Meet the family 2
anonymous
August 31 2010, 10:06:44 UTC
If the relationship went any further than that day (and it often didn’t, sometimes because they ran, sometimes because Sherlock took her to one side later and said ‘cheating/lying/trying to shag your best friend’) then they checked whether Sherlock was in before they called and they didn’t stand on ceremony with John anymore, they drank his tea and they laughed a little hysterically at his jokes because somewhere, behind their eyes, they were thinking ‘this is the man who puts up with him’. ‘This is the man who loves him’ and that was almost as terrifying as the man himself.
It was annoying and frustrating and she wished that Sherlock would just leave her to make her own bloody mistakes and not comment that ‘that top is more likely to attract older men who wish to cheat on their wives’ or ‘that shade of lipstick is one commonly worn by prostitutes’. He meant well, but it stifled her.
Then her best friend went out with one of the men he’d sent running and two weeks later turned up with a black eye.
Later that night she learnt a lot from both of her parents about how to ruin a man’s life in untraceable and dubiously legal ways. Sherlock even lent her his lock-picks.
But if she thought her parents were bad, they were nothing compared to her Uncle.
Uncle Greg was good enough, he was not really her Uncle for starters, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut - most of the time. He wasn’t above eyeballing her boyfriends like they were criminals, but he left the intimidation to Sherlock and John. They were better at it, after all, and he seemed to understand that sometimes she needed someone not quite as crazy as the rest of the family.
Uncle Mycroft was the problem.
She hadn’t thought he took an interest in her personal life. She knew, of course, that he monitored them. Sherlock liked to make cutting remarks about it from time to time, while John bore it with the same hard-working forbearance he used on anything ‘Holmesian’ that is, he didn’t bother with it until it caused problems.
By the time she was five, she was used to the fact that sometimes an anonymous black car would pull up for her by the school gates and she would slide in to be greeted by a woman with a bright smile and far too much interest in her Blackberry. There was always a gift inside - a necklace or a new toy - which Sherlock would glare at when he caught sight of it. Sometimes it would whisk her away to places she had never been before, magical tea parties where she would pretend she was Alice in Wonderland. She even got her Uncle Mycroft into a top hat on one memorable occasion. He would pour her tea or squash and offer her scones while asking after her grades and her friends.
Once she complained to him about a teacher being useless... three days later the teacher was fired and she decided, with a little help from John, that it might be better to keep to the nice things after that.
Sometimes it just deposited her back at home, where she would be greeted by Mrs Hudson and a cup of hot cocoa (with marshmallows, every time).
But she had never thought that Uncle Mycroft would be interested in her boyfriends.
It was annoying and frustrating and she wished that Sherlock would just leave her to make her own bloody mistakes and not comment that ‘that top is more likely to attract older men who wish to cheat on their wives’ or ‘that shade of lipstick is one commonly worn by prostitutes’. He meant well, but it stifled her.
Then her best friend went out with one of the men he’d sent running and two weeks later turned up with a black eye.
Later that night she learnt a lot from both of her parents about how to ruin a man’s life in untraceable and dubiously legal ways. Sherlock even lent her his lock-picks.
But if she thought her parents were bad, they were nothing compared to her Uncle.
Uncle Greg was good enough, he was not really her Uncle for starters, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut - most of the time. He wasn’t above eyeballing her boyfriends like they were criminals, but he left the intimidation to Sherlock and John. They were better at it, after all, and he seemed to understand that sometimes she needed someone not quite as crazy as the rest of the family.
Uncle Mycroft was the problem.
She hadn’t thought he took an interest in her personal life. She knew, of course, that he monitored them. Sherlock liked to make cutting remarks about it from time to time, while John bore it with the same hard-working forbearance he used on anything ‘Holmesian’ that is, he didn’t bother with it until it caused problems.
By the time she was five, she was used to the fact that sometimes an anonymous black car would pull up for her by the school gates and she would slide in to be greeted by a woman with a bright smile and far too much interest in her Blackberry. There was always a gift inside - a necklace or a new toy - which Sherlock would glare at when he caught sight of it. Sometimes it would whisk her away to places she had never been before, magical tea parties where she would pretend she was Alice in Wonderland. She even got her Uncle Mycroft into a top hat on one memorable occasion. He would pour her tea or squash and offer her scones while asking after her grades and her friends.
Once she complained to him about a teacher being useless... three days later the teacher was fired and she decided, with a little help from John, that it might be better to keep to the nice things after that.
Sometimes it just deposited her back at home, where she would be greeted by Mrs Hudson and a cup of hot cocoa (with marshmallows, every time).
But she had never thought that Uncle Mycroft would be interested in her boyfriends.
Until one relationship got serious.
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