Number 128 King's Road
This picturesque house was gently caressed by the warm winter sun.
Snow on the path before the door sparkled in the soft light, as if sprinkled with crushed diamonds.
Despite the closed front door, the warm atmosphere from inside couldn't be contained.
It was the unique smell of home, mixed with the faint burnt scent of wood burning in the fireplace and coziness.
With less than a week left of the winter holiday, two visitors arrived here.
Harry Potter, and his godfather, Sirius Black.
Undoubtedly, despite giving no advance notice, the father-son pair's arrival was warmly welcomed by the Holmes couple.
"You should have told Sherlock in advance so I could prepare."
Mrs. Holmes ushered them inside. Her smile was warm with a slightly reproachful tone.
Harry's cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold wind. Hearing Mrs. Holmes's words, his green eyes sparkled with anticipation and excitement.
The tall Sirius's black hair flew freely in the wind, his deep eyes showing a hint of nervousness.
After all, this was his first time visiting someone's home in his capacity as Harry's guardian.
Although he'd met the Holmes couple more than once, being host and being guest were two completely different concepts.
So, upon hearing Mrs. Holmes say this, Sirius immediately bowed slightly and said politely. "There's absolutely no need for that, madam."
After learning how well Sherlock's parents treated Harry, his attitude toward the Holmes couple became increasingly respectful.
"We're already causing you trouble by coming, how could we burden you with preparations as well?"
"Nonsense!"
Mrs. Holmes's eyes curved as she looked dotingly at Harry, "I've said before, this is Harry's home, he's our second son!"
Mr. Holmes stood behind his wife. Though he didn't speak, he smiled and nodded at Harry, the fondness in his eyes was obvious.
Hearing Mrs. Holmes say this, both Sirius and Harry couldn't help but simultaneously recall the past Sirius had told Harry about.
When Sirius was sixteen, he resolutely ran away from home to his good friend James's house.
At that time, Harry's grandparents had similarly treated Sirius as the Potter family's second son.
Time seemed to overlap in this moment, who could have imagined that another pair of parents would now say the same thing?
A warm current surged through Harry's heart. However, his feelings weren't particularly deep yet.
But for Sirius, this scene was like yesterday repeating itself, and those sealed memories instantly flooded back like a tide.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly in a faint smile, though a trace of unnoticeable loneliness flashed in his eyes.
Though this scene was warm, the departed could never return...
However, before Harry and Sirius could respond to Mrs. Holmes's words, a steady voice broke the brief silence.
"Mother, I think Sherlock might not agree with that statement."
Everyone looked toward the voice and saw Mycroft Holmes walking steadily from inside.
Even at home, he wore a well-tailored suit, his shoes polished to a shine, each step striking a steady rhythm.
Under Harry's slightly surprised gaze, Mycroft smiled and greeted him.
"It's been a while, Harry."
Harry quickly returned the smile.
He sighed secretly, this wasn't just pleasantry, he really hadn't seen this gentleman in a long time.
Reuniting after so long, he noticed Mycroft's physique was much more robust than their last meeting.
Perhaps due to working for the Queen's government, his demeanor had become even more composed.
After greeting Harry, Mycroft turned to Sirius.
He extended his right hand slightly, palm down, in an elegant gesture.
"Mr. Black, pleased to meet you—please take care of us.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am the first son of this family, Mycroft Holmes."
Sirius: "..."
Harry: "..."
There was really no need to emphasize "first son" like that.
However, after recovering, Sirius still maintained his smile and shook Mycroft's hand, "Hello, Mr. Holmes."
Last time in the Hogwarts headmaster's office, he'd learned from Harry about Sherlock's brother Mycroft, and knew this person had played a key role in changing the Ministry's opinion.
Since he fortunately encountered him today, Sirius naturally wouldn't miss this opportunity and discreetly observed him.
In Sirius's eyes, Mycroft was nearly as tall as himself, with an upright bearing and extraordinary temperament. His appearance was quite similar to Sherlock's and Mr. Holmes's, with resolute facial features giving an imposing presence.
Most eye-catching were his broad forehead and sharp gaze, nearly identical to Sherlock's, as if able to see through people's hearts.
All this seemed to further confirm the man was no ordinary person.
"Just call me Mycroft."
Mycroft withdrew his hand, his smile was warmer, "After all, there are three Mr. Holmeses in this house, aren't there?"
He tilted his head slightly, a glint of cunning flashing in his eyes.
In fact, while Sirius was observing Mycroft, the latter had already completed his observation at a speed imperceptible to others, rapidly forming a preliminary assessment.
This judgment was precise and sharp, far exceeding Sirius's assessment of him.
[Shrewd, rebellious, disdainful of rules, loyal, passionate, impulsive and reckless]
[Struggling in loneliness, seeking self-redemption, with Harry beside him as his spiritual anchor of responsibility]
[Physically exhausted but spiritually guilt-ridden, today's visit concerns the trial three days later]
"The one who should feel ashamed is you, Mycroft, for making Mother blurt out that Harry is their second son."
At this moment, another voice rang out as Sherlock emerged from inside.
His hands were in his pockets, his steps light yet casual.
Sherlock looked at Mycroft with a calm expression.
"After all, there's no indication this house contains another son besides me."
"Is that so? Then I must say your observational skills have deteriorated somewhat."
Mycroft shook his head slightly, his tone was full of mockery, "I've never heard of a family's firstborn being ranked after the younger brother when adding another son."
"You have now."
"Alright, you two—we have guests, what nonsense are you talking about?"
Mrs. Holmes said with pretended displeasure.
She frowned slightly, regretting her earlier words. But then again, she couldn't be blamed.
Since Mycroft started university, not coming home had become common.
Especially being at home during daytime like today, the probability was so small it could be categorized as an impossible event.
For this reason, when mentioning Harry just now, she subconsciously overlooked Mycroft.
That's why she blurted out that Harry was their second son.
In fact, Mycroft was well aware of this. But he couldn't contradict his mother, so he preemptively shifted blame to Sherlock.
Sherlock equally understood this and refused to take the blame, promptly refuting.
Watching the two brothers spar, a smile unconsciously appeared on Sirius's lips.
The smile contained envy. He thought of his own past.
He too once had a brother. But... his eyes gradually dimmed.
Young people inevitably make mistakes. If you can rein yourself in at the cliff's edge, there's still hope.
Unfortunately, when he wanted to withdraw, it was already too late.
After some pleasantries, Sirius and Harry sat down in the living room.
Harry was closely familiar with this place, though Sirius was visiting for the first time.
The Holmes home was completely different from Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Stained glass windows let winter sunlight filter through diamond-shaped panes, casting dappled light on the wooden floor.
The fireplace crackled, warmth flowing through the air, dispelling London's winter dampness.
Though the house wasn't as spacious as the Black mansion, it was bright and cozy.
The living room was decorated warmly and elegantly, with a faded Persian rug whose corners had frayed.
The sofa was soft brown leather, with crocheted apricot-colored throws on the armrests and several colorful cushions.
Mrs. Holmes brought them tea and freshly baked biscuits giving off an enticing aroma.
After doing all this, she smiled and left, letting the young people communicate on their own.
Sirius sank into the soft velvet sofa, fingers unconsciously rubbing the apricot throw.
He noticed Harry bringing his cold-reddened nose close to the teacup, steam condensing into white fog on the boy's glasses.
Not just Harry, even he himself felt thoroughly comfortable in this environment.
Sherlock leaned against the mantelpiece, his gaze sweeping over Sirius's cuffs and Harry's left hand.
"Seems your cleaning didn't go well?"
"As you said."
Harry set down his teacup, not at all surprised Sherlock could see this, "Rather than cleaning, it was more like waging war on that old house."
He looked up at Sirius, then encouraged by his gaze, began to complain.
"The old house, with Kreacher's help, put up very stubborn resistance.
Kreacher kept appearing wherever we were working, trying every way to take things from the rubbish bags and hide them under his waistcloth.
Every time we caught him, he'd say terribly foul things.
It wasn't until my godfather threatened to give him clothes that he tearfully said we could do whatever we wanted.
But as soon as he turned around, he'd say even fouler things..."
"Oh, how foul?"
Mycroft leaned forward from his armchair, asking curiously.
Sherlock glanced at him.
Harry looked somewhat embarrassed. "Er... sorry, Mycroft, those were words I'd never heard before, so I can't repeat them."
"That's no excuse, dear Harry."
Mycroft smiled and said, "The moment it spoke them to you, you could no longer claim 'never heard before.'"
Harry: "..."
'You make a very good point that I can't argue with.
But I still can't repeat them!'
"Ignore that fellow," Sherlock looked at Harry, "Just tell us why you're here."
"Isn't it obvious, my dear brother?"
Mycroft smiled slightly, "Why do you still need to ask your dear friend for the answer?"
Hearing Mycroft's words, Sherlock paused slightly, then re-examined Sirius and Harry.
Soon, he looked at Mycroft with a playful tone, "I see... it seems you've detected a stronger smell of gunpowder on them.
Not just cleaning products and mold, but also the rot of the Ministry's old cases."
"An obvious connection, my dear brother."
Mycroft's sharp gaze swept over Sirius's tense arm muscles and the new scratch on Harry's hand, saying calmly.
"Two warriors who exhausted themselves waging war on the Black mansion, coming straight here before the ruins of victory are even cleared.
Besides the final step of completely erasing the shadows of the past, what else could it be?"
Sherlock gave a short laugh. "I must admit, you've seen through one more layer of fog than I have, Mycroft."
"No need for false modesty, my dear brother. Though your brother is a Muggle, he has access to more information than you."
Harry and Sirius were somewhat confused by the brothers' exchange.
Finally Harry couldn't help asking, "Sherlock, Mycroft, what exactly are you talking about?"
"About why you're here," Sherlock smiled slightly, "So what day did the Ministry schedule Peter Pettigrew's matter for?"
As soon as he said this, Harry was first startled, then relieved, his eyes instinctively looking at his godfather.
Unlike Harry, Sirius's body stiffened for a moment.
He purely hadn't expected the Holmes brothers to see through their purpose so quickly.
Just moments ago, the brothers' seemingly quarrelsome but subtly affectionate banter had drawn him into memories of Regulus.
However, Sherlock's question now, directly hitting the mark, pulled him back from brief sentimentality to reality.
Peter Pettigrew, that traitor who had betrayed James and Lily and pushed him into the Azkaban abyss.
After a brief silence, Sirius couldn't help saying, "You saw through us?"
"Obviously. Mycroft just explained the process, so I don't need to repeat it."
Sherlock looked at Sirius, "Your expression tells me you don't seem very satisfied with this outcome. Why is that?"
"Normally, shouldn't this be like sunlight piercing through night—exactly what you've been hoping for?"
Sherlock's gaze suddenly became sharp, "Or has there been... some new development?"
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