It's me, hi! It's been a long time, I know, but school was killing me amongst other things, but I finally found some time for a small chapter, mostly filler. I have no idea when I'll put up the next one, sorry. But thank you all for reading, following, reviewing, for the favourites! See you around ;)
Chapter 8 - Runs in the family
In a darkened room in London, General Shan was sitting at a desk, talking to a computer. She had a camera on, but the person she was talking to only typed on the screen under the letter M.
"Without you, without your assistance - we would not have found passage into London. You have my thanks." Shan said humbly and waited while the answer was typed out on the screen.
"M: Gratitude is meaningless. It is only the expectation of further favours."
Shan leaned to the screen. "We did not anticipate, we did not know this man would come... this Sherlock Holmes and his companions. And now your safety is compromised," she said worriedly.
"M: They cannot trace this back to me."
"I will not reveal your identity." Shan promised.
"M: I am certain." The computer beeped and a red laser light appeared on her forehead. With one single shot, a bullet hit the forehead, ending General Shan's life, ensuring her promise.
SARAH WINSTON:
I wasn't going down so easily. He didn't deserve that satisfaction, so I decided to make a run for it. I stared into the eyes of the woman in suit and quickly, I jerked to the side and started running. I heard the two men with her started to run after me, so I just ran faster. I pushed people on the train station away from my path, changing my course at random, searching for the quickest way out, hopefully, the men would lose track of me for a while, at least. Somehow, I managed to find my way out and onto the streets. I basically jumped in front of a cab on the road and the cabbie hit the brakes as fast as he could. The car's brakes squeaked and I heard people around me shouting something, others just stared in shock. I quickly squeezed inside and thought of a safe place I could go.
"Baker Street, please. And hurry," I said to the cabbie. I nervously checked the windows and the rear view mirrors, but the men were gone. For now. I doubted he would give up that easily.
When I got out of the cab at Baker Street, I hurriedly paced towards 221B. I almost reached the doorknob, when someone tapped me on my shoulder. My whole body froze and I gasped in shock, but slowly I turned around to see the same woman from the train station. This time, there were no men around, only a black car with tinted windows, so I couldn't see if there was anybody else. But I expected there would be.
"How did you- What the f-" I backed away from her, still breathing heavily from the rush. The doors of the car opened.
"I knew this was exactly where you'd go, Sarah Arlene Winston," a voice from the car said, and a moment later, a man was standing in front of the black car. His tall figure loomed over me, his eyes cold and his hairline slowly receeding. His sharp face... his face reminded me of someone, but I just couldn't place him.
"Who are you?" I breathed out. Clearly not my brother, so who the hell was this?
"An interested party. Please, if you'd be so kind and joined me for a while. Then you can catch your next train to Liverpool," the man said with a thin smile.
"I'm supposed to believe that you'll just let me go after I get into the car with you?" I blurted out.
"Yes," he said plainly, as if it was a common occurence that people just get into cars of random, very scary, people with their own fleet of security. Plus a weird umbrella, even though it was quite sunny today. I glared into the man's eyes.
"Or I could just run into these doors and never see you again," I said as I scooted a bit closer to the 221B door.
"Ah, yes, I'm sure my brother would be very glad to see you again. He seems to have grown a little... fond of you over these past few days," the man smiled coldly, but his nose crinkled as if he smelled something spoiled. My eyes widened and my mouth fell open.
"Mycroft Holmes, it is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Sarah Arlene Winston."
"Are you repeating my full name just to make it clear that you know it?"
"Very good," he approved and he returned to the car, with the woman following him. I sighed and gave a quick glance at the 221B door. This man claimed to be Sherlock's brother. It explained why he was so familiar to me... the features of his face distantly reminded me of Sherlock's. Of course, Sherlock appeared to be the handsome one out of the two siblings, but the resemblance was still there. I conteplated my choices, then I decided to quietly enter the car. We didn't speak for the entire ride, until we stopped somewhere in London I didn't recognize. It was a majestic building at the corner of the street. Mycroft Holmes entered first, and the woman with him led me inside after him, signalling for me to be quiet. When I passed the doorway, I noticed a sign on the wall. The Diogenes Club.
They led me trough very expensively furnitured rooms with older men just sitting quietly, or reading books and newspapers. The odd thing was, nobody was talking to each other. The whole building was quiet as if they were just ghosts. The men seemed to be so deep in thoughts or their papers or whatever, they didn't even seem to acknowledge each other's presence, even if they were sitting next or opposite of each other.
We entered a room, apparently Mr Holmes' office of some sorts and he sat down behind a massive desk, while the woman directed me to a smaller chair in front of it.
"Thank you, Anthea," Mycroft Holmes said and the woman - Anthea - what kind of name is that? took her place further away from us, next to the door. There was quiet for a while and then he spoke again.
"It has been brought to my attention," he leaned over in his chair to see me better, "that you met my brother, Sherlock, four days ago. You have been investigating a case together with him and Doctor John Watson."
"Maybe. But how is that any of your business?" I asked him and he smirked.
"Oh, it is in all of the ways, my business."
"Just because Sherlock is your... brother?" My nose crinkled at the thought. That was still a weird picture to get used to.
"Yes, younger brother."
"That was never in question," I retorted and Mycroft grimaced. I glanced at him. "What do you want from me?"
"Information." he said and he put his hands on the table. "You could provide me with information about Sherlock, his whereabouts, activities, just the ordinary check-up. That is of course, if you plan to continue with your... relationship with him."
I exhaled in disbelief. "You're serious?"
"Very."
"For God's sake! He's your brother! Just call him and talk to him, why do you think kidnapping people around him is a good idea to keep an eye on him? Or is this some sort of test? If I accepted the task, I would dissapear immediately?" I made quotation marks with my hands at the word dissapear and chuckled coldly.
"I take it that you're saying no."
"NO! God, and I thought Sherlock was a bit weird. I'm out of here. Unbelievable..." I stood up furiously and marched to the door and I was almost successful with my escape, when I stopped in my tracks.
"Wait. I'm not done yet," I said and turned on my heel. I stood in front of the table and decided not to sit down again, as I enjoyed the advantage of being above him now, making me feel like I had at least a bit of control over this ridiculous situation. "Who the hell are you? Other than Sherlock's brother. That we already know, but the car, the men in black, your assistant and the fact that you know my name, my whereabouts and what I did the past few days... you must be some sort of..." I looked around the room and Mycroft raised his eyebrow. "Agent? A mafia boss? An accountant for James Bond?" I asked, but Holmes didn't seem very amused with me. He sighed.
"I occupy a high position in the Britsh government. That's all I can tell you, Doctor Winston. But you seem very clever. Almost as clever as him." Holmes said and I turned my head to him.
"Well thank you, but I don't think I'm nearly as clever as your brother-"
"I didn't mean my brother, Doctor Winston," Mycroft Holmes said coldly. My blood froze. I leaned myself across the table to face him, narrowing my eyes.
"What did you just say?" I asked slowly.
"People like me, we know about people like your brother. We keep close surveilance of them. And people close or related to them." he said as he gave me a knowing look.
"Ah, I see. This is the true reason I'm here. You think I know anything of him." I scoffed. "Well sorry to dissapoint. I haven't seen my brother in years."
"I know." Mycroft said.
"And I would like for it to stay that way," I told him and he gave me a cold smile again.
"Good. Then we've reached an understanding," he said and he motioned to the door, signalling that I can leave now and Anthea opened the door. I took a breath and glanced at him again.
"Seriously, just talk to him, like normal brother would, if you want to know what he's up to. It's unbelievable to what lenghts you're willing to go to, just to maintain that cold, uncaring facade. Both of you, it seems."
Mycroft just kept on smiling. "I suppose it runs in the family. Goodbye, Doctor Winston."
I nodded and followed Anthea out of the Diogenes club. There was a black car waiting for me and it took me right to the train station. Another train was leaving in an hour. Great.
I sat down on one of the benches in the waiting room. I don't know how Mycroft did it, but one of the people working at the station brought me my little suitcase, which I abandoned when I thought my brother's people were after me. Turned out it was Sherlock's brother. Funny. It was all so absurd, how my life changed in a matter of few days ever since I met Holmes. These past few days made me think of my brother again, and it didn't please me at all. Since I still had some time, before my train was leaving, I decided to look up Mr. Sherlock Holmes. There it was, The Science of Deduction. Sherlock's website, which John has told me about, with his number, and 243 types of tobbaco ash. Hmm, an enthusiast, are we? I stared at his phone number for a while, then I dialed it. To my surprise, it didn't take long until he picked up.
"Sherlock Holmes," he announced officially. I stifled a laugh.
"Oh I sure hope so. Otherwise your website displays wrong number."
"Sarah?"
"Yeah."
"Is there something wrong? Why are you calling me? Aren't you supposed to be on the train right now?" Sherlock inquired.
"Yes, yes, working on that part," I told him, as I eyed the board announcing the train departures.
"What do you mean working on it? John and I left you at the train station two hours ago!"
"Oh, well I ran into someone. Then I ran from that someone. A long story," I said lightly.
"What? Ran from who?"
"Just your brother," I said and I heard Sherlock stop whatever else he was doing. He breathed out trough his nose in exasperation.
"Of course..."
"One question. What the hell?"
"Did he kidnap you from the train station?"
"Yes, well he tried. I made a run for it. Made it all the way to Baker Street," I laughed.
"You ran away... from Mycroft?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah, but it's not like I managed to escape. He knew exactly where I'd go. It was a bit creepy, to be honest. I thought it was my brother."
"Oh. Are you okay, then?" he asked.
"I'm fine. We had a nice chat. He was trying to persuade me into stalking you or something."
"Yes, he tends to do that with the new ones. Sorry about him, he tends to get a little... dramatic."
"Well, at least I see where you got that from. And new ones?" I smirked.
"New people... friends," he said slowly.
"Oh. Well, I seem to have passed the test, so you can add one more to the list." I smiled into the phone and I could swear he was smiling as well.
After we finished our call, I safely boarded the train to Liverpool and finally made it to my apartment, already missing London.
Two weeks later
The alarm on my phone beeped on the nightstand and I grunted. I searched for the phone with my hand and managed to hit the snooze button. My eyes stared at the ceiling and I lazily got out of bed, heading for my bathroom. I was pretty proud of my apartment. It wasn't necessarily big, although I had enough money for a luxurious and spacious place, I just chose the simpler variant. I loved my cream couch in the living room, with a small kitchen connected to it, all creating quite a nice room right from the entrance door.
I made myself a cup of coffee and I sat down on the couch, grabbing my laptop. Recently I've been writing a paper study on children's trauma. I've been working on it for months, but there's always something else keeping me busy. Cases and clients come and go, which is making my work progress very slowly, although I use every spare second I get to write my paper.
I've been researching and writing for about an hour, when my phone buzzed, signalling that I've got a text. My eyes widened in surprise. It was from Sherlock.
- You don't happen to be in London, do you? SH - I read the text and I typed back a response.
- Not at the moment, why?
- Give me a second. SH
I waited for a while and my phone started ringing. He was calling now.
"Yes?"
"Could you come to London today?" he asked. I decided not to give in so easily.
"Oh hi Sarah! We haven't spoken in two weeks, how are you? Oh, you know, just the usual, Sherlock, to be honest I'm a bit bored, actually." I imitated a fake conversation between the two of us. I heard Sherlock sigh on the other side of the phone in annoyance.
"Can we not-" Crash. "Do this right now?" He panted. In the background I heard a woman screaming and cursing and he got cut off the phone for a moment with a huff, then there was a blunt noise as if something fell and I heard a grunt.
"You okay?" I asked with a hint of smile on my face. I knew he was probably on a case, clearly being hunted by someone. A crazy lady, probably.
"Fine. I fell." He said plainly.
"Sure... why do you need me in London?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He breathed out and I guessed that he was running.
"A case." I stated. Another loud noise. I was pretty sure I just heard John shout at Sherlock something in the sorts of "where the hell did she get the gun?".
"What do you need from me?" I asked him, but then a loud noise from the other side of the phone rippled trough my ears. A gunshot went off and my heart nearly skipped a beat.
SHERLOCK HOLMES:
A bullet nearly missed my head as I jumped behind a bin on a street. I huffed and turned to shout at John, who was running behind me. "Can you take care of that?! I'm on the phone!" John then proceeded to stick out his middle finger at me and turned around to point his gun at the insane woman currently chasing us around what would usually be a quiet neighborhood in London suburbs. "Thank you!" I shouted at him, then I turned my attention to the phone.
"...I've got a case. And I need you to diagnose one woman who's gone a bit... off the rails, shall we say. And I also happen to know that there is a train leaving in two hours from Liverpool to London." I said, breathing heavily with my head resting against the bin.
"Is she the one chasing you and John right now? And was that a gunshot, by the way?" She asked, surprisigly calm. What a stupid question.
"Obviously. Will you come?"
"Sure. Where?"
"My flat. We should be able to convince her to go with the police by the time you arrive." I looked at my watch when another bullet flew trough the air and I heard John curse in the distance.
"...When you say convince-"
"I mean tie up and preferably get her hands away from that gun."
"Right, so it seems you're quite busy, so I'll just let you know when I arrive."
"Good. See you then." I hung up the call and another bullet hit the bin next to the one I was hiding behind. Oh no, she was not getting my bin too. I stood up, already fed up with this.
"STOP!" I shouted at her and the woman stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me with a confused frown, the gun in her hand. I raised my eyebrows. Well this was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to baffle her for a moment. John used the opportunity to tackle her to the ground, the gun being shoved away a few meters. She screamed and tried to scratch his eyes out. John struggled with the woman and he shouted at me angrily.
"Sherlock! A little help?" Oh, right. I quickly tucked my phone into my pocket and moved over to grab the woman's hands. We struggled for a while, until John knocked her out. We both let out a heavy breath and John massaged the side of his head, where a bruise was about to form.
"What the hell was that?" he asked unbelievably.
"Probably schizophrenia or IED. I'll let Sarah decide." I shrugged.
"Sarah?" John eyed me with a stupid grin. I wasn't in the mood to respond, massaging the side of my jaw, where the crazy woman managed to hit me.
"We've been looking for her all week, she killed her husband in what seemed like a fit of rage, she thought he was cheating on her - stabbed him with his suspected lover's garden scissors admirable 13 times. It wasn't difficult to find out it was her, after all, everybody knew the 80 year old woman she thought he was sleeping with couldn't have killed him. But she was quite... problematic to catch." I explained to Sarah, who was sitting in John's chair, her coat folded in her lap. She just arrived at Baker Street and we were waiting for John who went out for groceries or something, I didn't really pay him much attention. Sarah let out a laugh.
"Wait, she thought her husband was sleeping with an 80 year old woman?"
"Well, she wasn't exactly the brightest. When we found her, she would refuse to speak to any officer and those who tried to take her by force ended up hospitalized with stab wounds from all kinds of domestic objects. My personal favourite was a fork in Sergeant Joffrey's left arm," I chuckled and Sarah gave me a dissaproving look. "What? You should've been there, it was hilarious." I waved my hand.
"Sherlock."
"Oh don't worry, he's fine. None of them died." She shook her head at me and moments later, my phone rang.
I picked up. "Lestrade?"
"You promised me an expert to diagnose the crazy housewife."
"Yes, yes, I'll bring her around soon. Don't be so impatient, Detective Inspector."
"Wait. Her? You called Sarah, didn't you?"
I hung up. "Lestrade's impatient to see you, it seems," I glanced at Sarah and she smiled.
"Well let's not keep him waiting then," she rose up from the armchair and put on her coat. As we were walking down the stairs, she turned to face me. "You didn't just let me suffer a three-hour train ride to London just to diagnose one woman, when any of the Yard's experts could've done that, did you?" She eyed me.
I pressed my lips. "None of them would work with me."
"Oh my god, Sherlock," she groaned.
"That, and none of them are as good as you." I tried to get on her good side by praising her, how original. But well, it was the truth.
"That's a bit better, but still not good enough of a reason."
"And I've got another case waiting. If you'd like." I added and she smirked.
"Now you're talking."
After the crazy housewife was succesfully diagnosed with intermittent explosive disorder (obviously), and meeting up with Lestrade who was unexplainably giddy when he saw me and Sarah, we returned to Baker Street with a new case and now she was in 221C getting settled in. Mrs Hudson practically ordered her to stay there, not allowing her to go to a hotel. Finally, John returned with groceries. I was sitting in my armchair and John sat down in his after he put them away.
"We have a new case. And you forgot eggs." I told him and he glanced over at me.
"No, I didn't, we've got enough of those..." John frowned.
"Not anymore we don't. Someone's experiment has gone wrong," I said slowly, pretending to fully pay attention to the case file in my lap.
"Someone's?" John exhaled trough his nose.
"Probably mine." I mumbled.
John sighed. "Fine, I'll get them the next time."
I nodded in acknowledgment and we went silent.
"Sarah's here, by the way."
John's eyebrows almost flew away from his scull, if that was physically possible. "She is?"
"Yes" I eyed him.
"I thought when you said you'll let Sarah decide the diagnose, I thought you were just going to let her diagnose trough the phone." He explained.
"I also said that we've got a new case. And we could use her expertise." I stated and when he raised his eyebrows again, I added, "She knows Lestrade, and she's the only expert in psychology that I can work with. Her inputs are quite useful, even if just to boost my own thought process. Quite like yours are."
John smirked. "Or, maybe, she's the only psychologist that you want to work with. You like her, Sherlock."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes, and John kept his stupid grin on his face.
SARAH WINSTON
I walked up the stairs to 221B after Mrs Hudson showed me the spare apartment downstairs in 221C, not wanting to hear a word of me getting a hotel. She was really sweet, apologizing for the state of the place, which I admit was a bit damp and gloomy, but it was sufficient. In the living room, I was greeted with great enthusiasm by John and Sherlock just huffed to acknowledge my presence.
"So... you' got a new case for us?" I turned to Sherlock, who sprung from his chair.
"Yes, Orpington. It's an hour drive, and our car should be here about... now." He said as he checked his phone for the time.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "Oh, great, 'cause apparently those three hours on a train weren't enough."
"Stop whining and get your coat." Sherlock commanded as he wrapped his blue scarf around his neck.
"Sherlock." John frowned at him.
"What? She wanted a case, we've got one," Sherlock retorted as the three of us headed out the door.
Outside of 221B there was a car waiting for us. I recognized it immediately, it belonged to a certain D.I. I happened to know, and who was currently leaning on his car.
"Greg?"
"You lot are ready to go? I want to be back before midnight, it's already late." He said and I looked up at the afternoon sky. We only had about two hours of sunlight left before everything would turn into night. A woman stepped out of the car as I waited for Sherlock and John to walk out of the door. Her dark eyes were squinted as she eyed me.
"Sally, you know Sarah." Greg inclined his head towards me at Sally.
"Ah, you're the psychologist," She said coldly, just when Sherlock walked out the door with John. "Of course you would team up with the freak. And you're still around." She glanced at John who just smiled nervously. I clenched my jaw at the name she called Sherlock, but Sherlock just gave her a cold smile. "Nice to see you again, Sally. I see you have a problem with mosquitoes in your apartment."
"Not this again," she sighed. I gave Sherlock a confused look who just smirked.
"And apparently Anderson has too. You two share similar... mosquito bites on you neck." He pointed to a reddened place on her skin which she apparently tried to cover up with a scarf, but failed. I surpressed the need to laugh out loud, which seemed to amuse Sherlock even more. Oh, this ride was going to be hellish... for Sally Donovan. I, on the other hand, was only beginning to have fun. And we didn't even see the crime scene yet.