I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 124 : Monitoring

Even if it had been a fair amount of time since he had last step a  foot in the infamous 221B flat, Mycroft wasn't even remotely surprised  that nothing had changed whatsoever. His brother was not someone to  redecorate and if it wasn't for Mrs Hudson careful care, the auburn was  quite sure he could have found old teacups and plates lingering over  every available surfaces. In fact Sherlock was so unbothered with all what he considered as transportation that if the elder Holmes hadn't personally taken care of providing him with a closetful  of suits and shirts and arrange for someone to collect the laundry  every week, he was pretty sure that his youngest would probably just  hang around wrapped in his bedsheets if not even naked.
It always had  been the same and even as a child, it always had been Mycroft who had  made sure that the now-consulting detective was properly dressed and fed  and despite what he was saying to every one who would listen, he was  secretly pleased to have found an easy way to be a good big brother.
The  official glanced a look at the messy flat around him, the result of  another of his brother's tantrum and let out a heavy sigh. The task that  been quite easy when they were growing up was now much more complicated  to full fill and if it had mostly consisted of making sure Sherlock  didn't forget to put on socks was now much more about preventing him  from finishing behind barres.
A couple of days ago, as he was feeling  frustrated of not having a case, the consulting detective had used his  deduction talent to spot and carefully destroy all of his sibling hidden  video cameras and microphone before sending the pieces to his mansion  with a sticky note reading 'How is the diet, brother dear.'. Of course,  Mycroft had felt hurt, not about the cameras, it wasn't the first time  and certainly not the last the black-haired was to do something like  that, but the remark about his diet had hurt him more than he could say and he had hated himself even more of taking it like that, knowing that being hurtful was exactly the goal the younger Holmes had pursue.
However,  here he was, in his sibling's empty flat, only surrounded by MI5  technicians, reinstalling a brand new set of cameras and microphones,  trying to find new concealment so that the detective wouldn't find them  as soon as he entered the place. He had already wired the kitchen and  living room and was now bugging the stairs, showing to the technicians were  to place the devices. He had purposely decided not to restore the  broken devices of the bedroom, considering that has much as Sherlock  needed monitoring, the fact of seeing him sleeping with someone on a regular basis was definitely nothing of a good idea and that even the sleuth deserved his privacy.
They were to place the last microphones when the front door opened and the three technicians instantly froze. It wasn't the first time they were doing this job and they knew that if the younger Holmes was to find them bugging his flat, he would definitely  not be happy and god only knew what could happen. Mycroft stepped down a  couple of steps and glanced a look at the door, only to see the small silhouette of Mrs Hudson busying herself with some tidying in the entrance, a grocery bag in her left hand, a pile of letter in the other one.
"Mycroft Holmes !" she cried happily before noticing the feet of one of the technicians. "I hope you are not being silly around your baby brother's flat young man !"
"Good afternoon Mrs Hudson. Don't worry, it's nothing he isn't already aware of." the man responded, which was half-true as the detective indeed knew that his brother was never to let him without monitoring.
"I don't really like your attitude toward my roof ..." the old lady snapped, when approaching and noticing to whom the feet were belonging. "Bribing your brother like this is unworthy of family."
"I'm not bribing him, barely monitoring him to make sure he doesn't set your beloved flat on fire." denied the official. "And as much as I am aware that already come in use a few times."
The woman pouted but didn't added  anything and just retreated to her own flat. He may have been a little  harsh with her but the auburn knew that she was nearly as concerned as  he was about Sherlock and that as much as she sometime didn't liked his method, she was mostly an ally of him when it came about controlling the consulting detective's behaviour.
He  waited until the technicians had finished their work in the staircase  and the entrance before dismissing them. They had planted a dozen of  cameras and about thirty microphones and the elder Holmes was hoping  that he could at least get to the end of the year without needing to  install more, even if a little voice in the back of his head was telling  him that there were poor chance that would happen as Greg was virtually  unable to provide Sherlock with any case that could interest him.  Pushing that though away, he gently knocked on the landlady's flat's door and waited for her to answer, hearing her rummaging in the nearby kitchen.
"Mycroft. What is it that you want ?" she asked sharply as she opened the door, certainly not willing to be soft with him after what she had witnessed.
"I"m  sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted to apologise to you if I ever  came across as rude earlier. I'm more than concerned for Sherlock at the  moment and I'm sure you can understand that even if those measures can look a little invasive, it's the best way for me to make sure he is safe" the auburn politely explained, trying to redeem himself even if he didn't thought he had to apologise for anything, in order to make sure the old woman was to still collaborate with him and call his office every time she feared the sleuth was to do something dangerous for himself or for the entire British population.
"Can't you find any more appropriated ways to make sure Sherlock is alright instead of spying on him ?" the lady questioned, still not entirely convinced by the official's apologies.
"Well,  I'd love to have the leisure to spend my days and night here beside him  but I have a country to keep together and god knows its hard work at  the moment, and I'm still not a psychic so  I suppose I don't have any other choice, because let's be honest, the  chances Sherlock would call me to say that he is on the verge of  breaking everything and that I shall send someone to prevent him from  doing so are quite slim, aren't they ?" denied the elder Holmes, smiling politely.
"You Holmes boys will be the end of me." Mrs Hudson stated, shaking her head slightly and at the moment the auburn understood he had won.
"I know, Mrs Hudson, I know." Mycroft smirked. "You have my most sincere apologies for it."

"No Alden, you can't change your hair colour to green. That's not what we are here for." Greg gently scolded his son.
"But Papa ... I'm sure it would look good." the little boy whined as he was going through a hairstyle catalogue.
"That's not the subject Aldy." the detective refused. "And what do you think Daddy would say if I bring you back home with green hair ?"
"Well, he can't say anything, he does the same to his hair." the child remarked, closing the catalogue and glancing a piercing look to his father.
"Daddy don't have dye his hair green, he just use a darkening lotion." the policeman retorted, uncomfortable.
"He changes his hair colour." the boy pointed out.
Gregory  had to admit that his son had a point there. Even if he wasn't properly  saying dying it, it was true that he was changing their colour, tho his husband greatest despair, to, according to him, 'have a more professional-looking figure'. The yarder,  on the other hand, was pretty sure that his natural nearly ginger hair  were much better looking than his dark auburn ones, but he was pretty  sure that the official had been teased about it for so long when he was  younger that he was now trying to hide it, as much as he would have  hidden his nose and tummy if he had been able to do so.
"That's not  the point Alden. Daddy is a grown up, he can make his own choice. We  came here to had your hair cut, that all what we are going to do." the  man finally shut it off. "Have you decided on a hairstyle ?"
"That's  not fair." the kid complained, still pointing out the picture of a  little boy with a thick wick on the forehead in one of the magazine in  front of him.
"I know peanut, I know." the inspector nodded. "Maybe  next time you need a haircut we could talk of this with Daddy before to  know if he is okay with it ? Does that seem good to you ?"
"Alright." Alden pouted as a young woman entered the waiting room and invited them to enter the salon.
She  sat the little boy on one of the chairs and fitted him in a black and  red smock before turning to the DCI and asking him what he wished to be  done. Taking a seat in another chair beside his son, the man simply  shown her the hairstyle the toddler had chosen a couple of minutes  earlier and let her begin her work, handling his son a colouring book so he would remain calm and not move to much as the young hairdresser was moving around him.

Mycroft  heard his partner car parking in front of the house and made his way to  the window, parting the curtain to have a look outside. Thanks to the  fact that Sherlock hadn't reappeared while he was working at 221B, he  had gotten home early and had already had time to have a shower and put on some clean dark blue jeans and a crisp white sleeves rolled to the elbows shirt and had now been relaxing, reading a novel in Russian, in one of the living room couches,  near the warm fire. He knew that his boyfriend was supposed to have  brought Alden to the hair dresser but when he saw the little boy getting  out of the car, all propped in his navy blue shorts and blazer of his school uniform, his hair delicately  parted on the top of his head and a wick crossing his forehead he  couldn't help but let out a little sigh of adoration. He wasn't  naturally soft at anything but to his eyes his son was definitely the  most beautiful child out there.