Secrets Uncovered


"No such thing as secrecy. I own secrecy. In a world full of locked doors, the man with the key is king."

-Moriarty


It had been two long, wonderful weeks since Sherlock and John had gone on honeymoon. In those two weeks, Felicity had spent much of her time at the Holmes Estate. Even though she was very mature for her age, both Mycroft and Mummy refused to let her stay and run her experiments in Baker Street by herself. Because of their concern, she found herself having a fabulous time exploring the gardens with Mummy or reading with Mycroft. They were both around a lot more than they had been before the honeymoon, which confused Felicity slightly (After all, wasn't Mycroft the head of the British Government?), but she wrote off her thoughts as simply unnecessary. Mummy didn't work all the time, and neither did Mycroft. Both deserved a break, especially after the tumultuous times they had weathered up to the wedding itself.

However, as the two weeks moved into the final week of Sherlock and John's honeymoon, Mycroft started acting oddly. She found that he would find her in the house at least three times a day. He would find her, notice what she was doing, and then leave. It was very odd behavior. For one thing, he didn't even say hello. He thought he was being covert, but Felicity had ears like a bat thanks to the long hours she would spend in her room at Ruth's, listening for the other girls coming to bother her. Also, he would watch her for a moment, as if to make sure she was still there. Felicity knew that Sherlock and John could be protective, but the idea that they were having Mycroft check on her that often in a day seemed wrong to her. Both John and Sherlock knew that Felicity was independent; she could spend days by herself and be just fine. Why Mycroft was making such a fuss was beyond her.

Finally, John and Sherlock returned, and Felicity was incredibly happy. Both her fathers were tanned by the sun slightly (an odd look for Sherlock), were full of bliss, and asked her all about what she'd been doing and what she wanted to do next. Both were still harping on her to continue studying at universities, but Felicity was done looking at textbooks and memorizing diagrams. She wanted to travel, to experience things first hand. While books were wonderful things, she wanted a more physical approach to her learning from that point on. Experiments helped, but they weren't enough. While Sherlock and John had been gone, she'd taken a fascination with Charles Darwin and had spent a good week learning all about his life. She had therefore come to the conclusion that she wanted to be a naturalist, like he had been. She wanted to travel the world, as he had done, so that she could study the weather and the people she'd meet and the animals and everything she came into contact with. While Sherlock and John supported Felicity in almost everything she did, she was, after all, only twelve, and that was a little young for her to go off exploring on her own.

For a few days they bantered lightly back and forth about the whole idea, and, much to Felicity's confusion, Mycroft stayed and continued his routine of checking up on her. She had been sure that when her fathers returned Mycroft would give her a warm goodbye and would head back to London to go back to work. Instead, he seemed to be even more on edge. By then, it was obvious that he had a secret of some sort. He couldn't have been unhappy (his brother had just gotten married and he was dating Lestrade on the side), stressed (he wasn't working) or bored (Felicity's experiments kept everyone on their toes). So what was it? What could possibly be nagging at Mycroft so much? It was Felicity's newest mystery, and she was determined to solve it.

Right before she could corner him and demand to know what was wrong with him, Mycroft asked for Sherlock, John, Felicity and Mummy to meet him in one of the parlors, saying there was something they needed to discuss. John gave her an excellent piggy back ride there, and so Felicity was caught off guard when she saw Mycroft's face. It was stressed, solemn, and mask-like. Something was definitely wrong. "Problem, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, reverting back to his snide tone that he usually used when he was mocking his brother, but there was a note of worry in his voice. Sherlock was not an idiot, and he had recognized the signs that something was eating at his brother as well. However, he had also brushed the idea aside because he was still reliving the nights he and John had spent shagging.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Mycroft said gravely, looking away from his brother's piercing gaze to pick up a briefcase that was resting next to his armchair. He lifted the leather bag and opened it with an almost foreboding click to retrieve papers within.

"What's all this fuss about? You look like someone's died, Mycroft," John questioned, his grip on Felicity tightening subconsciously. The last death to affect them all had been Charley. They still visited his grave often and Felicity still wore his dog-tags constantly. His death was still a wound in Felicity's normally perfect façade, a wound that he couldn't heal no matter how hard he tried. It made him worry often about Felicity, even if she rolled her eyes and called him over-protective. Felicity, who was sitting on John's knee, stiffened a bit, resisting the urge to finger the chain of Charley's dog-tags. Instead, she studied Mycroft, looking for clues. When she glanced at Mummy for just a moment when she shifted in her chair, a thought struck her.

Mummy looked almost the same way. She wasn't nearly as grim looking, but she was completely calm, almost resigned. She too had been keeping a close eye on her, but Felicity hadn't minded that a bit- she and Mummy were friends and had done quite a lot together over Sherlock and John's honeymoon. However, her behavior mimicked Mycroft's, her first clue. Both of them had been keeping a close watch on her and now both of them looked disturbed by something, conclusion: it had something to do with her. That fact made her a bit sick to her stomach as dread seeped in. What had happened? What could have possibly occurred in such a short time that Sherlock and John were unaware? "It's to do with me, isn't it?" She asked almost before realizing she'd spoken at all, and Mycroft's fingers stilled in the files for a moment- bingo. She'd hit the nail right on the head.

"What?" Sherlock demanded, glancing from inbetween his daughter and his brother, coming to the same conclusion as Felicity had.

"Felicity, do you remember what your parents did for a living?" Mycroft asked, ignoring Sherlock completely to fix his gaze on her. Felicity blinked in surprise.

"Sorry, what? Their jobs?" She asked for clarification, and found it in Mycroft's solemn gaze. "Well, Charley always said that Dad was a businessman and Mum was too. They did a lot of business in London. Why?" She questioned, her curiosity starting to overcome her dread. Why would Mycroft ask after her long dead parents? It was strange. Mycroft cleared his throat, closing the file on his thigh before Sherlock could read it.

"Your parents were not businessmen, Felicity. They worked for MI5." Mycroft stated calmly, and Felicity stared at him as Sherlock snorted indignantly.

"Whatever her parents were involved in, Mycroft, is no concern of ours." He sent his brother a loaded look, clearly wanting him to back off and never speak of her parents again. He had already warned Mycroft never to ask Felicity about it as it was a touchy subject, but apparently he hadn't listened. Mummy sat up straighter, folding her hands, and Sherlock swallowed his tongue. He knew that look on her face from when he was a child- she was about to speak, which means that you were not, unless you wanted a verbal lashing.

"It is a concern of yours, Sherlock. It is a concern to all of us. While I like to give the illusion that I am retired, I still do some work for MI5 like your father and I used to do. I stumbled upon this problem at the same time as Mycroft." She explained almost blithely.

"Alright, enough beating around the bush. What's going on?" John demanded, still in worry mode.

"Felicity's parents, Mr. Henry Muller and Mrs. Nancy Muller, were involved in a program involving trade routes and partners in the Middle East who were suspiciously acquiring weapons from both America and Russia," Mycroft started. "It is our belief that they were compromised."

"What are you saying? That they were-," Sherlock cut himself off, suddenly paling considerably underneath the small tan he'd acquired while on honeymoon. John flinched as he realized exactly what Sherlock had seconds before. Felicity froze on John's knee, the fact slamming into her mind.

"You're saying that they were murdered," The words escaped from her mouth, quiet and hurt. She hadn't known her parents; she could barely remember them, but the idea that she could have had them in her life, that their deaths weren't just an accident, hurt her to the core.

"Yes," Mycroft agreed heavily. "Evidence collected at the scene suggested that the car crash was a well-planned attempt to kill not just your parents, but you and your brother as well."

Felicity instantly bit her tongue to keep from crying. It was ridiculous to do so- after all- that was in the past. It was done, over, nothing she could do about it now. Knowing that her parents were murdered hurt her, but surely MI5 had turned around and had either arrested or killed those responsible. While it was 'her concern' as it had already so delicately been put, Felicity tried to make herself believe that it was already over.

"The plan didn't entirely come to fruition at the time, and so MI5 opened an investigation and made sure to keep constant surveillance upon Charley and yourself. The situation was explained to him in the lightest terms possible, and it was thought that the situation was over. However, when we noticed that attempts were made to either kidnap or assassinate Charley, all of which said attempts were blocked by MI5 without Charley's knowledge, it was suddenly obvious that those who had killed your parents seemed to believe that Charley knew something as well." Mycroft continued speaking, his eyes on the closed file in front of him.

"And who was responsible?" Sherlock asked before anyone could say anything else, nothing but rage in his voice.

"You're missing the point, Sherlock," Mummy prompted quietly, hoping to redirect her son's anger appropriately. Sherlock glared at her instead. However, John got what she meant right away.

"Wait, you mean that Charley did know something?" He looked to Mycroft for confirmation, all the while holding Felicity closer, as if his arms alone could protect her from what the elder Holmes would say next.

"We never got a chance to ask him," Mycroft explained in heavy tones. "Whoever was responsible for the attacks must conducted research into the matter over the two year period that Charley raised Felicity on his own in an effort to confirm or deny if he knew something. They obviously reached the conclusion that he did, because in the time between Felicity's 8th birthday and the time he was deployed, assassins tried to either kidnap or kill him a total of ten times. For his own safety, MI5 requested that his unit was to be deployed to Kuwait."

"What?!" Felicity gasped before she even realized that she'd spoken. "Are you saying that Charley was deployed because people were trying to kill him? Why? What idiot- that only put him in more danger! It got him killed! Who thought that sending him away from his only remaining family would be safer than simply sitting him down and telling him?!" The words poured out of her, and the grief she'd been feeling seconds before was quickly transformed into anger.

"Mine," Mycroft said heavily, and the room went so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Felicity stared at him, unable to process what he had just admitted. The level of betrayal she felt was so high that she couldn't even put it into words. Fortunately, Sherlock could.

"How dare you," he hissed, half rising out of his seat, his eyes burning in his face. John's back had snapped into a military hold- he was just as angry; Felicity could feel him shaking slightly. Or maybe that was her- it was hard to tell. She blinked furiously, looking at the floor, her anger suddenly vanishing, coming back to her as grief.

"Charley would be on a NATO base- one of the safest places in the world, regardless of the fact that he would be in a war zone. His unit was only to be used in times of dire need, and because he was in an armored unit, there were adequate protections in place if he were to be needed off-base. While I may have extreme power here in England, I only had a hand of influence when it came to getting favors done through NATO, especially because it was a US base. Meanwhile, Felicity was going to be extremely well protected by a school designed to educate some of the most powerful children in the world. She would also have my constant surveillance, as well as yours, Sherlock and John. It was the best plan on the table, and so I approved it." Mycroft spoke in a flat tone, even though his words were meant to be persuasive. Very few of his plans had ever failed, and this failure had cost him, and his loved ones, the most. Silence stole across the room as he finished his argument. Almost unconsciously, Felicity gripped the dog-tags she never took off through her shirt, still resisting the urge to cry.

"He wasn't assassinated, was he? Charley?" She asked, managing to look Mycroft right in the eye.

"No. I can assure you that he was simply killed in war." He answered firmly, and she felt herself relax slightly. It was morbid to think of what manner of death for her brother she would prefer most, but Felicity felt that dying for one's country was better than being killed simply because someone wanted you dead. At least he had distinction, and had fought bravely to save others before he was shot.

"If you ever keep a secret like this from me again, I will make life very, very difficult for you, Mycroft. Am I understood?" When Sherlock spoke, his words were like ice, and were so deadly that they made Felicity shiver.

"Perfectly," Mycroft agreed dully, without fully acknowledging Sherlock's threat. Sherlock stood abruptly and paced furiously, muttering under his breath as he put pieces together in his mind palace.

"Are you ok, Felicity?" John asked quietly in her ear, breaking Felicity out of a trance. She could just picture Charley's last moments (it didn't help that they had been the subject of her nightmares for a long time), and when Mycroft had brought the subject back up she couldn't help but torture herself by imagining what it must have been like. Felicity pressed back against his chest, curling up further on his lap, wishing she could bury her face into his jumper like she used to.

"Yes," she answered, voice strained.

"No she's not, John, look at her. Paleness, trembling fingers, resisting the urge to cry by biting her tongue and pressing her fingernails into her palms- it's all very obvious," Sherlock ranted at a blistering pace as he continued to stalk around the room.

"Come here," John requested, opening his arms wider, allowing Felicity to turn around and hide her face when she twitched visibly in distress at Sherlock's deductions.

"I'm afraid there is more to this. However, if you don't wish to continue, Felicity, I understand," Mycroft said quietly after a moment, his voice unusually compassionate for a man in his position. Usually he delivered all the facts in a cold, uncaring debrief. Now, every word he said hurt him almost as much as it hurt Felicity. He had to carry this secret from Sherlock ever since he went to visit the two of them to make sure that his brother wasn't going to accidentally kill an interest of MI5. Felicity had been seven at the time, and seeing her grow up with such a harsh secret kept from her had added a heavy burden of stress to Mycroft's life.

"What is it?" Felicity asked into John's jumper, keeping her tone mostly level while being able to let her face contort with grief without anyone seeing. She heard Mycroft take a deep breath.

"The group that assassinated your parents believes that you know something as well."