Chapter 1 – Concern always comes with a price tag
"In a world governed by money, everything has a price tag. From the smallest piece of information to the sum of money a person would be willing to sell his loyalty for. Money is the omnipresent regent of our lives, impersonated in coins and digits, which indifferently sentences its people to a life of either mirth or melancholy. It is a shame that my brother has always failed to look at the importance of capital in this way.
To Sherlock, the thought of his life being controlled by his, I'd say not inconsiderate, monetary means is as far from him as possessing the knowledge of why an issue such as global warming even exists. But even brotherly concern comes with a price tag. To most it is affordable, but to others it is a question of the coin you pay for this concern with, since concern is much like the coin itself: even though the value of the coin is the same unaffected on which side you turn up when you use it, the sides are not necessarily identical. Concern and trust are to some unconditionally given, but it cannot be guaranteed for the one concerning, that the concern given will be repaid in the same manner from the concerned. Unless hate can be a sort of concern.."
His mental cobweb of thoughts was interrupted by a short knock on the office door behind him, and turning the chair from the rain-covered window facing the evening lantern-illuminated Parliament Street, he straightened himself up in the tall chair, mustered a civil smile and uttered his usual friendly and patient "Yes?", whilst his eyes were focusing on the door. As it opened and a young man dressed in a royal blue pinstriped suit entered with two mugs of tea in his hand, it was impossible for Mycroft Holmes to retain a wide smile, as the lad approached the desk he sat by. How that young fellow had been able to knock on the door with two coffee mugs was a mystery worthy of his brother's impeccable cracking. He would save this odd case for later and amuse him with it the next time he would see him and his newfound 'companion' John Watson, though he doubted that Sherlock would find any amusement in the matter and simplify it, alone for the fact that it was his elder brother who had brought the case to his attention.
"A most welcome distraction." he remarked in a cordial tone, and averted his pleased gaze from the teacups to the smiling face of the young upcoming politician. "Now, to whom do I owe the gratitude for such a treat, Derek?" he asked the young man, as he leaned back in the chair and let his hands rest folded on the ebony wood of the desk. "You and I being the only ones left here at the office this evening, I thought I'd take the liberty of making you a cup of tea to go along with the files of the Clerkenwell affair, Sir." Derek explained with a grin. "And just for once to make an exception to that unwritten office-rule of not getting on friendly terms with your employer." He added, and sat the mugs down on the desk.
"Of course. Well, you can rely on my utmost discretion in both matters." Mycroft amiably replied and placed the mug on the desk in safe distance from a couple of documents, before he with his left hand indicated the chair in front of the desk. "Do have a seat, good Derek. The documents have been examined for my behalf, and I think it would be impolite to bother the good Prime Minister with them, being as late as it is. I presume you can be persuaded to postpone your good work 'till the morning?" he asked and added a civil smile to go along with the suggestion of his employee joining him.
At first the subordinate stood still with a dubious expression, obviously a bit thoughtful about the entire affair after all, but after a short while, he bowed to Mycroft's plea and sat down on the chair with a grateful smile as his only reply. "Shall we?" Mycroft smilingly suggested and raised his teacup significantly with the right hand holding lightly on the handle, and Derek immediately copied the gesture with his own mug. In almost artistic synchronization, the two gentlemen sipped their steaming tea, and a bright smile lit up on Mycroft's broad face as he put the mug back down. Classic Earl Grey with a distinct flavour of lemon. "A most pleasant brew. Thank you." Derek immediately lit up in a smile having heard the praising remark, but in a whiff it had been replaced with a thoughtful look on his superior's face.
"How are you and Anthea getting on with the upgraded surveillance status regarding my brother?" The question was accompanied by an inquiring look of almost penetrating quality, and Derek shifted his weight on the chair, before he placed his own mug in front of him. "We haven't got much yet, Sir. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson don't seem to be up to much these days." Mycroft shook his head. "That is the exact reason I want the surveillance intensified. Whenever Sherlock is at leisure, there is always a storm brewing." He mildly answered.
"And seeing as we now have both a stubborn detective and a loyal foot soldier to keep an eye out for, I need both you and Anthea to be as attentive as possible. I must know what he is up to." He added to his previous statement, and took a sip of the tea once again. His witty word play had for once been completely coincidental, although that information had been given to him by the great archives before their first meeting. "I cannot understand why you are wasting so much energy on that brat to Sherlock Holmes, Sir. I mean.. he doesn't seem to care much for you, does he?" Derek said.
Mycroft drily replied: "The one thing my brother cares about in regard to our relationship, is whether I have some matter of national importance for him or not. The rest of the time I seem to be as much an unpleasant annoyance as fog on the windows of his beloved 221B Baker Street." He shrugged, took yet another sip of the tea, and sent Derek a curious glance. "He's always been a very offensive, bright and independent child, whereas I with a few years to my advantage had a calmer disposition. He and I have always fought a battle against the other regarding which one of us could be the most favoured in our mother's eyes and who could make whose brilliance shine the most. Being grown men now, both of us, I am of a mind saying that we should sign a treaty and put an end to this silly affair, before someone gets hurt – I have my brother particularly in mind at that." Mycroft explained, and turn his head around towards the window. It had started raining again. The gentle tapping of the water against the glass windows behind them was like gentle music.
"But why can't he just accept the fact that you are just trying to protect him? With all that association to the criminal world, he is going to need influence like yours to keep him out of mischief." Derek vaguely suggested.
Mycroft merely smiled. "You've met him once – and believe me, that is enough for a lifetime. He does not like being confined from danger and kept safe. It is a shame that he does not see that I could be an invaluable ally, were he to consider me as one. I suspect him of being able to see it, but that he ignores it." He concluded, smiled at Derek and drank the last of the tea, before Derek even got the chance to elaborate on the statement. He did not want him to. "Although I have enjoyed your company tremendously, good Derek, I think I should be paying 221B Baker Street a visit. Thank you for the tea."
He politely thanked him, got up with a broad smile and grabbed his coat, hat and umbrella from the coat stand in the corner. He had barely got into his long expensive coat and put the hat on the head, before Derek spoke. "This concern for Sherlock Holmes.. is it completely self-sacrificing, Sir, or do you expect something in return?" Mycroft turned about with a secretive smile. He walked to the door using the umbrella as a cane, and opened it, before he answered. "A brother is a brother, regardless of his intellect or behaviour. But you will learn that everything has a price tag, Derek. Even brotherly concern. And the price must be paid. By one or the other." He remarked, nodded politely as a good-bye and disappeared out of the office with the sound of the tip of his umbrella pounding the wooden floor, as he moved down the corridor.
Outside the government building a large black car awaited him, and he got into the vehicle with a pair of eyes from the office building watching him through the rain-clouded glass windows.