The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 36: Constructive Criticism

"Why are you fat and lazy in this version?" was Tom's first question upon reading the Adventure of the Greek Interpreter.

"Well, I work for the government, right? Why do I want people knowing what my name is and where I live and what I look like? It's just not smart."

"Did you give Watson permission to lie in that manner?"

"I didn't. Sherlock did."

"Sherlock did? Since when did she control anything that occurred in your life?"

"Since it is her companion that is publishing this story with my name in it. Protection of identity is important. Realize that."

"But you're a complete lie!"

"Oh, it's not as bad as you're making it out to be. I still have the same hair color. My suit looks the same."

"But it is still not... you!"

"It sounds like me. Those are my deductions, word for word. In fact, I even helped Watson take down some of the deductions into this account. He's got stuff wrong about Sherlock in the past; he's not me."

"It does sound like you, does it not?" Tom asked me, scrutinizing my quotes from Watson's account of the story.

"Of course it sounds like me," I said, now standing. "It is me. I said all those quotes, I did all those deductions. Sherlock's words are perfectly recorded as well."

"These are your direct quotes?"

"I could not have remembered them better myself. And I did remember them myself!"

"Does Watson know about your history at 221B?"

"No, of course not. He would have mentioned it in Sherlock's descriptions of me. And they're all basically true, by the way. Except for the ones that most obviously aren't. You have your own discretion that you can obviously use since you've known me for so long."

"You've become a literary figure! You're playing second fiddle to your younger sister whom you swore would never define you-"

"And still she does not," I said, giving Tom a look that told him he'd gone too far.

"But it's your individuality! This isn't you!"

"It's not really me, Tom. It's just a literary figure, as you said. This will all, hopefully, blow over soon enough and I can get back to my life. That is really my hope above all. I'd like to get back to my life. Maybe see Melas and have a nice conversation with him like I've been meaning to do for a few days. Who knows?"

"How is Melas coping? You haven't seen him since the incident, have you?"

"I have not. But I can tell you that Mr. Melas is grateful for both Sherlock and me for not only saving his life but capturing the people that have done him such an injustice.

"You are not at all affected by the occurrences detailed here?"

"If you didn't ask me, you would never know. If I never asked you and I was wondering this about you, I'd know everything. And I'm not saying anything at all about my so-called 'affections,' Tom Saylor," I said to my friend.

I looked at him then with a small smile on my face, and he appeared almost frightened as if I had seemed more distant then to him than I ever really had. Because sometimes it's the people who you think do not act at all in an emotional way who act in the most emotionally erratic fashion.

"If you are satisfied with yourself, then so am I."

"Then the matter is settled. If there is no issue, then there is no issue. What more can be said?"

"Yes. I hope to never hear of this again."

He didn't really hear of it again. Not as much as I did. My exposure as Mycroft Holmes, sister of the famous Consulting Detective did not go completely unpunished. In fact, it came back to haunt me in a way I'd never thought possible.