Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Life

Chapter 18

It was Thursday of the same week that Sherlock had shipped me off to his brother's house. My week had been decidedly boring- filing paperwork, accompanying Mycroft to various different meetings with his fancy friends and completing any tasks that he couldn't be bothered to do. I was currently sat at the unnecessarily large dining room table in my pyjamas eating a bowl of cheerio's that the chef had brought out about five minutes ago, God knows why I couldn't make my own cereal but apparently that's how things worked around here. As I pushed the few remaining pieces of food around the rim of my bowl Mycroft entered the room.

"Get dressed," he said, "We have a very important meeting this morning." I groaned at his request

"We've had very important meetings all week, can't I have a break?"

"I don't think you'll want to do that." the elder Holmes remarked as he wandered down the length of the room

"Why not?"

"Trust me," he paused in the doorway before saying, "You won't." and leaving me wondering what his cryptic words meant. After pondering for a few moments I decided that the hoops in my bowl were now too soggy for me to enjoy so I abandoned them and went to my room to get dressed.

Once in one of my snazzy new suits I looked in the mirror, that had been provided for me after I requested it to do my make-up, smoothed out my pencil skirt, ensured that the black bow on the collar of my blouse had been tied properly and climbed into the back of the black jaguar that was waiting on the driveway. Mycroft arrived shortly after and we set off for a location that only my employer and his driver knew, apparently I wasn't allowed to know where we were going even though I was going to find out eventually.

"Sarah, I know you think I'm a bit of a... How would you put it... Prat; that I don't care about anyone but myself, but trust me when I say that I'm trying as hard as I possibly can to get you back to Baker Street, for you AND Sherlock." Mycroft spoke up after approximately fifteen minutes of silence

"Why? Haven't you forgotten that he's the one that sent me to you in the first place? He wanted me away from him and that's what he got."

"Because I heard something in his voice when he was pleading to me over the phone that I've never heard in him before. Trust me when I tell you that this isn't what's best for him or you."

"Why's it not good for me?"

"I saw the way you looked at him when you left, the way you spring at your phone when you get a text and then your entire body drops when you realise that it's not Sherlock. You practically reek of desperation."

"Hey! I do no-"

"You love him, don't you?" Mycroft interrupted

"What?"

"You love my brother." I stared at him in disbelief at the accusation but wondered how he could tell. Was it really that obvious? "Don't you?"

"I-". Before I got the chance to answer I was distracted by the car coming to a halt. I looked out of the window to see where we were. Buckingham Palace. We were at Buckingham Palace?!

"Come on, we're on a tight schedule." Mycroft said before climbing out of the car. I followed in awe at the fact that I was actually going to go inside Buckingham Palace.

The interior was, as I had expected, extraordinary. Everything was gold, cream and oak wood. I tried to remain focused as we passed huge portraits of previous monarchs on the walls and HUGE crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceilings. We were walking down a long corridor, me behind Mycroft on his left, when I became aware of the muffled sound of male voices in the distance. With each step towards a set of double doors- the right of which was open- the voices grew clearer and more familiar. Mycroft and I entered the room and were greeted by immature laughter and Sherlock dressed in what appeared to be a white bed sheet with John sat beside him in actual clothes and a pile of his usual attire on the coffee table in front of him. His brother shot him a look of exasperation and said

"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?"

"We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope.". I snickered at John's remark. I may have only been away from Baker Street for a few days but it seemed like a lifetime and John's attempt at being funny made me feel like I was home. Sherlock had stopped laughing and had finally caught sight of me standing behind his brother.