The Labyrinth of Fragile things

Chapter XIII - An unexpected ghost

"Oh, that's clever! Is it clever? Why is it clever?" I said aloud, grinning from ear to ear. I solved the case! Well, most of it, at least.

Billy Wiggins, the name washed over me. I hadn't thought about him in years, let alone contacted him. He was my protege, as he liked to call himself. Even though we were in the same year together at univeristy, he still persisted that he was my protege (I suppose he saw that I was more influential than most). I studied chemistry with him, and he was one of my few, if only, friend I had in my tertiary education.

How would he have gotten in contact with John? No doubt John asked for his help. But where are they? I smirked as I thought. Time to visit my dear brother. I walked to the door, placing my hand on the knob, when I noticed my signature blue scarf in my peripheral vision. Then I noticed that I was still in my pajamas. Great deduction, I heard John say.

Oh, shut up.

~

As I rung the doorbell at Mycroft's door I expected him to be patiently waiting for me on the other end. But that wasn't what happened. I heard people chattering, almost squabbling, behind the closed door. For a moment there was silence. And then the door opened.

"Sherlock..." Violet Holmes (or Lyinnca, as she always hated taking my father's name) mumbled as she set her eyes on me. For a fleeting second, I felt taken aback. This was a surprise scenario I wasn't so willing to watch play out. I made sure my mask of nonchalant, calmness remained.

"Mother. What brings you back to London? Mycroft's money, I presume."

Violet shook her head violently. She had aged considerably since the last time I saw her. She was aged, but not old. Her dark blonde hair was showing more greys than anything else, and her skin seemed to become paler in the English atmosphere. She was wearing makeup, insinuating her high cheek bones. Her mismatched eyes. Those seemed to stay the same. "I'm sorry I couldn't notify you on my return to London," she spoke with a sympathetic tone which didn't seem to suit her usually rash one. Perhaps more than her appearance had changed. "I knew you were wrapped up in some case and I know how you get with those." She referred to my occupation as if it were some childish puzzle; something to pass the time. Well, she wasn't wrong.

"Well, you were right to not disturb me. The case is the reason why I'm here." My eyes wandered behind her, the manor waiting silently for me to enter. Something was wrong. "If you don't mind I'll be going inside," I made sure to ask politely as I brushed past her.

The manor was unusually quiet, not a person in sight. I stood in the hallway, remembering where Mycroft's study was. It wasn't until Violet coughed that I was reminded of the broken silence. That must of been uncomfortable for her. Silence usually is for most people. My mind is always so loud, silence is just background music."Where's Mycroft?" I wondered aloud.

"... He's out buying gym equipment." Her stiff expression doesn't falter once, despite the lie. I didn't even have to deduce my mother (though I couldn't help it) to know that was she lying. Mycroft would never willingly surround himself with people even if he is body conscious. That's what his staff are for.

"Well, I thank you for this pleasant talk, and while I could pass the time talking away with lost relatives, I am rather busy." I turned my heel and continued walking left when I felt a hand on my wrist, my entire body immediately going rigid.

"Mycroft won't be long. We can wait for him. How about some tea?" Violet tried to sound relaxed, that reaching out to her son was no difficult feat. I'm sure she was just as uncomfortable as I was. She was too close for comfort.

I jerked her hold off of me, taking a step in front of her. "Lead the way. I'm sure you know his house better than me." Her shoulders sagged in relief, a slight smile taking form on her lips. "But not for long," I warned.

We sat at Mycroft's dining table, his staff bringing us tea. As soon as the servants dispersed, Violet reached for her tea cup greedily. I let my cup sit, watching the steam make patterns in the air. The dining room was rather ancient. Or at least, that's the theme that Mycroft wanted. Everything was wooden, the colour ranging from browns to oaks. A map of the world was positioned in the center of the room, the only object aside from the tea cups giving colour. We remained in awkward silence for a while, the only sound the sipping of our tea.

"So what's this case that you're currently working on?" Violet broke the silence. Great, small talk. At least it was something of interest.

"It's rather simple. A friend of mine has gone missing, I'm going to find him."

Violet raised an eyebrow, as if not able to believe what I was saying. "What's his name?"

"John Watson. John Hamish Watson." I smiled slightly when I said his middle name. It was a relief finally knowing his middle name. And quite amusing.

She nodded, taking another slurp of tea. "I've heard of this John. Been in the papers recently."

"Yes, the tabloids. They like to romanticize. I could write a better paper on John," I said with ease while rolling my eyes.

For a moment, a smirk passed my mother's lips. "I think it's nice that you've made a friend. Especially with someone like John. He's a doctor, isn't he?"

"Yes.." I eyed her suspiciously. I decided to change the subject. "So I suppose you knew my death was a facade?"

"Mycroft kept me updated."

"Mummy's boy.." I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Sherlock!" For the first time that day, she rose her voice. "You never understood your brother so don't try to now... He at least cares for me, unlike you."

As she said this, memories of past conversations and beatings with my father came to my mind. I shut my eyes hastily, attempting to block off any thought of my father. My chest rose as I breathed in, and it declined when I breathed out. I opened my eyes to see my mother staring up at me, looking incredulous. "Of course I care about you." I remembered all the times she just stood back and watched. "Just as you care for me."

The only sound made was the scraping of the chair against the wooden floorboards and my footsteps making their way to the study.