Sherlock Holmes is renowned far and wide for his Mind Palace but Mycroft Holmes is privately known to have a House Of Memories.
Elina Hooper is the twin sister of the sweet pathologist, Molly. French on their mother's side and being both graced wit...
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It had been three weeks since the whole ordeal and Elina still couldn't wrap her head around it. She knew of course what had happened but she still couldn't accept it as it was. A miscarriage. Something that not only was apart of herself but Mycroft too.
Mycroft had kept his distance for a whole other reason and Elina knew of it. He generally didn't know what to say and neither did she. She was hoping that that would change soon because she couldn't bare with the obvious hanging over their heads. It was dreadful.
Sitting in the library with her feet up, she looked from the window to her belly bump and patted it affectionately. "Your dear papa is a swine." With that, she reached over to stroke under Anubis' chin, the dog she saved. "You're bloody gorgeous, you are. You know that? Yes, you are!" She gushed to the gorgeous hazel eyed boy who licked his snout with no care in the world.
However though, some lyrics did come to mind in what Elina was feeling. She was defeated and he won the war.
***
"Must be something comforting about the number three. People always give up after three." Sherlock sat elevated in a hospital bed finally catching his breath from the attempted murder on himself. Raising his eyes to Culverton Smith, the man in question stares back at him with a face filled with horror.
Sherlock's gaze moves across to John. "What? What is it? What?" He asks with fists clenched still tempted to knock Smith out. Sherlock remained silent, a slight smile forming on his face while he waits. After a moment John sighs in exasperation. "You cock."
"Yeah." Sherlock answered passively with bloodshot eyes. "Utter, utter cock."
"Heard you the first time." Sherlock grumbled. As he turned to settle in the hospital bed, John steps across to the chair by the door and picks up his walking cane. Turning back to the bed, he holds it up. "So how-how does it open?"
"Just screw the top." Sherlock directed. John takes hold of the handle and starts to turn it, while Smith watches with a grim expression on his face. John pulls the handle off the cane, revealing a small device inside the stick which is glowing bright red. John pulls the recording device out and the bulb goes out. He looks across to Sherlock. "Two weeks ago?"
"Three." Sherlock corrected. "I'm that predictable?"
"No." He smiled. Holding his gaze, John sighs through his nose, then looks down. Sherlock turns to look at Smith. "I'm just a cock." Sherlock finally admits.
Smith stumbles on the spot, staring at the recording device, his face full of despair.
***
Mycroft was there always for his brother so it came as no surprise that he stood in his hospital room helping him to get ready so he could take him home. Well not home as in Baker Street but home as in somewhere Mycroft could keep a close eye on.
