The Mystery of Jayden Holmes (A Greg Lestrade fanfic)

Chapter Three

As soon as Sherlock realized what my expression meant we left without even a word to Lestrade or the others. Sherlock was texting rapidly as I sank into my seat beside him in our cab. I knew this revelation would mean interrogation and I would have to open up about my nineteen years in America. Sherlock wasn’t going to like what I would have to tell him and Jim wasn’t going to like the fact that I told him. We weren’t back in 221B for very long before the door opened and a voice broke the awkward silence between Sherlock and I.

“Hello, brother mine,” my eldest brother said cooly, his umbrella supporting his weight. “Jayden...good to see you’re still alive.”

“I can’t say as though I can say the same for seeing you. I see the diet isn’t working out as you had planned,” I said vitriolically. He only ignored me as he made his way to the armchair across from Sherlock.

“Let’s get on with this shall we? I haven’t got all day to sit here and deal with this nonsense.”

Mycroft could never be bothered to deal with something that he thought didn’t pertain to him. I was always one of those many things while growing up. Mummy and Daddy were busy working while Mycroft was left to take care of us. My older brother and I never saw eye to eye and, no matter how hard our parents tried, we would never talk unless absolutely vital or we were fighting. Even Sherlock couldn’t mediate between us. It wasn’t so bad when we were much younger, but around the time that I hit my early teen years and I had learned that I could voice my own opinions, things seemed to hit rock bottom.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the murder we were just inspecting,” Sherlock muttered, pressing his hands together as if in prayer like he does whenever he thinks.

“Of course,” Mycroft shot me a look as he continued, “I’ve had a watch put out for every similar murder since she started her ‘fun’ states side. I’ve kept a close eye on her.”

“And you neglected to tell me this why?” Sherlock seemed a little hurt.

“Because I knew you would get sentimental and try to bring her home. And don’t bother trying to argue; you know it’s true.”

“Why keep an eye on me, know how many people I’ve murdered, but still let me roam free to continue on as I wish?” It seemed absolutely stupid to me. I wasn’t really complaining; it kept me from prison, but I knew he would have ulterior motives.

“I have my reasons,” he answered as I had expected.

“Just like you have your reasons for being a snooty git?” I grumbled, picking at my nails.

“You’re so childish. You cease to amaze me with how immature you can be,” Mycroft said as he tapped his umbrella on the floor, his eyes looking else where. I stood up and grabbed my jacket, putting it on with irritation. He was so infuriating and he didn’t even know he was a large reason that I left. I was tired of him constantly monitoring my life. I thought that maybe if I fled the country I could get away, but that was a stupid idea. I should have known better. The man WAS the government.

“I’m leaving. I don’t have to put up with this and I refuse to.  Good bye, Myc,” I growled, slamming the door open.

“Go ahead and leave,” Sherlock said, standing up, “It seems that’s all you’re good at anyway.”

“I don’t even want to hear it, Sherlock. I didn’t see you trying to stop me from leaving that day.” I was angry, but most of all hurt. Yes, I had left him behind all those years ago and may or may not have helped Moriarty during the fall, but I loved Sherlock with everything in me. He was my twin and nothing could ever change that.