The Mystery of Jayden Holmes (A Greg Lestrade fanfic)

Chapter One

Chapter One

I took in a heavy breath as I stepped up to the door with an ‘innocent’ smile upon my pale face and knocked. The door opened to reveal an old lady with light, curly hair and gentle eyes that were framed by deep set wrinkles.

“Hello, is Sherlock here?’ I asked sweetly.

“Boys, you’ve got another one!” she called over her shoulder and up the stairs. “You must be another one of their clients.”

“Clients?” I questioned falsely and cocked my head to the side slightly with an eyebrow raised.

“You must not be here for that. It’s quite refreshing actually to see that they do still have a life outside of that detective business of theirs.” She smiled, but seemed kind of surprised still. She led me up a set of green steps that were worn from multiple trips up and down them. The paint was chipping slightly and the third stair from the top groaned in distress. We stopped in front of a door at the very top and she turned to walk away. “If you need anything just let me know; but remember, I’m the landlady, not the housekeeper.”

“Thank you!” I called to her then waited for her to reach out of earshot before sighing and dropping the act. Trying to be nice to everyone you meet is exhausting. I brushed back black curls from my face before knocking on the door. It wasn’t long before the door opened to reveal a man about my height with greying blond hair. He didn’t seem old enough for the grey, so I figured it was due to stress. Military stress to be exact. His tired, brown eyes glinted with a forced smile as he began to speak.

“Hello, if you could just take a seat on the couch we’ll be right with you.” The man motioned to a couch that seemed to be in pretty rough shape. It was sat up against a grimey colored wall that adorned a yellow, spray painted smiley face and multiple bullet holes. Papers were scattered on the table in front of it and books were covered in dust on the shelves. It was obvious that Sherlock lived here. Only he could live in such a pig sty and not even bat an eye at it.

“Sorry about that,” the man said as he walked back in with a tall man with dark, curly hair and high cheekbones . “I’m John Watson and this is-”

“Sherlock Holmes.” I cut off the short man with a smirk.

“Jayden...good to see you again. Well, not really, but I feel obliged to say so seeing as how you are my twin.” Sherlock’s eyes stared at me coldly, his jaw clenched.

“Twin?” John asked, his jaw dropping slightly in astonishment. I could tell, though, that as he looked between us it struck him as impossible for us to not be related.

“You’ve never spoken of me? I’m heartbroken.” I turned to John and stuck a hand out to shake. “Jayden Holmes, Sherlock’s dearest twin sister whom, to my dismay, he loathes entirely.”

The doctor shook my hand with a half smile. “Nice to meet you. You seem sweet enough; why would he hate you?”

Sherlock spoke quickly, “She’s no angel.”

“He’s just upset that I left for America after we turned eighteen. Poor boy was stuck with Mycroft.” I forced the name off my tongue with an evident cringe. I plopped back onto the couch and looked back to Sherlock before addressing Watson again. “John, could you be a dear and go make me a nice, hot cuppa? I need to speak to Sherlock alone.”

The blond male walked into the kitchen and I dropped the act once more, leaning forward and smirking up at my brother. His blue eyes, that matched my own, were hard as steel and trying to deduce me to pieces. A small chuckle passed my lips and caught him off guard. A look of surprise crossed his face, but disappeared just as soon as it had appeared.