Ten Past the Hour (Mycroft Holmes Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

Amy stared after Mycroft as the lift closed. She blinked a couple times and tilted her head. Coming up to see me... As in me? Or us? What? Shaking her head, she decided he hadn't meant anything by it. Returning to the counter, she waited for Wendy to explain why she was staring.
"What was that?" Wendy asked.
"What?"
"Mycroft Holmes was just... friendly with you."
"Yes... He's been like that since I met him. Nice guy."
Wendy choked on her coffee. "That's not something I ever expected to hear about him."
Amy laughed and shrugged. "I like him. He's interesting." She picked up the document she was reviewing and found where she'd left off.
"I think he'd say the same about you."
***
"Casper. Down. Good boy! I'll see you later."
Amy jumped on her bike, pulling into traffic and speeding past the Caffè Nero. She would have to stop at the one by the building. Kate always made her coffee just right but she was running late, again. And today was her first day as the official Head of Archives. Nancy had assured her that she could run it anyway she wanted to so long as it was effective. On that note, Amy had decided she would continue to wear her old jeans and t-shirts. She packed some slacks and a blouse for the occasional meeting. Terrance had been sent to IT and Pat and Wendy were in field training. She'd be starting her new team today, as well.
It was a new day for the Archives.
Arriving in her office right at eight o'clock and before anyone else, Amy smiled and settled into the black leather chair. She remembered the last three times she'd sat here. Nancy had her hiring the new team. In doing so, they had pulled a Dread Pirate Roberts on the applicants. Amy had sat behind the desk and handled the interview. Nancy had pretended to be the assistant who sat by and took notes.
Jeffrey Holdings, a young man of about twenty-three, was her new intel operative. He was in charge of getting the information to and from people and places outside of the building. He would rarely be in the offices with them. Laurel Bens, a quiet girl of twenty-two, was the new data analyst. Silent and often overlooked, she was a genius and MI-5 had grabbed her from university and shipped her into special training. Lastly, there was Lukas Main. Thirty-four and meticulous in his work, Amy had seen him as the perfect file handler and primary researcher. He would take over her former job and organize the library. She had, nonetheless, told him that she would be helping as often as she could. She was itching to rearrange the sections and learn them all over again. He had smiled quietly and nodded.
"You're welcome to it." He'd said.
Smiling as she heard the doors open and three sets of footsteps enter, Amy left her office. "Alright. Where should we start?"
***
"Anthea? How are you feeling?" Amy frowned at the preoccupied brunette.
Mycroft's personal assistant looked up from her Blackberry only long enough to distinguish who was speaking to her. "Much better, thank you." Amy nodded and left Luke to help her. She walked away with an armful of returned documents, wondering why she was suddenly so disappointed to see the assistant. Mycroft wouldn't be coming back up. She sighed. It wasn't like they were friends or anything. It was just nice talking to him. But she had new employees to talk to now, different people to get to know.
Three weeks went by. She looked up as a knock at her office door made her stop reading. "Come in."
Lukas poked his head in. "Mycroft Holmes to see you, Amy."
She frowned, tamping down the smile that threatened to break free onto her face. "Thank you." She stood and went out to the counter. Her smile broke past her control and she looked up into a familiar pair of cold blue eyes. "Mycroft. What brings you up here?"
"I'm in need of a file, of course."
She raised a brow and let him past the counter. "Your assistant is back. Why are you up here?"
"I felt like doing it myself for once." He murmured. She smiled and tilted her head, waiting for what he needed. "Intercepted plans from Beijing in 2002."
Lukas held a hand up to get her attention. "Um... I can get him that, Amy."
She waved him off. "It's fine, Luke. I'll get it for him. Thanks. This way, Mr. Holmes." She led him to a recently reorganized shelf and pressed a small black button. This one was digital. Opening the database, she printed the documents. "Return these in this casing when you're done and we'll dispose of it." She slipped it into a secured folder and handed it to him. He nodded and took it.
"Thank you. Good afternoon."
It was another month before she saw him again.
***
Mycroft stepped out of his car and stood on the sidewalk, waiting. Jordan Close, his apprentice and brother's girlfriend stood in front of a black granite wall. The monument had names etched into it, names of those lost around the world in a massive terrorist attack three years prior. Eighteen seismic generators had ripped apart major sites and fault lines. Jordan and Sherlock had gone to the States to help there. To take her place, she had suggested a girl named Leddy. She'd been a part of Sherlock's homeless network and had been resourceful in many ways.
Mycroft had been planning to recruit her afterwards. She had perished in the generator that had taken down The Eye. She'd died alone and in pain, sacrificing her last few minutes to stop the bomb that was supposed to decimate whatever the generator left standing. Jordan hadn't truly forgiven herself for putting her in the field.
"John and Sherlock's flight will land in about twenty minutes."
She nodded and turned, not even surprised to find him behind her. She slipped into the car and relaxed against the seat. "A year and a half without them. The flat's been too quiet."
He had sent the boys on a case in the East, dismantling an underground organization. He was bringing them back now, to do it again. Only this time, the organization was in London and they had solid information that an attack was imminent.
The private jet touched down on the runway and the steps were lowered. John descended first, grinning as Jordan ran to hug him. He squeezed her tightly and patted her back before walking to the car. Sherlock stepped down after, chuckling when Jordan threw herself into his arms. He pulled her close and kissed her.
"It's only been a year and a half." He muttered.
"Shut up and kiss me again."
Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, turning to join John by the car. "I suggest you stay at Mary's for a week." He muttered.
"Yeah, I was just thinking that."
Sherlock walked up to them, backpack in one hand and girlfriend held against his side. "Mycroft."
"Little brother. That one is yours. Do try to behave. It's new."
Sherlock snorted. "I'll do my best." Tugging Jordan behind him, he went to the Jaguar parked a few meters away. They dropped John off at Mary's and Jordan was called away for a meeting. Sherlock went to his bookshelf, pulling out a box. He smiled and nodded for Mycroft to take a seat. "Let's play a game!"
***
"We have solid information." Mycroft muttered.
"Solid information that a secret terrorist organization is planning an attack. That's what secret terrorist organizations do, isn't it? It's their version of golf." Sherlock replied mockingly.
"An agent gave his life to tell us that."
"Oh well perhaps he shouldn't have done. He was obviously just trying to show off." He raised his brows quickly, obviously caring little for this information.
Mycroft sighed. "From what you've gathered before your return, none of these markers of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously?" He glanced down. "Your move."
"No Mycroft, but you have to trust me. I'll find the answer. It'll be in an odd phrase in an online blog or an unexpected trip to the countryside or a misplaced lonely hearts ad." He smiled. "Your move."
Mycroft glanced down. "I've given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you're on the case."
Sherlock frowned. "I am on the case, we're both on the case. Look at us right now."
The board between them buzzed loudly. Mycroft looked down, yanking his hand away. "Oh, bugger!"
"Oopsie! Can't handle a broken heart. How very telling."
Mycroft leaned forward, concentrating. "Don't be smart." He muttered.
Sherlock leaned back and crossed his legs. "That takes me back. Don't be smart, Sherlock. I'm the smart one." He said in a falsetto voice.
Mycroft glared at him from under his brows. "I am the smart one."
"I used to think I was an idiot."
There was a pause. "Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on, until we met other children."
"Oh yes, that was a mistake."
"Ghastly. What were they thinking of?"
"Probably something about making friends."
Mycroft smiled cooly. "Oh yes, friends." He drew out the work with distaste. "Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now. Girlfriends even." He folded his hands, elbows resting on the armrests.
Sherlock focused on him. "And you don't? Ever?"
He smiled wider. "If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish." All with their big, blind eyes and jabbering mouths. It was torture.
Sherlock's regard sharpened. "Yes, but I've been away for nearly two years. Again."
Oh god... "So?"
"Oh, I don't know. I thought perhaps you would have found yourself a... goldfish."
He huffed in disgust and stood. "Change the subject. Now."
"Rest assured, Mycroft, whatever this underground network of yours is up to the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre."
"Yoohoo." Mrs. Hudson walked in, carrying a tray of tea things.
"Speaking of which." Mycroft muttered.
"I can't believe it. Him, sitting in his chair again. Oh, it's been so long! Isn't it wonderful, Mr. Holmes?"
"I can barely contain myself."
Sherlock stifled a snort. "He really can you know."
Mrs. Hudson waved them off. "He's secretly pleased to see you underneath all that..." She raised her chin, putting on a face of mock hauteur. Mycroft tilted his head and asked to whom she was referring. She smiled. "Both of you."
Sherlock smiled and clapped his hands quickly. "Let's play something different."
Mycroft sighed. "Why are we playing games?"
The younger Holmes shrugged. "London's terror alert has been raised to critical. I'm just passing the time. Let's do deductions." He said cheerfully. Grabbing a hat annoyingly common among some youths lately, he threw it at his brother. "Client left this while I was out. What do you reckon?"
He caught it easily and sniffed it, looking at his brother. "I always win."
"Which is why you can't resist."
"I find nothing irresistible in the hat of a well-travelled, anxious, sentimental, unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis." He faltered, his smile falling away. "Damn."
"Isolated too, don't you think?" Sherlock caught the hat as it was tossed back to him.
"Why would he be isolated?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned around. "Of course you missed it. Plain as day."
"Where?"
"There for all to see."
"Tell me." He was getting impatient.
"Plain as the nose..."
"Tell me!"
"Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn't in the habit of hanging around other people, is he?" Sherlock exclaimed.
Mycroft sniffed. "Not at all. Maybe he just doesn't mind being different. He doesn't necessarily have to be isolated."
Sherlock shrugged, now carefully avoiding his brother's gaze. "Exactly."
A pause. Mycroft blinked. "I'm sorry?"
Sherlock shrugged again. "He's different, so what? Why would he mind? Quite right." Carefully, he put the hat on his head. "Why would anyone mind?" He blinked.
Mycroft stared at his younger brother, at a loss for words for a moment. "I'm not lonely, Sherlock." His cool demeanor fell just a bit, the crack in his ever present armor showing as his brother continued to watch him. Sherlock stepped closer.
"How would you know?" He whispered, taking the hat off and moving away.
Mycroft straightened his shoulders, seeking the comfort of callousness again. "Yes, back to work if you don't mind. Good morning." He took his leave, resolved to put the conversation from his mind.
His Jaguar pulled up as he let the door to 221B close behind him. Slipping in, he glanced at his assistant. She showed no signs of noticing him, too focused on the device in her hand. He looked away, knowing that though she didn't look up she was paying attention to his every move to be sure he needed nor wanted anything.
"Is he being difficult again?" She asked.
"Not really. He's somehow gotten it into his head that I am lonely. I fear for where that abominable thought will lead next."
Anthea kept a careful silence, allowing herself only a small smile when he sighed. She agreed with the younger Holmes but she wouldn't meddle. Mycroft seemed to be handling the problem without even knowing it just yet.

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Thoughts?