The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 9: Disguised Feelings

*In which Mycroft brings a cake to a dinner... MycroftxCake?!?!?!*

About a week after the day I made the speech at the meeting, I was elected President of the Novices, and I had made Tom Saylor Vice President of the Novices, as per our agreement. I remember the golf outing that we were invited on to congratulate us. The Seniors had invited us, and we were too smart to refuse.

"The Seniors expect us to be at the Club at eight o'clock in the morning to head out next Thursday," I told Tom. He groaned. He and I both knew well enough that he was awful at golf.

"They'll treat us to lunch and everything, and it'll maybe even be fun. See you at the links," I added at the end to play with his mind a little bit. As a response, I heard him mumble into his hands as I walked out of the Stranger's Room.

I walked out of the Club after that, and I hailed a cab to take me home. It was relatively late at night, and I was scheduled for a second dinner that night with Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Stamford.

Sherlock was also expected to be there, if she decided to show up.

The previous dinner that we had all shared together was nice. Stamford told me more about himself, and I told him a little bit more about me. I even brought something to dinner with me: cake from a bakery down the block. I did the same thing a week later when I went back home the second time for dinner with Mrs. Hudson. Stamford brought Italian bread and olive oil as an appetizer again, and the only thing that was different this time was that Sherlock was there.

Sherlock was working on stranger and stranger cases. She would bring pieces of her cases home with her; once keeping a pocketknife and arrowhead as a remnant of a case she worked on for an indigenous tribe that needed her assistance. She walked in one day wearing a disguise that was most interesting.

I knew it was her when she walked in, but an average person who was not her sister would have had no idea it was actually Sherlock Holmes. I remember the night like it was yesterday.

She was dressed as an elderly woman, with her gray wig in a bun and wood clogs that were so convincing...

"Sherlock!" I said when I saw her walk in, hunched over like an elderly lady because of the stick that she had placed under her shirt on her back. "You look so..."

"Painful," she finished for me. "These shoes are terrible for the feet, and do not even get me started with the posture changer," she said, yanking it out through her neck collar. She straightened out and yelled in pain. I stood in the kitchen, not knowing what to do.

"You know you don't have to do that for a case, right?" I asked her, knowing that I had just spent the day relaxing in the Diogenes Club and not knowing what she had to go through to do this case.

"No, Mycroft, I do not know," Sherlock remarked, walking into her bedroom and shutting the door. I sat back down at the kitchen table, and proceeded to text Mike Stamford.

I'm coming down to your basement in a minute.
-Mycroft

The door's open.
-Mike