Sherlocked (BBC Fanfiction)

Chapter 4 - Cannibalism

            I felt the sunlight pierce my retinas, my mind suddenly replaying my dream like a broken record.  Realizing I had the rest of the day to soldier through, I groaned and shoved a pillow over my face.  Around five minutes later, I sighed and pulled myself out of bed.  Rubbing my eyes, I found a rubber band in my backpack and tied my hair into a short little ponytail.  Opening my door, I checked my watch; 11:45.  Strolling down the hallway lethargically, I yawned and turned the corner.  I stopped dead when I saw two people at the kitchen table instead of one.  “Morning Jordyn,” Sherlock said, reading the newspaper.

            I watched the other person intently.  The man from last night sipped from a coffee cup then smiled brightly at me, waving one hand.  “Get out or I will shoot you,” I demanded.

            “I’m guessing you didn’t tell her?”  Sherlock asked, not even bothering to look up.  He took a drink from his coffee cup and flipped the page.

            “I thought you would,” the man said to Sherlock.  All the while I watched in stupefaction.

            “Joy, you can sit down,” Sherlock told me.  Sighing, I hesitantly walked over and took a seat in between Sherlock and the other man.  “This is my brother, Mycroft.”

            I felt my jaw drop slightly.  I looked to Sherlock and over to the man named Mycroft.  The only corresponding attribute they shared was the equivalent ivory skin.  “What?”

            “I know, we look absolutely nothing alike,” Mycroft said exasperated and drank his coffee.

            “Yes I meant to ask you when you came in last night how it went with Mycroft,” Sherlock said.

            “You guys are…brothers?”  I asked and stood up.

            “Yes,” Sherlock said, un-amused and just simply apathetic.

            “Alright then,” I respired and walked into the kitchen.  Getting myself a mug, I proceeded to make Chai Tea.  After I finished, I sat back down.  Mycroft reached inside his coat and pulled a manila colored file out.  With both hands wrapped around the cup, I took a drink of my tea and asked, “What’s that?”

            “A new case,” he said.  “For Sherlock.”

            “Oh,” I mumbled.  Sherlock put the newspaper down and grabbed the file.

            “This better be good,” he muttered, opening the file and began reading.

            “Oh it is.  Recently released mental ward patient Augustus Warren was last seen with supposed missing child Amelia Williams,” Mycroft explained.

            “Why was he committed to a mental ward?”  I asked and sipped my tea.

            “Cannibalism,” Sherlock and Mycroft said in unison.  I spluttered on my tea.

            “Cannibalism?”  I repeated.

            “Correct.  Sherlock, did you read the note?”

            “What note?”  I asked.

            “This note,” Sherlock said and handed me a white paper with a piece of yellowed paper photocopied onto it.  Blood splatters had stained some parts of the letter.  It read;

Dear Mr. Holmes,

Come to our secret hideout, we've made some special plans.  Your friends we've taken hostage, their lives are in your hands.  Be you Hero or be you Villain, to them it matters not.  Time is running out for them and you are all they've got.