Chapter II. - Brotherly Visit
At 9 in the morning the two of them sat in an office with Lestrade, who was squeezing his head with his hand.
'Look, Sherlock, it's not my case. I would gladly give you any details, but I can't, I simply can't. Ask Glimmer about it. I'll do whatever I can, but do not hope any results.'
'I need the facts, DI, it's most important. I know things which you don't – you know you need me.'
'Yes, Sherlock, I do, but not Glimmer! Look, I'll talk to him, maybe he give you something willingly. Stay here.' he stood up, and paced to the door. 'And please, do not mess with the computer while I'm away.' he made a painful face. He knew already that in the minuit he left the office Sherlock would be by the screen, looking for the case in the database – and he did not disappoint. Sherlock followed his steps till he disappeared, and then jumped and hurried to the computer.
'Sherlock, what are you doing?!' John whispered horriedly.
'Looking for the case. Warn me if anyone's coming.'
'You cannot do this, those files are classified!' he stood up and searched the corridor for any movement.
'Aah, shut up, I don't have much time!' he hissed, and tiped rapidly.
'Good God, I don't know why I'm doing this with you!' John whispered angry, and listened on. Sherlock searched the folders hurriedly, and in a minuit he found what he was looking for. He copied the files on a pendrive, and closed the windows, and in a second he was back on his seat, pretending that nohing has happened in the last minuits. John rolled his eyes and hurriedly sat back in his chair.
'I hate when you're doing this.' he hissed.
'You love it.' Sherlock facted smiling. It was the moment when Lestrade entered the room.
'I'm sorry guys, Glimmer's not in the mood of hearing from you. This case already corroded his nerves, and he doesn't want another amateur to mess with it. I'm sorry, but you have to leave with empty hands.' he shrugged.
'Never care, Lestrade. I'll not bother you with asking.' Sherlock said and stood up lazily. 'See you later.' he turned and left opened the door.
'Good-bye, DI, it was a pleasure again.' John forced a smile, and shook his hand, and flied after Sherlock. Lestrade stood there astonished, frowning confused about the men's strange behavior, but then shook his head and sat down to continue his daily work, while the detective and the doctor left the building hastily. Outside John looked at his friend's face and saw that victorious smirk on it which always when he played someone false. He shook his head but smiled nonetheless, when always when the won over a case – which this time was an illegal one, but exciting nonetheless. He hurried beside his tall friend's long steps.
'And, what now? We have the files, so what's then?' he asked.
'We're going home and having breakfast. Mrs. Hudson should be waiting for us with it.'
John chuckled. He always remembered her high voice telling “I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper!” when she did something for them – however, he was always aware of this sentence. He never knew when it was from kindness and when from anger.
They paced home in silence after that, John wondering what this case would bring, Sherlock wondering about the case itself. In the moment they arrived to the door, Mrs Hudson was right nervously opening it.
'Oh boys, thank God you are coming! Sherlock, your brother is here and he's rude as ever! Oh, what a shame, he would be such a nice fellow! Come, come, the breakfast is on you table.' she waved them in. Sherlock frowned and entered the hall passing over the bewildered landlady, and John followed him, nodding to her understandingly. They put down their coats and went up the stairs counting on a very grumpy Mycroft Holmes – and they did not disappointed.
'Good morning, brother.' Sherlock stepped in the sitting-room with a fake smile, followed by John, who only nodded and greeted him by calling 'Mycroft'. The minor british officer nodded back, smiling politely and stepping from the mantelpiece towards the newcomers.
'I'm glad to caught you at home, brother.' he said sarcastically, pacing slowly towards the detective, who was already sitting in his armchair.
'I heard you were in the Yard this morning, I wonder why.' he asked calmly.
'I'm a consoulting detective, do you remember, dear brother? My job is to be in the Yard.'
'Your job is to solve crimes, not stole classified files!' Mycroft shouted at him. 'Give me the pendrive!' he reached out his arm. John listened carefully.
'Why, brother? What do you protect so much?' he asked lazily.
'Sherlock, it is no game. Give it to me.' Mycroft breathed seriously.
'No.' Sherlock told.
'If you won't give it to me, I have to bring you and the doctor in.' he sighed deeply. Sherlock made his stubborn face and did not look at his brother. John frowned.
'What's on it, what can't we see?'
Mycroft smiled politely at him, clasping his hands.
'You know it, don't you, brother?' he began to pace on and fro in the room. 'Oh, yes, I guessed it.' he said blinking at Sherlock's unchanged face. 'There are things which are beyond your reach, doctor.' he explained carefully 'There are things, which are beyond anyone's reach, which have to be, for your safety. You know what was on the stolen pendrive, Sherlock, don't you?'
'State secrets, I guessed, yes.'
'And who stole it, where from?' Mycroft asked on his preachingly voice.
'A bulglar, from a house in Belgravia.'
'Whose house exactly, I ask you?' he smiled still politely.
'Miss Irene Adler's, a year ago, before you asked my help with her.'
'Exactly. You know much, brother. I'm sorry, but too much.' he stepped back to the mantelpiece. 'The question is, why was it hidden till this evening? Where was it stored, who by? I guess you don't know the answers on these questions, dear brother.'
Sherlock grimaced but did not answered.
'Now, give me the pendrive, please.' he reached out his hand again. Sherlock did not move for an other moment, and then suddenly turned to his brother.
'Do you know who selled it?' he asked him. The question provoked a frown from Mycroft.
'A whore, obviously. She was used for selling it without the discovering the seller's person. The question is, whom did she get it from, not who she was. Of course, we got her and asked her, but she said it was a single client, she'd never seen him before and when she got back to the room he was missing – but left a good sum for her. She did not knew anything about the contains of the pendrive, not of the person of the boughter. She just got in the bar, gave the pendrive to the Russian and got back. The payment was arranged through the National Bank, before the good was transferred. After the death of the Russian the pendrive was found in his pocket, but noone knows if the information was copied or not, or what with the man happened. But it is the problem of the Scotland Yard, not yours, little brother, do you understand?' Mycroft pushed the words. Sherlock pulled up his eyebrows, and hummed quietly.
'Do you understand?' asked his brother again. Sherlock came back and looked at him.
'Of course, brother.' he jumped up and gave the pendrive to him. 'Breakfast?' he smirked, and walked in the kitchen to sat down to the table.
'No, thank you, I'll have with one of the governers.' he put the pendrive away and lapsed in a polite smile and took his umbrella. 'Have a nice day, doctor. Sherlock.' he nodded to both of them and paced to the stairs. 'John, please.' he turned back to the doctor for last.
'Yes?' the medical caught up his head and took up his listening face.
'Would you be so kind to make sure he does not mess with the case?' It was mere an order than a question.
'Yes, of course.' John nodded with a smile and stood up.
'Good then. Have a nice day.' Mycroft started to the door again, now truly. When the doctor heard the door closing, he paced in the kitchen and found Sherlock suppering merrily. He halted and frowned at him.
'Why didn't you tell him the woman was Adler?' he asked. Sherlock chuckled silently.
'I wonder how much time he needs to notice it was an other pendrive, with the photos of our little family which our dear mother gave me on a data storage a week ago.' he smirked with his common amused smile. John's breath stopped for a moment.
'God, Sherlock! You cannot broke your word you gave him every time!' he said desperately.
'What word? I only said I did understood the problem is the Scotland Yard's. The fun is mine.' he grinned and finished his toast rapidly.
'Oh God.' John covered his face with his hand and sighed.
'No, He's not here. But the pendrive is, so let's take a look on it till he comes back.' he straightened and paced to the laptop.
'What does my dear brother want hide from me?' he murmured while opening the folder. He took a blink on the files and choosed the most interesting one, and began to read – and his mood sank. He lumped down in his armchair and rolled his eyes.
'It's only about an affair of an exchange between the leader of the Black Violet and a British governor.' he said disappointed. John frowned.
'What is Adler doing with it?' he asked.
'She got the information, she kept it, but when she needed protection, she turned to the maffia instead of the governor. Logical, if you want to keep the image of your death – it's only they wanted the pendrive. For blackmail or what, noone will know after the deliverer's death. The only question, who was after him, and why didn't he take the data storage.' he sank in his thoughts for a moment, but suddenly he turned to John.
'Oh, give the pendrive to Mycroft, say sorry for the accidental exchange and give him my bestest.' he ordered him and sank back in his mind-palace. John frowned, but then sighed and did as he was bid. He detached the pendrive, took an other glance of his friend, and then turned to the stairs. He did not reach the front door when the bell rang. He opened the door and found himself face-to-face of the annoyed Mycroft.
'Sorry, Sherlock accidentally exchanged the pendrive with a personal one, but when he realized, he sent me after you immediately. I can tell you, he is off the case.' he handed the data storage to the older man.
'Accidentally. Of course.' Mycroft made his polite face, but the faked smile disappeared when he took the pendrive from John's hand. 'Thank you for your help, John.' he added and turned to sitting back in his black car. John waved after him and stepped back in the hall, closing the door behind him. He paced up the stairs and looked on his watch.
'Oh God, it's near ten, I have to go to the clinic. I'll go to the grocery after work, do you want anything?' he asked his friend, who was still deep in his thoughts. When he did not get any answer, he sighed and got his coat. 'See you later.' he shouted back when descending the stairs – however he knew Sherlock wouldn't grasp any word he told him in the next few hours.