Chapter One


They were both just boys. Mycroft, more than 7 years his brother's senior, was always feeling protective of the bright selfish 14-year-old. Sherlock was not the most amiable of kids – he had sharp, humourless eyes that nothing escaped from and a mind so quick that having a conversation with him was unavoidably tiring for the one and boring for the other party. But Mycroft loved him. Quite smart himself, even if not as gifted as Sherlock, he was always finding excuses for his brother's behaviour and, in doing so, encouraging him to be proud beyond decency. Very rarely did he attempt to point to Sherlock the advantages of socialising with those less fortunate in every respect. His brother had made it his life's ambition to excel and wouldn't let some 'little ordinary people' slow him down.

Mycroft, on the other hand, was ambitious in a completely different way. He honestly wanted to save the world. He even had plans to settle down one day, to marry and have a family. He saw it more as an instrument to achieving his professional goals, but he wasn't averse to the idea of falling in love nonetheless.

Until she came and turned his world upside-down. They were at university together. He first saw her at a Psychology lecture in his second year. She looked at him and smiled. Mycroft was surprised – women had never been interested in him before. He was neither handsome nor rich. He had the clumsy, if elegant, geekiness that never goes quite out of fashion and that made him popular amongst his mates. But women his age were more into loud, muscular men who listened to rock music and did things like driving on the wrong side of the highway during their daddy-financed summers overseas.

So here was this strikingly beautiful woman staring at him, apparently deep in thought. Had she even noticed him, or was she smiling for an entirely different reason?


One week later, there she was again. This time she approached him and in a clear, emotionless voice inquired if the seat next to him was free. He nodded pensively and continued reading the politics section of the newspaper in front of him.

'You're not a psychology student.' It wasn't a question; still, Mycroft stopped reading and looked at her.

'I saw you last week,' the girl continued. 'Even then it was obvious you're only attending this course for a few selected lectures and they haven't started yet.'

Mycroft smiled but, again, didn't answer. Having a brother like Sherlock had taught him that the only way to show true appreciation without boring the person is to gently tease them until they are burning with desire to impress you.

'My name is Mycroft Holmes.' He stretched his arm as far as the space between them allowed and the girl took it.

'Katie,' said she. Just a first name. 'She wants to keep the mystery,' Mycroft thought. 'Let her believe that.' Instead, he smiled weakly again and asked:

'Why did you switch to guitar?'

'Excuse me?' Katie was surprised and still, subconsciously perhaps, she hid her hands under the desk in front of her.

'I can see you've given up playing the piano and are now learning guitar. Why? I believe the piano is one of the most beautiful instruments.'

'But it's not very rock'n'roll, is it?'

Mycroft was obviously disappointed. 'Oh, right, of course.'


Neither showed any inclination to continue the conversation. Still, there was a mischievous grin on Katie's face. Mycroft wondered if she was secretly laughing at him. During the whole lecture he followed her every action from the corner of his eye but she didn't look at him once. She was just sitting there, her elbow inches away from his, with a dreamy, smiling expression. Then the time was up and everybody was preparing to leave. Only Katie was still. She looked at the board as if she expected something to appear on it. Mycroft had packed his things but couldn't stand up because of her being in the way. He tried to cough gently. It didn't work. He'd have to talk to her.

'Uh... Katie, sorry...'

'I'd love to.'

'Pardon me?'

'I'd love to meet you for a coffee after your weekly visit to the library tomorrow afternoon around 5.'

Mycroft froze, half-sitting, half-standing. He must have looked ghastly because Katie, who had just turned around to face him, suddenly jumped to her feet and cleared the way for him to leave the bench. He stood up quickly and, without a single word, hurried to the door. It wasn't until a couple of paces later that he stopped dead and turned around, still pale but a weak smile on his lips.

'See you then.'

Katie raised her eyes to meet his and, for Mycroft's eternal surprise, blushed. Afraid that he might follow suit, he turned again and swiftly left.