The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 30: Love that Must be Destroyed

There were few reasons I stayed around for the next week, even after I'd discussed my situation with Sherlock.

I'd told her all about Chris, and she knew about him as well. I should have known; she was good at deduction. And it didn't even take a genius to deduce this one.

Now was the hard part: I was to decide whether or not I'd take Chris with me into my new life as a secretive, behind-the-scenes member of the British Government.

The job had come to me through a few members of the Diogenes who were recruiting, and when they'd found out that I was a candidate, they were overjoyed. They made sure I was considered as a top candidate and that I was later accepted.

My job was to be a simple one; it would really only exist within my mind and on the paychecks. I'd be a mental clearing-house for the government; a sort of brain trust for all the information that nobody wanted to put in computers or risk having on paper.

My word would be what would decide multiple matters of importance to the government, but I'd be a relatively unofficial member of the government, just as I was (ironically) an unofficial member of Scotland Yard under Lestrade.

I'd already decided on one person who would cross over with me into my new pattern of living: Tom, since it seemed I couldn't get rid of him. He'd stick with me no matter what, and I was still deciding whether or not that was a good thing. I was starting to lean towards not-good, though.

I was still debating whether or not I'd 'need' Chris. Obviously, I need no one. However, Chris was an exception to this. He was unlike anyone I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I'd wanted to keep him around for a while. He was an escape from my work. But did I really need that?

Sherlock likely knew this, and she probably also knew I was waiting around for something to happen, for something to give me a reason to pick up and leave Chris along with all the remains of my old life at 221B. Not thinking, I waited. But Sherlock would soon give me a reason to expedite my departure.

One night, I had been at the Diogenes for a longer period of time than I normally was. I had been discussing the transition of the Club into the new way of operating, and we had thought of an exact start plan as well.

That night, I had arrived home at an especially late hour. It was past midnight, past the time when the shop at 221A owned by Mrs. Hudson was closed, and I knew it. However, what I had not known was that I had left my keys in my bag, which was inside my home. I had no way to get in.

I banged on the door loudly for ten minutes, and eventually resorted to yelling for someone to let me in even though I knew no one could possibly hear me. I searched through my pockets for something I could use to pick the lock, and could find nothing. I took off my suit jacket and searched through all the hidden pockets as well. There was absolutely nothing.

I took out my phone and called my home phone. No one answered. I called ten more times, with the same result each time. I called Sherlock's mobile. No answer, all five times.

I then proceeded to call for a locksmith. But none were available at this hour. I should have known. To make it even worse, it was getting cold. The rain began. I sat on the ground against the door where it was dry, and put my suit jacket over my head so that I would not get further soaked with rain.

In the morning, I called the locksmith's number again. I had destroyed yet another one of my suits during the night when I'd fallen asleep and let the dirty water fall onto my clothes. The locksmith answered, and I told him what happened. He told me he'd come immediately to my home at 221B Baker Street to let me in.

When the locksmith finally showed up and let me in, it was to a great shock that I realized I was not alone at 221B last night.

Sherlock was there. I knew because as I walked in after paying the locksmith, she was by the door. My sister was kissing Chris goodbye while wearing a pajama shirt and plaid bottoms.