Chapter Text
Well then he’s very limited. You were always the grown up. Well then he’s very limited. You were always the grown up. Well then he’s- Mycroft awoke with a start. He took a moment to steady his breathing and to calm the pounding in his chest. The duvet was damp with sweat, his room dark, and the house thankfully silent. The events from the previous fortnight still clung to his subconscious. The nightmares seemed to be ever changing at first, sometimes they played exactly as the events occurred, sometimes things were altered, deranged, and blurred in an incomprehensible fashion. Eventually they settled on something more...sinister after the meeting with his parents.
He and Sherlock had agreed that it was no longer possible to shield Eurus’ continued existence from their parents. They agreed that they should hear the truth directly from Mycroft himself, and that Sherlock should be present in the event that their parents decided to stop listening after the truth of Mycroft’s involvement in the deception was revealed. They needed to know everything, why Eurus murdered the Trevor boy, why the falsification of the events of the second fire, and what Eurus had become since. The meeting went as well as could be expected, except Mycroft didn’t expect mummy’s words to cut as deeply as they did. Yes he knew mummy and daddy would be hurt, angry, and disappointed in his actions. Mycroft just didn’t expect to be looked at the way he was, like he wasn’t her child too.
Sherlock likes to joke that he has a list, and that Mycroft has a file, for all the things mummy has to answer for. He’s half right. Sherlock has a list but, Mycroft doesn’t have a file, he doesn’t even have a word. How can he expect mummy to answer for things when he has brought so much shame and misery to the family? Unable to voice a logical argument about Eurus’ behaviour, unable to solve the eerie tune and save poor Victor, not seeing the fire coming, not helping Sherlock find a better outlet for his grief than his reinvention of “Redbeard”. All of these things were just the beginning, yes he was still a child but he was “remarkable” after all. These facts together meant his nightmare, though terrifying, was most likely everything he deserved.
A buzzing from his nightstand pulled Mycroft from his thoughts. He reached for the blasted thing and silenced the alarm. Mycroft had a meeting with the ambassador from France at 0700 and he had exactly two hours to prepare a way to subtly but firmly squash the ambassadors more fascist views on how the relationship between Britain and France should be. Usually this meeting wouldn’t exactly be under Mycroft’s direct influence but as half the world had decided to go openly insane within the last year it meant he had to put in more damage control time. With one last long sigh Mycroft flung the duvet from himself and got out of bed. Though it was winter and only five in the morning there was a distinct lightening of the sky visible through Mycroft’s curtains. Snow then, strange for so late in January but, with the previous year’s lack of it, not unexpected with the shift in climate. Mycroft headed to his en suite and partook in a longer and hotter shower than he would normally allow himself. Maybe the burning heat could clear the feelings of inadequacy from his pores. By 5:30 Mycroft was clean, dried, and dressed in an immaculate three piece suit.
The extended shower allowed for Mycroft to formulate the correct argument needed against the French ambassador and to sort out the rest of the day’s schedule. Leaving his house Mycroft engages the new security unit and locks up. Hopefully the new unit, code, and deadbolt will delay any future...games conducted by his brother. Walking to the end of the drive Mycroft is met by his car and driver. Mycroft opens the door and slides into the back. Once inside he instructs his drivers to take him to the Diogenes. With the day’s proceedings sorted Mycroft had time to sit and think. This would have previously been a small reprieve from work but now, thanks to Eurus’ games, only allowed time for Mycroft to focus on his nightmare. Is it really still considered a nightmare if it has begun to creep into one’s waking thoughts as well as one’s dreamscape?
“Tick Tock! Tickets please!” The smiling and crazed visage of James Moriarty appears on the damnable screen again. Whirring alarms and flashing red lights reverberate around and encase the room. Mycroft is advocating for Dr. Watson’s death.
“Make it swift. No need to prolong his agony. Get it over with...and we can get to work.” Mycroft is putting as much heat and loathing as he can into his words. Sherlock must shoot him, losing another best friend would destroy him.
“We can get to work,” asked Sherlock incredulously, “You haven’t worked a day in your life!”
“What on Earth are you talking about Sherlock” Mycroft inquired angrily.
Good, it’s working Sherlock is becoming incensed, John means too much to him. If Mycroft can continue to keep Sherlock’s emotions ramped up he won’t have to think, he won’t have to choose, and he hopefully will be able to let go of the guilt of killing his own brother.
“A kiss ass paper pushing position in the mundane government isn’t work, Mycroft” sneered Sherlock.
Mycroft knows Sherlock is reacting just as he wants him to, emotional not logical. However, Sherlock’s words still hurt. Sherlock can’t mean them, he looks up to Mycroft, despite their differences, even Mrs. Hudson thinks so. Something isn’t right, somet-
A car horn pulls Mycroft from the nightmare, interrupted once more. Perhaps the nightmare isn’t in his waking thoughts perhaps he simply dozed for the duration of the car ride. He hadn’t been receiving his optimal three hours of sleep in the last several weeks, perhaps his damnable aging transport has taken too much of a toll. There’s nothing he can do about the march of time, and plenty of things he has to cover with the French ambassador. Mycroft arrives at the Diogenes within a few minutes and heads straight for his office. Mycroft only has a short time until the meeting and he needs to do his morning checks before heading to Whitehall. Mycroft had only just powered up his laptop when he heard Anthea outside his door.
“Mr. Holmes will be leaving shortly for a meeting, you can’t go in there.”
“Well if he’s leaving there’s no better time to make a social call” came Sherlock’s smug voice.
When would baby brother learn that he’s not always readily available and that some people have actual jobs? What Sherlock could want so soon after the Eurus fiasco and the subsequent authorised visits imposed by their parents is beyond him.
“Hey bro” came Sherlock’s mocking salutation as he burst in, “I thought you were leaving.”
So it’s to be a demand of some sort, possibly an annoying favour, joy.
“I don’t have time for this Sherlock, I have documents to sign, dossiers to approve, and I am leaving” was Mycroft’s annoyed reply.
“Well unfortunately our parents have been bugging me about when they can see sister dearest.”
“Sherlock our parents chose you to lead this escapade in interacting with Eurus. I told them that it was pointless, that she won’t communicate, and that she’s beyond our view.” Mycroft was tired, he didn’t have the energy for this.
“Yes and then you allowed me bi-weekly visits to play with her. You gave me the clearance and the go ahead. This is your project too” Sherlock said matter-of-factly.
“With the new security measures in place at Sherrinford I would need permission from one other committee member. Meaning I need a valid reason other than mummy and daddy dearest ne-“
“Oh don’t become a paper pushing position in the government isn’t work Mycroft! MYCROFT!” Mycroft was pulled from his lapse in reality to Sherlock shouting at him.
“Were you even listening to me” Sherlock inquired angrily.
“No I was going about today’s schedule. I am very busy Sherlock and last fortnight’s escapades cost me a great deal of time and influence. I cannot simply grant our parents clearance without cause” bit back Mycroft.
“If you had paid attention you would know I offered a plan! If I can get Eurus to duet with me consistently for the next three weeks I need you to update whomever you must and get clearance for a visit by mummy and daddy” seethed Sherlock.
Mycroft was tired, he had a whole day’s work ahead of him, he wanted to argue and say that that wasn’t a plan that was a favour. Mycroft closed his eyes and sighed.
“If you can get her to duet with you, consistently and for the majority of each of your little visits, I will arrange for our parents to accompany you.”
“Excellent, because I already told them they could visit in three weeks, ta” shouted Sherlock as he ran out the door.
“Sherlock you can’t just-” Mycroft stopped midsentence and held his face in his hands “-oh forget it.”
Tick Tock! Came Moriarty’s voice. Mycroft jerked up in alarm. It can’t be, no screens or speakers to project from, it’s nothing. Mycroft wasn’t tired, he was exhausted and it was getting to him. Mycroft sighed, closed his laptop and left for his meeting. He would have to call his parents and properly explain the deal later.
After his successful meeting with the ambassador, Mycroft decided to stop by Lady Smallwood’s office and pitch the deal of his parents’ visitation. Alicia Smallwood was in her office as indicated by the thick black fleece cape hung on the rack outside of her door. Outside to ensure that hers is the last removed, it’s not right for the boss to leave before their inferiors, at least for her terms of morality. The cape could simply indicate that she were simply in the building and not in the office however, the vapours of her perfume mixed with a vanilla bean low fat latte, said otherwise.
“Good morning Bethany, is Lady Smallwood available” Mycroft asked the receptionist.
“Lady Smallwood is out of the office” said Bethany while looking Mycroft directly in the eye.
Mycroft wouldn’t be slighted so easily. Raising his voice enough for Alicia to hear him through the door Mycroft verbalised his deductions. This wasn’t his normal method, he didn’t show off like his brother, but Mycroft still had a very long day ahead of him. As predicted Lady Smallwood opened her door to address his deductions.
“Bethany would you move my three o’clock up a half hour, the meeting with the American diplomat won’t take as long as an hour” Lady Smallwood asked her receptionist without even acknowledging Mycroft.
“Lady Smallwood I require an audience with you” stated Mycroft.
Lady Smallwood simply stared at him as if he hadn’t even spoken, like he wasn’t even standing there. Well then he’s very limited. Mycroft ignored the voice as best he could.
“And I’ll be needing another latte” was all Lady Smallwood would say.
She shut her office door with a snap. So this was about drinks. Well Mycroft could play her game, if that’s what it took. Mycroft bid Bethany a good morning and left to return to his Diogenes offices. Mycroft had a two hour block reserved for paperwork at 1530, if Lady Smallwood could afford to move her meeting she can afford to cancel it for...drinks.
When Mycroft’s office clock showed a quarter ‘til three, he dialled Alicia Smallwood’s personal mobile. It rang twice before she answered.
“Yes, Mr. Holmes” came Alicia’s smug voice.
Mycroft held in a sigh and reminded himself why he was doing this.
“My sincerest apologies for not having phoned earlier, but given the,” Mycroft paused for emphasis, “circumstances, I’m sure you can understand my delay.”
“Yes of course Mr. Holmes, sorting out your sister’s mess must have been extremely taxing on you.”
Lady Smallwood was being very clear, Mycroft wasn’t going to be able to pull off a quick tryst and wash his hands of it. Mycroft was going to have to actually go for drinks, he’ll have Anthea arrange it for this evening.
“Very, and I do so appreciate your patience. I was hoping you would join me this evening for our drinks, say 7” asked Mycroft.
“Only this evening Mr. Holmes,” Lady Smallwood inquired laughingly, “and on such short notice?”
Mycroft tried his hardest to give no indication of his exasperation. Twice, she wants to....TWICE. Wasn’t the human libido meant to decrease with age? Was Lady Smallwood deprived of sexual advancements during her marriage? Mycroft had never attempted to deduce such a detail from her, they had known each other for a very long time, and she had earned a modicum of his respect in that time. Mycroft had no choice, this was the easiest method of obtaining support, and there were worse deals.
“Again, my apologies. I also seem to have left my lunch quite late. Would you be willing to join me for a small affair...of tea and sandwiches in my office at say...half past?”
Mycroft waited through the silence, he could practically hear Lady Smallwood’s gears turning at his proposal but, is it a decent enough one, or his he making a fool of himself? Tick tick tick tick. Mycroft had to fight from gasping at the noise. He’s simply exhausted, he merely needs to strike this deal and then he can take a half day tomorrow.
“I seem to have a free block then,” Alicia piqued, “and I am ravenous...I’ll see you then, Mycroft.”
She hung up and Mycroft allowed himself to slump in his chair. He liked Alicia Smallwood, he truly did, but he simply did not have the energy for her specific needs at the moment. He had work to do, family to appease, a prison to monitor, and now he had to appease a colleague with sexual favours because of his damnable little brother...AGAIN! Mycroft sat up straight and allowed himself one last deep breath to pull himself together before buzzing Anthea.
“Anthea please schedule a reservation for two at venue number 12 for tonight at 7.”
“Yes sir, will that be all” came Anthea’s voice through the intercom.
“I will be having a late lunch with Lady Smallwood at half past three, have tea and assorted sandwiches ready, and then you are dismissed for the evening” Mycroft ordered.
“Yes sir.”
Mycroft busied himself with the things that needed his approval, signature, and just other general tasks that had to be seen to before Lady Smallwood’s arrival. Ten minutes before the scheduled meeting Anthea wheeled in the tea cart and left shortly thereafter. Mycroft hoped he could meet Lady Smallwood’s...terms...for this meeting. This day has taken an unexpected toll, he may not be getting his usual three hours of sleep a night but, he thought he was getting at least half of what he needed. He shouldn’t be this exhausted, was it simply his transport wearing thin as he progressed through middle age? Isn’t it a bit early for that. Tick Tock.
“ENOUGH” Mycroft shouted as he threw the fountain pen he had been writing with across the room.
Rather than striking his closed office door as it should have, Lady Smallwood chose that exact moment to enter his domain without knocking. This faux pas resulted in her being struck in the nose with the sharp tip of the pen. A small slash of blood began to appear as Lady Smallwood reached for the injury.
“I rather thought I had been invited” snipped Lady Smallwood as she held the wound to stem the flow.
“Alicia I am terribly sorry. I hadn’t realised you were entering when I threw the pen. Here” said Mycroft as he stood and guided her to a chair.
Mycroft walked back around his desk to retrieve the small first aid box from one of its drawers. He removed an alcohol swab and a small clear sticking plaster.
“If I may, Alicia” asked Mycroft as he held up the items.
Lady Smallwood raised an eyebrow haughtily but removed her hand and allowed Mycroft to see to the injury. Mycroft worked quickly but gently as he dabbed the swab on the cut and thoroughly cleaned it. He then quickly applied the sticking plaster and sat back on the edge of the desk to survey his handiwork. Lady Smallwood gazed up at him with an offended look set upon her face. Mycroft reached out and cupped her cheek, running his thumb soothingly up and down.
“I do so hope that in my exasperation I haven’t ruined our...tea” said Mycroft softly.
Lady Smallwood’s face softened and she leaned into his touch for just a moment. She took a deep breath, straightened up, and removed Mycroft’s hand from her person.
“These past few weeks have taken a larger toll on you than I had thought” observed Lady Smallwood.
“I realise my emotional display is a bit out of character but-” Mycroft began.
“Are you referring to the cut on my nose or the fact that you reached out to soothe me when you haven’t called once since I offered to change this arrangement from business to something more” inquired Lady Smallwood.
Mycroft, still sitting on the edge of the desk, leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest trying to shield himself from Lady Smallwood’s piercing gaze. He closed his eyes, sighed, and tilted his head towards the ceiling.
“Both I suppose, to be frank Alicia, certain social aspects of society have never appealed to me.”
“Oh” questioned Lady Smallwood.
“Though there have been aspects that will occasionally draw my attention,” Mycroft paused and unfolded himself to look Lady Smallwood in the eyes, “I loathe the time spent mingling when it means nothing in the end.”
Lady Smallwood frowned, and stared at Mycroft for a moment. She blinked, then looked at the untouched tea cart, pondering. The cart was filled with lovely sandwiches, cucumber, egg and cress, smoked salmon, and the tea smelled of oolong and gun smoke giving the room a faint heady scent. Pity. Lady Smallwood turned and faced Mycroft once more, giving him a steely look.
“Do you value me Mycroft? My support, my encouragement, my friendship, and my political responses even when they clash with your own” Lady Smallwood forcefully inquired.
“Yes of course Alicia, I-” Mycroft began.
“Then let me actually be frank Mycroft, and not this ‘riddle me this’ frank you seem so fond of” Lady Smallwood gave a slow sneering smirk.
Mycroft held her gaze but mentally prepared himself for a terrible tongue lashing and quite possibly the end of Lady Smallwood’s support.
“If you have no desire to court me in any fashion...then this will remain a business relationship” she smiled like the cat who had caught the canary.
Mycroft was floored, he had not expected this result. He must be even more exhausted than he thought.
“Alicia, I greatly-“
“Lady Smallwood, Mr. Holmes” she insisted.
“Lady Smallwood,” he conceded, “I greatly appreciate you understanding my position on this, may I offer you something” Mycroft asked as he gestured to the cart.
“No Mr. Holmes, this is a business meeting and there won’t be time for refreshments.”
Lady Smallwood stood and stepped into Mycroft’s personal space. She laid her hand upon his cheek and mimicked his earlier motions.
“We have a lot to...discuss, as even though our dinner arrangements tonight will remain,” she paused, “we won’t be partaking in dessert afterwards.”
“I am on a diet” proclaimed Mycroft as he stood and pulled her forwards so as there was barely a hair’s breadth between them.
“Then let us get to business Mr. Holmes.”