Camera and Mirror
This is set shortly after 'We Begin'.
"I think they're over here." Wilhelm said not to anyone in particular as he made his way further into the attic. Sherlock stood behind and looked around; the attic was the old servant's quarters that the Lehrers converted for storage. It was filled with trunks and boxes along with other bric-a-bracs. One such trunk was opened and what was inside surprised Sherlock.
"Isn't that – "
"Amelia got bored when we were in London last." Wilhelm called out politely cutting him off from behind the organized clutter.
"It's been missing for fifteen years." Sherlock stated as he followed Wilhelm's voice.
"Really? Shows you how long it's been since we were both in London. Ah, here is is!" Wilhelm opened the desired trunk and smiled. "Could you help me Will?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the sound of the name the Lehrer had suddenly started calling him. He understood why Amelia and Wilhelm were doing it, so that he could better respond to his new identity, but that did not mean he had to like it. He wanted his old life back, with John, in Baker Street; He wanted to be Sherlock. Will Sigerson was nothing like him, which was the point but it felt like a new skin clinging to him too tightly for comfort when he tried step into the character.
The reason both men where up in the attic was to get Wilhelm's photography equipment. Apparently one of Wilhelm's hobbies, besides being a part-time Robin Hood criminal, was photography. Once they got the equipment they headed downstairs. Both Amelia and Enola were currently out making arrangements for their departure from Britain leaving Sherlock under Wilhelm's every watchful eye.
"Now, do you understand the rule of three in photography?" Wilhelm asked once they reached the sitting room. He sat down on the couch as he took out a camera and adjusted the lens.
"You went to see Mycroft." Sherlock finally state what was bothering him. He may not have seen the inside of the Richard Brook file but he recognized the outside of it, especially the emblem embalmed on the front. But while he knew that Wilhelm had seen Mycroft, he did not know the reason, and not knowing irked him; made him feel less than clever, like everyone else. It was not a position Sherlock was used to.
"Yes." Wilhelm put down the camera and looked at Sherlock. After having meet all three Holmes siblings there was no doubt in Wilhelm's mind that they were related. Of course all three of them would deny any similarities, at least Mycroft and Sherlock would; Enola had long since accepted that she was as manipulative as her brothers and she hated it. There were many things that Wilhelm wanted to say to Sherlock in regards to his treatment and view of Enola, but now was not the time for him to be direct. Lessons had to be taught, even if they were painful.
"Why?" Sherlock hated to ask such a mundane question; he was used to being able to observe and make a deduction. He hated it even more so because the man before him was difficult to read. His wife was the same. Outside the basics there was little he could figure out; he didn't like to admit it even to himself but it put him on edge. The sting of Moriarty's win, his losing the game, was still fresh in his mind; now his deductions seemed to be failing him, he was having to ask questions and get answers like a normal boring person.
"To chat about Elle." Wilhelm crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. "I thought it best to let your brother know that she is capable of more than just stealing paintings and forging passports."
"You were seeking his approval." Sherlock moved to stand in front of him, part of him did not like to admit he felt somewhat intimidated by Wilhelm; he wanted to bring them back onto even footing and maybe even surpass him.
"No," Wilhelm shrugged. "Mycroft's approval in regards to Elle would be nice to have but it's not necessary. If your brother had his way Elle would be back under his care. Did you know she can sing?"
"Interesting." Sherlock smirked. This was the first fun he had in while.
"Interesting choice of words."
"Do tell." Wilhelm did not sound impress, curious, nervous, concern or anything else people usually sounded when Sherlock was about to deduce everything about them. It was more like the older gentleman was giving Sherlock permission to deduce the meaning behind the choice of words. It annoyed Sherlock but he proceeded.
"'Under his care' is what you said. Most people would have said 'back home." Sherlock started. His brain suddenly alight, his eyes sparked; it felt good to deduce again. "You are either commenting on Mycroft's controlling nature or on something you discovered."
"Which is it Will?" Wilhelm kept his face neutral but his mind was also racing. It was interesting to watch Sherlock mind work, and easy to see how Sherlock gained his superior attitude; it's hard to say humble when your mind is five steps ahead of the rest of the world. Fortunately, Wilhelm was also several steps ahead of the world and Sherlock would never realize that in his current state of mind, something Wilhelm could use to his advantage. For now Wilhelm would let Sherlock have his fun deducing what he could from him.
"On the information you discovered." Sherlock decided. "You're the type of person who would be much more blunt or much more creative with their comments on a person's faults."
"Am I really?" Wilhelm allowed a small smirk to appear on his face.
"Stop interrupting!" Sherlock ordered. Wilhelm's smirk morphed into a full sly smile which only served to irritate Sherlock even further. Sherlock began pacing simply so he would not have to look at the man. "You found something out that deals with Mycroft in relation to Enola, not just that they are brother and sister. I would say . . . "
He stopped talking and pacing as a memory suddenly crept into Sherlock's conscious mind of it's own accord.
"I will tell you when you are older, not before." Mycroft had said to him shortly after their father had died and after his meeting with Mummy.
"I think a light-bulb just turned on in there." Wilhelm remarked when he saw the realization on Sherlock's face.
"Mycroft had Mummy sign something when Father died." Sherlock stated slowly as the realization sunk in. "Something that would place Enola in 'his care'. Why would Mummy do that? Why would Mycroft even bother?" Sherlock ran a hand through his hair frustrated; thoughts whizzed through his mind as he attempted to deconstruct the memory for more information.
What had happened to Mummy at the time that she was incapable of caring for her own children;had the death of his father affected her more than he thought; had Enola done something he was not aware of? She had always been such a strange child.
And what of Mycroft, choosing to pick up the slack? The Mycroft who would have done that, the boy who had been his big brother, was long gone.
"Now's he's stumped." Wilhelm remarked as he picked up the camera and removed the lens.
"What do you know?" Sherlock demanded. Something did not add up and Sherlock needed to know now.
"That you need to learn photography for you to play your part right." Wilhelm remarked casually as he placed a new lens on the camera before placing it in Sherlock's hands. Well, it was more of a shove than placing to emphasis Wilhelm's point. "Also, next time you see your brother try having an actual conversation instead of a witty fight.
"Now the rule of three . . . " Wilhelm continued on with the photography lesson and Sherlock, surprisingly stayed quiet and listened. He knew that Wilhelm would go no further on the topic of Mycroft for that day.
"That man is infuriating!" Sherlock declared as he busted into Enola's room.
Enola, for her part, was thankful that she had put down her paintbrush and palate; her brother's unannounced visit startled her a bit and she did not want to deal with an upset Sherlock and a smear on her painting at the same time.
"Thanks for knocking." She muttered as she used a rag to wipe the remnants of paint off her hands before turning to Sherlock who had taken to pacing.
"How can you stand him?" He demanded of Enola. He did not even look at Enola; he kept his eyes on the floor as he paced. "He is absolutely full of himself, acting omnipotent and never fully explaining. How do you work with him?"
"How does John work with you?" Enola asked tossing the rag to the side. Sherlock stopped pacing and looked over questionably at his sister who waited for his answer.
"Do you always answer questions with another question?" He asked. He glared at her; he was not in the mood to deal with silliness. Despite his frustration he did notice Enola slightly shrinking away from him under his stare. He made note to try to tone down his frustration, besides it was not aimed at her. He recalled the pervious night when Enola's fear flashed over her face, but he quickly dismissed the point, he had other more important things on his mind.
"Hello Pot, I'm Kettle." Enola shot back keeping eye contact with her brother; she was determined that she would not be overcome with fear as she almost had been the other night. "What I mean is that your description of Wilhelm is the same that many people could use for you."
"I'm not like that!" He snorted.
"Yes, you are." She said slightly exasperated. "Look Wilhelm is a teacher and an eccentric one at that. He told me once that he is always teaching and when it's necessary he will use words."
"Stop interrupting! He's mirroring your behavior to prove a point."
"Again, interrupting!" She threw up her hands in frustration but quickly lowered them as if she was afraid of provoking him. She did not want a repeat of the night before she ran away; to get through to him, it would have to be through cool logic, not heated emotion. She sighed before continuing gently. "If you get this annoyed with Wilhelm parroting your behavior, imagine how all those normal dull minds feel about you."
"So your professor thinks he can teach me." Sherlock said sarcastically almost laughing.
"And apparently it's going to be a long time for you to learn anything." Enola sighed again and began to put away her paints; she was no longer in the mood to be artistic. "Sherlock there is a reason why people turned against you and it's not just because the frailty of fame. It's necessary for you to learn a little courtesy and humility so you can go back to your life and to survive."
Sherlock snorted at his sister, clearly she did not understand. While she had proven herself capable and more intelligent than he had given her credit for in the past, she still did not meet him on the same level. Plainly, it was impossible for her to understand the needs of his brain and the stupidity of the world when she ran around playing Little John to the Lehrer's Robin Hood and 'helping people'.
Enola turned, cleaning her brush, pushing away the hurt as she read his thoughts on his face. His disappointment in her was evident in his expression. Growing up she and her brothers could read each other faces rather easily; Mycroft and Sherlock had to since she refused to speak and Enola just always could tell what was on her brother's minds.
"Had you been any bit kinder to people, the police especially, they wouldn't have turned on you as they did." Enola continued on not letting the hurt come through her voice. Her voice, instead of becoming weaker grew in quiet intensity with each passing word. "Moriarty's plan would never have worked because there would have been more than John and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade to protect you. Yes, you are extremely clever Sherlock, maybe more than me as you so think, but as we've seen just being clever can get you killed."
Sherlock, not really having anything to say, continued to glare at Enola who kept her eyes down on her art supplies. She could not believe she just said that to Sherlock and in the manner which she did. After a few moments had passed Sherlock turned on his heal and stormed out. When the door slammed behind him Enola let or the breath she did realize she was holding and the tears she did not know she was keeping back. Failing to steady herself, Enola fell to her knees and she finally allowed herself to shake as old fears came creeping back into her mind.
Enola never liked Sherlock angry. Right now her brother was just being upset and she understood the reason, but it was too close to angry Sherlock for her comfort.
For the rest of the evening Sherlock practiced with the camera just to have something to do as he mulled over what Wilhelm and Enola had said to him; Enola read Wilhelm's philosophy books to get her mind off of the confrontation.
"Is it just me or does the atmosphere in the house feel extremely tense?" Amelia asked as she sat next to Wilhelm on the couch in their sitting room.
"Yes," He replied looking up from his book. "After we drop off Will in France it won't be as tense."
"How?" Amelia turned to face her husband. "Once their alone he's just going to demean Elle pushing her back to what she was when we first met her."
"Oh Elle is not going with him just yet." Wilhelm explained. "He has to learn how to work with other people without getting on their bad side. That's not going to happen with us or Elle hanging around him. No, humility is a painful lesson to learn and a lesson that has to be learned alone."
"He might survive three months," Amelia stated.
"That's when he is going to call us for help." Wilhelm looked back to his book. "And that's when Elle's going to join him. They're both be ready at that point."
"You're sure about that?"
"Have you ever known me to be wrong?"
Amelia just sighed as she opened her own book to read. Wilhelm was rarely ever wrong.