The Originals One-Shots

The Adventure of the Missing Relatives

 Sussex, April 1919

 Sherlock Holmes sat in his armchair, silently flipping through the newspaper. Nothing exciting seemed to happen anymore. Now that he had retired, everything seemed to have settled down. Most people were still recovering from the Great War.

 Holmes was surprised when his housekeeper told him that he had a visitor. Watson, he thought at first, but no, the housekeeper said he was a strange foreign man.

 "Send him in," Holmes said.
 
 A moment later a tall blond man stepped into the room. Tension, fatigue, and anxiety were set into his features, and had probably been there for many years.

 "You are Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" he asked.

 "I am. You are Norwegian."
 
 The man nodded. "Yes. But I have not lived in Norway for a very long time."
 "But it would seem you have been in England for a long time."
 
 He looked surprised. "Why do you say that?"
 
 "Your clothes are clearly made by English tailors, and they are very worn. Sit down, sir. Tell me why you are here." 

 The foreigner sat down in the chair. "Mr. Holmes, I have come here because I have heard of you in London. You solved many crimes and mysteries, even once returned from the dead."
 
 "But that was many years ago, sir," Holmes reminded him. "I am an old man now, retired for many years."
 
 "Mr. Holmes, I have come here because I do not know what else to do. I do not trust myself or my instincts anymore, and I feel as if I am going mad. Is there any way you can use your powers to help me?"

 "First, you must tell me your story, Mr..."

 "Mikael. My name is Mikael. I am looking for someone; my stepson, and my children as well. Niklaus was the fourth child my wife gave birth to. Years later, I discovered that Esther had an affair with another man. Esther...she tried to make it right. But Niklaus murdered her, and convinced my children that I did it. They all turned against me and fled."
 
 "How many children do you have, Mr. Mikael?"

 "Esther gave birth to seven children. Two of them died. That leaves four: Finn, Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah. They all believe me to be a monster. I must find them all. For years I have searched, and they are nowhere."
 
 "Are you sure you have looked everywhere?" Holmes asked. 
 
 "Well-"
 
 "You have not searched the entire world, have you? Yes, I can see it in your eyes. Will you let me look at your map? Yes, I know you have one, I can see it there in your pocket." Holmes took the map and laid it out across his knee. "I take you have searched Europe?"
 
 "All of it. And Asia, and Africa. I even went to Australia once."
 
 "Ah, but what of where you have not looked?" Holmes pointed to North America on the map. "Countless people have immigrated to America by the dozens for decades. Your children may have done the same."

 Mikael looked down at the map. "I know it is possible." He sighed. "I have avoided going there for as long as possible." He looked at Holmes. "Do you believe that if I go to America, I will find Niklaus and my children?"

 "If everywhere else has given you nothing, don't you think it is possible?"

 "Yes. I suppose it must be." Mikael rose from his chair. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You have helped to ease my worries."

 "You are welcome, Mr. Mikael." Holmes held the door open for him. "Good luck on your journey."

~~~~~~

 A few days later, Mikael was ready to go back. He would start with New York and go from there.
 
 But as he pulled on his coat, a piece of paper slipped out and floated to the ground. Mikael picked it up and looked at it carefully. It was a newspaper clipping from New Orleans.
 
 And one of the people in the photograph was Klaus.