It was quiet up in the snowy mountain, a major contrast to the small town it overlooked.
The streets were not as busy as it should be but there were a few people walking about. A normal day some would say. That is, until a bullet flew right through someone's head. Everyone screamed and panicked.
Up in the mountains was a figure lying on the snow. The figure dressed in white, from head to toe, allowing her to blend in.
She took out her phone and sent a message, 'It's done. I'll be waiting. - I'
After a few moments she checked her accounts and found a large sum just being deposited into it.
'Nice doing business with you,' she thought.
She swiftly got up, packed, and left her location. She made her way down, not caring about the tracks she made, it was bound to disappear seeing that it snows every hour.
Nearing the city, she paused and quickly changed. She removed the head gear and face mask revealing long locks of black framing the pale face, she took her coat off and turned it inside out, revealing its navy blue tone. Her pants were pulled off revealing another pair in black underneath. She continued her way back into the city with a tote bag.
She entered her temporary residence, and took off her winter gear. She yawned as she made her way to the bathroom with her bag. She approached the bathtub, closed the curtains, and turned the shower on. She then kneeled down to open the hidden wall underneath the tub. She placed her bag into the compartment, and then closed it back up. Now that was done, she proceeded to take a shower.
Now warm and scantily clad in nothing but her undergarments; a tank top and a pair of short shorts, she made her way to the kitchen. However, on her way there something made her pause.
"Well it seems he finally caught me. Took him a while," she says nonchalantly continuing her way to the kitchen.
A figure came out from the shadows, all dressed in tactical gear and gun pointed at her.
The fridge door opens, "You want anything from the fridge?" She received no reply. "No? Suit yourself." She reaches her hand in and pulls it out, "You know I'm not going to make it easy." A gun.
She knew they weren't there long enough to search for her stash of guns. As soon as she said those words, windows shattered as more operatives came in and bullets started flying throughout the room. She knew their guns contained nonlethal bullets but that doesn't mean was going to make this easy.
Mycroft was having a lovely day, the goldfishes he was surrounded with decided to be competent for now, and he was now imposing his time onto his younger brother and his flatmate.
Sherlock could be so dramatic at times, with his pacing back and forth, and glares. John on the other hand was just resigned. Mycroft just sat back, and smiled. Neither of the brothers spoke; whoever spoke first clearly loses. It was an old game of theirs; a game that carried from childhood till now, and Sherlock, being the impatient boy he was and still is, always lost. Just like now.
"What are you doing here? Don't you have a war to stop?" his little brother growled out, obviously annoyed with his presence.
Mycroft smirked, "I had time to spare and thought that I would spend it with my brother today."
"Caring is not an advantage Mycroft," Sherlock mocked.
The elder brother was not impressed, and silence was brought back to the room. Sherlock now stood by the window, glaring out while John sighed, being use to the frosty interactions.
The silence was only interrupted when Mrs. Hudson entered the room with tea and biscuits.
"Really, Sherlock! Remember I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper. You should be serving tea for your guests yourselves," the landlady chided as she carried a tray, and had settled it down on the coffee table that was within reach of everyone.
Sherlock scoffed, "Mycroft's not a guest." He couldn't help but give out a childish retort, "He won't be needing anything, he'll put on weight."
"Oh dear, you've been trying to lose weight?" Mrs. Hudson asked the Government, "You know Mrs. Turner from next door; she had a lovely couple who was trying to do the same too. They tried everything, an-"
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock snapped at his landlady. "Please do shut up."
Mrs. Hudson, too use to this behaviour and not at all bothered, left the room with a huff.
Silence was yet again interrupted by Mycroft's assistant, 'Anthea'. It was curious, she never interrupted their visit before, and she knew that she shouldn't.
Anthea walked cautiously into the room and with a bit of hesitation so small, that it might have been missed if it wasn't done in front of the Holmes brother, "Sir?"
Mycroft turned his head towards her slightly and waited for what could be so important to interrupt his time with his brother.
She hesitated once again, and very lowly told him the news. It was very low that neither Sherlock nor John could hear. It could've been something government related, but if it weren't for the minute change in Mycroft's face, that only Sherlock caught, it could've been passed as such.
Sherlock analyzed his brother and went through all the possibilities, until he landed on one he knew would definitely affect the older man.
Mycroft picked up his umbrella, and made his way to the door
With a smirk directed towards his brother, Sherlock stated, "You finally found her."
Mycroft paused, "Who? I haven't gotten a clue as to what you're talking about. This is business."
"You usually hide your tells better brother dear. But whenever it concerns her you slip," he taunted towards the retreating back. "She must be bored enough to let you catch her."
He was ignored.
"Good day Sherlock, John," Mycroft bid them a goodbye, and left the room.
But not before Sherlock called out, "She'll be disappointed in your diet!""
Sherlock waited a few seconds to hear the door shut before rushing to get his coat and scarf.
"Come along John!" He called out, and John appeared right behind him.
"What's going on Sherlock?" The doctor asked putting his coat on and only received a smirk.
"We're following Mycroft! Now come one before we lose them. Actually, it doesn't matter. I know where they're going."
"That isn't an answer Sherlock. Sherlock? Sherlock!"
Mycroft entered his private room at the Diogenes Club, and stopped a few steps in. He scanned the room, and let his eyes land on the other occupant in the room. She was laid out on the couch, her hair and arm dangling off of the couch, the other arm over her face and one leg up.
"What on earth are you wearing?" Mycroft inquired unamused at what he saw.
He received a smirk, and a soft voice came from her, "Hello Sherlock, I see you've followed Mycroft."
Mycroft slightly twitched in annoyance, of course Sherlock followed. He never could leave his nose out of his business. Though, one could say that this was of interest to Sherlock. With a sigh Mycroft walked more into the room, his brother and John following. The consulting detective and doctor took a seat across from the woman, while Mycroft remained standing.
"Iona," Sherlock greeted with a nod and quirk of his lips, "I see you've been caught."
The woman now identified as Iona snorted unmoving from her position, "An astute observation. It was a matter of time. I decided to let him win this time. I was getting dreadfully bored."
Mycroft clenched his umbrella and interrupted with a light warning tone, "Before you continue you might want to put something on."
She did not respond.
Mycroft called on the agent that brought her in. He received a nervous answer. "She refused to come dressed appropriately sir."
With a growl, he ordered her to dress. All she did was move her position. She was now lying on her front, her upper half propped up by her elbows and one hand on her face. She smirked at the British Government with an eyebrow raised.
She ignored him and continued her conversation with the younger occupants of the room, "I see you've finally made friends Sherlock. John Watson was it?"
John simply nodded, "Nice to meet you?"
"Call me Iona. You've been such a good friend to Sherlock. Thank you for taking care of him. I know he has been difficult. You balance out his eccentricities; it makes it harder for people to dislike him. After all, if he had someone like you as a friend, he couldn't be that bad. He just needed someone to ground him down; someone who doesn't mind his eccentricities and can put up with his, pardon my language, crap. You have been a wonderful influence on him. He also needed someone who can stop him and won't let anyone stop them from telling him off for doing something; most people would give up or won't care, they'd just leave him to deal with the consequences with no help as all. It's good that you still accepted him back after his fake death; he would've been quite unbearable if you hadn't."
John couldn't help but flush at the compliments he was receiving, and was about to reply if it weren't for Mycroft.
Mycroft had approached the couch she was on and growled out, "For God's sake, put your clothes on!"
"Temper temper, your sentiment is showing," Sherlock jeered as the woman remained unmoved, both clearly enjoying the situation. "Don't worry Mycroft, I'm not interested, and John, though interested, is very loyal to his wife."
"Sherlock!" John exclaimed offended.
"At least I wasn't completely starkers at the Buckingham palace," Iona replied with a sly smile towards Sherlock.
Sherlock chuckled at that memory, "Of course you knew that."
"Well I better get properly dressed, you know how Mycroft gets when you ignore him too long, or when you don't do what he wants," she said as she got up.
She got up from the couch and was now standing in front of Mycroft. She smiled at him, a change from the sly smiles and snarky comments he had been receiving.
She patted his arm, "Stop frowning Mycroft, people would think you would have emotions, and we all know your stance on them, don't we." And with that she gave his cheek a kiss.
She turned, and walked towards the other two occupants.
"Sherlock," she smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
That was surprising for John; Sherlock was never one for affections and usually protested against them. If it weren't for the small quirk of his lips and his lack of protests, John wouldn't have thought differently. He looked towards Mycroft, and something akin to a glare – or at least he thinks it was a glare with how Mycroft was – directed at him. He wondered why until his name was called.
"It was nice meeting you John," Iona said holding her hand out for a shake, "I know I've already said this before but I thought I should at least do it properly."
Ah, so that was why he had a glare directed at him. A half-naked woman in front of you with close ties to the Holmes would of course warrant such reaction. The glare he got was definitely a warning against looking at the woman inappropriately.
He looked up at her face, careful not to let his eyes roam, he shook her hand, "Um, yes. Nice to meet you as well."
She gave him a smile, and turned. The back of John's hair stuck up, his eyes moved towards Mycroft, and he received a rather chilling look. He vaguely heard Sherlock snort.
"There should be-" Mycroft called out, eyes still boring into John, daring him to look.
"Yes, I know dear," she replied as she walked towards a wall.
She fiddled with a few of the wooden décor and pushed; the wall opened. She entered the concealed room and the wall closed behind her.
John let out a relieved sigh when Mycroft's glare on him was gone, and he finally voiced out what he had been questioning ever since he had gotten to Diogenes Club, "Who's she? And I thought women aren't allowed in the Diogenes Club?"
Mycroft sat on the now unoccupied couch, and explained, "Diogenes Club is a gentleman's club yes; however, as a founder I hold a few leeways; one of which is being able to bring Iona here. Of course I cannot flaunt her presence in front of the other members; there'd be a riot if I did. This is my private room."
"And who is she? To you that is."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Think John, you should be smart enough to be able to deduce this."
"Right, um… She's been missing quite some time and Mycroft has been looking for her ever since. Mycroft's aggressiveness to want her dressed, and showed overprotectiveness that I thought only existed for you, Sherlock. Her concern for you when she told me that she was glad you've found a friend tells me she cares for you. You've been weirdly amicable with her. You even share the habit of antagonising Mycroft, and the allowance to let her in the club. This tells me that you both have a close relationship with her," John listed on top of his head.
"And your conclusion?"
John thought a bit further before concluding in disbelief, "Oh gosh, are there three of you? Is she your sister?"
Sherlock gave out an exasperated sigh, while Mycroft scoffed. Before either of them could get a word in they heard a laugh.
Iona entered the room now dressed; in a white v-neck long sleeve blouse with thin black stripes, a dark green flowy skirt, black tights, and black boots. She was also carrying a coat in her arms.
"Before Sherlock says 'you see, but you do not observe', I'll just save you the hassle. They often forget that there are people who are content with just seeing and not observing," she said as she walked towards the couch. "You are correct that I am a Holmes and that I share a close relationship with Sherlock and Mycroft, just not in the way you think." She bent down and kissed Mycroft on the cheek, who kissed her back, before sitting next to him. "By law, I am Sherlock's sister."
She crossed her legs, leaned into Mycroft, and linked their arms together.
"Must you always help my brother antagonize me whenever you come back dear?" Mycroft voiced exasperated as he moved his free hand and moved it on top of her hand. All he got was a small laugh and another kiss to his cheek.
"You should be use to this by now, Mycroft. After all, that was how I got your attention remember," she smirked.
Mycroft winced and grimaced. Iona laughed, and kissed his cheek, clearly enjoying his embarrassment. He smoothed out his expression, and ducked down to return the kiss.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the display of affection. He may like his sister-in-law, but he didn't need nor want to see his brother engaged in such a way. And he never will! Unlike what people think, he doesn't want to know everything.
John squinted a bit while processing what she said and what he saw, before realization dawned onto him, "You're Mycroft's wife?! I thought he was married to his job."
"Sometimes it seems like it's true with his cold personality and all, doesn't it. That's why I antagonize him; he needs to be reminded that he's human sometimes. He doesn't understand that emotions are what make people smarter than him, but he would always deny that. I do what you do for Sherlock, help him understand emotions and be his emotions. So I do apologize for him being unbearably stupid in the past and the future," she responded with a smile. "I hope you don't blame them for not mentioning me, sometimes I just disappear on long trips with a few appearances here and there before coming back. I do this from time to time, but I guess Mycroft got too… overprotective after what happened to Sherlock and started to track me down every time. You'd think he'd be content with my visits when I disappear. I even made sure he wasn't busy being the government when I visit… Did you think I was locked up or something? I wouldn't put it pass him to do so."
John blinked at what he was told, "Right…" Bloody Holmes… even their spouses are mental! He was surprised at how nonchalant she was when she said that, even at Mycroft, who apparently was fine with it. If it was him, he wouldn't be at all! Your own wife disappearing for god know how long, and visiting occasionally, and be ok with it? That's not a normal marriage. Then again, the Holmes brothers has their own brand of insanity, it would make sense if their significant other fit right in with that.
But he had to admit they looked perfectly in love. It wasn't the way that they sat next to each other that clued him in, it was the soft tone of Mycroft's voice and that affectionate gaze directed towards Iona. Though, to be honest, if he hadn't had encounters with Mycroft throughout the years he wouldn't be able to see that. Iona, on the other hand, didn't mind showing her emotions, and he could clearly see the love brimming out of her eyes and smile.
"Also Mycroft, your agents are getting sloppy," she commented, "Getting hit too many times."
"I thought they'd get some experience by sending them after you," he simply stated.
"Tsk tsk. I'm taking that they're new agents," she sighed. "If I wasn't using paintball guns they'd be dead. You should train them more."
"You should come in and train them."
"Tempting, really, but I'd rather not. Too boring," she paused, "Have your agents collected my things when they came for me? I rather not leave my things lying about. Who knows what would happen if someone got their hands on them."
"Yes dear," he said patting her hand, "Even from your hiding spots. I compiled a list for them."
He received a smile, and his lips quirked.
"She's a spy," Sherlock told John, who was trying to figure out what the couple were talking about, "Even when she goes off, she's still on the job."
"Well money can't appear out of nowhere. I had to make money somehow without alerting Mycroft," Iona shrugged, and then added, "Plus they were sanctioned hits that I happened to be paid for."
"Wait what?" John spluttered in shock, "You're a spy?"
Iona raised an eyebrow, "Yes John, hard to believe?"
Sherlock confirmed, "Well you are quite hard to deduce."
"It's called being able to cover one's tracks Sherlock. No one should be able to tell," she told her brother-in-law. "Any spy worth their title should be able to do so. If they can't then they're jokes. Seeing as I was able to hide that fact from you before I told you makes me happy." Seeing John's expression, she indulged, "I somehow befriended Sherlock during one of my undercover stints, and surprisingly met Mycroft then as well; also fooled him. Always nice to be able to fool two of the smartest men in Britain."
John was still in disbelief while Sherlock sulked as he was reminded of his past failure to identify Iona's occupation correctly.
Iona went into Mycroft's waistcoat and took out his pocket watch to check the time, "Well then, we should get going, it's time to visit Mummy."
She stood up and pulled Mycroft up with her. Her husband tried protesting a visit, but was wholly ignored. She even pulled Sherlock up from his seat.
"Come along Sherlock! She's expecting us!" she declared firmly before she turned to John, "You and Mary are welcomed to come along. We'll collect her on the way."
Before John could reply or even question her, she made her way out with Mycroft arms linked, Sherlock trailing behind them, both resigned to her manipulations; they knew it would be of no use. She had clearly contacted Mummy and informed her of their visit. The two brothers were caught unaware, if they knew beforehand they would've tried to weasel their way out of it; not that Iona would let them.
She knew how to deal with them; she wouldn't have married one of them if she didn't.
Author's Note:
I hope you enjoyed this! I haven't posted and written fanfics in a long while now, but I hope you enjoy and that I got the characters right and not too OOC. I'd like to know what you thought about this so please leave your comments!
This story hasn't been beta'd. My go to person has been busy, and I've decided to upload it anyways. It will get edited eventually...
On a side note, I've also been thinking of doing a prequel on how they all met. What do you think?
This has also been cross-posted on ao3.