Marlin's Sword [A Mycroft Holmes Fanfiction]

His Last Vow

In the mansion, Meredith and Mycroft were in bed, asleep. As a cell phone ringtone filled their otherwise silent room, Meredith woke up and reached for her phone. She checked her phone on the nightstand as Mycroft stirred awake, 'I think it's mine' he said and reached for his phone. He answered the call as Meredith collapsed back into bed, 'John, it's four in the morning' he scolded. He sat up in bed, shocked as he heard John's news, 'When?' he asked.

Later, Mycroft stood in front of a mirror, getting dressed. Meredith stood behind him in her nightdress and robe. She helped him with his jacket, 'How bad is it?' she asked, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

Mycroft sighed tiredly, 'He is not dead, and John is taking him back to Baker Street' he told Meredith.

Meredith looked at him worriedly, 'You sure you don't want me to come with you?' she asked.

Mycroft shook his head firmly, 'I have had it with Sherlock, this was the last straw. It's time for some tough love now, and I don't need you around for that. You will just end up coddling him' he said in frustration.

Meredith shook her head gingerly, slightly offended, 'I don't coddle him...' her voice trailed off when Mycroft shot her a stony glare.

Mycroft sighed and kissed her, 'I'll be back sometime tonight' he said and walked out of the door.

The next morning, Meredith stormed into 221B Baker Street. Sherlock and John were sitting in their respective chair facing each other. Meredith strode to Sherlock and slapped him across the face.

Sherlock flexed his jaw in pain and looked at Meredith in shock, 'What the hell?'.

Meredith glared at him, 'My sentiments exactly. How dare you? After you lectured me about sobriety and recovery, you go and get high. And assault my husband again and I will snap you in two. I will shove my heel so far up your ass you will feel it in your sociopathic brain' she yelled at Sherlock and stormed out.

Sherlock pursed his lips and looked away, 'Meredith...' he called.

Meredith turned back and glared at him, 'Not a word, Sherlock. Just drop the damn case' she said and turned to leave but stopped at the door, catching Janine leaving Sherlock's bedroom in nothing but a dress shirt, 'For God's sake, put your clothes on' she scolded and stormed out.

Later, at night, in his study, Mycroft carefully read through stacks of documents, while on a call with the Bellinger campaign manager. He poured himself a cup of tea as he continued to work relentlessly.

Meredith entered from the side door and looked over the documents Mycroft was working on, 'How is it going?' she asked, once Mycroft had wrapped up his call.

Mycroft sighed, 'Painfully slow' he hated campaigning, even if it was for his wife.

Meredith felt bad about how stressed Mycroft was with everything that was going on, her race, Sherlock, their work, 'How good are the chances?' Meredith asked.

Mycroft shook his head as he continued to go through the statistics on his laptop, 'Extremely poor, but there is still some hope' he said, fiddling with his wedding band. Meredith sighed and pulled Mycroft back in his chair. Standing behind him, Meredith rubbed his shoulders, as he continued talking, 'They ran your different looks by a couple of focus groups, these are the three favorites' he said as he pulled out an assortment of 8x10'' photos of Meredith out of a file and laid it out on a table.

Meredith looked through the photos. They were all pictures of Meredith with long hair, 'I don't want to go back to long hair. What do you think?' she said and continued to massage Mycroft's shoulders. The long golden blonde hair, the antique hair fork, the same hair fork that she used to kill her brother. The memory was too jarring.