Sherlock: The Next Generation

Chapter 35

"Martin! Martin! Martin! Martin, Martin, Martin, Martin!" Martin eventually glanced up with an arched eyebrow, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He was lying on his stomach on his bed with his laptop in front of him, chatting to Max online. It was a few days into the summer holidays and the rather nice weather had caused John and Molly to migrate outside. Sherlock had been forced to come but Hamish had gotten out of it by claiming to feel sick. Martin had just said that he would have to look after his twin. It had been rather simple.

"What, Mish?" Martin's deep blue eyes twinkling as he looked at his twin who had dropped the newspaper that he had been reading. Hamish was now crouched on the edge of his bed with a wide, conspiratorial grin on his lips.

"Papa and dad are out..."

"I know. I'm not that stupid," Martin rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer with a frown. Hmm. The picture he was working on with his graphic tablet while talking to Max would need some work.

"I wasn't saying that you were!" Hamish exclaimed with a mock gasp. "You didn't let me finish..." He pouted. "Anyway, I was reading about this murder in the newspaper. I showed it to dad earlier but he said it was a boring one. I don't think so. I want to go investigate it!"

Martin glanced at his twin again, tilting his head. It could be fun... Though Martin had no interest in crime scenes. But he would be dragged along anyway. Knowing Hamish. Who would jump for joy at the thought of going to solve a crime by himself. Hamish was convinced that because they were thirteen they were adults or something. 

"What's so interesting about it?"

"Dead body found in the middle of an abandoned house on the edge of east London. The murdered, Catherine Turner, has no known contacts within the London area. It is unclear how she was murdered and when," Hamish read out. "How can that be boring! It's interesting. Very interesting. Dad said it was obviously poison and there was no motivation behind the murder. I think he's wrong. Let's go investigate!"

"Papa won't be happy if we do..."

"Please, Martin!" Hamish made his lower lip tremble and widened his eyes. Martin couldn't really say no to his twin brother. He would go off anyway. Alone. And who wanted that? No, they would go together.

"Fine," Martin shrugged slightly, typing a quick goodbye to Max and shutting his laptop.

"Great!" Hamish grinned, hopping up. "We'll take a taxi there. I've got money." Martin raised an eyebrow at that. Stolen it, undoubtedly. From Dad or Papa. "We'll investigate the scene, solve it, tell the police then come home before Dad and Papa come home!" Hamish's cheeks were flushed and he was practically bouncing up and down. He was obviously dead excited about this. He loved his cases as much as their Dad did.

"You've got it all planned out," Martin smiled slightly, slipping off his bed and heading through to the living room. He grabbed his mobile from where he had left it and put it in the pocket of his jeans while Hamish pulled on his trench coat. Which he still wore even though it was summer... Just like their dad. Admittedly Martin always wore his green scarf during the summer.

"Yup! Let's go." Hamish put his set of keys into his coat pocket and flew down the stairs. Martin had to run to catch up. Hamish easily managed to flag a taxi down, giving an address close by the abandoned house where the murder had taken place. Hamish brushed off the suspicious looks the taxi driver was giving them (for being thirteen year olds who were getting a taxi by themselves, obviously) by telling him that they were going to a friend's house. A lie of course. A rather unbelievable one if you knew who Hamish and Martin were. Considering both only had one friend living in London, neither of whom lived anywhere near where they were going. Not that it mattered.

Hamish chatted at Martin nonstop the whole journey. The only replies he got were nods from his quieter twin. Martin talked quite freely when it was just him and Hamish... but when there were other people around that he didn't know? No. Definitely not.

With a quick "thank you", Hamish paid the taxi driver upon arrival, and hopped out. Martin quickly followed and Hamish set a quick pace on the way to the crime scene.

"I bet I figure out who it is easily!" Hamish boasted, elation dancing through his voice. Martin just shrugged.

"If you say so," he replied softly, biting his lip. He wasn't looking forward to this quite so much as his twin.

"Huh, that's strange," Hamish tilted his head as they stopped in front of the house described in the newspaper. "There's no police men or crime scene tape."

"Maybe they've solved it already," Martin suggested quietly.

"Nah... Let's go check it out!" Hamish grabbed Martin's hand and practically dragged him inside, completely ignoring the no entry sign. Martin tried to push his nerves, fears, down. Let Hamish have his fun. Then they could leave.

An eerie silence settled over the two, only occasionally broken by creaking floorboards. The place was rather large with damp, mould dotted walls. A staircase winded up into darkness, broken by a few shards of light peeking through the wood covering what once were windows. It really was abandoned... Not a single thing moved in it apart from the twins.

Hamish seemed to know what he was doing, moving through the dimly lit corridors until he reached what would have once been the main living room area. He instantly pulled out a magnifying glass and dropped to the floor, searching around. There wasn't even a body but he seemed convinced that there must be some clues.

Martin stood just beside the door they had come through, shifting from foot to foot and constantly pushing his glasses up his nose. He didn't like this place. Not one bit.

"Someone has been here, Marti..." Hamish stood up dramatically, putting away his magnifying glass. He moved around the room a few more times and Martin shivered. He heard creaking behind him, and began to slowly turn around. "Wait... Someone is still..." Hamish trailed off as he looked at his twin, a shocked gasp leaving his lips. His expression soon turned to one of horror.

Martin froze, as stiff as a board as he felt the cold metal against his head. A gun. Not good. Really not good.

"Well done, Sherlock Junior. I see you have your dad's talent." The drawn out, rather cold drawl with a slight Irish accent running through it sent shivers down Hamish's spine. "Now, stay where you are. Try to run and your brother... Well, we know what will happen." Hamish gulped while Martin tried not to move, trembling and pushing back tears. He would not cry. Not now. Hamish glanced around, trying to locate the speaker. No sign of him. The person holding the gun against Martin's head wasn't anyone extraordinary. A common criminal.

"You're both coming with me."