Only Yours

35

William's P.O.V

'Of course the victim could have done it.'

'No, he can't have done.'

'Locked room. Knife found at scene. It was the victim! The game is designed to trick you-'

'This isn't real life, Sherlock.'

'William?'

My father's simultaneously turn their heads and stare at me, collapsed on a chair, leafing through some case reports. Without looking up I reply, 'The victim did it.'

Papa huffs and stands up. 'This is ridiculous. Why did I even agree to play cluedo?'

'We were bored. Where are our children?' Dad looks around the room, as if the twins and Jacob are just lurking around the corner, hiding.

'Hamish is at Percy's house, Saphira's at Georgia's and Jacob is with Mycroft.' Papa replies. After the great wedding fiasco when Lestrade attempted to convince Dad that they slept together, Mycroft and him went through a quick divorce. The children all chose to go with Mycroft, surprisingly, and rumour has it Lestrade is living with Sally Donovan and her daughter Freya.

Mycroft doesn't care. He says he was sick of being in a relationship anyway.

I drop the case reports and glance around the room, drinking it all in. It's amazing how much I miss Baker Street whilst I'm in Oxford. Everywhere here is associated with memories of my childhood, from the pictures lining the mantle to the dark mark on the ceiling from an experiment gone wrong.

In a way it is sad, because Jonty isn't here anymore to share it with me.

He hasn't come back since I proclaimed my love for him at the wedding. He doesn't text, skype, email or DM me, although he keeps in regular contact with Papa. He wrote a birthday card which is next to his photo on the mantelpiece but it's nothing personal. Just a, 'Dearest Will, So sorry I can't be there. Camp Bastion is a lot more hectic than Helmand, but I will definitely be back by the twentieth! Love, Jonty.'

'They'll be here any minute, Will, go wait by the door.' Papa says, clearing away the cluedo board. I turn to Dad and mouth, 'do I have to do?' but unfortunately papa sees and scowls.

'William Sherlock, do as you are told!'

I walk through the unnaturally clean living room (Papa tidied up. There is food in the fridge, the experiments are all packed away, the case files, documents and compositions usually scattered everywhere are in the desk and we even had to tidy our bedrooms. It looks awful. So clean.)

I position myself by the door and lean back instinctively as I hear footsteps on the stairs.

They are here for my party. My bloody birthday party. Apparently, despite the fact I am 18 I still must have a birthday party.

As I only have two Uni friends I really want to have round (Jack and Cosmo) my party guests are them, my three younger siblings, my fathers', Mycroft, my seven cousins and Mrs Hudson.

Several pairs of feet; girls voices; one baby; a man in front, six foot one, expensive shoes.

'Mycroft.' I mouth at dad, who rolls his eyes and crosses his legs.

Mycroft taps twice on the door, his signature knock, and I pull it open...and almost get trampled as all seven of my cousins swarm in.

'WILL!' They yell simultaneously before wrapping their arms around my waist, my neck, my thighs, anywhere they can get. I can see little Tobias around my knees.

'Eliana, Isla, Cara, Lara, Elsa, Aria, Tobias. Delighted as always.'

Eliana, the eldest at 14, playfully punches my shoulder. 'You're secretly pleased to see us, Will. Uncle Sherlock!' she unwinds herself from me and runs over to my father. The other let go as well, rushing around the flat. Tobias and Aria head straight for Blackbeard, our dog. Cara and Lara go over to Papa. Eliana goes into the kitchen, closely followed by the ever-hungry Elsa.