off with James who had been waiting by the door. He wrapped his arms around her as they left. The sight surprised John and Lady Holmes laughed at his expression,
"Miranda is a sweet girl, so very different from James don't you think?"
"I wouldn't really know," John peered out over Regents Park feeling completely out his depth.
"You don't like him though," she pressed,
"Am I that transparent?"
"Unfortunately in this household yes dear but my husband is also rather clueless aren't you darling?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about Rose," the couple stayed a look and a smile and John shifted in his chair uncomfortably,
"Now John I'm sure our James was less than forth-coming on your way up here so I'll just tell you a little about Sherlock and this big old place,"
"Thank you," John sipped his tea,
"Sherlock is fifteen and a bit more … difficult than most teenagers . . . "
"Understatement," Lord Holmes muttered,
"Charles! Anyway he gets bored very easily we've had to drug him just to keep him in bed," John couldn't help but express his distaste for that practice, luckily it was muted by the fact he already knew,
"You don't approve?"
"I . . . I've just never thought that as a solution," John answered cautiously,
"Well we are hoping with you here it won't be necessary,"
"So in addition to being Sherlock's doctor I'm supposed to be what . . . his court jester?" John asked flaring his nostrils angrily,
"Dear me you are defensive, stand down soldier it's actually our sincere hope that you will become his friend,"
"Friend?" John echoed completely thrown,
"Yes he's never had one before," The lady was incredibly frank in informing him of this,
"Never had . . . sorry what?"
"Not even an imaginary one," Lady Rose Holmes smiled sadly,
"Friend?" John questioned for a second time,
"Yes his father and I took him out of school when he was so young,"
"We talked about this Rose we did what we thought was best," Lord Holmes spoke up,
"Our other son put Sherlock's medical file together for you; he said it would be easier than trying to get it from our doctor. He also made an information pack for you, with diagrams of the building layout and the household particulars. Just last year he upgraded all the security features. This house caters for us as a family first and foremost but we also have all manors of guests staying here diplomats, royalty, Charles' parents,"
"Erm royalty?" John asked worriedly,
"Yes nobody you'd know I don't suppose but some of them are family of a sorts" Lady Holmes wrinkled her nose at the thought.
"You have royal family members?"
"Yes, yes more hassle than its worth believe you me," Lord Charles said wearily.
"I can imagine . . . sorry no I can't,"
"Stop it Charles you're overwhelming the boy,"
"Me? You're the one who brought it up,"
"I only thought it fair to warn him given that charity ball you insisted on hosting here next month,"
"You promised you didn't mind . . . " John started laughing, he really couldn't help himself – they may have royal family but they acted as every couple John had ever known. Lady Holmes gave her husband the dreaded 'I'll talk to you later' look and turned her attention back to John.
"Anyway the reason I brought it up was to stress the importance of following the security procedures. It's all written here and Mycroft will go through anything you wanted clarified. Basically you need a lift key to get past level five. Do you have a mobile?"
John pulled a brick out his pocket and held it up.
"Yes Mycroft mentioned you would benefit from a staff phone," Lady Holmes pushed a package and two folders over the table to John.
"You got me a phone?"
"He did yes, Sherlock likes to text," The package suddenly buzzed and John opened it,
Come now. SH
"You son is … asking for me?"
"Yes he does that," Lady Holmes didn't give any sign of moving just sipped her tea again. The package also contained a photo ID that he held up questioningly.
"That is to get you through the doors – in a few weeks you can lose the photo ID. Mycroft hired a few ex-soldier types as security guards. We don't really need them but … well they make Charles and Mycroft feel better when they're away from home,"
"I see," Both of John's phones buzzed and two other phones trilled,
My visitor!
"Oh Sherlock," he mother said sighing. James Moriarty appeared, his suit slightly ruffled with lipstick marks on his lips and neck.
"The master of the house is ordering me to bring him his doctor," he said sarcastically,
"I'll take him James you get back to your young love," Lady Holmes said smiling,
"I'm here now and I don't min . . . "
"Honestly its fine James I wanted to see my son anyway,"
"Of course my lady," the man bowed low and quickly. He sent a hate-filled glance at John before leaving again.
Lady Holmes finished her tea and stood,
"Are you ready for my son?" she asked with a grin and John could honestly say no, no he really, really wasn't.
WC - 3532