Author's note 1: If you are one of my regular readers, this is a "real-time" Christmas story that continues the ongoing journey of my Sherlock and Molly, as well as other people in their lives. To immerse yourself fully in my Sherlolly universe, I recommend you check out my profile in order to see the chronological order of my stories.

Anyway, this story begins with a Mycroft POV, so read on...

Mycroft set the letter down gently on the desk in his study, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was something he had never expected to happen, and his thoughts were in disarray. First came shock and disbelief, followed by amazement, and finally, he felt a touch of sadness.

To receive this kind of news only two weeks before Christmas was either a blessing or a curse, because it would forevermore have an impact on his life and his future, and possibly, the lives of his family as well.

He had a son. The DNA results he had just put down confirmed that he was the biological father of Mark Reynolds, to a probability of 99.99%.

He had a son.

Mycroft recalled the letter that had arrived two weeks earlier unexpectedly from a team of solicitors in Liverpool. As far as he knew, he had no association with anything that was going on in that northern area, so he was intrigued by the letter, and immediately went to his study to open it.

The contents of the letter had shocked Mycroft in a way nothing in his life had ever done before. It began with:

Dear Mr Holmes. It is with sincere regret that we must inform you of the premature passing of Miss Diana Reynolds.

The letter went on to explain that she had succumbed to leukemia after a two year battle, and that she had a surviving son, named Mark, who was twenty years of age. According to the stipulations of her will, she had asked that the father of her son be contacted in the event of her death.

With the understanding that the paternity of her son would most certainly be called into question, Miss Diana Reynolds had also requested that the solicitors arrange for a DNA test to be done, in the hopes that Mr. Mycroft Holmes would acknowledge paternity and take on the role of father to their son, and provide for him.

As much as Mycroft would have liked to dismiss the letter as nothing more than a joke, he couldn't do so, because he still remembered Diana and their extremely short, one-night liaison.

It had been over twenty-one years since he had seen her. She had temporarily been assigned to work as his assistant following the shocking aftermath of Princess Diana's death in late August of 1997.

Mycroft had been an up-and-coming employee of the British government, working his way up slowly but surely to the upper echelons. He had been selected from a number of candidates by Prime Minister, Tony Blair, to compile the list of guests for Princess Diana's funeral, which meant a considerable amount of research and decision-making, a task that required more than the services of one person. It was the first time Mycroft would be dealing with the royal family and he was quite proud of the honour he had been afforded.

He was in his late twenties, and Diana was only twenty-three. They had immediately developed a rapport as they pored through the immense list of people who could potentially be invited to the funeral, discussing each one in turn.

She had been a welcome distraction from the demands of his private life. Sherlock had developed a serious drug habit (although his sibling insisted he was a user, not an addict), and he had found himself in the position of having to take care of his brother on several occasions, when Sherlock had found himself drawn into using drugs to escape the boredom of his life. He was a loner, emotionally stunted and Mycroft alone, knowing why that was so, was protective of his brother and felt a responsibility towards him, to ensure he didn't take things too far with his addiction. If it weren't for his brilliance, Sherlock would have failed his postgraduate degree in Forensic Medical Sciences, thanks to his on-off "flirtation" with drugs. It had been a small miracle that he had been clean at the time of his final exams, and had passed them with flying colours. God only knew when he had found the time to study for them, though. At least Sherlock hadn't indulged in sexual escapades in addition to his attraction to drugs. He had eschewed any kind of emotional or romantic attachments, shrinking from the physical touch of anyone outside of close family members, and even that was reluctantly endured.

Of course, that time was well past, and Sherlock's last, almost fatal dabble into drugs had occurred during the Culverton Smith case approximately twenty months earlier. He had shown no signs of any predisposition to addiction since he had declared his love for Molly at Sherrinford. Those events, precipitated by Eurus Holmes, the sister Sherlock had erased from his memory, had served to restore Sherlock's true nature, which was a rather emotional one as a young boy. Eurus, in her odd, psychotic manner, had tried to "help" Sherlock regain his memories and his true nature, and she had succeeded, spectacularly so. It was as if the young boy Sherlock's emotional nature had been restored to its factory settings, although, to Mycroft's knowledge, Sherlock still had gaps in his memory from his childhood that were rather like scars that prevented the access of some of those memories.

Sherlock and Molly had been married for well over a year now, with no signs of reducing their rather unseemly public displays of affection, and a seven month old daughter to boot, (one whom Mycroft was actually rather fond of, but he certainly wasn't going to give Sherlock the satisfaction of knowing he felt a rather excessive amount of sentiment when it came to that adorable baby with the Holmes eyes).

As for Diana though, their liaison consisted of just one night, after they had decided to celebrate finishing the guest list for the funeral. Mycrof had turned in the list, had it approved in short order, and had been informed that he would shortly be receiving a promotion, with more responsibility regarding the royals, after doing such a fine job with this assignment. A few celebratory drinks later with his young assistant, and one thing had led to another and, let's just say a good time was had by both willing participants.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present Mycroft sighed. He and Diana had not used protection (most unwise, but Mycroft was not usually so careless, and never drank to excess - this was the one occasion on which he had done so). The following day, Diana had left London, her temporary assignment with him completed, and he had never heard from her again. He had not sought her out either, their one night together had been all about a simple desire for mutual physical fulfilllment, not sentiment.

He recalled a conversation they had had, when she had been talking about what a coincidence it was that she shared a name with the deceased princess, and how sorry she felt for Princess Diana's two young sons. Mycroft had stated quite categorically that he had no time for children. They required too much maintenance. Now, he supposed that was why Diana had never contacted him to inform him of her pregnancy.

His thoughts were disturbed by the touch of a soft hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes and turned his head.

His wife of four months, Elizabeth, formerly Lady Elizabeth Smallwood, was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You've had news then?" she inquired. "When you removed yourself immediately to the study after bringing in the post, I assumed a letter had come in with the results."

Over the past two weeks, Elizabeth had been his rock. She had found him in the study, two weeks earlier, still holding the letter in his hands, and with a shocked expression on his face.

Without a word, Mycroft had thrust the letter at her and she had read it. She had been completely supportive. It wasn't like she didn't know he had had love affairs before her. He was forty-eight, after all. Not many people could have attained the age of of forty as a virgin, the way Sherlock had done. Mycroft didn't duly express sentiment, but he still had needs, like any other red-blooded male. "So, I'm assuming by your reaction that this letter is authentic, and that you quite possibly have a son you never knew existed?" she had asked mildly.

Mycroft ran a hand through through his thinning hair. "It appears so."

When Mycroft had been undecided on what to do with the information, it was Elizabeth who took charge. She insisted that they fly to Liverpool immediately so he could take the DNA test and find out once and for all if he was the father. The son, who had been told of his father's paternity as instructed in the Will, had already submitted a sample of his own DNA for testing.

Mycroft, with Elizabeth by his side, had taken the test, a simple cheek swab, and returned to London to await the test results, which he was told could take up to two weeks.

Now, Mycroft nodded at his wife soberly. "According to the DNA test results, I am indeed the lad's father. The news is somewhat unsettling, to say the least." His shoulders slumped suddenly. He just did not know how to process this, or how to proceed.

Elizabeth looked at him sympathetically and asked, "So, what now? Are you going to try and set up a meeting with him through the solicitors?" Her hand was still on his shoulder, and she squeezed it gently.

Mycroft pressed his lips together. "I suppose that would be prudent. I've had no financial responsibility for the lad for twenty years, and I feel obligated to do my part, now that his mother is deceased." He blew out a long breath. "My one consolation is that at least I didn't have to endure his young years. I'm not equipped to deal with children. If I had been saddled with a son at that age, I doubt I would ever have risen to my current position in the government."

"I would have to agree. Michael was the reason my own career stalled for the first twelve years of his life." Her mouth curved into a soft smile, as she added, "Not that he wasn't worth staying home for, but then, it's different for a mother." She looked at him sympathetically. "Would you like me to make the arrangements for a meeting with your son?"

Mycroft pursed his lips. "I should not ask such a thing of you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's hand came up to stroke the side of his cheek gently. "You didn't ask, dear. I'm offering."

He placed his own hand over hers and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you. That would be most appreciated. I'm finding this rather difficult to reconcile at the moment."

Mycroft's wife was not in her senior position for nothing. She was very efficient in handling sensitive issues, and arrangements were quickly made for a meeting one week later in the neutral offices of the solicitors in question. Upon Mycroft's request, she accompanied him to Liverpool, as they flew in his private jet.

Mycroft felt extremely nervous as he arrived at the solicitors' office on the day, and he reached for Elizabeth's hand, something he rarely did, not being overly sentimental. But on this occasion he felt the need for some moral support. Upon entering the solicitors' office, he was greeted at the door by two men, obviously the executors of Diana's Will, and caught sight of a young man sitting on a chair further in the office.

The solicitors introduced themselves as Jack Woodruff, the senior partner, and Robert Steinbrenner, junior partner.

Mr. Woodruff turned to the young man, who stood. "Mark, this is Mr. Mycroft Holmes. Mr. Holmes, meet Mark Reynolds." Mycroft noted that the man had deliberately not referred to him as his son.

The young man stepped forward and looked Mycroft directly in the eye, and Mycroft could see they shared the same eyes, and height, for that matter.

The young man cleared his throat and extended his hand, somewhat awkwardly. "Pleased to meet you, er, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft took the proffered hand and shook it briskly. "As it appears we have a familial connection, I feel at the very least you should refer to me as Mycroft. I would not feel comfortable having you refer to me as father. I have not, after all, been one to you."

The meeting went off rather well, actually, Mycroft reflected afterwards. Mark was, unsurprisingly, extremely intelligent. Interestingly, the lad was in his second year at the University of Liverpool, doing an International Politics and Policy BA (Hons) degree, and he was fluent in French, which of course was the international diplomatic language. Mark also had showed a proficiency for several foreign languages, and Mycroft couldn't help feeling these traits were directly inherited from him.

When Mycroft had questioned him on his interest in politics, the young man had explained that it had always interested him, but also that his mother had mentioned that his father had been involved in politics in some way. She had refused to furnish him with any further information about the man, stating that, although she did not regret having her son, she was aware that the father was not interested in children. Mark had said this matter-of-factly, and Mycroft had been impressed that Diana had raised a young man who seemed to be very well-adjusted, despite the fact he had grown up without a father.

Diana had never married, contenting herself with her own work and in raising her son. When she had been diagnosed with leukemia two years earlier, she had fought valiantly to overcome it, not wanting her son to be left alone. As Mark related the tale, Mycroft saw for the first time, the hint of tears in his son's eyes.

Elizabeth had sat with them quietly, after Mycroft introduced her, and she had only ventured a question or two.

Mycroft had told Mark about his family. Mark had seemed quite excited at the thought of being related to the famous Sherlock Holmes, and he mentioned that he had seen that the detective had married the previous year.

When Mycroft had informed him that Sherlock and his wife had a seven-month-old daughter, Mark had appeared rather animated at the prospect of having a cousin. Diana had been an only child and both of her parents had died in a tragic car accident when Mark was a young lad, so he was truly alone.

It was this fact that led to Mycroft inviting him to meet the Holmes family for Christmas, and Mark had been happy to agree. Mycroft knew this was going to be a bombshell for the family, but better to get it out of the way sooner, rather than later, he figured.

They had parted soon afterwards, after Mycroft had informed the young man he would be in touch in arranging transportation for him for Christmas Day. In the meantime, Mycroft intended to set up a bank account to help support Mark. Mark had initially been doubtful, saying he had enough to live on with what his mother had left him, but Mycroft had insisted that he owed twenty years worth of child support payments, end it was the least he could do, so Mark had reluctantly accepted the generous offer.

After returning to London, Elizabeth and Mycroft discussed how to approach the subject of revealing that he had a son. They decided the best thing to do would be to introduce him at the family home when everyone was present. It would save the necessity of answering a multitude of questions more than once.

Mycroft had called his mother and said he would be bringing another guest for Christmas, and that he hoped it would not be an inconvenience.

Mrs. Holmes, who was aware that Elizabeth had a grown son, made a remark about Michael, and making up an extra bed for him for the night, (fortunately, the Holmes house had six bedrooms), and Mycroft did not disabuse her of the notion. He was aware that John and his wife, Kayla, would also be there for Christmas, having been invited by Sherlock, so Mycroft felt the addition of one extra person would not be an inconvenience, and he was correct in that assumption. If there was one thing everybody knew about Violet Holmes, she loved cooking, whether for special occasions or otherwise. She was one of those people who was on almost every committee at her local church, and was constantly baking for this sale or that as a fundraiser for the church.

Arrangements were made for Mark to be flown by Mycroft's private jet, directly to an airfield in Brighton which was closest to the Holmes family home. Mycroft himself would take his limo from London with Elizabeth, and would be at the airfield in time to collect the young man, so that they could arrive together.

Sherlock and Molly had opted to take a coach to Brighton. Trains did not run on Christmas Day, so their options were rather limited. They had cited it would be too difficult to transport Victoria in the limo, in case she got fussy and caused undue stress to Mycroft. He was rather relieved, actually. On the occasions when he was holding his niece and she became irritable, he would immediately return her to one of her parents. Now he would be dealing with picking up Mark as well from the airfield in Brighton, so things had definitely worked out for the best.

According to Sherlock, John and Kayla were driving down with Rosie, in his own car.

On Christmas Eve, Mycroft and Elizabeth spent the evening with her son, Michael, and his fiancée, Michelle. The young couple would be spending Christmas Day with her family, so things had worked out nicely there. They had even exchanged Christmas presents. Mycroft, of course, would not have thought of it, but Elizabeth enjoyed Christmas and everything that went along with it. She had been the one to choose gifts for everyone, even purchasing one at the last minute for Mark. The only gift Mycroft had purchased personally was an expensive pearl necklace, which he intended to give to his wife on Christmas Day.

On Christmas morning, they packed the limo with the bag of Christmas gifts, and overnight suitcase, as they had been invited to stay for the night, and off they went.

Even as they travelled, Mycroft thought how different this Christmas was going to be. Last year he had shared the limo with Sherlock and pregnant Molly, and the newlyweds had behaved rather inappropriately with their constant displays of affection in front of him, which he had tried to ignore. Last year he had also finally come to the realisation, thanks in part to his brother's transformation, that he loved lady Elizabeth Smallwood, whom he had been seeing for several months, and had even invited as his guest to Sherlock and Molly's wedding. This year he was bringing her to the family home as his wife, and introducing a long lost son. It was definitely going to be very interesting Christmas.

Author's Note 2: Well, dear reader, what do you think of this unexpected turn of events? I must admit, I felt sad that pairing Mycroft with Lady Smallwood closed the door on him having children of his own, or any cousins for Sherlock and Molly's child(ren). So, I thought - why could he not have been a bit careless in his youth and gotten a woman pregnant without knowing it? I wanted to create something that would be feasible, so I used the real tragedy of Princess Diana's death as the setting, and found a reason why he would not be told about the baby. Do you remember when Princess Diana died? I do, it was quite a shock for us in Australia, and I cried when I watched the funeral on television.

Are you intrigued? I do hope I am writing something that has not been done before.

Oh, and don't worry, the next chapter is all about Sherlock and Molly!

Favourites/follows/reviews always appreciated.

Update 1/2/19 Happy new year! I will be writing an acknowledgments list of my most loyal reviewers in the last chapter. If you come late to this story annd are kind enough to review most/all of the chaoterrs, your name will be added to my acknowledgments list later. Your opinions matter and I really want to recognize those who are such wonderful supporters of my work. I have been truly humbled by the response so far on this story.