The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 6: Return to the Diogenes Club

We took a taxi cab back to 221B Baker Street. Walking through the door, we were greeted by Mrs. Hudson. She congratulated a relatively unimpressed Sherlock on her new job after I told her that Sherlock had been hired by Lestrade. I walked Sherlock upstairs and showed her into the sitting room.

Upon walking into the space, it became obvious to me that this was no longer my space, but that it was a space I shared with Sherlock. I felt a sense that it was tainted, but in another respect, it was enhanced.

"Do you want an office here?" I asked my sister. "I can push over my things in the my side office and get you a desk if you want. I don't think there is much space there, but there is probably enough for you to make a relatively comfortable office."

"This is a fine office," Sherlock said, collapsing into the couch and putting her feet up so that there was no room for me. "And that's where the clients sit," she said, pointing to a spare wood folding chair across from the coffee table that was in front of the couch. "And, if you don't mind, all of my notes will be in my head instead of on paper."

"Is that a system that you can get used to?"

"Sure. It's my only option, and I don't really have a great desire to do anything else, either. At least I'll be using what I studied in University..."

"Correct; and not many people today can say that, Sherlock." I stopped there, running out of words to say and ready to run out the door. "I am going to the Diogenes Club for a bit. I think I'll spend the afternoon there. See you later tonight?"

"See you later."

Three months later, my life was completely different. It was interesting how it all happened, and I didn't even realize what was occurring until it was made obvious to me by my peers.

At one time, I hadn't been to the Diogenes Club for over a week. When I returned, it was a day when Tom Saylor was there. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw me, and did everything in his power not to scream out into the cold, silent air of the sanctorium when he saw me sit down at my chair by the right bookcase.

He left a note for me, like I had done many times for him. I hadn't even been in the Club for three minutes when it landed on my side table.

Stranger's Room. Now.
-Tom Saylor

We had a nice talk that day. The amount of things we would have normally said in passing had become too great for a little passive talk, so we sat in the Stranger's Room for over an hour.

If you, the reader of my Autobiography, had asked me when Sherlock first moved in how much her presence would change my life, I would never have said she would have changed my life as much as she really did. For instance, I had quit my job at the law firm and had vacated my position as a lawyer forever.

I was keeping books now, not just for myself or for my own well-being, but also for Sherlock's Consulting Detective Business. It had become a full business, operating out of my home at 221B Baker Street. Not only was Lestrade calling her every day, but she had caught the attention of others as well, people whom Lestrade had recommended to her for her temporary services but who in reality constantly needed this sort of help.

My law career abandoned, I did not associate with any people save Tom Saylor in the Diogenes Club, Sherlock, and sometimes Lestrade. I did seldom sit in on Sherlock's inquiries, but I did not do this often enough for others to truly see me. Sometimes, I traveled outside the comforts of my lodgings and walk the streets.

I would stop the physical deductions and judgments from pouring through my mind like a never-ending waterfall, and I would try instead to deduct their thoughts and actions. I tried to think like Sherlock, as a detective, for a few moments. I'd appreciate what was around me until midnight at which time I would return to my flat and greet Mrs. Hudson, who thought I had likely died.