Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

Sibling Rivalry

With a mighty cough and gasp, Sherlock groaned and opened his eyes. Glass was sprayed around him and plaster dust slowly fell to the ground. He coughed and tried to make sense of his surroundings. Sherlock remembered standing up then a clap like thunder, then blackness. What had happened? He asked himself then he started glancing round frantically. 'Clara?' He coughed as he scrambled up. 'Clara!'

The detective spotted her then knelt next to her. The woman was curled up with her fridge in disarray yet still framing her face. Sherlock cupped her face and patted her hair. 'Clara? Clara can you hear me?' He asked desperately. He moved to feel her pulse and found a steady tattoo beneath his fingers. Some relief came with that. The woman groaned and her eyelids fluttered open briefly.

'Sherlock?' She breathed disorientated and not quite awake. The man didn't say anything but scooped her up and trodden down the stairs carefully. When he reached her door she kicked it open with one foot and shouldered inside. Clara was laid down gently on her bed now quite asleep. Sherlock was lost now and asked himself what would John do? The doctor would probably start doing health checks but Sherlock was no medicine man so he scratched that thought. What would Mrs Hudson do? Ahh, that was something Sherlock could accomplish.

He walked out of the flat and into Mrs Hudson's where he pillaged a plate of biscuits and the vase of flowers from her kitchen table. Back inside 221c, the detective placed the plate on the woman's bedside table and arranged the vase nearby. Sherlock picked up a biscuit for himself but found it disgusting. The uneaten half was placed back on the pile. Feeling diabolically normal from this little act, the detective trooped back upstairs, utterly bewildered by himself.

.

'Sherlock! Sherlock?' John called as he pounded up the stairs. He feared the worse from hearing about the explosion on Sarah's telly this morning. Would Sherlock, Clara and Mrs Hudson be alright? As he entered the living room, Johns gaze was drawn to the boarded up windows and glass on the floor then he saw Sherlock plucking his violin while sitting in his chair.

'John,' the detective greeted clearly annoyed at something. He glared towards John's chair apparently unharmed in the explosion. Mycroft who was sitting in the doctor's chair sparedJohn a glance before eyeing off his brother.

'I was it on the telly. Are you okay?' John asked his flatmate, rather concerned.

'Hmm, oh what?' Sherlock said looking at the glass and paper all over the floor. 'Oh that. Fine. Gas leak, apparently.' Now turning to his brother while plucking at his violin he uttered 'I can't.'

'Can't?' Mycroft replied. Clara then entered the living room quietly, her brows furrowed in confusion. 'Miss Oswald,' Mycroft greeted before turning back expectantly to the man across from him.

'Um, how did I get down to my flat?' The woman asked looking at the three men. John shrugs and turns to Sherlock raising his eyebrows. 'And the flowers and...biscuits?' She asked around again.

Sherlock pointedly ignores his flatmate and turns to his brother with a sigh. 'I can't spare the time. The stuff I have on is just too big.'

John looked across in disbelief at the fact that Sherlock had nothing to do and the speculation that he was responsible for the flowers. Clara sat on the leather couch stepping around all the glass and picked up a book from the floor. 'Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance' Mycroft insisted.

'How's the diet?' Sherlock asked sulkily while flicking the strings on his instrument. This made Clara's wide brown eyes glance up between the siblings.

'Fine.' The older brother spat. 'Perhaps you can get through him, John?'

The doctor who was currently investigating the damage outside turned around. 'What?'

'My brother is being very intransigent today' he sighed.

'If you're so keen,' Sherlock interrupted. 'Why don't you investigate?'

'No, no, no, no, no, I can't possibly be away from the office with the Korean elections so...' He trailed off looking at the three interested pairs of eyes. 'Well you don't need to know about that, do you? Anyway cases like these..' The man grimaced, 'require legwork.'

'Oh no! Not the legwork...' Clara muttered too low for anyone to hear, the words were dripping in sarcasm. She rubbed at a bump that had formed on the back of her head.

Sherlock looked irritated and Clara rushed to stop another sarcastic comment from the detective for his brother. 'How was Sarah's, John?' She asked brightly, deterring the strained topic of the conversation.

'Yes, how was the lilo?' Sherlock added, looking at John who was rubbing his neck.

'It was the sofa' Mycroft corrected wistfully while checking his pocket watch. Clara stared incredulously between the two 'deduction fanatics' wondering how they knew. Sherlock looked briefly at John then agrees.

'How?' John started then muttered something ending his question. He sat down on the coffee table while Mycroft smiled at him.

'What's it like living with my brother? Hellish, I imagine?'

'I'm never bored' the doctor replied simply.

'Good, that's good isn't it?' Mycroft said, smiling strangely. He got up making Sherlock flick his bow at him. Mycroft handed a folder to his brother but Sherlock stared back stubbornly. Mycroft frowned. With a sigh he handed the papers to a startled John. 'Andrew West, also known as Westie. Civil servant, found dead on Battersea Station's tracks this morning.'

'Jumped in front of a train?' John asked perking up at a possible case.

'Seems the logical assumption'

'But...?' Clara said making all eyes turn to her in surprise.

'But?' The older Holmes inquired politely.

'Well you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident. You are a Holmes' she replied, glancing between the brothers. Sherlock smirked noisily while applying something to his bow strings.

'We had new missile defence system - the Bruce Paddington plans' Mycroft informed them as John peered into the folder and Sherlock remained ignorant. 'The plans were on a memory stick'

The doctor sniggered quietly. 'Well that wasn't very smart was it?' He said. Sherlock smiled.

'It's not the only copy' Mycroft added.

'Top secret?' Clara asked.

'Very,' He replied. 'They went missing a few days ago and we believe West has taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk them falling into the wrong hands.' He turned to his brother and said forcefully, 'We need those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you.'

'I'd like to see you try,' Sherlock replied quickly, raising his violin ready to play. Clara quirked a smile. She loved seeing the brothers annoy each other, it was always very amusing.

Mycroft lent towards him and said threateningly 'Think it over.' He then shook John's hand in departure and nodded his head to Clara before Sherlock serenaded him out of the room.

The irritating sequence of notes stopped abruptly though not ending John's glare. 'Why'd you lie?' He asked. 'You've got nothing on - not a single case. That's why the bloody wall took a pounding!'

'Why shouldn't I?' Sherlock retorted angrily.

'Oh I see,' John nodded. 'Sibling rivalry.'

Before the detective could respond with a nasty remark his phone buzzed. Sherlock answered it and after a short conversation exclaimed, 'Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?'

'If you want me to.'

Sherlock picked up his coat saying, 'Of course! I'd be lost without my blogger!' He started walking down the stairs before calling out to the woman still sitting on his lounge. 'Come along, Clara!'

Clara bounced up and hurried after them, not wanting to miss an opportunity like this.