Categories > Books > Sherlock Holmes > Uncle Sherlock
Uncle Sherlock
4 reviewsTake one mischievous three year old and Sherlock Holmes, what do you get? Utter chaos of course! Please read and review!
2Original
This idea came to me the other day when I was thinking about my little sister. I thought, wouldn't be interesting if Sherlock Holmes was landed with a three year old? I had to write it down!
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or anything that Conan Doyle came up with. I only own this plot, Mr Stockton and Eleanor.
Thoughts and letters.
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Sherlock Holmes had his hands in his pockets and was watching the people and traffic go along Baker Street to destinations unknown. A boy in uniform caught his eye. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old and he was looking at the numbers on the houses. His eye fell on 221B, he looked at the letter in his hand and back up again before going to the door.
Two knocks echoed through out the house and Holmes heard Mrs Hudson go to answer it. He turned from the window and went to the Persian slipper to fill up his pipe, he lit it and sat down to wait. Sure enough, Mrs Hudson opened the door.
"It's a letter for you , Mr Holmes." She handed Holmes the letter and left, closing the door behind her.
"Thank you Mrs Hudson." Holmes examined it before opening it.
Dear Mr Holmes,
I am writing to inform you that your brother, Ignatius Holmes, has died in a boating accident in the Lake District. He will be sorely missed.
As you are the main beneficiary in Mr Holmes' will, I would like to meet with you at two o clock this afternoon. There are important matters that must be dealt with as soon as possible.
I am most sorry for your loss.
Yours Sincerely,
Mr Stockton, Stockton & Son Solicitors.
Holmes froze. Ignatius, dead? It couldn't be, he'd only got a letter from him two days ago saying that he would stop by Baker Street at the weekend. Holmes sat down in shock. He had not seen his brother in seven years, the last time he had seen him had been when he had said goodbye to him in Southampton when Ignatius had set sail for India. Now he was dead and he would never see him again.
Holmes swallowed back his tears. It was hard to think that Ignatius was dead, he was always so...alive. Wanting to do everything and see the world. He always had a smile on his face and a funny story to tell. Holmes sniffed and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, it read one o clock. The appointment was at two. Holmes stood up and put on his coat and deerstalker. He told Mrs Hudson that he would be back later and stepped out onto the busy street.
The offices of 'Stockton & Son' were located on the second floor of a three floored, brown brick building above a shop. It was a very non-descript building and the door was in need of a fresh coat of paint. Holmes wasn't surprised to see where the offices were. Ignatius wasn't a big spender and he liked to know the people who were guarding his secrets. No doubt Mr Stockton was an old friend of Ignatius', but Holmes could not recall his brother mentioning the name.
He opened the door and entered a dim corridor with some stairs in front of him. He climbed them and saw a door to his right with the words 'Stockton & Son' painted in white on it. Holmes took a deep breath and knocked.
The muffled talk on the other side of the door stopped and there was a loud crash before the door was opened to reveal a grey haired man in his sixties. He smiled in relief at the sight of Holmes. "Mr Holmes?" the detective nodded. "Oh good. I am Mr Stockton, do come in."
Holmes entered and looked around the room. He frowned when he spotted someone sat in a chair in front of the desk. A girl, who looked no more than three years old, with blonde hair was sat looking at some pictures in a book. Holmes cast a curious look at Mr Stockton, who smiled nervously and picked up some papers.
"Do take a seat Mr Holmes, I will not keep you long." Holmes sat down in front of the desk, looking curiously at the little girl who was too immersed in the pictures to notice that someone had entered the office. Mr Stockton cleared his throat and Holmes looked up. "As I said in my letter, you are the main beneficiary in Mr Ignatius Holmes' will. He left you a sum of money, which we can deposit in your bank account, a few books and he has named you Eleanor's guardian."
Holmes frowned and looked at the little girl, then back at Mr Stockton again. "You don't mean..." Mr Stockton nodded. Holmes sat back in shock.
"Mr Ignatius Holmes wrote a letter addressed to you in case something like this were to happen." He handed Holmes said letter. "He was most adamant that her guardianship should be handed over to you if something were to happen to him." Holmes wordlessly took the letter.
Dear Sherlock,
If you are reading this then the worse has come to pass and I have died without seeing you again and for that I am deeply sorry. I had wished to see you again and introduce you and Elie properly. It seems rather cruel for the both of you to meet in such distressing circumstances.
I have chosen you as her guardian because my wife had no relations and I could not see Mycroft looking after such a small child. You were the ideal choice as you are young enough to keep up with her and let's face it, Mycroft would never know what to do with her! He was always awkward around you when you were younger.
I trust you to keep Elie safe. I've told her lots of stories about Uncle Sherlock, the great detective, and she was very excited about meeting you.
Give her my love and tell her that Daddy told her to be good. Good luck 'Lock!
Your loving brother,
Ignatius.
P.S. Her name is Eleanor Jezebel Holmes, her birthday is 16th November and she is three years old.
Holmes closed his eye and took a few deep breaths to compose himself before meeting the curious gaze of his niece. "Um...hello Eleanor."
Eleanor smiled. "You are Uncle Shlock! Daddy told me all about you." She frowned. "You have a funny hat."
Mr Stockton chuckled at the bemused expression on the famous detective's face. "You will have to sign a few things Mr Holmes and then I shall let you go so that you can show Miss Eleanor her new home." He winked at Eleanor and she giggled.
As Mr Stockton looked through the organised chaos on his desk, Eleanor had stood up on her chair and was looking in interest at her Uncle Shlock's funny hat. He sighed and took it off, handing it to the curious three year old who frowned at its weird shape. She put it on her head and laughed when it fell over her eyes. "I can't seeeeeeeeee, Mr Stocky!"
Mr Stockton laughed and handed Holmes the papers and a pen. "It is a bit big for you Miss Eleanor. Maybe if you ask your Uncle nicely, he could get you one."
Eleanor looked thrilled at the idea and promptly asked her Uncle, with a puppy dog look thrown in for good measure. Holmes, unable to say no at the adorable expression on his niece's face, replied. "We'll see, but you take care of mine for now." Eleanor nodded seriously and promised to take really good care of the funny hat.
After what seemed like and eternity later to Eleanor, but was in fat only half an hour, Uncle Shlock and Mr Stocky had finished scribbling on the pieces of paper and had stood up to shake hands.
"Good luck to you Mr Holmes, it has been a pleasure to meet you." Holmes smiled and nodded his thanks. "You behave yourself Miss Eleanor and take care of the hat."
Eleanor put the hat on her head and nodded. "I will take good care of it Mr Stocky."
Mr Stockton showed them to the door. He closed it when they had gone and returned to his desk, shaking his head. He hoped that Ignatius had made the right decision in giving Eleanor to his younger brother. Then again, Ignatius did have a way of knowing when things would turn out for the best. Mr Stockton only hoped that he wasn't wrong this time.
Holmes took Eleanor's small hand in his own as they stepped out onto the busy street and scanned the road for a cab. He felt a tug on his trouser leg and looked down. "Could I have a piggy back Uncle Shlock?" asked Eleanor with a fearful looked at the busy street. Her Daddy always carried her in a crowd.
Holmes saw her fearful look and crouched down, allowing the girl to climb onto his back and started looking for a cab, but decided against it. They weren't that far from Baker Street.
One hour and several questions from Eleanor later, a tired Sherlock Holmes greeted a shocked Mrs Hudson and set his niece at the foot of the stairs of number 221B Baker Street.
"What on earth? Mr Holmes, would you care to explain?" asked an astonished Mrs Hudson.
Holmes sighed and recounted the extraordinary events that had occurred that morning. By the end of the tale, Mrs Hudson was tearful. She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. "I'd be happy to help in any way, Mr Holmes." She hugged him, which Holmes awkwardly returned. Mrs Hudson broke the hug and hurried off to the kitchen to 'make something to eat for you poor souls.'
Holmes sighed and mentally grumbled about women when he noticed something. It was quiet, too quiet. His eyes widened and he looked wildly around the hallway. Where was Eleanor? He heard something fall over upstairs, which was followed by an 'oops'. Holmes sighed and went upstairs to investigate. I bet Ignatius is laughing at me right now up in whatever afterlife there is.
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Laughs evily poor Holmes, stuck with a three year old. What will he do? Well I hope you enjoyed this chapter, another will follow soon. Please review! Oh, and a cookie to anyone who can tell me where I got Ignatius' name from.
Nooka
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or anything that Conan Doyle came up with. I only own this plot, Mr Stockton and Eleanor.
Thoughts and letters.
_________________________________
Sherlock Holmes had his hands in his pockets and was watching the people and traffic go along Baker Street to destinations unknown. A boy in uniform caught his eye. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old and he was looking at the numbers on the houses. His eye fell on 221B, he looked at the letter in his hand and back up again before going to the door.
Two knocks echoed through out the house and Holmes heard Mrs Hudson go to answer it. He turned from the window and went to the Persian slipper to fill up his pipe, he lit it and sat down to wait. Sure enough, Mrs Hudson opened the door.
"It's a letter for you , Mr Holmes." She handed Holmes the letter and left, closing the door behind her.
"Thank you Mrs Hudson." Holmes examined it before opening it.
Dear Mr Holmes,
I am writing to inform you that your brother, Ignatius Holmes, has died in a boating accident in the Lake District. He will be sorely missed.
As you are the main beneficiary in Mr Holmes' will, I would like to meet with you at two o clock this afternoon. There are important matters that must be dealt with as soon as possible.
I am most sorry for your loss.
Yours Sincerely,
Mr Stockton, Stockton & Son Solicitors.
Holmes froze. Ignatius, dead? It couldn't be, he'd only got a letter from him two days ago saying that he would stop by Baker Street at the weekend. Holmes sat down in shock. He had not seen his brother in seven years, the last time he had seen him had been when he had said goodbye to him in Southampton when Ignatius had set sail for India. Now he was dead and he would never see him again.
Holmes swallowed back his tears. It was hard to think that Ignatius was dead, he was always so...alive. Wanting to do everything and see the world. He always had a smile on his face and a funny story to tell. Holmes sniffed and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, it read one o clock. The appointment was at two. Holmes stood up and put on his coat and deerstalker. He told Mrs Hudson that he would be back later and stepped out onto the busy street.
The offices of 'Stockton & Son' were located on the second floor of a three floored, brown brick building above a shop. It was a very non-descript building and the door was in need of a fresh coat of paint. Holmes wasn't surprised to see where the offices were. Ignatius wasn't a big spender and he liked to know the people who were guarding his secrets. No doubt Mr Stockton was an old friend of Ignatius', but Holmes could not recall his brother mentioning the name.
He opened the door and entered a dim corridor with some stairs in front of him. He climbed them and saw a door to his right with the words 'Stockton & Son' painted in white on it. Holmes took a deep breath and knocked.
The muffled talk on the other side of the door stopped and there was a loud crash before the door was opened to reveal a grey haired man in his sixties. He smiled in relief at the sight of Holmes. "Mr Holmes?" the detective nodded. "Oh good. I am Mr Stockton, do come in."
Holmes entered and looked around the room. He frowned when he spotted someone sat in a chair in front of the desk. A girl, who looked no more than three years old, with blonde hair was sat looking at some pictures in a book. Holmes cast a curious look at Mr Stockton, who smiled nervously and picked up some papers.
"Do take a seat Mr Holmes, I will not keep you long." Holmes sat down in front of the desk, looking curiously at the little girl who was too immersed in the pictures to notice that someone had entered the office. Mr Stockton cleared his throat and Holmes looked up. "As I said in my letter, you are the main beneficiary in Mr Ignatius Holmes' will. He left you a sum of money, which we can deposit in your bank account, a few books and he has named you Eleanor's guardian."
Holmes frowned and looked at the little girl, then back at Mr Stockton again. "You don't mean..." Mr Stockton nodded. Holmes sat back in shock.
"Mr Ignatius Holmes wrote a letter addressed to you in case something like this were to happen." He handed Holmes said letter. "He was most adamant that her guardianship should be handed over to you if something were to happen to him." Holmes wordlessly took the letter.
Dear Sherlock,
If you are reading this then the worse has come to pass and I have died without seeing you again and for that I am deeply sorry. I had wished to see you again and introduce you and Elie properly. It seems rather cruel for the both of you to meet in such distressing circumstances.
I have chosen you as her guardian because my wife had no relations and I could not see Mycroft looking after such a small child. You were the ideal choice as you are young enough to keep up with her and let's face it, Mycroft would never know what to do with her! He was always awkward around you when you were younger.
I trust you to keep Elie safe. I've told her lots of stories about Uncle Sherlock, the great detective, and she was very excited about meeting you.
Give her my love and tell her that Daddy told her to be good. Good luck 'Lock!
Your loving brother,
Ignatius.
P.S. Her name is Eleanor Jezebel Holmes, her birthday is 16th November and she is three years old.
Holmes closed his eye and took a few deep breaths to compose himself before meeting the curious gaze of his niece. "Um...hello Eleanor."
Eleanor smiled. "You are Uncle Shlock! Daddy told me all about you." She frowned. "You have a funny hat."
Mr Stockton chuckled at the bemused expression on the famous detective's face. "You will have to sign a few things Mr Holmes and then I shall let you go so that you can show Miss Eleanor her new home." He winked at Eleanor and she giggled.
As Mr Stockton looked through the organised chaos on his desk, Eleanor had stood up on her chair and was looking in interest at her Uncle Shlock's funny hat. He sighed and took it off, handing it to the curious three year old who frowned at its weird shape. She put it on her head and laughed when it fell over her eyes. "I can't seeeeeeeeee, Mr Stocky!"
Mr Stockton laughed and handed Holmes the papers and a pen. "It is a bit big for you Miss Eleanor. Maybe if you ask your Uncle nicely, he could get you one."
Eleanor looked thrilled at the idea and promptly asked her Uncle, with a puppy dog look thrown in for good measure. Holmes, unable to say no at the adorable expression on his niece's face, replied. "We'll see, but you take care of mine for now." Eleanor nodded seriously and promised to take really good care of the funny hat.
After what seemed like and eternity later to Eleanor, but was in fat only half an hour, Uncle Shlock and Mr Stocky had finished scribbling on the pieces of paper and had stood up to shake hands.
"Good luck to you Mr Holmes, it has been a pleasure to meet you." Holmes smiled and nodded his thanks. "You behave yourself Miss Eleanor and take care of the hat."
Eleanor put the hat on her head and nodded. "I will take good care of it Mr Stocky."
Mr Stockton showed them to the door. He closed it when they had gone and returned to his desk, shaking his head. He hoped that Ignatius had made the right decision in giving Eleanor to his younger brother. Then again, Ignatius did have a way of knowing when things would turn out for the best. Mr Stockton only hoped that he wasn't wrong this time.
Holmes took Eleanor's small hand in his own as they stepped out onto the busy street and scanned the road for a cab. He felt a tug on his trouser leg and looked down. "Could I have a piggy back Uncle Shlock?" asked Eleanor with a fearful looked at the busy street. Her Daddy always carried her in a crowd.
Holmes saw her fearful look and crouched down, allowing the girl to climb onto his back and started looking for a cab, but decided against it. They weren't that far from Baker Street.
One hour and several questions from Eleanor later, a tired Sherlock Holmes greeted a shocked Mrs Hudson and set his niece at the foot of the stairs of number 221B Baker Street.
"What on earth? Mr Holmes, would you care to explain?" asked an astonished Mrs Hudson.
Holmes sighed and recounted the extraordinary events that had occurred that morning. By the end of the tale, Mrs Hudson was tearful. She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. "I'd be happy to help in any way, Mr Holmes." She hugged him, which Holmes awkwardly returned. Mrs Hudson broke the hug and hurried off to the kitchen to 'make something to eat for you poor souls.'
Holmes sighed and mentally grumbled about women when he noticed something. It was quiet, too quiet. His eyes widened and he looked wildly around the hallway. Where was Eleanor? He heard something fall over upstairs, which was followed by an 'oops'. Holmes sighed and went upstairs to investigate. I bet Ignatius is laughing at me right now up in whatever afterlife there is.
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Laughs evily poor Holmes, stuck with a three year old. What will he do? Well I hope you enjoyed this chapter, another will follow soon. Please review! Oh, and a cookie to anyone who can tell me where I got Ignatius' name from.
Nooka
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