The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 12: The Dregs of Society

*In which Mycroft Holmes does not know how to use an umbrella.*

On a day in November a month after, there was another occurrence in my life that the reader should know about.

It down poured that day in the morning, but the weather let up after most of the day had gone by. Too bad that I had to leave my house that morning at eight, just when the rain was worst.

I, absurdly enough, had not looked out the window that morning or even heard the rain. So when I got outside, I was greeted by a rush of people on the sidewalk running to their destinations and gallons of water hitting my head and knocking my sunglasses off my head.

I saw one man carrying an umbrella, and I was reminded that I had one in my bag. I nearly ripped the zipper off my leather bag trying to open it, and I dug through my bag until I pulled out my small black emergency umbrella that I must have put there months ago during the summer.

There was a small button at the bottom that was supposed to open it automatically, but when I pressed it the umbrella did not open right away. I tried to push the top out manually, but I failed to accomplish this task.

After fighting with the umbrella for a few minutes I relinquished my efforts, cut my losses, and threw it into the garbage in front of Mrs. Hudson's shop. There goes twenty euros, wasted.

Her shop had an awning in front of it, but there were gaping holes in its fabric so I could not stand under there for long. I entered the shop, and Mrs. Hudson walked up to me almost immediately.

"That was quite a show you put on outside. Here's a working one," Mrs. Hudson said, handing me a long black umbrella with a chestnut wood handle. "You don't have to pay for it, Mycroft. It's really the least I could do; you've been living with me for years."

"Thank you," I said, "but I don't think I'll need it. I'm taking a cab anyway." I gave the umbrella back to her, but before I could walk back outside, Mrs. Hudson yelled one more thing out to me:

"I'm kinda glad you didn't take it! The way you handled the other one, you'd probably have returned it to me in three or four pieces!"

I ignored the remarks, and called a cab while standing under Mrs. Hudson's awning. But the fact that her awning was full of holes did not exactly help me. I rushed into the cab, attempting to ring out my suit jacket while sitting in the back seat and telling the cabbie where to drive me.

I entered the Club, and I immediately noticed the absence of silence. People were talking loudly in the Stranger's Room, and I realized that it was all five Seniors, discussing something with the Leader of the Juniors.

The Juniors were the middle rank of the Diogenes. They were not Seniors, but they were not Novices. And their discontent was in full force and in person every day, in the form of their leader, Mr. Anthony Jervich.

I did not know what was going on in the room, but I could always make my deductions. Jervich was talking back to the Seniors; likely asking for a higher position in the Club again and, by the sound of it, maybe even a Senior position even though there could only be five Seniors, at maximum, at one point in time.

The people in the sanctorium were clearly disturbed, but they did not let on about it. They attempted to sit in silence and ignore the talking. I did the same, walking into the room and taking a seat at my chair. As always, Saylor was there. He turned his chair around when he heard me sit, and he gave me a deathly stare filled with many unsaid words of anger. I smiled and waved to him. He rolled his eyes and turned around.

As far as I know, the reader has not yet been imparted with the knowledge of what Tom actually does for a living. Contrary to what you may think, he does not spend all of his time sitting in the Diogenes Club. He had a girlfriend at the time that he had been in a relationship with for years. I had not yet met her at the time of the Jervich situation, and I did not even know her name.

Tom Saylor was a lawyer, but not a trial lawyer like I was in my pre-Sherlock, pre-221B Consulting Detective days. He was a fraud investigator, and he worked for some of the biggest corporations in London. Sometimes he did testify and do trials, but that was rare. Of course, he could not tell me what these companies were that the fraud was being investigated in.

But I had a feeling that Tom Saylor had worked for Scotland Yard on more than one occasion. He had walked into the Diogenes one time with a file folder that looked exactly like the ones that I had picked up from Lestrade's office, containing the same style of paper with the same typeface and letterheads as her papers.

In all respects, Tom Saylor and I are very different. To many, we seemed nearly incompatible upon first sight. But we could be friends still because he and I had an odd connection to one another, almost as if we were brother and sister. If I hadn't had Sherlock, I would have wanted him to be my only relative.

I remember that day in the Diogenes Club like it was yesterday, but even more clearly than some of the other things I'll say that about. I remember the disgusted look on Tom's face at the man Jervich's unprofessional behavior and the raised voices of the Seniors, none of whom are still with us...

Jervich walked out of the Stranger's Room in a huff, clearly disgruntled by something that was said during the argument. I was not really listening, but almost all of the other members were. I had papers to read from my bookkeeping files, so I was engrossed in their content beyond salvation. The other members were now gasping at something that they had heard. Tom's chair was now pointed at mine, and he held his phone in his hand. He held out his arms as if to ask me 'Did you seriously miss all of that?'

My phone on the table beside me lit up, and I looked at the message Tom sent me. Well, actually the three messages he had sent me during the argument.

Can you believe what they're saying?

Mycroft? Are you still with us?

MYCROFT HOLMES!!!!

I got up from my chair and pulled Tom into the Stranger's Room with me, leaving all of Tom's possessions and my possessions in the sanctorium.

"What just went on in here?" Tom asked his grandfather softly, trying to keep his voice down and calm the atmosphere in the room after the situation had come to a boiling point minutes before. He closed the door to the Stranger's Room and sat down with me on the couch in front of the Seniors where Jervich had just sat moments before he stormed out of the Diogenes.

"You know Mr. Jervich. He wants to have more than he can actually have, and this can cause problems sometimes. He wants to be one of us, the Seniors, even though he knows it can't happen unless one of us dies. And I don't think he'll be killing any of us anytime soon. We've forced him into a month-long mandatory leave of absence. If he even tries to set foot in here during his leave, he's out of the society. It's for his own good, you know."

"It is, definitely, I do not doubt that, but who would fill the position if he is out?" I asked Mr. Saylor Senior.

"Another emergency election will be held for the position even though election season is behind us."

"I'd run, but I realize that first I'd have to be made a Junior," I said. Tom laughed, knowing how such a goal was virtually unattainable for me. I was too young, and I had only just been made President of the Novices. I smiled, but I was actually serious. Tom knew I wouldn't joke about something like that. I think he hoped I was joking.

"And that task is not one easily accomplished," Mr. Villarreal stated, rising from his chair.

"I know," I said, not taking offense from his statement because it was so true. He and Mr. Eldridge walked out of the Stranger's Room through a side door that led upstairs to the Seniors' Offices. I sat with the remaining Seniors and Tom for a few minutes, talking with them about a small issue regarding the Novices, taking the attention off of Jervich and the state of being of the Juniors of the Club. It was a welcome distraction.

"Well, let me know what happens with the Juniors' situation," I said to the remaining Seniors, standing up and shaking the hands of the Seniors and thus allowing Tom a minute to stand up as well and do the same.

Tom Saylor and I left the Stranger's Room, closing the door behind us and walking back into the sanctorium.

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