Holly felt strange.

She woke up to the  drip drip of rain outside of her window. The sky was dark, cloudy, and foreboding. The sun barely peeked through the dark cotton puffs in the sky.

Holly knew something was wrong as soon as she peeked her eyes open to see the dark clouds hung in the air, beckoning evil things forth. She sighed as she pushed herself off of her bed and pulled on her housecoat. She slipped on her bedroom slippers, just before descending the flight of stairs that led to the kitchen.

She sniffed the air, expecting to smell bacon, coffee, and toast. She didn't smell it. When she didn't even see her mother, she furrowed her brown brows together and headed to her mother's bedroom.

Holly cautiously approached the door to her mother's bedroom, and listened for any signs of her mother. When she could hear nothing, she knocked on the door.

No reply.

Holly opened the thick, wooden door and stepped into the dark room. The drapes were drawn and the bed had an unmoving lump in the centre. The room felt unusually cold, and didn't smell of vanilla, as it often did, but of death.

Holly crept forwards cautiously, and stood beside her mother's bed. The lump in the centre was, indeed, her mother, but she remained unmoving. Holly began to panic.

"Mum, please wake up. Please. I know you're sleeping, but you'll be late for work if you don't wake," Holly said. She pulled the duvet back, panicking and tearing up.

Holly's mother remained still. Her body was really pale, and she was smelling odd. Holly knew she was dead, but she had to be sure she wasn't jumping to conclusions. So, Holly felt her mother's wrist for a pulse.

No pulsation.

Holly's breathing became ragged as she backed away from the corpse. She felt something warm and wet run down her cheeks. Holly kept backing up until she was full- on sprinting back up the stairs, into her room.

She closed her bedroom door and slid down it, curling into the fetal position, and sobbing. Holly ran her hands through her red- brown locks, trying to pull herself together. 

Finally, she calmed down just enough to pick up her phone and dial an emergency contact; someone she'd never met, but her mother insisted on her keeping their number for emergencies.

Holly awaited the person on the end of the line to pick up. As she waited, she tried to control her breathing and shaking hands.

"Who is this, and where did you get my number?" Someone finally picked up the phone, but sounded stressed and worried.

"I- I am Holly Holmes. M-my mum is d-dead. Sh-she insisted on me calling this number f-for emergencies, and h-her death is an emergency," Holly said, stuttering, and trying not to break down whilst talking to a complete stranger.

"What's your mother's name?" The man on the other end asked, sounding bored? Annoyed? Worried?  Holly couldn't tell. 

"Emilia Mivensky," Holly replied, trying not to break down.
The man on the other end sucked in a breath.

"I'll send someone over to get you. As for your mother, I'll send someone to get her as well. Pack some possesions and unlock your front door. Stay on the line so I can track your call," the man said.

Holly did as he told her, and waited downstairs, in the lounge room by a big window that overlooked the garden. She sniffled, and ran her hand through her un- kempt hair.
Quickly, Holly dashed into her room and dressed. Then, she brushed her hair and pulled some shoes on. She descended the stairs, and made it back into the lounge room, just in time for a man and a woman with a stretcher to burst through the front door.

Holly led them to her mother's room and accounted what had happened earlier in the dreary morning to a man, who'd just arrived and held up a Scotland Yard badge.

Holly sought refuge in the lounge room as men and women filed in and out of her mother's bedroom. Finally, her mother's lifeless body came through, just as a tall, slender man with an umbrella walked in.

He took a look around, admiring the home.

Finally, his eyes landed on Holly, who was in fetal position, rocking back and forth, whilst looking out the big window. He swallowed thickly, then cleared his throat and adjusted his collar. 

He scrutinised the young girl, making his deductions and taking in the sight of his mini- me. Slowly, he walked over to Holly and sat next to her. She didn't acknowledge his presence, but she did wipe her eyes void of any tears.

He sat there, not knowing exactly what to say. He cleared his throat once again and swallowed thickly.

"I'm not very good at sentiment," he said first, then sighed, "you are Holly, I presume. Anyways, I'm- sorry- for your loss. I'm Mycroft, by the way, you contacted me about this ordeal over the phone," he said.

He saw the young girl blink, then wipe a tear away. She sighed, then looked at him.

"I could tell by your voice, Mycroft," was all she said, before turning back to the garden outside of the window.

He followed her gaze to the garden in the dark outdoors.

"Normally, I'm not one for small talk, but it appears that you need someone to talk to. So, here I am," he said. Holly turned to him once again.

"Where am I going to go? My mum was all I had to rely on. She and I lived here contentedly for as long as I can remember. I couldn't trifle with the notion of staying, simply because noone of my superior would allow it. Where am I going to go now, Mycroft?" She asked, a fresh trail of tears running over her cheeks.

Mycroft hadn't even thought of that. He was overly worried about the death of once- love, and didn't think of the fate of the child.

"Well, I suppose you could stay with me for now. I'll have to pull strings to find any living relatives," he said, considering telling her that he was her father.

He considered telling her that he knew of her existence, which is why he'd been invisible in her life, but thought better of it, seeing as how Holly found her mother dead just that morning, and was distraught and drowned deeply in grief.

Holly nodded, wiping her eyes once more. She got up and gathered her small duffel bag with necessary possesions.

"May I eat something first? My mum usually cooks breakfast for me," she asked. Mycroft nodded and followed the young girl into the kitchen.

Maybe he would hold off on telling her for just a while longer.