Prompt: Playtime! - - or some of Holmes' more… child-like eccentricities, from JackofCats
My friend, Sherlock Holmes, had no shortage of adjectives one could use to describe him. Masterful, genius, arrogant on occasion, eccentric, untidy, though this last was perhaps one that only Mrs. Hudson and I noticed.
Childish, however, was one descriptor that could not be used to truthfully describe Holmes. Indeed, it often seemed to me that he had sprung into the world fully formed and had never been a child at all. His own reticence to discuss his early years reinforced this otherwise preposterous idea until, after seven years, I at last met his brother, Mycroft.
Mycroft Holmes was easily the most intimidating man I had ever met, or at least would have been had I not encountered him alongside his brother. Sherlock Holmes, while masterful and commanding in his own domain, became much like every other younger brother when in Mycroft's company. I ought to know, as a younger brother myself, though as Henry's dissolute ways became more obvious I assumed the mantle of eldest son myself.
Sherlock Holmes, however, while he maintained that his brother was his superior in intellect, nonetheless attempted to show him up every chance he had. I often sat silent when we three met at the Diogenes Club.
"Sherlock, you have come to me for advice on this case as it involves the situation in the Congo, a subject which you admittedly know nothing about. Might you at least have the patience to listen to me about it?"
"I will, Mycroft, when you begin to discuss anything of relevance to the case. What has Belgium to do with any of this?" Sherlock Holmes answered peevishly.
I raised my eyebrows at Mycroft in mild surprise. Used as I was to Sherlock Holmes's odd gaps of knowledge, I nonetheless found it exasperating at the best of times. One never knew what commonly known fact would require an in depth explanation at the breakfast table after a passing mention. To be unaware of international politics to such a degree was unfathomable to me.
Mycroft gamely responded, "Because the Congo is a Belgian colony. Have you not heard of the situation there?"
I confess I did not keep an encyclopedic knowledge of which far-flung territories were controlled by which European powers, but the world knew of the atrocities committed by Leopold in the Belgian Congo. It had been a scandal to rock the world order, but then as crimes go, Holmes is interested only in the outré and obscure. A crime across nations, where the perpetrator was well known from the beginning, did not interest him.
"It is hardly in my purview," Holmes answered shortly. "Now that you have laid that out, I am even farther from solving this case as I did not account for a third country's involvement in the matter."
Mycroft sighed and launched into a further explanation that, from my understanding, sought to lay out the history of Belgian involvement in the Congo, which Holmes was due to interrupt at any moment out of sheer boredom. I found my own attention wavering; I have never been attentive to long political lectures and my patience for the Holmes brothers sniping at each other is thin to begin with. Seeking to distract myself, I gazed out the window and found my attention captured by a fellow walking in the oddest manner on the sidewalk below.
I glanced at my two companions, now in the throes of a debate about the usefulness of the subject of geography, an argument that was likely to go on for some time if I did not intervene. "I wonder," I said, "if either of you could determine why that fellow is walking so very oddly."
Both Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes joined me at the window and, their argument forgotten, began firing off deductions at each other.
"Unemployed?"
"No, his clothes are brand new," Sherlock Holmes said. "Perhaps recently unemployed with a new position at last at hand."
"Formerly a Navy man, I should say," Mycroft said. "You see the coat is Navy issue."
"Of course. Perhaps the gait is due to an injury," Sherlock suggested.
"We have had no naval engagements recently," Mycroft said.
"You know well I pay no attention to such things!" Sherlock Holmes said. "In any case, if it is not an injury, what causes him to sway in such a way? I would suggest drunkenness, but the drunk man weaves about to a much greater degree."
It was always fascinating to watch the two Holmes brothers deduce together, and this was no exception. They treated it invariably as a competition, which even I must admit Mycroft usually won.
As he would today, with one word. "Stilts."
Sherlock Holmes watched the fellow for a few more seconds before nodding, looking more than a little put out. "I must concede, Mycroft."
"But he is hardly taller than anyone else on the street!" I said.
"Stilts might be made to any height. In fact, it is my understanding that when training for the circus, stilt walkers use shorter stilts at first so that no injury befalls them should they fall, as they inevitably must," Mycroft said. "This fellow has obviously proven he can handle them and is now practicing in a real world environment. When he has completed that, he will begin to practice with the higher stilts we are accustomed to at circuses, Doctor."
Mycroft Holmes never ceased to surprise me with his extensive knowledge of, as far as I could tell, nearly everything. I had yet to find a subject he did not know about.
"Yes, Mycroft has often wasted his time studying subjects of no use to anyone," Sherlock Holmes said. "I cannot imagine what purpose knowing the training requirements to walk on stilts has served."
"Today, it has won me this little competition. I never know when a piece of knowledge may turn out to be useful, and so I determined never to forget anything I have learned."
"Whereas I retain no knowledge that is not directly relevant," Sherlock Holmes said, in a tone that said he believed his to be the correct opinion.
"I fail to see how one can predict what knowledge might be relevant in future and vice versa, so you know what you can safely forget," Mycroft said.
Sherlock Holmes began to form a counter-argument when I suddenly stood up. "We must be going shortly, Holmes. Mrs. Hudson will be expecting us." This, thankfully, forestalled yet another argument and we said our goodbyes, Sherlock Holmes promising to inform his brother of the denouement of the case,and Mycroft promising to see whether he could solve it beforehand.
Our estimable landlady, in fact, never knew when we might return, but sometimes it was necessary to corral Mycroft and Sherlock into productive conversation and at others it was best simply to separate them. I had learned much in seven years of living with Sherlock Holmes, and at times felt rather like a parent, despite having no children of my own. Remarkably, the two remained the most intelligent and wise men I knew, with the caveat that this applied only when they were not in the same room.