Clique of 221B

Chapter 9: Chatting with Mycroft

"Babysitting your little brother has put me through some unimaginable things, Mycroft Holmes," you say to him. You're in his underground office at the Diogenes Club. He's sat behind his desk and is leaning back in his chair. You lean back in your chair and prop your feet on the edge of his desk. He scowls at your feet but neither of you mention it.
"Like what?" He asks you, as he pours you a cup of tea. I bet he's glad I turned up, by the looks of it he's been doing paperwork all day.
"I had to witness the birth of a human being!" You writhe uncomfortably in your seat. "It was the most repulsive, traumatic experience that has ever occurred in my life." He laughs at this. "I swear I will never do that myself."
"What?"
"Have tiny humans."
"You might." You cringe at that unpleasant thought. But then you smirk, "What about you Mycroft? You could find yourself a goldfish to have your own tiny humans with."
"Change the subject. Now."
"Lady Smallwood's a goldfish. A goldfish who you a lot of spend time with."
"Playing at matchmaker, Miss [Y/L/N]?"
"Not at all Mr Holmes, I'm just talking about our friend and colleague Lady Smallwood."
"Friend? I thought she hated you?"
"Now that I think about it. I think she does."
"Any idea why?"
"Are you implying I'm not very likeable?"
"Not at all. I'm just wondering what on Earth you did to annoy her that much."
"You immediately think that I did something?" He gives you a look. You sigh, "Smart man."
"I am aware. Well?"
"Well. I used to be one of her freelance agents until someone I know suggested *cough*MycroftHolmes*cough* that we stop using them. So then I ended up annoying her until she'd give me a new job."
"Is that it?"
"Yep."
"Well her hate is uncalled for."
"I agree."
"You're not using as many long words and paragraphs when speaking."
"Aren't I?"
"Yes. But why?"
"Maybe I don't feel the need to impress people anymore? Besides being surrounded by fellow geniuses long words aren't needed as much."
"How's Sherlock doing?" You smile at this, he probably knows but we have an agreement.
"Very well actually. Hasn't nearly died recently. Hasn't annoyed anyone important. Hasn't been unnecessarily mean to anyone." You check these points on your fingers. "So overall a success on my part."
"A success indeed. Thank you [Y/N]."
"You're very welcome Mycroft, dear."

1 hour later...

Sherlock's here, he's taken off his coat and is pacing in front of the desk while Mycroft sits behind it. You're still sat in your chair but you've pulled it to the side a bit so you can see them both.
"I met her once." Mycroft says. Of course he has.
"Thatcher?" Sherlock asks.
"Rather arrogant, I thought."
"You thought that?" Mycroft chuckles at this.
"I know." You smile. He drops his smile as he holds up Sherlock's phone. "Why am I looking at this?" Sherlock stops his pacing,
"That's her. John and Mary's baby." He looks back at the picture.
"Rosie." You add.
"Oh, I see. Yes. Looks very," he pauses as he struggles for an appropriate word, "-fully functioning." Sherlock frowns at him,
"Is that really the best you can do?"
"Sorry. I've never been very good with them."
"Babies?" Mycroft smiles smugly,
"Humans." And don't I know it. Sherlock steps forward, takes the phone from him and puts it in the pocket of his jacket.
"Moriarty. Did he have any connection with Thatcher? Any interest in her?"
"Why on Earth would he?"
"I don't know. You tell me." Mycroft opens a folder on his desk,
"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," ..stole the Crown Jewels and died a couple of times, clearly a busy guy.. "-and had latterly shown some interest in tracking down the Black Pearl of the Borgias – which is still missing, by the way, in case you feel like applying yourself to something practical."
"It's a pearl. Get another one!" Mycroft rolls his eyes at Sherlock's response. When he looks at you, you shrug, I can't disagree with Sherlock on that one. I've been asked about that pearl before as well. They find anyone smart and they think you can solve all of their problems! Sherlock stares at the wall, "There's something important about this. I'm sure. Maybe it's Moriarty. Maybe it's not. But something's coming." Mycroft frowns, leans forward, and folds his hands on the desk,
"Are you having a premonition, brother mine?" Sherlock blinks and turns towards Mycroft,
"The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable, as inevitable as mathematics." Mycroft smiles briefly,
"Appointment in Samarra." I hated that story, there aren't a lot of books that I hate but I hate any story that has both a predictable or an avoidable ending.
"I'm sorry?"
"The merchant who can't outrun Death. You always hated that story as a child. Less keen on predestination back then." Sherlock narrows his eyes,
"I'm not sure I like it now." He picks up his coat from the chair next to you and starts to put it on.
"You wrote your own version, as I remember. Appointment in Sumatra. The merchant goes to a different city and is perfectly fine."
"Goodnight, Mycroft." He turns towards the door. Mycroft looks thoughtfully at the memory,
"Then he becomes a pirate, for some reason." You smile at that.
"Keep me informed." He heads to the door.
"Of what?"
"Absolutely no idea." He walks out. Very specific. Thank you, Sherly.