John sat still, a bit in shock. He had seen plenty of deaths worse than the one Elise had told him about, but it was still just so… inhumane. "Did Andrew die from the 'carving' or a bullet wound, or-"
"It was the carving that killed him." Elise replied. "He bled to death."
Meanwhile, Mycroft Holmes was very nervous.
Glancing at the photo of his children on his desk, he turned it down. He couldn't hide it anymore, couldn't keep it out of the papers. His son was dead, and he had to act like his daughter had run away in an attack of unnecessary guilt. Glancing out the window, he saw a reporter snapping photos of him at his desk. Putting his head down on his desk, he ignored him.
Besides, he deduced the man was trying to get a big scoop, trying to feed his own children. He closed the curtains. Andy. He thought to himself. What have I done?
*time skip, one week*
Elise settled into her life of hiding. Mrs. Hudson began to fawn on her like a granddaughter, Sherlock stopped ignoring her presence and John talked to her frequently. She still didn't smile much, spending a lot of time staring at the wall.
"I'm worried about her, Sherlock." John told him one morning as he was drinking his coffee, Sherlock doing… something with a paperclip and a kneecap. "She hasn't been eating anything." He stopped. "…and don't tell me some story about how 'the superior Holmes family doesn't need to eat, we feed off the inferiority of others', she needs to eat something."
"Considering she's still very upset about her brother's demise, it can be expected." Sherlock sighed, ramming the paperclip into the knee. "There."
John stared at the kneecap. "What am I looking at?"
"…a paperclip in a kneecap, Doctor Watson. She's suffering from PTSD."
"I know that, her brother's been carved like some sort of tree, of course she's got-" John suddenly slammed down his coffee. "I've got it!"
A few minutes later, John told Sherlock his plan.
"No, absolutely not," came the reply from Sherlock.
"She's your niece; surely she's inherited some sort of superior intelligence." John was begging. "I can't allow her to wallow in her own sadness like that."
"No."
"Mycroft'll kill us both." John added. "Whether it's with his own hands or-"
Sherlock's phone buzzed and he looked at the text.
"Fine." He admitted defeat.
It wasn't until later that John got to see the text.
"Take care of the refrigerator or I'll tell mummy on you.
-MH"
AUTHOR'S NOTE
What on earth has Sherlock agreed to? Will the paperclip in the kneecap serve any purpose? Will we get to see some MycroftxAnthea? Will I receive any oreos?
Find out in the next installment of the "My Uncle Sherlock" series!
Review, my friendly friends!
-ATLK