Miss Holmes, the Professor Is Not a Villain

8 – Meeting Holmes Yang Was The Worst (8)

“Is it really that fun, Sherlock?”

“Yes, Brother Mycroft!”

Mycroft let out a small sigh at his younger sister’s uncomplicated response. It was a peculiar occurrence.

Currently, the Holmes siblings were at a secret base they could call their own, a vacant warehouse in the backyard. Mycroft, lying on a hammock, was observing his younger sister intensely focusing on her problem at her desk.

While it was touted as a secret base, it was in reality a study and playroom separately arranged by their father for the three siblings.

Of course, Sherlock, ever so intelligent, often showed an innocent side, completely oblivious of this fact.

“So, what riddle are you engrossed with this time?”

“This one is really hard. Do you want to check it out, Brother Mycroft? But don’t give away the answer, I want to solve it myself!”

Mycroft was a lazy boy, or so he’d been labeled, distinctly different from the passionate Sherlock. He was born with a lazy nature, befitting of his plump physique, unlike the thin Sherlock.

He appeared rather slow to the outside world. Of course, those who saw Mycroft genuinely might realize his extraordinary nature instinctively.

Naturally, Sherlock was among those. She willingly passed her book over to her brother, who she acknowledged as smarter than her.

For a moment, Mycroft glanced through the rather thick book Sherlock handed him. He was already aware of what Sherlock was reading.

In fact, the entire family knew. Sherlock would always boastfully show it off like a child.

The book was ordinary. It was a translation of Euclid’s geometry.

However, on the front of the book were the words ‘To Sherlock,’ written in an old-fashioned handwriting, and below it, Sherlock had written herself a warning signifying her ownership.

It was a gift from Moriarty, the new home tutor of Sherlock and Mycroft. It might not have been a suitable gift for a child, but seeing Sherlock so happily bouncing around was indeed a rare sight to behold.

Of course, Mycroft knew Sherlock was engrossed in various mathematical problems and proofs of Euclid. But, the thing that Sherlock pointed out with her tiny, slender finger was a note scribbled on the bottom of a page, like a piece of graffiti.

This was the riddle that Moriarty had given Sherlock as her homework. A puzzle regarding a fictional crime which Sherlock loved.

Mycroft reluctantly skimmed through it. Living up to the reputation of a brain Sherlock acknowledged, he soon figured out the answer.

He, however, kept it to himself. He nodded and returned the book to her. Of course, Sherlock seemed to realize from his expression that he’d figured out the answer.

With a competitive spark in her eyes, she turned her attention back to her book and tried to focus again.

But unusually, Mycroft opened his mouth again.

“Honestly, Sherlock, I didn’t expect the day would come when you would be so engrossed in studying.”

“… Because it’s necessary. Besides, I realized it’s fun, Brother. More than anything, Mr. Moriarty is… really amazing, truly impressive.”

“…Well, he sure is competent.”

Mycroft replied lightly. His response was somewhat opposite to Sherlock’s. At this, Sherlock glanced at Mycroft with slight discontent, but his cheerful demeanor caused that feeling to quickly dissipate.

Soon it would be two months since Mr. James Moriarty had come to the Holmes residence. Though it was a short time, he had already adjusted to the family, as if he’d been with them for a long time, and above all, was receiving fervent affection from the youngest sister.

Mycroft was well aware that if he pointed this out to Sherlock, she’d deny it in embarrassment, as if a boy was caught having a crush.

Mycroft was intelligent. That was a fact. Even Moriarty admitted it, and this was evident from Sherlock’s candid interaction with him.

Sherlock had always been a unique child, but she could not bear boredom and foolishness, and she would only ever show her childlike side in front of the minds she considered equal.

In particular, Sherlock had long recognized and accepted that Mycroft was superior to her. The only difference between the siblings was that Brother Mycroft was a lazy man.

This aspect often frustrated Sherlock. If her brother were more diligent, they could have spent time together playing detective or running around.

However, there was no longer a need for that. Strand Moriarty, the most perfect man in the world, was by Sherlock’s side.

Seeing this, Mycroft did feel a slight sense of loss. However, as he was essentially lazy by nature and loved his sister as a family member, he did not express any complaints.

Mycroft, too, was a special boy, and hence, he cautiously observed Sherlock and opened his mouth.

“By the way, are you planning to become a mathematician, Sherlock?”

“What are you talking about, Brother? I don’t particularly like mathematics.”

“Fine, if you say so, it must be true.”

Upon Mycroft’s quick response to her question, she couldn’t press any further. There wasn’t a need to, as her sister had sounded quite assured in her response.

Most of all, Sherlock was speaking as though boasting.

“Of course, it’s true that math helps my intuition and logic, I’ve come to realize that thanks to you, Ma’am. And, it does have its own distinct charm. You showed me the puzzle written by Professor Dodgson, one of the math professors at your university. It was definitively fun.”

“… At least it’s good to see you’ve grown to enjoy studying.”

“Right, that’s why I also plan on going to Oxford.”

“You?”

Upon hearing Sherlock’s unexpected declaration, Mycroft couldn’t refrain from questioning. It wasn’t that she had intended to brush off Sherlock’s words.

Rather, she pointed out a practical issue.

Mycroft herself was studying with the aim to attend either Oxford or Cambridge. She had passed through several tutors, and was meticulously preparing, confident that she would be able to attend wherever she pleased when the time comes.

The reason she did not attend boarding school like the other students was partly due to her being as unusual as Sherlock and also their father being lenient in certain unexpected regards.

Thanks to their father’s consideration, Mycroft had been replacing boring school with home education from tutors.

But would such leniency extend to Sherlock?

Mycroft didn’t want to discriminate against her outstanding younger sister but to her knowledge, Oxford didn’t accept female students. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t a university in England who did.

Also, would their parents permit it?

Even though they had liberal parts, both mother and father were essentially conservatives. It seemed natural as they were a family of ministers.

The fact that their parents have been letting Sherlock have her way had nothing to do with future guarantees. After all, the child was at most 8 years old.

Being born as the child of a British rural landlord practically guaranteed a predetermined future.

The first-born son inherits the land and profession like a pastor. The Holmes family’s eldest son, Sherringford, was undergoing that process.

From the second son onward, they must receive proper education and establish independence in the city. This was applicable for Mycroft who was planning to go to the city and get a job as a civil servant after graduating from the university.

For daughters also, the options were limited. If the circumstances were favorable, they could receive higher education. But, the most vital thing was to settle down properly by marrying in timely manner.

Those who missed the appropriate marriage age usually ended up becoming tutors or staying unmarried in the family house, neither of which weren’t suitable for this extraordinary younger sister.

Sensing her brother’s gaze, Sherlock gave a partial answer to his question.

“Of course, even if I graduate, I can’t officially receive a graduation diploma, but my tutor told me that women who demonstrate excellent grades can join. She said it won’t be a problem to get a scholarship from Her Majesty, the Queen.”

“……Well, that’s fortunate.”

Mycroft didn’t dwell more on the topic of her young sister’s future. The girl was too young and he certainly didn’t want to impede her future plans.

More than anything, Mycroft intuitively believed that Sherlock would surely accomplish her desires.

Among their family, Sherlock was the one whose fairy ancestry was most dominantly apparent. There were few who would sometimes marvel at the burning red glare in her grey eyes.

Though inheriting the fairy bloodline meant she was destined to be a terrifying beauty and that her youth would last long.

And beyond that, Sherlock possessed an outstanding intellect; she would surely tread a unique path.

Of course, most of these thoughts were applicable to Mycroft as well but it is often difficult for one to see themselves objectively.

Mycroft momentarily changed the topic. In fact, this was closer to the main point. As an older brother surpassing Sherlock in intelligence, he had to carefully voice out his baseless intuition.

“That being said…I would advise not getting too close with your tutor.”

“What do you mean?”

As a lazy boy, Mycroft was rather dull in emotional aspects. He was playful, and generally not very prone to fear. In other words, just as courageous as Sherlock.

However, for the first time, the twinkling red glare of Sherlock, who was looking at him curiously against his cautious remarks, evoked fear.