At the Graveyard
a sherlock holmes oneshot, post-gloria scott
cw: death mention ;
The grave in front of him was wet with the gentle raindrops that fell from above, slipping and dripping slowly to the moved ground where the remains of judge James Trevor lied. There was no sound, there was no crowd and there was no life at the graveyard, except from that from the young man who stood indifferent with the loneliness.
It hadn’t been long since he left the train station where he waved his last goodbye to his good fellow, Victor Trevor, son of the man whose body rested before him. The doubts that accompanied him in the travel were still there - would he ever see the young man again? Would he keep contact? Or was everything over, just as the judge’s own life?
Behind him stood a manly figure who had just appeared with a large black umbrella in one hand. He was as tall as him and shared with him many traits, such as the eyes and the hair colour. But he was older and bigger, and he walked with a big old cane at hand. This new old figure walked heavily towards the grieving lad, who seemed unchanged by his presence.
When near enough, the newcomer covered the grieving young man with the umbrella and said: “Hello, brother.”
“Why did you leave London, Mycroft?”
“I heard of what happened. I thought I could forget about work for a day and see how you’ve been doing.”
Silence, almost unbreakable silence, invaded the place just as violently as if it made it’s own sound. It did not bring peace - rather brought tension. What was there to say? How can you share your condolences in a practical way, where your words bring comfort?
Not wishing to talk and yet deeply wishing the tension to be gone, Sherlock asked: “What’s the big city like?”
“Let’s just say there are a lot of distracting movements that I do not think you would be fond of.” was the reply “But I came here to see if you were all right - not talk about London.”
“I’m as all right as one can be when hit by such tragedy as the sudden death of someone you hold dear. I may not have known Judge Trevor as much as I knew his son, but it’s a tragedy that saddens me nonethenless.”
“I suppose you’ll be back at university soon, is that correct?”
“What worth would it have? I am only there to please our father, I don’t even study what I am supposed to.” he let out a sorrowful laugh “I’m past 21 years old and I am yet to find out my future career.”
“You are not planning on dropping out of it, are you?”
A shrug was Mycroft’s only reply.
“I thought you wanted to be a chemist.” Mycroft commented. “You always speak with such passion of the subject that I hardly see you with any other job.”
“Frankly, I might as well become one. Nothing else suits me.” he fell silent. “Judge Trevor thought of me as an investigator.”
“And why would he imagine such thing?”
“I knew who he was running away from, I just didn’t know his face or his intentions.”
“Well, wouldn’t you look great in a Yard uniform?” Mycroft joked.
“Oh, shut up!” it was probably the first genuine laugh he gave since Trevor called him to take that cab, some days ago. “Of course I wouldn’t be a Yard investigator, could you imagine that? No, I have little dignity but not that little.”
“What then? Judge Trevor thought of you as a private investigator? One of those who spy on a husband because his wife thinks of him as a cheater?”
“When you put it like that, it does seem like the most boring task in the world!”
“Jokes aside, however,” he complemented, going back to his normal, serious tone “I don’t think he’s quite wrong with that. Part of my own personal job involves good chunk of investigation and, if you still are as good as me as my memory allows me to remember you are, then you would be fit for the job. If, of course, you had enough knowledge of it.”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, suddenly curious to the new route the conversation was going.
“You wouldn’t be able to list me deaths that are similar to, for example, poor Judge Trevor - or would you?”
“No, I actually wouldn’t.”
“See, it’s this lack of knowledge that is taking you back. An actual investigator would list at least some cases of suspected murder - even if they turned out to be of natural causes. But you were never really interested in that.”
“I would be if it meant I could prevent a similar tragedy to this one.”
“Perhaps it does mean that. People look for more experienced people to solve life-threatening situation all the time, especially in big cities.” he shrugged.
Silence came back, but less violent this time, and none of the brothers dared to disturb it for a long time. However, the silence was only external for young Sherlock’s mind was as loud as it could ever be. A new career path was taken into consideration, this one more serious than anything he ever considered, and once he came back to his place the first thing he did was sit down to read the newspapers, looking for queer crimes to study closely.
Judge Trevor’s death was still a ghost that hovered around him during that night, but at the very least he could distract his mind by saying that he would never let something like that happen again and next time anyone seemed to be in danger, he would be ready to unravel the mystery. It would just take some time - and many newspapers - to reach the ideal.