The Ambitious Orphan (4 page)

“No, I think
you're right. As much as I've enjoyed being here and having several
days to recover, I have encroached on space you're not used to
sharing for a little too long.”

Myron nodded,
almost relieved that she was saying what he'd wanted to.

“Right now,
however, I feel rather... unsatisfied,” she said, a smirk crossing
her face. Over the next few seconds he considered refusing her
evident request but desire flared within him once more and he gave
in. For one more night, he'd give both of them the satisfaction
they craved.

No sooner had he
pulled her close than she gave herself over to him again, letting
him dictate. He lost himself in her, thinking only of that one
moment in time.

It was almost dawn
by the time she was asleep beside him, her body curled contentedly
in his arms. But while she slumbered, safe and dreaming, he was
alone with his thoughts.

Over the last week
he'd done several things he'd not thought he ever would six months
earlier. Sherlock had introduced him to a woman who had restored
some of his lost faith in the fairer sex.

He didn't love
her, of that he was sure, but he felt a respect and even some
degree of care for her wellbeing. If she died the world would be a
less bright place, if for no other reason than she had an eagerness
to learn and grow that few people ever achieved.

It had often made
him think of Sherlock when he'd been a young boy, before teenage
years had brought comparisons between the two to Sherlock's
attention and created a feeling of competition and friction to
their every task.

Like his younger
brother had done on a couple of occasions, she'd surprised him and
made him feel a little bit less alone. But unlike his brother and
him, she was mortal, and Mycroft knew, no matter how much he liked
her, it would be a goodbye in the end.

At some point, the
risk of their secret being revealed would be too great for him to
keep her in his life, and just like Sherlock had moved away from
Watson to keep him in the dark about their immortality, he would
eventually have to shut her out. This was the last night he could
sleep with her.

Mycroft sighed.
Being immortal wasn't something he'd asked for, but when it had
first become apparent, he'd been reasonably pleased. He'd not
expected to grow attached to anyone and had tried to guard his life
accordingly, but Sherlock had brought someone into their world for
the second time, and this time it would be he who would watch over
them until they died. Even if he had to do it from afar.

Amelia let out a
small involuntary sigh as she finished her breakfast. It was the
last meal she'd eat in Myron's home with him for some time,
although she hoped not forever. A part of her still planned to give
thawing his heart her best shot.

“Shall I have
Daniels get the car ready to take you home?” Myron asked when
they'd sat there a few seconds.

“Do you think he
could take me to your brother's instead?”

“Yes, if you wish.
I assume you need plot assistance.”

“A little,” she
said admitting only that; the rest could wait. If he picked up on
her lie of omission, he never said anything. Ten minutes later she
was stood by the door, her small suitcase already taken out to the
car by Daniels. Acting more bravely than she felt, Amelia stood on
her tiptoes and kissed Myron on the cheek. All the while, he never
moved.

“Please keep me
updated on everything with Nesterov,” she said, not trusting
herself to say anything else without her eyes watering up. He
nodded and she thought she saw him swallow back some of his own
emotion. Before she could be sure, he looked as composed as
always.

Not wanting to be
overcome in front of him, Amelia walked towards the car, holding
her head high, as if it was just another day. Daniels opened the
door for her as he usually did, but she didn't meet his gaze.
Seeing any kind of pity or sadness would break through the calm
cocoon she'd managed to wrap around herself.

Once inside, she
relaxed a little, took a deep breath and one final look towards the
door. Myron was already gone. She sat back, and while her eyes
roved over the streets as Daniels drove, none of it was taken in,
her memories dominating every thought and sense.

She closed her
eyes and remembered the way his hands had felt as he coaxed her to
his room and into his embrace, his kisses as they'd brushed across
her skin, and the warmth as he'd slept with his arms wrapped around
her. For five nights she'd been shown what heaven might be like.
Now it was gone, she couldn't help but feel a hole deep inside her
somewhere.

As she opened her
eyes she noticed they were already by Baker Street and Sebastian's
house. The first tear rolled down her cheek when she realised she
wasn't ready to come back to the present. Not just yet.

“I'll drive around
the block again,” Daniels said, pulling a handkerchief from his
pocket and holding it out behind him.

“Thank you,” she
said, her voice cracking a little.

Another tear
tracked down her face, this one hastily wiped away, and then she
was composing herself once more. She had to hold it together. Myron
had warned her, and she'd told him she could guard her own heart.
Now she needed to live up to that promise, even if it required her
to be stronger than she'd ever been before.

It struck her then
that no matter how many times a person has felt heartbreak and
loss, each fresh time was always as painful. Right in that moment
her heart was as broken as it had been when her husband died.
Somehow, she had to put the pieces back together and hold them
there while she carried on, hoping that when she finally let go it
wouldn't all crumble again.

The second time
Daniels passed through Baker Street, he stopped the car and gave
her a brief glance. She gave him a small nod and handed back the
piece of cloth she'd cried into.

“Thank you,” she
said again, sounding steadier on the outside, even if she was still
falling apart on the inside.

He gave her a
sympathetic smile and got out to open the door for her.

“Shall I wait for
you here?” he asked.

“No. I'm going to
be here a while.”

“Mr Holmes had me
understand that you'd be heading back to Bath, ma'am.”

“No, Daniels. I
don't feel safe alone in Bath. I'm staying in London. I'm not sure
where yet but I was going to see what Sebastian recommended. And
please, call me Amelia, Daniels.” She tried to smile with her usual
warmth at the sweet chauffeur but knew it hadn't quite appeared on
her face as it usually would.

“Right you are...
Amelia. But if you'll permit me saying it, I don't think Mr Holmes
senior will be too pleased. He's expecting you to go home.”

“I'm aware. I just
can't. Not yet.”

Daniels offered up
no more arguments and simply fetched her suitcase for her. With a
nod of gratitude, she pushed open the door to 221b Baker Street.
She was half way up the stairs when Sebastian opened the door at
the top.

“Ah, Amelia, I
wondered when you'd drop in.” His eyes glanced over the suitcase
and it was obvious he was working out what scenario had led to her
being there. “Come in.”

He stepped out of
the way and allowed her to haul herself and her case into the
familiar sitting room. For a few seconds, there was an awkward
silence as she tried to decide whether to mention the suitcase he
was seemingly ignoring.

“Where would you
like to begin?” he asked, taking a very brief glance at the end of
the sofa where she'd tucked the black case out of the way. It still
felt like it stood out.

“I was wondering
what you thought of combining the two plot ideas I told you
yesterday,” she replied, deciding she'd figure out what to do about
where she was staying later. No doubt Daniels would inform Myron
that she hadn't gone home, and there would be repercussions. It
might be best not to have spoken to the younger brother before he'd
expressed his dissatisfaction. Not that it would change anything.
If she couldn't stay with Myron, then she'd stay where she
wanted.

Sebastian had just
pulled up the board they used to plot her novels and work out
character issues when a phone buzzed.

“It's not mine,”
she said when he looked at her.

“Oh. I guess it
might be mine, but only a few people...” he trailed off as he
rummaged through the papers on the desk, roughly where the sound
had come from. A few seconds later he pulled out a small black
phone that looked like it had seen better days. He tapped at the
screen a couple of times and then raised his eyebrows.

“Apparently, I'm
to forbid you from staying in London and send you home to Bath,” he
said, sounding very unthreatening. Amelia frowned but didn't
comment. “I take it we should discuss your suitcase now?”

She sighed and sat
down in the nearest chair.

“I'd already
assumed he'd asked you to leave. I take it that assumption wasn't
wrong.”

“No, not at all.
You're almost never wrong.”

“Well, true, but
very occasionally I end up surprised. Where are you going to
go?”

“You're not going
to insist I go back to Bath?” she asked, taking a good look at him.
He grinned.

“Of course not. Do
you want to stay here?”

“Really, you
wouldn't mind?”

“Not at all. I
take it you were thinking of a hotel, then?”

She nodded.

“Definitely stay
here. It will annoy my brother and you'll have better company.”

She laughed at the
logic, but found it suited her mood. As she watched Sebastian go
back to the whiteboard, she also realised it gave her an
interesting opportunity.

Myron was
meticulous, and she'd only found that one piece of evidence that
the Holmes brothers were immortal as some part of a freak accident,
but here in the younger brother's house everything was chaos,
possibly well organised chaos, but chaos nonetheless. More evidence
was probably somewhere to be found in the room she sat in now. The
next time Sebastian was out solving some kind of case, she vowed to
try and find it.

Knowing a secret
of Myron's and Sebastian's, and keeping it, might just show Myron
how serious she was about being in his world and being trusted. It
wouldn't make him love her, but all the emotions and decisions that
came out of love were based on trust, and, as of now, he still
didn't completely trust her.

Amelia continued
to let Sebastian help her with her book plot until he had grown
bored and she could curl up and write somewhere. Not long after
that, he decided to leave the house and go find an answer on some
case he was dealing with. It was something to do with a botched lab
test, and the police had asked him to step in and help. Not the
kind of case she'd normally chip in with, and as a result he didn't
ask her if she wanted to go as well.

Having no idea how
long he would be gone, Amelia only waited long enough to hear him
go out the front door and call a taxi. She then hurried through to
his bedroom. Being careful not to disturb anything she didn't need
to, Amelia looked around the room first.

Using her phone
camera, she then took photos of the few areas she wanted to look
in. A box on one of the shelves by Sebastian's bed looked like it
might contain something useful so she snapped a photograph of where
it sat and then lifted it down.

After placing it
gently down on the floor, Amelia pulled off the lid. There was an
old microscope inside. With a sigh, she replaced the lid and put it
back. Once she had it where she thought it used to be, she pulled
up the photo, held it up beside it and examined the differences. A
minute later, after a few tweaks of one corner, it was back in
exactly the same place.

She spent the next
hour moving around Sebastian's bedroom in this fashion before she
looked in less obvious places.

As she found a
chamber pot under the bed, Amelia wrinkled her nose. It looked like
someone had used it at some point, but long enough ago it didn't
smell any more. In a box tucked away behind it was a stack of very
important documents like birth certificates, death certificates and
passports.

At the top sat
Sebastian's passport, and it was still in date so she flipped it
over and placed it on the floor. Underneath was a birth certificate
for Sebastian stating his date of birth to be June 1983. Under
that, a marriage certificate for an Edward Holmes to a Heidi
Fitzwilliam.

As she went
through the box she noticed the few certificates that were older
seemed to have smudged ink, were horribly faded or just didn't seem
right, until she got to the birth certificate for Sherlock Holmes,
born in June 1854.

Once she'd fetched
her notebook, Amelia went back through the pile from oldest to
newest jotting down all the dates.

With that done she
noticed that there was a pattern. The man before had died almost
exactly twenty-seven years after the birth of the next man in the
box in every case but the most recent one of Edward. There was also
only Edward's marriage certificate, but no death certificate. It
was incredibly odd.

Just in case
Sebastian returned early, she decided to put everything back the
way it was, using her camera once more to get the placement of
everything just right, and then she returned with her notebook to
the sofa.

Over the next half
an hour she added the few details she knew for Myron and Mycroft,
leaving blanks for the other possible family members not accounted
for. Sebastian had once mentioned that Myron was seven years his
elder so that birth date was nice and easy to pin down. Neither
looked quite as old as they were, however.

There were two
birth certificates for people no longer alive, although they
appeared to sit neatly as the two people between Sherlock and
Edward. There was a Quentin who apparently was born in 1886 and
died in 1944, twenty-seven years after Livingston was born. And he
died twenty-seven years after Edward was born. She noticed that all
five men in the tree were born in the same thirty-day window. One
was born in early July but still only twelve days after Sherlock
was born.