Clique of 221B

Chapter 4: Astraphobic Sherlock

Astraphobia-
The fear of thunder and lightning

By the time you arrive at Baker Street the rain has got even worse. Mycroft gets out of the car first and runs around to open your door, his umbrella up already. You thank him as you walk to the door, he knocks and an elderly lady, Mrs Hudson I'm guessing, opens the door. She recognises Mycroft straight away and lets you both in. He introduces you to her and heads up the stairs.
"Sherlock' gone awfully quiet," she says. "Not how he usually is." She explains where your bedroom is and then goes back to her rooms. You start up the stairs. As you reach the first door you hear Mycroft talking to another man.
"I wish you'd told me," John says to Mycroft.
"I'm not a child, Mycroft," Sherlock snaps, "I don't need babysitting."
"Of course not, brother mine," Mycroft answers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was merely dropping off Miss [Y/L/N] and it seems to be raining quite heavily, I think I may stay awhile until it slows down." Sherlock mutters something as yet another crash of thunder sounds above the ceiling. You wonder around the flat taking in everything: the chaotic looking kitchen table with a range of scientific experiments on it, the skull on the mantlepiece, the cluttered desk, and then the violin.
"A Stradivarius." You mumble.
"Do you play?" Mycroft asks. You nod.
"I used to." You walk over to the violin. You turn to Sherlock who's been watching you ever since you came in,
"May I?" He nods,
"Please." You take the violin in your hands and rest the end on your shoulder under your chin before waving the bow around trying to think of something to play. You take a breath before beginning to play. You close your eyes and let yourself focus on the music. It's been years, far too long. I haven't played in front of anyone since him. Like always when you're playing your mind empties, but the music is tinged with a certain sadness that has always come back whenever you thought of the time when you once played everyday. When the piece ends, you place the violin back in its case and pause, collecting yourself. You turn to face everyone, to find them all staring at you.
"That was incredible." John says, breaking the silence.
"Quite remarkable." Sherlock adds slowly, his voice much steadier now but his face shows he's clearly lost in thought. You give them both a small smile,
"Thank you." Sherlock inhales sharply. "John! I've got it." He leaps up and grabs his coat, and walks towards you. "We're off to catch a killer, don't stay up to wait for us." He gives you an intense stare before adding, "You should play more often." They both rush out and you turn back to Mycroft.
"I doubt I'll be sleeping much tonight then," you say with a sigh.
"I believe the same for myself," he replies.
"Well then..."
"If you don't mind... would you care to join me in the cafe downstairs for a coffee?"
"Is it open?"
"No, but I have the key." You smile, "Of course you do."
"Well?"
"Well, I don't see why not." You follow him down the stairs and you show yourselves out. The rain has slowed down to a drizzle. You both duck under the canopy at the front of the cafe, Mycroft unlocks the door and holds it open for you before locking when you're both inside. He gestures for you to sit down at the counter as he flicks the lower lights on.
"[Y/F/C]?" he asks. You narrow your eyes at him, of course he'd know my what my favourite type of coffee is.
"Yes, please." He takes his coat and blazer off and puts them on the back of his chair before wandering behind the counter to make the coffees. You watch him, his focus completely on what he's doing. Soon he finishes and brings the drinks over to you.
"Thank you," you say. You hold the cup to your lips and take a sip. Mycroft watches your face intently. "This is lovely." He sips at his coffee.You lean back slightly and rest your elbow on the counter. "So," I say.
"So?"
"Don't people usually have conversations in these situations?"
"I don't know. Do they?"
"I suppose."
"Well. Tell me about yourself, full name?"
"I'm guessing you already know everything about me including my full name."
"Not everything."
"But a lot?"
"A considerable amount."
"Should I be worried?"
"That depends on how much you know about me."
"A considerable amount."
"Is that so, my dear?"
"Yes, I happen to know that you're using the term 'dear' in an attempt to distract or annoy me."
"Really?" You nod. "I indeed happen to know your full name."
"I'm guessing you've got an entire file on me."
"Two in fact."
"I bet that was an interesting read."
"It was. You're quite accomplished, [Y/F/N]." I smile.
"I haven't been called that in a long time."
"May I ask why?"
"The first time I moved school I wanted a fresh start, I didn't like being [Y/F/N] so I started being just [Y/N/N]."
"Sherlock did something similar to that."
"So his name isn't actually Sherlock?" He smiles,
"No, it's William."
"So how did he come up with the name Sherlock? Googled unusual names?"
"His full name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes." I smile,
"That certainly is a mouthful. What's yours?"
"Mycroft Siger Arthur Holmes."
"Also a mouthful. I pity anyone who wants to say both of your full name's in the same sentence." He smiles. You check your phone. 11:37pm. How has that much time passed so quickly? You sigh, "I should probably get going." He nods,
"I'll send a car for you tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock."
"I'll see you tomorrow then Mr Holmes."
"Please, in private call me Mycroft."
"Then you can call me [Y/N/N], but I get the feeling that you're not the kind of person to use nicknames." He smiles,
"Very well [Y/F/N]." You smile. I could get used to him calling me that. You help him put your cups away before you both leave and stand outside. Mycroft puts his umbrella up and holds it above both your heads. You stand in silence, watching the rain together before he says,

"You don't have to wait with me."
"I don't mind."