The Holmes Trio - Prequel of The Holmes Brood

THE INVITATION

[(A/N): The animosity between Darlence and Sherlock is enormous. Even more than Mycroft and Sherlock. Right now at least.]
'I just got a letter from one of my college mates.' Sherlock announced to his sister, 'I'm off to the countryside.'
'Am I invited too?'
'Its not a case as such, just a relaxing holiday.'
'So am I allowed in too?'
'No you aren't.' Sherlock said happily, ' I'll tell Mrs. Hudson to babysit you. I think even Molly and Lestrade wouldn't mind dropping by at times.'
'I don't require babysitting. Besides, every detective has had a side kick. Think Poirot, Thornley Colton, Thorndyke, McCarty, Flaxman Low. And better still, Brothers Okewood- Desmond and Francis. They were siblings after all.'
'Flaxman Low wasn't even a detective.' Sherlock snorted.
'Ghost hunter, similar. Point is they have their sidekicks.'
'But I'm not any detective.'
'Of course, you are the great Sherlock Holmes.'
'You are pestiferous.'
'And mum says I'm very like you.'
'I haven't been very fond of you, you seem to confirm my views every time.'
'The thing is Mycroft has entrusted me over to you. And he'll be pretty cross if......'
'Mycroft isn't exactly my parent.'
'And neither are you mine. I'll follow you simply.
'Good luck with that.' said Sherlock feeling like a gleeful top-dog.
******
'No pestiferous little sisters for a while.' Sherlock thought as he stuffed his rather small luggage in the bunk. Having left early in the morning, he was sure Darlence hadn't followed him. Why that scamp might be asleep for all he knew. The whistle went, and the train pulled out of the station.
Being Sherlock, he lost interest in the book he was reading and was bored right out of his existence. It was a chair car, so early in the morning it was barely half-full; he set to observe his fellow passengers. There was that couple in the corner; head-over-heels obviously; and making it more obvious. Our Holmes promptly wrinkled up his nose disgustedly.
There was a young man who was clearly appearing for an exam, and was stiff nervous. So much so, that his wrists and nails had gone white. Sherlock almost felt sorry for the poor fellow. An old man slept noisily at the next seat. A few more uninteresting men and women and one small muddy golden haired girl in the company of two people, who; at first sight seemed her parents. She had a striking face; anyone knew from anywhere. The two elders looked boringly normal, and nowhere like her. Infact, she looked more like Sherlock than anyone else.