Behind great success there is a driving force, pushing, prodding and commanding people into power. Some call it fate or destiny; others believe that it simply happens. Mycroft Holmes would not care to debate such petty matters, especially when he knew the answer behind his own success. Admittedly the man was highly intelligent, yes, intelligent and calculating. He was a great man in his own right, powered, honed, and readied to take on the world.
Some great men take strides on their own to achieve true power; Mycroft put the cogs in motion, but there was another driving factor. He smirked slightly as he listened to the mindless horde around him. They had been discussing his young rise to power, his prowess. He leaned back with umbrella in hand, smiled and recalled his rise to success.
He'd barely been out of college when he found himself recruited by the government. However, kidnapping might have been a better description of his first meeting. A slick black sedan rolled up beside him, he paused mid-walk. Sharp eyes turned on the offending vehicle, he did not like his plans interrupted. A window rolled down and Mycroft found himself staring at the dark interior of a car.
"Mr. Holmes, if you would please get in." The voice was firm and there was no room for argument.
Mycroft paused, pulling out his watch and glancing at it. Internally he frowned, his schedule was being torn to shreds. The car remained and he knew that it would continue to follow him until he got inside.
"My employer does not like being kept waiting. Tardiness is not a characteristic they appreciate."
"Very well." His tone was clipped at his slipped into the car.
The car was empty besides the driver. Mycroft's ire rose, he did not take kindly to rude behavior. Silently he leaned back in his seat and waited to arrive at his final destination. He tapped into the patience he had gained from dealing with irrational siblings for years. His temper was fully hidden by the time the car pulled to a halt.
Stepping out of the car he found himself standing in a darkened warehouse. He heard the door close behind him as he carefully walked further into the shadowy building. The silence of the building was eerily quiet and the only form of light was a line of cold yellow light. Mycroft almost felt offended by the intention of his kidnapper. It was obvious he was being prodded in a specific direction. With his teeth clenched he followed the indicated path.
A door loomed up at the end of the lighted path and Mycroft paused again. He listened for movement, there were no sounds. Swallowing down his annoyance he opened the door and slipped inside. The inside of the room caused a moment of disequilibrium, it was the direct opposite to the bare and cold warehouse interior. It was best described as an inviting office, warm oak floor with a large matching desk, leather chairs, towering bookcases choked full of ancient tomes, and soft golden lights. His eyes casually catalogued his surroundings before resting on the lone figure behind the desk.
"Ah, Mr. Holmes, right on time."
"Of course, though I would like to know what I am on time for."
"Always so polite. Do sit down."
Mycroft took her request in stride and settled himself into a waiting chair. His eyes swept over the seated woman. She was dressed crisply with an equally crisp smile, clear blue eyes locked onto his.
"You can ask questions, I don't bite." She poured two cups of tea and offered him a cup.
"Your name."
"Mary Poppins."
"Your intentions for bringing me here." He refused to sound like he did not understand what was happening.
"You're a curious one, aren't you." Her lips twitched with humor as she settled her cup on the desk.
"I like answers."
"Very good. Mycroft, what do you aspire to be?"
He opened his mouth to respond but found her eyes boring into him. She seemed to pull his intentions from him with a simple look. Frowning he realized she was deducing him.
"You know. Why are we having this meeting?"
"I intend for you to take my place." She lifted her cup again.
"Hmm." He stared back at her.
"The British government does not run itself. Monarchs have ceded much of the power to subtle heads of state. Such people, as myself, keep things running smoothly. I intend to prepare you to replace me."
"So you kidnap people in order to negotiate."
"Kidnapping? How vulgar, of course not. I made a reasonable suggestion, you complied. We've had a lovely cup of is an important choice. It is not kidnapping if you politely ask. That is your first lesson." A tiny smirk drifted across her lips.
Mycroft retrieved his cup and rolled the offer through the halls of his mind. If this woman was powerful he could use this to his advantage. He would be leaping ahead into the dangerous waters he had planned to gradually submerge in. It was a tempting offer indeed. His eyes flitted lazily around the room without moving his head. All of his deductions of the woman were vague… it was unsettling, he'd never met someone he could not deduce.
"Very well, Ms. Poppins." Mycroft's tone was clipped.
"Always exude propriety," she stood with a small smile grabbing an umbrella, "It unsettles both friend and foe if wielded well. Come along Mycroft."
Mycroft soon discovered that Poppins was a rather unrelenting taskmaster. Her management of her office was something he admired. Nothing slipped past her attention, she was astute, sharp and very clever. In his mind he labeled her the ideal mentor, she was always showing him subtle ways to deal with the most difficult of dignitaries.
There were various exercises that she demanded of him each day. The lovely woman hid shrewd manipulation behind gentle smiles and soft laughter. It took him weeks before he learned her method, one day he even ventured to ask what her method was.
"Your best defense against one of superior social knowledge is sugar." She spun her umbrella as they walked through a dismal London area.
"Sugar?"
"Yes, a spoonful of sugary words and actions." She shot him a subtle look that made him pause. Poppins had a clear understanding of his distaste for social amenities.
"Go on."
"Learn what they like and give it to them. Anticipate every need, want, or silly whim. Memorize your enemy, know them better than they know themselves."
"You studied me?" He seemed affronted.
"Of course, but you already knew that when we first met."
Silence reigned between them as they made their way to a waiting car. Mentor and mentee slipped inside and closed the door.
"This was your final lesson Mycroft."
"Really?"
"Yes, you're ready. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities. You will run the government well." She tapped the long box lying across her lap.
"What's that?"
"A parting gift from mentor to mentee." Silently she handed him the box.
Mycroft opened the box lazily and a tiny smile touched his lips, a rare feat indeed. The box held a sleek black umbrella similar to the one his mentor carried everywhere.
"That old department store umbrella simply wouldn't do." She shook her head.
He picked up the umbrella almost reverently, the handle made of smooth oak wood. The young man shot his mentor a questioning look, one more open than most saw.
"A gentleman does not need to protect himself expect with his words; however, you don't think that your fencing lessons were for naught? In a pinch a well crafted umbrella may double for a sword. Never let it leave your side."
"A sword?"
"Remember one of your greatest lessons. Nothing is what it seems." A devilish smile touched her lips. "Take good care of it...and remember my lessons well."
The car rolled to a stop and Poppins opened her door and slipped outside.
"Have a good day...Mr. British Government." She sent him a final smile and closed the door.
Mycroft twirled his umbrella and glanced at the six henchmen lying unconscious around him. A sly smirk danced across his lips as he stepped lazily over a body. He cherished all the lessons his mentor had imparted, each was tucked into his memory. Such lessons were the driving force behind his modern persona.
"Umbrellas...such useful things." He murmured to himself strolling up to his younger brother.
"It took you long enough. Did a piece of cake distract you?" Sherlock shot his brother a disdainful look.
"Don't be so crass, Sherlock, I don't have time to deal with such trivial manners."
"I hate to interrupt your family arguments, but could you untie me?" John butted into the discussion unhappily.
"Of course." Mycroft lazily strode over and deftly untied the doctor's bonds.
"Thank you." John stood with a huff and glared at Sherlock.
"If you wouldn't mind untying Sherlock. I have a meeting."
"Confounded umbrella." Sherlock muttered angrily at his brother's retreating back.
Mycroft let another smirk dance across his face as he settled into his car. His mentor had been right about so many things. Umbrellas and spoons of sugared compliments were two of the most useful weapons in his armory, weapons he would forever use and remember.