Alright, here we are. This is an idea that's been stewing in my mind for a month or so now and I've finally decided to write it. I had attempted writing something earlier and abandoned it; I wasn't very pleased with it in the end. So, I've stepped back, explored other areas, and have come back to take another crack at it. I do have such a fondness for this fandom that I've always wanted to write something, and now I think I have something slightly more improved from my first attempt.

I believe it is important to mention that I have only watched the movie and have not read the comics, so my writing will be in movie-verse. I'm vaguely acquainted with the events of the comics, but I think any attempt to include them without having fully studied them would be foolish. Not to mention I'd have a devil of a time trying to fool you folks!

All this being said, I'll try to do as well as my limited writing capabilities will allow, and hope that I might keep you interested.

DISCLAIMER: Quite obviously, I don't own The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

Chapter I: His Name is Mycroft Holmes

October 20th
1899
The Nautilus

Agent Tom Sawyer of the American Secret Service was troubled. He had been in his cabin, preparing his Winchester rifle for some target practice when he'd answered a knock at his door. It had turned out to be one of the crewmen, who had informed him in broken English that Captain Nemo required his presence in the study immediately.

Now he strode purposefully down the halls of the Nautilus, curious as to what was so urgent. It had been nearly six months since they had brought down Moriarty in Mongolia. Most of their physical wounds had healed by this point, but there were other scars that ran deeper still. The loss of Allan Quatermain still stung, Dorian Gray's betrayal still fresh. His jaw clenched at these sudden thoughts. If only he'd been stronger, paid more attention, then perhaps… perhaps then… He willed the thoughts from his mind, ruffling his dark blond hair in aggravation. Not now. He couldn't dwell on it now. There would be plenty of time for that later and plenty more sleepless nights to further brood over it.

"Tom?"

He nearly jumped straight into the wall beside him at the sudden usage of his name and a hand on his shoulder. He exhaled with a slight laugh at the sight of Dr. Henry Jekyll, who was regarding him with wide eyes.

"You sure know how to scare a fella', Jekyll," he remarked, matching the slower pace of the doctor.

"I apologize," Jekyll answered earnestly, offering a small smile. "It's only that you were walking so very quickly and had such a distant look on your face that I had to wonder if something was the matter."

"Oh… nah. I was just thinking, is all. Speaking of which, any idea why Nemo wants to see us so urgently?" Tom countered.

Jekyll shook his head slowly. "Your guess is as good as mine, I'm afraid. I would normally have thought it had something to do with plotting our course, but considering we did that just two days ago… Highly doubtful."

Tom thought this over for a minute. There was always the matter of needing to resupply… but no, they'd taken care of that the week prior, and the Nautilus could remain at sea for another month or two without needing to make port. Something wrong with the ship itself, then? That wasn't likely either. If that were the case, Nemo would be stark raving mad that any harm had come to his "Lady." Tom snickered slightly at the thought, earning him a confused look from Jekyll. And then the thought hit him—the rather obvious thought.

"You don't suppose it's a mission?" Tom asked.

"Well…" Jekyll said at length, his gray-blue eyes looking to the ceiling. "I don't suppose it's impossible, but considering our first mission turned out to be something of a cruel trick …"

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Tom said quickly, preferring not to bring the subject up. The rest of the short walk was made in silence until they rounded a corner so that they found themselves in front of the doors to the study. "Well, I guess we'll find out now."

Turning the magnificently embroidered door latch revealed that the other members of the League were already present. Tom frowned at this. He was certain that he would've been one of the first ones to arrive, but in the end he supposed it was inconsequential. He heard Jekyll close the door behind them with a quiet click as he waved in greeting.

"Hey, sorry if we're late or anything," Tom said, scoping out a seat near Mina.

Nemo waved a dismissive hand. "You are not tardy in the least. If anything, I am pleased that you would all respond to my summons so quickly."

"Well, it's not every day we get one of your blokes hammering down our doors because we're needed 'urgently,'" Skinner said in his thick Cockney accent, his trademark duster and pince-nez seemingly floating in midair.

"It is not every day that I receive so urgent a message," Nemo answered.

"Exactly what kind of message would we be talking about, Captain?" Mina asked politely, her hands folded in her lap as she leaned slightly forward with interest.

"It is a summons to England for a new mission. From a new M," Nemo replied.

The admission was met by silence around the room. The slightest noise now seemed deafening; the shift of fabric as someone moved in their seat, the footsteps of a crewmember passing outside the door, the sound of Jekyll's spoon clinking softly against the sides of his cup as he stirred the contents. He stared into the white china tea cup, each stir distorting the reflection in the liquid. Edward Hyde grinned ghoulishly back at him, then disappeared in the ripples, only to reappear once more. The process repeated. Across the room, the grandfather clock groaned out the time.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," Tom said at length, slouching in his chair with his arms folded over his chest.

"I share your concerns, Agent Sawyer. In this message, he claims to be the true M, and that Moriarty was somehow able to get to us before he was," Nemo explained, passing the sheet of paper to Tom, who began looking in over.

"Does this fellow have a name?" Skinner prodded, emptying scotch from a nearby decanter into his glass.

Tom frowned, quirking an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name listed on the paper. "He says his name is Mycroft Holmes."

The League collectively turned to look with surprise as Jekyll sputtered into his tea at the name, coughing until he was red in the face.

"Did you just say—" another cough "—Mycroft Holmes?" Jekyll asked with seeming incredulity.

"Yeah, that's what it says," Tom said with a shrug. "Why, do you know him?"

"W-Well, I don't… I mean, th-that is…" Jekyll stuttered, looking unsure of how to put what he was trying to say. "I-I… wouldn't say I know him exactly. I met him once, maybe twice. If anything, I would say we were acquainted; I was really more familiar with his brother."

"Sherlock Holmes," Mina clarified with a sudden interested spark in her eye.

"Yes, that would be him," Jekyll answered. "I assume you've—"

"Met? Yes. Many years ago," Mina said quickly. Yes, they had certainly met. But that was another time, another place; both of which had become nothing but distant memories.

"Hey now, I know Sherlock Holmes," Skinner input suddenly with an air of joviality. "He commissioned my 'services' once or twice in the past. Can't say his sidekick or Yarder friend were ever too pleased about it, but that just made it all the more worth my while. Never knew he had a brother, though."

"Yes, I recall hearing of that man's exceptional talent, even here on my Lady," Nemo said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Tom suddenly felt very left out of the conversation. Who in the hell was Sherlock Holmes? Or Mycroft Holmes for that matter? He looked to Jekyll expectantly, awaiting some sort of explanation.

"In any case, if that message was truly sent by Mycroft Holmes, then we do not need to fear a repeat performance," Jekyll assured them.

"You are sure of this?" Nemo pressed him.

"Absolutely. That is, as I've said, assuming the message is truly from him," Jekyll said.

"There's only one way to find out," Skinner said.

"Only if we are all in agreement upon the matter, Mr. Skinner," Mina said assertively. She didn't want them jumping headlong into what could be another trap. She trusted Jekyll's judgment, but they needed to be certain that the individual requesting their services was who he claimed he was. "Shall we put it to a vote? All right, then. Those in favor?"

Hands went up around the room. The vampiress nodded decidedly.

"Then it is settled. We shall answer this summons and see what may come of it," she concluded. "Captain, are there any manner of instructions for us to follow?"

"We are to meet one week from today in the basement of the British Museum in London," Nemo said, glancing around the room to take in the various reactions.

Jekyll seemed outright puzzled; though, considering he had been the last to join, this would come as no surprise. Skinner was harder to judge, considering that without facial paint, his facial expressions were impossible to see, but the Captain was certain he heard the Gentleman Thief chuckle under his breath. Mina remained poised and proper as ever, though her demeanor suddenly took a cooler turn at the mention of the museum. Tom, for his part, seemed on edge—or perhaps eager? Either way, intensity was written in his eyes.

"The usual, then," he exclaimed.

October 27th
1899
British Museum, Basement
London

Dr. Henry Jekyll paced slowly, inspecting the numerous bookshelves and works of art lining the walls. He had been to the museum of course, but never to its basement. From what he'd gathered, however, this is where Moriarty had recruited Quatermain, Mina, Nemo, and Skinner. There were a variety of interesting texts, including one that he was certain detailed various incarnations of the League. He retracted it from the shelf and thumbed through it absently.

"How much longer is this sod going to be?" echoed the impatient voice of Edward Hyde in his mind.

Jekyll shook his head reflexively. "We're early, Edward. If you'll recall, we decided to be so in order to examine the surrounding area beforehand," he replied mentally.

"Hn. You just remember: Some time during this 'mission' I want out," Hyde rumbled threateningly.

"Yes, yes, I understand. Now will you just show one measure of patience so that we might actually find out what the mission is?" Jekyll replied in slight annoyance, rubbing at his temples with a free hand. He knew that if Mycroft Holmes had petitioned them for a mission, more than likely it would be dangerous; which meant that, more than likely, he would be forced to let Hyde out.

"Five minutes until we're supposed to meet this guy," Tom stated absently.

"Thank you for that reminder, Agent Sawyer," Mina replied in a sweet and obviously sarcastic tone.

"I'm just saying," Tom said with a mock pout to match. "I mean, I'm still not sure about this whole thing."

"I don't believe any of us are," Nemo said.

It was at this point that heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs leading to the remarkably well-furnished basement in which they sat. Tom couldn't help but lean forward in anticipation, his hands splayed upon the immaculately polished table's surface. After a few moments of nearly unbearable waiting, their man appeared. He came in the form of a massive—if well dressed— individual, moving in a way that was neither graceful nor done with any sort of ease. However, all this was overlooked the moment one looked to his face: a masterful brow overshadowed a pair of intensely intellectual and highly alert steel-grey eyes. Tom pursed his lips slightly as soon as the man looked at him. He felt as though the man had suddenly, from that one look, learned anything and everything there was to know about him. He didn't like it.

"Good evening, gentlemen—and lady," he greeted. "My name, as you may have guessed, is Mycroft Holmes."

Mycroft paused to take a seat at the head of the table, settling his massive bulk into the chair placed there. His eyes roved over to Jekyll, who by this point had taken a seat as well.

"No doubt you are all quite cautious upon coming into this meeting, considering the unfortunate circumstances surrounding your original recruitment," Mycroft began. "However, I'm sure that the good Dr. Jekyll will be more than willing to assure you that I am indeed who I claim to be."

The League looked collectively to Jekyll. The doctor fidgeted slightly under this sort of intense scrutiny, but turned his head to them and nodded jerkily before looking back to Mycroft.

"It is… a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Holmes," Jekyll said, his nervous nature bleeding through the statement.

"Under different circumstances I might be able to say the same, doctor," Mycroft replied in a what Tom decided was a deceptively polite manner. The your agent stared, his mouth agape. "However, your past crimes and those of your companions are not the focus of this meeting—not the immediate focus, in any case."

Jekyll nodded slowly, unable to meet anyone's gaze as he fiddled with his pocket watch anxiously, although Hyde was mysteriously silent on the matter; his darker half seemed distracted by something else. His anxiety heightened when Mina briefly touched his arm in some manner of comfort. A quick glance revealed that she remained collected as always, but the sight of her pursed lips and frigid gaze spoke volumes of the anger welling just below the surface. Tom glared heavily at Mycroft, rising from his seat.

"Yeah, and so what? I think you're forgetting that tiny detail about how we saved the world. All of us," Tom said assertively. "I'm not sure what you're trying to prove by insulting us the moment we get here, but it sure as hell isn't winning me over."

"Calm yourself, Agent Sawyer," Mycroft said evenly. "I am merely stating that which is known to be fact. As the situation stands, some of you have committed crimes in the past; crimes the government is willing to overlook should you decide to lend us your unique talents."

"Maybe it's just me, but this is soundin' awful familiar," Skinner interjected, a wry grin appearing on his grease painted face. "Is this the part where you offer me a cure for my invisibility in return for my services?"

"I'm afraid a cure is not yet within our grasp, Mr. Skinner. However, do not think that it is not being worked upon," Mycroft said before waving an impatient and massive hand. "But to business. Now, I will lay the facts of the case before you. Should you decide to accept, I will then explain the terms of our agreement."

Mycroft Holmes looked around the table. Tom Sawyer met his gaze without feeling the need to shy away, his blood hot with mistrust and anger—and even hotter with adrenaline.

"Fine. We'll hear what you have to say, but we're not deciding on this until we've heard all there is to hear," he said.

"I would not expect you to do otherwise," Mycroft answered. Reaching into his frock coat, he withdrew what at first appeared to be a sloppily folded handkerchief. He proceeded to unfold the cloth, which revealed a small glass bottle corked at the top. There appeared to be some small sample of plant life within, but none of them could tell without closer inspection. He slid the bottle across the table to them. "This is what you shall be working with."

And chapter one is done. Bah, this flu is driving me all sorts of mad. But on the bright side, I was watching the movie Mirrors today and had to utter an interneal squeal of fangirlish glee at the sight of Jason Flemyng. So, since I feel I should get some rest, I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible and look forward to any suggestions you might have. To review or not is your choice. More likely than not I will continue writing for the sheer enjoyment of it. *chuckle*