Chapter 3: Breakfast and meeting strange people
As Sherlock woke up the first morning in his new home he was at first very confused where he was and by the fact that he had slept at his desk but seeing the written letter he relaxed. Last night he hadn't been able to sleep so he had written the answer for his friend. He would give the letter to Mycroft so he could send it to John as fast as possible.
Sherlock got up, stretched and woke up completely under the shower. He let the warm water flow over his body, ignoring all the marks that his previous life had left behind. John had looked over them at the base to make sure Sherlock wouldn't need further medical attention. All the marks left behind by Moriarty, his trainers, teachers, Moriarty's men, other criminals and the incident that had led to his freedom. They would stay for the rest of his life, always reminding him of that time to make sure he would never forget what had happened and what he had done.
Shaking his head to get rid of his thoughts and stepping out of the shower Sherlock got dressed and left his room behind to meet his brother at the breakfast table, holding the letter for John tightly in his hands.
"Good morning, Sherlock." Mycroft greeted him as soon as Sherlock had opened the door. His brother was already seated at the table; a cup of coffee next to an empty plate with a few bread crumbs on it and the newspaper in his hand.
"Morning." Sherlock mumbled. "Could you send this letter to John, please?" Mycroft noticed the shyness of his brother when asking for something. Was it shyness or insecurity about the fact that Sherlock had often wanted something that had not been given to him?
"Yes, of course Sherlock. You don't have to ask for it. Downstairs at the door is a box. Every letter you want to send you can put in there and it will be sent the next day." He smiled a bit to encourage him to come closer to the table. "Come, sit with me, have a bit of breakfast, it will be a busy day." Sherlock went to the table and picked at a slice of toast that lay in a basket. Mycroft watched him take small bites.
"After we have the legal stuff done I would like you to meet a few teachers that I have selected. You can choose whoever you feel comfortable with or nobody at all. If you don't like them I will find new ones. Don't worry about it. You also have your first appointment with Dr. Michelson, your therapist. The same thing applies here: you tell me if she is the right one for you or not." There were many more things to do but Mycroft didn't want to overwhelm his brother who looked once again as if it was getting too much for him, as if he was feeling overwhelmed. He just nodded at Mycroft's plan for the day. But Mycroft hoped it would get better and that his brother would once again become the cheerful little boy he had lost a long time ago. Or at least that he would become a bit more confident and feel safe around his new (old) home.
After breakfast the brothers got ready to leave for the appointment with their family-lawyer. During the ride in a very expensive looking car Sherlock thought about the word 'family'. As the car stopped due to a traffic jam in the morning rush hours Sherlock looked over to his brother, trying to read his face.
"Mycroft." His brother looked to Sherlock." Where are our parents?" The pained look on Mycroft's face told Sherlock everything he needed to know. There were no parents. There was no mum that could give him a kiss or a dad that could hug him. He looked down at the hands in his lap.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, there wasn't time until now to talk about it. But you know the answer already. They died a few years back. Car accident. I'm really sorry." Sherlock could hear it in his brother's voice, he was sorry but he wasn't sure for what. So he did what he was told to do: 'ask'.
"Why are you sorry? It wasn't your fault that they had an accident, right?" He sounded as confused as he was feeling. Why should someone feel sorry for an accident he had not caused? Or was it because he hadn't told Sherlock earlier that he wouldn't see his parents again? It wouldn't have made any difference.
Mycroft looked at him with a strange expression on his face, one that Sherlock couldn't read. But it seemed as if his brother came to a conclusion. "I'm sorry because you should have been able to see them again. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier and now left you with the need to ask for them. I'm sorry that they had the accident because it could have been prevented. They were on their way to meet with me in London and I'm really sorry that the feeling you can't identify from my expression is foreign to you. It's called sympathy."
The reminding drive was spent in silence. Sherlock thought about the things Mycroft had told him and about the word or better the feeling called sympathy. While Mycroft added the topic sympathy to the others on the list in his mind for Sherlock's therapist. Many of the most basic behaviors or feelings were lost or unknown to Sherlock. This was an education-field they would have to concentrate on.
Mycroft lead Sherlock into his office, they would meet the lawyer here; also the meeting with the teachers was set later that day in the same building. Sherlock wasn't too interested in the whole thing of being legally back from the dead. He let Mycroft and the lawyer, Mr. Jones do the work; at the end of the conversation he signed a document that apparently granted him a huge fortune, as per his parents' last will. With his signature the meeting was over and they left to meet with the first teacher.
He was interested in meeting the teachers. He harbored both positive and negative thoughts because his last teacher had been chosen by Moriarty; today it was his choice. Sherlock followed Mycroft into a room, a table in the middle, two chairs on the one side and one on the other side. A few folders lay in the middle.
"Sherlock how about you sit down, look at the information we have and I will bring in the first one and some tea." Sherlock nodded and followed Mycroft's suggestion.
The information Mycroft had collected on the teachers was massive. Sherlock was amazed in how much detail his brother had looked for the right person to teach him. He had chosen people to teach him social norm, behavior and understanding of society and others should fill the gabs in school education.
The first one was an older man, in his fifties. He was bold with a very long beard and big glasses. He looked a bit strange but Sherlock could read the man and even without the information Mycroft had provided he knew the man was what one called 'nice'. An elderly nice man, for his education in the social norm area, someone that would teach him everything he would need to live a normal life and not struggle every time a basic understanding in social behavior was necessary. Sherlock put him on the maybe list. He couldn't say no to everyone.
The second was best described as a hyperactive mouse on speed. Every second some part of the man's body was moving. Sherlock didn't need to see more, he wouldn't be able to handle that man longer than the minute necessary to get outside. The look he gave his brother was questioning. How could he have thought that it would work.
The third was a younger woman, mid to end of her twenties. Long red hair, open smile, teenage mother, single, with a small scar on her neck and a longtime boyfriend (father of the child?) who had died five to six years ago. A look in the file told him five years ago. She was one of the candidates chosen to teach him about the school system. His first impression was that she was a fighter and he liked her, so definitely on the maybe list.
There were many more, nearly twenty people who were one after the other brought into the room and introduced themselves. In the end there was only one who was really interesting enough for Sherlock to consider: the women with the scar on her neck, Miss Grace Wilder. But he found none of the teachers to his liking or suitable.
Mycroft didn't mind it, he thanked the men and women who didn't get the job and sent them away except Miss Wilder who was asked to come back in. He told her about her position, the hours she had to come to his house, and they talked about the topics she should avoid and the ones that required her attention. Sherlock was silent and watched from his position at the window, yes he had chosen her and he found her a bit interesting but that was all. She was hired to fill the gabs Moriarty's education had left in his life. The one hope he had was that she wouldn't pity him. He had started to hate the look of pity in the eyes of people.
The first lessons were planned for the following day. Early morning so as to be able to use as much of the day as possible, something that suited Sherlock, who would probably be awake early anyway due to the lack of sleep.