Everybody's Fool

Jessica Holmes was pregnant.

Being pregnant had a number of advantages. One, Mycroft doted on her like she was the bloody Queen of England, two, people stood up on the bus and the tube to let her sit down and three, she felt a slight twinge of amusement every time she caught 'Anthea's envious glare on her wedding ring.

Jessica hated being pregnant. One, Mycroft, nor his minions, would leave her bloody well alone. Ever. Two, people giving her their seat made her want to whack their heads against a wall until they realised she was perfectly capable of standing and was not an invalid, even with what felt like the equivalent of a couple of boulders strapped to her chest, thank you very much, and three….well, teasing 'Anthea' was just becoming boring.

She supposed she should have been grateful that she hadn't suffered too badly with the morning sickness, or tiredness. She was as active as ever.

That was half the problem. Mycroft pretty much refused to let her out of the house without a sodding bodyguard, nor was she allowed to go out unless Mycroft was with her. It was like she was carrying the Messiah, for goodness' sake.

Although, she had got her revenge for his zealous over protectiveness, as she remembered with an evil grin. Call her childish, but it had been immensely satisfying.

Of course, she knew the dangers now she was Mycroft's wife. Something like that couldn't be hidden, not with his role in the government, and it would only make her a target.

A highly trained, extremely dangerous, heavily pregnant target. Oddly, Jessica didn't view that last as a negative. She had her hormones to help her destroy any attacker, should they dare come calling.

It also made her work both more difficult and more intriguing. More exhilarating.

She was off field-work, but she noticed the intelligence bigwigs were on their toes around her, careful in their mannerisms and conversation, as if they now knew for certain she was Mycroft's own little set of eyes and ears within MI6 and MI5. She had to be sneakier, quieter…not exactly easy with a baby bump, but it made her work more of a challenge.

But it also meant that she now had access to circles that had been closed off before. She had met the Queen for goodness' sake, and watching Mycroft greet her like an old friend had been both amusing and surreal. Mycroft relied on her to field gossip between the wives of the most powerful men in the country, much as she hated it, to keep her ears open and unobtrusively plant ideas and thoughts in the other women's heads.

But that also entailed actually having to sit there and listen to the mindless ninnies twitter on about this and that, having to sift through the mind-numbingly boring gossip about who was marrying who, and what happened at Lord someone's party last month….it drove her mad.

Unfortunately, that night was to be another such night, of being stuck with the wives, enduring countless enquiries about baby names and horror stories about childbirth at a soiree at No 10, Downing Street.

She'd had one; she knew what to expect…not that they knew that, of course. Mycroft had made sure to bury her past entirely, beyond recall. It might have made her sad, but it wasn't like her memories had disappeared along with her past. She would never forget Jamie and Adam, never forget what happened to them, and that only made her work more important. Never again would anyone she loved be harmed, man or child.

And that included her obstinate, ice statue of a husband.

That night, as Jessica sat at her vanity, half-heartedly fiddling with her long, auburn hair, she frowned at her reflection, annoyingly perfect even if she said so herself. Pregnancy had lent her some blush in her pale cheeks, her hair thick and lustrous, her body adapted well to carrying a child again. The blue, off-shoulder dress Mycroft had insisted she wear to this blasted party didn't exactly hide her rounded stomach but it hugged the rest of her to perfection. Apparently Mycroft's ability to command the best tailors in London also ran to couturiers. Was nothing beyond that man?

Speaking of which, her husband eyed her darkly from across their bedroom. "Do try to smile tonight, Jessica. One would think you didn't like these little parties the Prime Minister's wife organises…" he breathed quietly. Jessica's eyes narrowed at him in the mirror.

"Mycroft, just because my waistline has disappeared, that doesn't mean my aim has," she retorted. "I assure you, that has never been better."

"I know," he sighed, quietly. "I still have goose feathers stuck in my suit from that last volley of pillows aimed at my head."

"Well, considered yourself fully warned," she threw her hair over one shoulder, fixing some small, subtly elegant diamond drops to her ears. She never liked ostentatious jewellery, and the gift from Mycroft just after their wedding had been perfect. "Just because I have a stomach like a couple of car tyres does not mean-"

"Oh, is this what you're brooding over?" he asked, one brow raised wearily. He had quickly decided one child was more than enough. With Jessica's hormone levels, he wasn't sure he'd survive another pregnancy. "Your expanded waistline? Jessica, I never took you for a vain-"

"Let's have a bunch of brainless ninnies touching your stomach and cooing like it's a bloody puppy for hours on end, and see how you like it!" she snapped, applying some perfume to her wrist. "And I'm not vain. I've had a child, I know what happens."

Mycroft drew on years of diplomacy and patience, from years spent in government, and crossed the room to stand behind her, clasping her shoulders possessively.

"And you have never looked lovelier, darling," he murmured in her ear, stroking her hair tenderly. Jessica glared at him in the mirror, but there was no heat in her eyes.

"Smoothie."

"It's a gift," he chuckled, as she turned and pulled him down to her by his tie, kissing him gently. The kiss grew in intensity, in a way he hadn't experienced before…that night. It spiralled out of control, Jessica's yielding mouth and pleading hands in his hair and on his shoulder, making him forget the party, his plans for that new Bill in parliament…good Lord but she was dangerous. Were it not for his possessive feelings towards her, she could make any difficult government official or civil servant fall to his whims just by kissing them…

Mycroft managed to pull himself away from his wife's lips, only to find his fingers buried in her hair, and her lips bruised by his own. Her eyes glittered with lust and satisfaction, her warm breath panting against his mouth, her perfume rising with her lust, as his eyes narrowed and his own desire rose. "Are you trying to seduce me?" he asked coolly, feeling anything but. It was a common feeling with Jessica.

"Who said anything about trying?" she replied cheekily, already brushing her lips back across his. He smirked, as he dodged her lips and kissed her forehead instead, before straightening and grabbing his suit jacket from the bed.

"I'll be downstairs with the car. Do hurry up," he called as he left, idly musing that the old saying about looks and killing people they are directed at might just have some weight.

Jessica allowed herself a small smile, though, when she heard Mycroft's curse as his phone went off. Oh, revenge was so sweet when served cold.

He still hadn't worked how to change his ringtone back from Green Day's 'American Idiot'. It had made meetings with the American Ambassador extremely interesting, she was sure.

When the night was over, and they were once more back in the Jaguar, Jessica slumped tiredly against the car seat. Her husband glanced at her from his phone, reading a text and rolling his eyes.

"What is it this time?" she asked, wearily. "Did Letwin forget the difference between the office bin and the park bin again?"

"No," he sighed. "Boris Johnson has been…less than politically correct in an encounter with the Chinese Ambassador. Again."

The dividing screen between the front seat and the back went down a smidgeon.

"Sir, I've sent off the usual warning," 'Anthea' called back. "As well as arranging for a suitable consolation letter and gift to be sent to the Chinese Ambassador."

"Thank you, Anthea," Mycroft murmured, without looking up from his phone. Jessica almost felt sorry for her, at her boss's complete lack of gratitude for her work. She was good, Jessica gave her that, but she was just so…obvious, too obvious in her complete devotion. Mycroft preferred having to work to see it, to deduce it.

Without that challenge, he simply grew bored. He was more like his brother than he believed.

The dividing screen went back up, but not before 'Anthea' shot Jessica another look, making her smirk. She glanced at her husband, and poked him in the arm. He just looked at her questioningly.

"You could be nicer. Not many people just anticipate what you want them to do like she does," she murmured quietly. No need for 'Anthea' to think the boss's wife liked her. She didn't.

Mycroft chuckled. "Do mine ears deceive me? Are you actually feeling sorry for Anthea now?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Heaven forbid," she snorted.

"I'll make a deal with you," he suddenly offered. "I'll start being nicer to Anthea if you undo whatever you've done to my phone's ringtone."

"No chance," she laughed, that time. "I don't feel that sorry for her."

"Jessica, this is getting ridiculous," he sighed, looking at his phone as Money, Money, Money started playing. "Really? You personalised the Chancellor of the Exchequer's call alert with ABBA?"

"I thought it was appropriate," she sighed, holding back her laughter at his aggravated expression. She slipped her own phone out from her purse, as he took the call, talking low and quick into the speaker. She had her own eyes and ears within the Security Services and they were keeping her updated.

She felt her husband's frown as he finished his call while she checked her texts. Apparently some kind of cock-up with a mission in Korea, but Mycroft already knew about that, some gossip about the new Section Chief which might be useful…

Just then a hand clamped around her wrist, forcing the phone out of her hands. Outraged, she spun to face her husband, a patronising expression on his face as he held her Blackberry up.

"I told you to turn this off until after the child's born, Jessica," he said sternly, as she glared.

"As if I ever do what you tell me, dear!" she snapped, reaching for it. He slipped it into his pocket as she lunged at him, so she fell against him, stretched fully over his body.

His lips met hers, wiping the unimportant matter of her phone cleanly off her mind, as her hands fell to the nape of his neck, pulling herself closer against his heat as his hands slid into her open coat, one up her spine, pushing her into him, the other resting on the swell of her stomach.

"I told you," he growled when he pulled away, both gasping for air. "You were not to do any work, involve yourself at all until after you gave birth. You do not need stress at this stage."

"Mycroft-" she began, but his eyes had already fallen to the long, exposed column of her neck, and his lips pressed against her skin made her lose her train of thought. "I'm just…k-keeping…an eye on things!"

When he next met her eyes, he cocked an eyebrow sceptically. Their child suddenly kicked against his hand, and they both looked down at her rounded belly. Mycroft's face didn't change, his expression did not soften as some expectant fathers' might; if anything, the desire only grew when he raised his eyes to Jessica's.

"I will not allow anything to happen to you. Either of you," he said, his eyes intense, his thumb stroking across her bottom lip, and down her neck.

"Nothing will," she replied, just as fiercely. "And checking updates on my phone isn't going to exacerbate my condition."

The intensity in his eyes didn't falter, but he looked thoughtful before a truly wicked smile grew. Jessica wanted to groan; she knew that rare smile.

"Then I propose an exchange. I will return your phone to you, and in return, you will undo this infernal trick of yours on my phone," he murmured, as Jessica sighed.

"Fine," she gave in, sullenly. He fished his phone out of his coat pocket and handed it to her, holding hers in his free hand. With a sigh, she took his phone and quickly set the ringtone back to normal before holding her hand out for her own. He handed it over, as she gave his back. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into his kiss, cutting off her amused chuckle with his lips, his hands roaming the body of his wife freely, as she moaned.

When Jessica got out of the car, she felt like she was floating on air. One unfortunate side effect of pregnancy was an enhanced libido, something that was easily taken care of, especially with a husband like Mycroft Holmes. She saw her husband's supremely self-satisfied expression but ignored it, too sated to really care.

They didn't speak as they entered the house, and Jessica wandered on to the study while Mycroft lingered in the hall, hanging up his overcoat.

The fire was lit in the grate, but it was the only source of light in the room, when she entered, her heels ringing on the polished parquet floors, but she felt a presence in the room behind her.

And it wasn't Mycroft.

Don't allow your opponent to know you're onto him.

It was amazing really, how easily she could conjure up her husband's voice in her mind. She went to the drinks cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Mycroft's preferred Scotch, and water for herself.

When she heard a footstep behind her, she whirled, her elbow lashing out and connecting with someone's head. Her assailant was taller than her, thin and lanky, with curly black hair, dressed in a fitted, grey coat. She followed up with an upper-cut to the jaw, making her assailant fall backwards, giving her enough time to pull a concealed pistol from its hiding place.

"Well hello to you too, Jessica," he grunted, making her freeze in shock. She knew that voice.

Mycroft burst in, his own pistol in his hand, as she backed towards him, still holding the pistol on her attacker…

Her brother-in-law.

Mycroft froze, as Sherlock raised his head, bleary-eyed and pale, panting for breath as blood poured from his nose.

"My, my you have been busy, brother dear," he coughed sarcastically, his eyes moving from the wedding ring on Jessica's finger to her swollen stomach. "Never knew you had it in you."

Mycroft's only response was a single word, cold and tense, his face white.

"Sherlock."

A/N: This will be a three shot, just so you know ;D