The Case Of W. L. Lawens

CHAPTER SIX: A BRILLIANT IDEA

We both went to sleep that night exhausted. I had never been so grateful to see my bed, and I fell into a deep slumber as soon as I touched the pillow. The next morning I was awakened by slow, heavy knocks on my bedroom door, which was completely different from the rapid excited knocks which were so familiar to me.

I opened the door to see Holmes, his bruises now turning into a deep shade of plum, looking bleakly at me. "Good morning." I said jokingly, but he did not smile.

"Dress yourself quickly, I would like to be back before noon." He replied bluntly.

It took me about fifteen minutes to make myself presentable, and when I finally came out into the parlour Holmes seemed to be deep in thought. I decided against speaking to him, but it was he who broke the silence. "You're ready?" He asked, not looking towards me.

I nodded and he took a deep breath, but before he could rise from his chair I asked. "Sherlock why do you hardly speak of Mycroft?"

His eyes flickered to my face and he replied matter of factly. "He is not easily brought up in conversation."

"Do you two get on well?" I pressed.

"I do not believe my relationship with my brother is your buisness, John." He said as he stood up.

I muttered an apology and we exited onto the street. Sherlock hailed a cab, and we climbed in. I already knew exactly where we were going. The Diogenes Club.

The Diogenes Club was a gentlemans club founded by Mycroft himself, in which shy or unsociable men could go and esentially...ignore one another. No talking was permitted in the whole club, save in one room, The Stranger's Room. Sherlock visited the club sometimes when he was in an anxious mood, and it always seemed to calm him down.

When we entered the club building, I followed Sherlock to the front desk, when he proceeded to ask (In sign language) where Mycroft was. The clerk told him, and we were on our way in the direction of the Stranger's Room.

I had only met Mycroft one time before, and it was very brief. He looked somewhat like Holmes, but was stouter, and less drawn in the face. In addition, he lacked the sparkle in his eye, which seemed the highlight of  Sherlock's whole face. I had not spoke to him but a word or two, though Sherlock assured me that Mycroft was even more talented in the art of deduction than himself. Holmes was always vague on the exact sort of work he did, but I knew Mycroft had something to do with natiomal security. Though as gifted as he was, Mycroft was idle, and would rather be presumed wrong, than go out and prove he is right, something which always irked my companion.

When we entered the room, I scanned around. Mycroft was the only one present, and seemed very invested in some odd book he was reading. Without even looking up he said. "Ah, my baby brother! Do come near, and sit down. It has been so dreadfully long since I have last seen you." As we came forward he closed his book and looked up, meeting my eyes. "Dr. Watson! How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you." I replied as we took our seats. Mycroft looked pleased with my reply, and turned his gaze to Sherlock.

"My, my it seems as if you have been in a bit of a rumble, haven't you?" Sherlock looked away and Mycroft turned back to me.

"It is no surprise, really. It happened all the time when he was a boy, always picking fights-"

"I did not start them." Holmes muttered.

"Oh I beg to differ." Mycroft chuckled smugly.

"It was the other children!" Holmes viciously snapped.

There was a moment of silence, and Mycroft gave a cold, steady stare to my companions flushed face. Holmes cleared his throat, suddenly remembering I was present. "Mycroft I have not come here today for a simple family visit." he said quietly.