Inconsistencies In Sentiments

Prologue

Mycroft calmly sat at his desk as he asked an old friend a favor. 'All I need you to do is to observe my brother.'

'Does that include the doctor and his child?' He nodded and slid the yellow envelope across the table to them. They took out a pocket knife and cut it open, revealing the £1000 000 inside.

'You know better than that.' They slid it back to him. He caught it and continued to persuade them.

'Come on. I'm getting desperate.' Shock overwhelmed him as they thrusted the blade into the desk and got up. 'I can't, Mike. You know I can't.' Mycroft got up after them and grabbed their wrist, shocking the friend into stiffness.

'Maybe he forgot about the whole Redbeard thing.' They scoffed that the remark. 'Stop calling him Redbeard. You know very well what his name is.'

Mycroft spun them around to face him. 'Sorry, I meant Victor.' He kissed their knuckles. 'Please. You're the only one who can do this. Besides, you can catch up on recent things.'

They finally sighed in the defeat. 'Fine.'

🔱

Sherlock and John were at no surprise to see dozens of reporters and fans in front of Baker Street. They squeezed through, giving the reporters a few pictures and fans a few selfies. Relieved to be inside, they listened to the crowd's excitement fade and the sound of news vans driving away.

'Why didn't you wear the hat today?' John questioned as he hung his coat.

'I wear the hat when I want t-' Sherlock stopping in mid sentnce wasn't unusual but it was his expression that shockes John. It was that of pure shock and anger. 'Do you hear that?'

At first, John heard silence but the more he waited, the more he heard it. A violin playing Ring Around the Roses in a merry fashion. Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders and frantically asked him a question.

'Jesus Christ, John! Tell me you heard that too!' John nodded anxiously, confused not at Sherlock's determination but at his genuine anger. He lowered his voice and whispered into John's ear. 'You might want your gun out for this one.'

At this, he loosened the Glock 17 from his hand and let it drop into his palm. He nodded as he got in position. They rushed upstairs to Sherlock's flat and John kicked the door opened, surprising Mrs. Hudson and Rosie inside. 'John H. Watson! It wasn't locked! Why on Earth did you kick it down?!'

'Mrs Hudson, take Rosie downstairs. Now.' Mrs. Hudson mumbled something as she made her way past the duo with little Rosamund in her arms who surprisingly stayed asleep despite how loud the impact was. Sherlock didn't pay attention to the old landlady. His mind was on her. The short long-haired woman in the room playing his violin in front of the mantel.

She had (H/C) hair, a black trench coat that hid her figure well and two toned black and white Oxfords that had been polished cleaned. She held the bow elegantly as she switched to a sweet melancholy tune. Sherlock tried to step closer but she distorted the music when he did. This is like Eurus all over again.

'Who are you? What do you want?' John demanded answers and he demanded them now. She stopped playing and switched to Sakura. The slow tunes unlocked a door in Sherlock's mind palace. In impulse, he grabbed the gun from John's hand and pointed it to her.

'You.' He said in a digusted tone as his nose crinkled in anger.

'Yes, Sherlock. Me.' She turned around.