Y/N's P.O.V.
"Oh, uh, Mary? A little help?" I asked hopefully as Rosie continued to scream. I was holding the baby away from me slightly, causing the blonde woman to laugh.
"Here." She took the infant from me and I let out a breath of relief as she started to calm her daughter down.
"Y/N, do me a favour and FaceTime John. I want to know if Sherlock's got anything yet."
"Working on a few theories of your own?" I asked and she laughed.
"Of course." John picked up the phone just as Rosie settled.
"Hey, hello." Mary smiled into the phone as I handed it to her.
"Got 'em, don't worry. Pampers and the cream you can't get from Boots." John said instantly, making me laugh a little.
"Yeah, never mind about that. Where are you now? The dead boy's house?" Mary asked eagerly.
"What does he think? Any theories?"
"Uh, I texted you the details." John sighed.
"Yeah, two different types of vinyl."I came into the view of the camera.
"Not a lot to go on, honestly. Although, I have to admit the boy being dead for a week was interesting." The camera shifted, before Sherlock's face popped up on the screen.
"Y/N, hello, love. I didn't know you were with Mary today." Sherlock looked at me.
"Yeah, well my cheque came in from Mycroft for this month's intel on you, so I'm treating her to lunch. Problem?" I smiled.
"Not at all. How'd you know about the vinyl?" He questioned.
"Oh, you'd be amazed at what us girls can pick up." Mary grinned.
"We know everything." She whispered.
"Solved it then?" Sherlock asked cockily.
"We're working on it." Mary replied.
"Oh, Mary, motherhood's slowing you down." Sherlock sighed and Mary rolled her eyes.
"And Y/N... it's probably best I don't insult you."
"Smart boy." I nodded
"Pig." Mary chimed in and I smiled at her.
"Keep trying." Sherlock shrugged off the insult.
"So, what about it then?" Mary pushed.
"An empty car that suddenly has a week old corpse in it? Y/N is right, it is interesting. And what are you gonna call this one?"
"Oh, 'The Ghost Driver'." John stated proudly.
"Don't give it a title." Sherlock complained.
"People like the titles!" John argued.
"I hate the titles." Sherlock muttered.
"He really does, he doesn't shut up complaining about them. If you're going to give it a title, just don't make it a stupid one." I pulled a face.
"Give the people what they want." John looked between his phone and Sherlock.
"No, never do that. People are stupid." Sherlock shook his head, making me laugh.
"Uh, some people." Mary interjected.
"All people are stupid." Sherlock spoke into the phone and I raised an eyebrow, Mary doing the same.
"Most people." He corrected and I nodded. John said goodbye, just as Lestrade began to speak, before he hung up.
"That was fun." Mary muttered and I nodded.
"So, lunch?"
"I'm ready to go when you are."
~
Unfortunately, my lunch with Mary was cut short by Sherlock requesting I meet him at Mycroft's office. He sent me what he had discovered about the Thatcher bust at the dead boy's house and came to the conclusion it had something to do with Moriarty.
"Sorry I'm late." I sighed as I saw the two Holmes boys.
"London traffic is horrific this time of day." I smiled.
"As I was saying..." Mycroft continued.
"In the last year of his life, James Moriarty was involved with four political assassinations, over seventy assorted robberies and terrorist attacks, including a chemical weapons factory in North Korea, and had laterally shown some interest in tracking down the Black Pearl of Borgias. Which is still missing, by the way, in case you feel like applying yourselves to something practical."
"It's a Pearl, get another one." Sherlock scoffed and I nodded, giving Mycroft an apologetic look.
"What about you, Y/N? Did Moriarty have any connections to Thatcher? Did he ever meet her?"
"I don't know." I shook my head.
"I can't think of a time he ever brought her up."
"There's something important about this." Sherlock sighed.
"I'm sure. Maybe it's Moriarty." Mycroft gave his brother a worried look, before looking at me curiously.
"Maybe it's not. But something's coming."
"Are you having a premonition, brother mine?" Mycroft asked sarcastically, sitting forward.
"The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web." Sherlock deadpanned.
"If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable. Inevitable as mathematics."
"Appointment In Samarra." Mycroft looked at his brother.
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock looked as confused as I felt.
"The merchant who can't outrun death." Mycroft sighed.
"You always hated that story as a child. Less keen on predestination back then."
"I'm not sure I like it now." Sherlock sighed.
"You wrote your own version, as I remember." Mycroft continued.
"Appointment In Sumatra. The merchant goes to a different city and is perfectly fine."
"Goodnight, Mycroft." Sherlock sighed, pulling on his coat.
"Y/N, I'll see you outside. My brother wishes to speak to you alone."
"Then he becomes a pirate for some reason." Mycroft muttered and I looked at him in confusion.
"Keep me informed." Sherlock kissed my head, an action I was well used to by then.
"Of what?" Mycroft pulled a face as Sherlock walked out the door.
"Absolutely no idea." I shook my head, smiling a little.
"So, Mycroft. What is it you want to talk about, dear?" I asked.
"Best make it quick. Coming here interrupted my lunch, so I'm hungry and I don't want to be rude and keep Sherlock waiting."
"This." He opened a drawer next to him, pulling out several printed pictures and handing them to me. I looked through them with a raised eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"Now would you please tell me how the bloody Hell you managed to get my brother to leave your flat for ice cream. He doesn't even like ice cream." His tone and expression was completely serious, catching me off guard completely.
"Seriously?" I asked with a smile.
"That's what this was about?" I shook my head.
"Wow, okay. Mary and John were exhausted, they practically passed out on the sofa, so I took Sherlock, Redbeard and Rosie out, so they wouldn't be disturbed whilst they slept. I didn't really give Sherlock much of a choice."
"You seem to have my little brother wrapped around your finger." Mycroft sighed.
"And it's not that I don't completely trust you, but... I don't."
"I don't expect you to." I replied honestly.
"But Mycroft, you knew I loved him before I did, remember? I'm not going to let anything happen to him. You know that." He nodded his head reluctantly and I placed the pictures down.
"I understand why you don't trust me and I don't blame you, but I'm a very different person than who I used to be. It was good seeing you, dear."
"You should keep them the pictures." Mycroft commented as I moved towards the door, making no effort to turn back.
"You make quite a handsome little family, the four of you."
