(Third person POV)
Sherlock Holmes stood in the kitchen of his flat, mixing chemicals together before using a dropper to squeeze a few drops of the solution onto the bones of a human hand just to see the reaction. John hadn't visited the flat all day; he had been working at the doctor's office while Mary stayed home to take care of their precious 2-year old son.
They had named him Daniel William Watson. The first name had come from a distant family member of Mary's and the middle name came from Sherlock's real first name. He had grown to be quite adorable- dirty blonde locks with innocent hazel eyes, chubby cheeks, and a smile that matched his father's. Daniel could speak slowly in broken sentences, much to the unhappiness and annoyance of Sherlock.
There was a fizzling noise coming from Sherlock's experiment which crescendo-ed loud enough to hear in the entire building before there was a pop and silence. He sighed and began searching for the bottle of copper sulfate hidden somewhere in one of the cabinets before restarting his experiment.
"Sherlock! You really need to stop doing experiments in my kitchen! You always leave such a mess all over the counters!" Mrs. Hudson's voice called as she entered the living room.
Sherlock glanced up and noticed her more-formal attire, matching her recently styled hair and noticeable makeup. Mrs. Hudson was going out someplace and was trying to look decent for them. She hadn't spoken to many new people lately, so he deducted that it was an old friend. And the only one who was close enough to her and wasn't busy was...
"John and Mary invited you for dinner tonight?" He asked.
"How did you know?"
"That's like asking me how I know that my brother has been seeing someone, Mrs. Hudson."
"He has? But he hasn't talked to you in months."
Sherlock was about to reply with a sarcastic and clever comment but was cut off by the knocker hitting the door. He put down his things and stood in the doorway of the living room while Mrs. Hudson rushed down the steps to open the door.
The familiar voice of Mycroft Holmes echoed in the hall as he spoke in his posh voice, "Hello Mrs. Hudson. I am here to speak with my brother about a personal matter."
Mycroft was invited inside and the door was shut behind him after receiving a bright smile and greeting from the older woman. Behind him stood a woman and a teenage girl, both with serious facial expressions adorning their similar features.
The Holmes brothers sat down on opposite sides of the room, the two females closer to Mycroft's side. Sherlock stared intently at both of them to see what he could figure out about them so his brother wouldn't have to waste his breath on useless explanations. Mycroft cleared his throat to gain his younger brother's attention before he spoke.
"Brother dear, this is Angela and Lorelin. Two more members of-"
"Our family," Sherlock finished, "Yes. Nice to meet you, but I've really got to get back to my experimentation. Also, I do believe that my brother said he wasn't interested in getting himself a goldfish. Surprises me that he married one and took in her daughter."
The woman's mouth opened in shock while the young girl furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as to what the crazy man, who happened to be her step-uncle, meant by calling her mother a goldfish.
"Not so fast, you will want to hear the end of this introduction. I'll start with the boring bits and then you'll be pleasantly surprised as to how it ends." His brother smoothly replied.
"Alright. Hurry up then."
"Let's do this in deductions, shall we?"
"Why can't you just speak quickly and get this over with?"
"Because it's not as fun and you get to show off. I know how much you love to do that, brother mine."
"Fine. Angela- 40 years old. She works as a secretary given the sharp outfit that matches completely and the slight wrist indents from working on a computer, nails have been done recently, and since she's with you her job is government-related. Angela has obviously had a previous husband since her daughter is sitting beside her and isn't young enough or similar-looking enough to be your daughter. They don't own any pets, none of their clothes have animal hairs on them and no scent of any other animal on them." Sherlock answered, speeding through every sentence.
Angela looked at her wrists to see the slight indents and nodded, impressed by what she had just heard.
"Well done...for an idiot. Those observations were simple and too easy to spot. Tell me what you see about Lorelin." Mycroft challenged.
"She's 13, her father had light blue eyes and dark brown hair. She still feels hurt by the divorce, has a small case of depression and ADD, loves alternative rock music, wears lots of neutral colours, and has a slight obsession with her phone. Lorelin plays an instrument, specifically with strings and she practiced it within the last hour due to the marks on the fingers of her left hand. Her right hand has no marks whatsoever, leaving the cello, violin, bass, and viola. The indents from the strings are too small to be from the bass or cello and they're not quite big enough to be from viola because she would've had to play the C-string, leaving wider marks on her fingertips. Lorelin is a violinist, good choice in instrument."
"That was better." Mycroft wryly smiled for a moment.
"Are you finished yet?"
"No, the interesting part has just come up. Sadly, Angela's gambling, lawyer, ex-husband has been murdered. Who better to contact than my own brother?"
"Was his body found in a morgue in the middle of nowhere? Or possibly a body part cut off?" Sherlock asked bluntly.
Lorelin's green eyes began to water and she wiped under her eyes to prevent tears from spilling down her cheeks at the wound of her father being murdered re-opened by the sociopathic detective. Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders, checking to see if she was alright. Sherlock looked confused at the show of affection while Mycroft rolled his eyes at his insensitive brother.
"God, I wish John was here to help you speak properly to regular human beings that have feelings, Sherlock." He muttered.
"Sorry, what did I say wrong?"
"Nevermind. And no, nothing of the sort. I would simply like you to investigate the body, find out who the murderer was, and all of the things that you do best."
"Why would you need me to make origami napkins while solving a case?"
"You know what I meant, don't try to be funny. It doesn't suit you at all. You're more fit for sarcasm and snarky comments." Mycroft said, standing up from the sofa with his wife and step-daughter.
Sherlock remained seated while the three of them left the flat shouting, "Fancied seeing you, brother dear!" just before Mycroft was outside of the door. Mrs. Hudson crept back into the room to speak to Sherlock.
"So, who were the lovely ladies?" She smiled.
"My brother's goldfish. His wife, Angela, and step-daughter, Lorelin. I did tell you he had been seeing someone." He replied dryly.
"Oh, isn't it just wonderful? And they're both so lovely. I bet Mycroft is so much happier with those two in his life now." Mrs. Hudson blabbered on as she went into another room to prepare tea since the kitchen was a mess of chemicals, bottles, and bones.
