Fandom(s): BBC Sherlock (Post-The Blind Banker/Pre-The Great Game)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Hello, Sherlock!"
The familiar voice from the kitchen nor the man in John's chair startled Sherlock when he entered his flat. He had known Mycroft was there the moment his cab pulled up to 221B. The man had a habit of straightening out the slightly crooked knocker.
It wasn't until he was inside the building he noticed Mycroft's companion. He could hear the scuffling footsteps and the opening and closing of cupboards coming from him kitchen. He would have assumed it was Mrs. Hudson had her coat not been missing from the rack.
"Hello, Rutherford," Sherlock greeted the man in kitchen before looking over at the one in John's chair. "Mycroft. What are you doing here?"
Mycroft was prepared to answer but Rutherford spoke before he could. He poked his head out of the kitchen archway and looked incredulously at his little brother. "Are you aware that there is barely a drop of food in this kitchen, Sherlock? All I've found are eyeballs, thumbs, tea and a... a three year old bag of peas?" He held up the offending object with an expiration date that clearly showed 2007.
"Yes, I-" Rutherford had a nasty habit of cutting people off. It was something that irritated both Mycroft and Sherlock when they were children, even more so now that they were adults.
"How do you and Dr. Watson survive?"
"We manage," was Sherlock's dry response. He hoped his brothers hadn't broken into his flat for chit-chat. Especially not during the holiday season. They couldn't be starting any rubbish family traditions.
Rutherford only hummed in response as he turned his back on his little brothers and went back to scouring the kitchen. He muttered something about tea but both of the younger Holmes boys ignored him in favor of each other. Sherlock knew he would get a straight answer from Mycroft. Or at least a straighter one than he would get from Rutherford.
He plopped himself in his chair and raised his eyebrows at his older brother, prompting him to speak. "It seems our dear niece has gotten herself into a bit of trouble."
"And this matters to me because?"
"Well," Rutherford said, exiting the kitchen with a tea tray. He nudged a coffee table between his younger brothers and began to pour them all tea while he spoke, "Both Mycroft and I have exhausted our exuberant resources in an attempt to find her and have been unsuccessful..."
"So that leaves you with me," Sherlock had a smug look on his face as he watched Rutherford pull up a chair from a desk to sit with them. He knew he should be concerned that his niece has gone missing and not even the entirety of the British government and whatever seedy connection Rutherford had couldn't find her.
Sherlock picked up his tea, and took a sip. Rutherford and Mycroft were silent as they did the same.
There were many possibilities as to where his niece had gone. When she ran away or disappeared for a few days, she usually went to the Diogenes Club to look for dear old Uncle Mikey. He was her favorite after all.
