Fought The Crown

There was silence in his office as there usually was. Nothing but the ticking clock and the occasional shuffle of Lloyd loafers or Bugatti slip-on's. He paused for a moment, his eyes staring up at the rather old fashion clock in his office -something he kept for sentiment, a way to drown out the silence, a metronome to pace himself so he wouldn't get all of his work done in a few hours.

He ran his fingers through what little bit of hair he had, tidying it up. He wasn't like Sherlock. He didn't enjoy a head full of tussled black hair, something to muss up or pull at. He preferred to keep things professional as he always had. Grabbing his pen he went back to skimming through some documents to sign as a knock on the door sounded.

"Come in." He replied, not looking up from his papers. A young man -by the sound of the steps as the door opened- possibly in his late 20's, smart suit, dark hair, friendly smile came in. Mycroft looked up at him, his eyebrows raising in a silent what do you want manner.

"Hello sir, my name is Jeoffry Haggart," he walked over, holding his hand out to him. Mycroft looked at it for a moment before forcing a smile and standing, reaching out to shake his hand firmly.

"Mycroft Holmes." He replied. "And your importance?" He looked the man over. Clean shaven, bright eyes -not too bright in the head possibly judging by the wonderment in them. He was attractive, late 20's judging by complexion, mid 30's judging on squareness of the jaw and wrinkles by his eyes. He had longer hair, still professional, neatly groomed, straight, tussled and moved to the side. He wore Zign slip-on's with silver buckles paired with Strellson James trousers and Cinque, Melotti blazer in black, not the arrogant navy blue but-I-thought-it-was-black. So the man knew how to dress.

He looked down, hem-line seemed to fit him right, so it was properly fitted and just the right size. But he'd know if he was really as good as he seemed by the color of his socks. "Those shoes. They're Zign are they not?" He questioned, pulling his hand back. Jeoffry looked at him confused for a moment before pulling away with a smile, lifting the leg of his pants a bit to show them off. They were shined, unscuffed, though possibly a year old or two judging by the worn bit on the sole. His socks were a dark gray, thin cotton, low cut. Professional. The color balanced out the white button up shirt he wore without seeming too forceful in evening out the color of the blazer and the trousers.

"Ah, yes sir." He had a deep voice, not cockney, and a good use of vocabulary -from what he'd seen. He seemed educated -which didn't excuse his dull mentality that reflected in his eyes. If there was one thing he knew was that a person could be well taught, but still be daft. "I bought them a few years ago when I took this position. I just figured looking presentable might increase my chances of people taking me more seriously." He replied, standing up straight, a leather portfolio tucked under his arm.

"That is a good attitude to have." Mycroft replied, looking back at his work as he sat down. He held his hand out, motioning for him to sit in the chair across the desk. "Is there something I can help you with?" He questioned, not looking up from his papers as he signed the document, putting it into another pile.

"I came for assignment Black Ice." He replied seriously, putting the portfolio on his lap. Mycroft looked up, his eyebrows raised once more. Shifting he put his pen down and smiled.

"Ah," He looked at the clock. It was a minute past 3, making him arrive to the room exactly at three. "I was expecting you to be late." He smiled, his fingers linking as he rested his arms on his desk.

"I try to make my appointments puncture, sir." Jeoffry nodded. Mycroft nodded, putting his work off to the side.

"I couldn't help notice you said Assignment: Black Ice." He cocked his head to the side, cocking his eyebrows. "I assume you're talking about the Assignment I have requested your assistance on regarding our...affairs." The older Holmes' questioned, eluding the subject incase this almost-too-good-to-be-true man wasn't who he claimed to be.

"Ah, yes, sorry," He shook his head, his eyes closing as his eyebrows furrowed. "The terrorist ring assignment. My...son calls it Assignment: Black Ice." He chuckled lightly, but stopped. "He...doesn't know anything about it past it's finding information on something hidden. He gets curious and worried and I feel bad lying to him so I...just...barely give him enough information to put him at ease. Nothing that will jeopardize the mission though, I assure you." He spoke quickly, attempting to defend himself.

"Why Black Ice though?" Mycroft questioned.

"Because Black Ice isn't seen until it's too late and a lot of people get hurt or possibly die." Jeoffry smiled. "It's stupid, I know." He shook his head, but Mycroft looked at him with appraisal -not something he did often.

"No, it's clever. You must be proud of him." He questioned. Jeoffry nodded, a smile coming to his face.

"Yes sir. Top of his class. He wants to be a detective someday or a secret agent."

"Does he?" Mycroft leaned against the desk top, prying for answers. "You don't look like you're married." Jeoffry's expression faded a bit as he licked his lips nervously.

"I'm...not." He looked down. Mycroft smirked a bit, resting his chin on his hands, staring at him intently.

"Really? But you have a son?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Complications?"

"Ah, yeah," He chuckled. "Yeah, but we've been together for...8 years."

"8 years and no marriage?" Mycroft pressed on, reading the mans face as he did so, looking for any hint of lies. "Why not?"

"I uh," The man fidgeted, coughing to clear his throat. "Alex's family doesn't approve of him dating a man and because of that he doesn't want to marry me yet." He admitted, a slight red came to his cheeks. Mycroft's smile vanished as he realized that he hadn't picked up on the fact that this man, this...well dressed, professional looking man was gay. He quickly gave him another glance over, searching for any signs that he might have missed to give that bit of information away, but when nothing showed he sat back in his chair, nodding slowly. "I...I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, sir." Jeoffry apologized, noticing the sudden change in demeanor. "I mean I know some people don't like homosexuality and-"

"No, no it...wasn't that." Mycroft stopped him. "It...wasn't something I was expecting." He admitted. "Not with...how you represent yourself." Jeoffry looked at him confused, his eyebrows furrowing feeling a bit offended at that.

"Because I didn't walk in with a lisp and a limp wrist." He chuckled, trying to play it off as if it didn't bother him, but Mycroft shook his head.

"No, there are other tell-tale signs to tell if someone is gay or not. Such as over primping, and spending more time than necessary on physical appearance and small behaviors." He replied. "Like drowning your hair in product." He shifted, looking at him seriously. "And your son is..."

"My ex wife's and my child." Jeoffry nodded, confirming Mycroft's suspicion.

"Marriage with a woman while homosexual. Didn't know you were homosexual when you married her?" Mycroft grinned, leaning down, procuring a folder from one of his drawers.

"I knew I wasn't attracted to females, but I liked Kate. We'd grown up together and I'd always told myself that if I were to have a family it would be with her." The man crossed his legs, itching his nose with his thumb.

"And what ended it?" The older Holmes brother questioned. He didn't actually care about the man's life. He didn't care that he was gay, or that he had a son or even that he was a special agent attempting to smuggle information for him across enemy lines. He didn't care about any of that, the only thing he cared about was making sure this man wasn't going to turn around and bite him in the ass, jeopardizing his, his countries or Sherlock's life.

"I uh," he shifted, grimacing as he recollected back to his first marriage, wanting to tell the entire truth and not hand over some half-assed biased answer. "Well, Kate got sick and tired of me not being sexually attracted to her or not wanting to have sex with her after Robert was born and she split ways." He admitted. "After stabbing me in the ribs with the stem of a broken wineglass when I couldn't get an erection during her lap dance on our 3rd anniversary." Mycroft stared at him for a long moment before nodding, dropping his gaze.

"Ok. Now that you have passed the test, we'll talk about your assignment." Jeoffry looked at him shocked, his eyes wide.

"Test? Wait, what?"

"You will be searching for any information that can lead us to any activity surrounding Moriarty."

"Wait, you were testing me?"

"I will give you weekly deadlines, you will report to me once a week unless you find something and then you will report to me at the nearest convenience." He handed him the folder.

"How were you testing me?" Jeoffry questioned, looking at the folder.

"All information I gather and data you find will be sent back and forth via private servers which can and will be traced. If we catch you handing this information off to anyone who is not on our contact spread we will find you, gut you and caramelize your intestines and send them in a gift basket to Cannibal Carl in the information department. Have a great day." He smiled smugly. Jeoffry stared at him for a long moment before nodding, slowly reaching forward to grab the folder from the -now seemingly insane- older Holmes brother. He didn't move, looking down at the folder in silence as Mycroft went back to signing his documents. A few minutes of silence went by, the man not moving. Mycroft stopped, looking up at him for a moment, then put his pen down. "Is there something you need?" Jeoffry looked up, his lips parting, inhaling a sharp breath and holding it before speaking.

"What did you mean by 'I passed the test'?" But Mycroft didn't answer. With a wide mysterious grin he raised his eyebrows.

"Ta ta."

Over the next few months, Jeoffry did exactly as Mycroft asked, coming in every week to give him an update, but with each meeting the visits became longer and less formal. Eventually, they were meeting up in a small coffee shop almost everyday while Mycroft was on break, wearing his same stylish suit he always did. Jeoffry walked in at 4 -right on time, punctual as ever- clad in a pair of nice jeans and a midnight purple, short sleeved button up shirt.

"Hey," he greeted, sitting down across from him. "How was your weekend?" The man asked, signaling a waitress over.

"Oh, you know." Mycroft smiled almost forcefully. "Uneventful as always." His weekends were always uneventful, even more-so when he had any contact with Sherlock.

"That's a shame," the man frowned. "Hey, can I have a French vanilla and caramel latte for me and a medium choco-cherry chai tea for my friend?" He smiled at the waitress. Mycroft looked at him as he ordered, his forehead crinkling at the use of the word friend. It was a simple boss and employee meet up. Nothing more. Or...so he had believed.

It was hard to see things as he had when he first met Jeoffry. He was a young, charismatic man. Hard working, diligent, punctual, good looking, but he had a way with strangers. He could silver tongue his way out of any situation, and he had a few times even with Mycroft. His first impression of not seeming bright had been proven wrong. Jeoffry was every bit as observant as John had been with a fist up for justice. And yet here he was, a large cog in the British Government, told to bugger off by everyone including those whom had befriended his equally deranged brother, and he was just called a friend. Possibly the first friend he'd actually made who was an actual friend and not someone looking for a pay raise -again, or so he believed.

"How was your weekend?" Mycroft questioned, crossing his fingers and resting his hands in such a way to rest his chin on them.

"Ah, good, it was good." He smiled, turning back to face him. He pulled his phone out, scrolling through before muting all sounds except for his sons -home phone Mycroft assumed given Jeoffry's son was 10 and the man didn't like the thought of 12 or 13 years old's having cellphones. That was when Mycroft noticed it. The black and blue mark under his eye, skillfully hidden by makeup but not well enough.

"What happened?" Mycroft questioned, the sound of the coffee machine behind the bar squealing as milk was added to a French vanilla chai tea with a shot of espresso and foam.

"Huh?" Jeoffry looked up, confused.

"The bruise under your left eye." Mycroft replied. Jeoffry hesitated before smiling.

"Ah, end stand. Smucked me good-"

"No," Mycroft interrupted him. "You were hit by a living being, approximately 5 inches taller than you." He replied. Jeoffry reached up, his fingers touching the mark on his eye.

"Damn," he laughed lightly. "When they say you're good they mean it." He looked up at him, passing the flirty compliment as appraisal even though Mycroft could hear it for what it really was. He didn't care either.

"Even better than my brother." Mycroft pushed, desperately fishing for compliments that normally eluded him.

"Always were," Jeoffry agreed, looking at the barista as she returned. "Thank you very much." He smiled at her before handing Mycroft his drink. "I mean he's good at what he does but you put a little more mystery into it." He replied, stirring in some of the whipped cream. "He's just...all collar and attitude. He's cute but his snarky behaviour is a friggin boner kill." He muttered the last bit. Mycroft's eyes fluttered, attempting to keep the compliments to his brother from churning his stomach. "I mean you fit the description of his position more. Handsome devil strutting around London..." Mycroft's eyebrows raised at the compliment, not expecting it. "Of course I like the whole shadow ruler feel better. You're like a puppeteer pulling the strings of the city. And that is sexy." Mycroft felt the corners of his lips twitch into a smile as he looked down at his drink.

"I'm afraid I can't give you a raise." He replied, picking up the little straw he'd been given to stir his drink.

"I don't need a raise." He shrugged, blowing on his drink a bit. "A kiss would be nice though." He paused between blowing, flashing Mycroft a grin as the Holmes took a sip of his drink. He sputtered a bit, managing to keep the spray of liquid inside the cup.

"What about Alex?" Mycroft questioned, putting the cup on the table, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. Jeoffry looked at him before pointing to his eye.

"We broke up." Mycroft frowned, looking at him apologetically. He could have guessed though, just for some reason, he hated the thought of someone beating on the lunch buddy he'd seemed to have gotten protective over over the past 5 and a half months. "I just wish I would have been able to put in a few good hits before he walked out." He muttered. "But with Robert there and my position being confidential as it is...well." He trailed off, taking a drink of his latte. His phone beeped. Sitting up straight he looked at it and cussed under his breath. "Hey, sorry I have to go get Robert, he's not feeling so good." He stood up and pulled his wallet out, putting the money for the bill and tips down. "Oh um, I have information for you, it might be useful, come over to my place tonight and I'll give it to you ok?" He smiled, his voice low. Mycroft looked at him curiously then nodded. "Catch you later buddy," he patted his shoulder lightly then turned leaving. Mycroft stared after him for a long time after he left, his daily coffee partner's absence making him feel a bit lonely. Suddenly the thought of him going back to that home with his ex angry, made him stiffen up. He liked Jeoffry. He liked him and he was damned if he was going to let some asshole hurt him.

Mycroft waited in the shadows, sitting in the back of his car, a cigarette in between his fingers. His eyes remained glued to the walk way, a spotlight of secluded streetlight illuminating just a tad bit in a desolate part of the city. This was the pathway He always took too and from work.

He flicked his ashes into an ash tray before taking another drag. He had been waiting there an hour and was wondering if he was ever going to show, then a figure making its way down the street caught his eye. He climbed out of the car, his umbrella in his hand as he remained in the shadows.

A well muscled man kept walking, crossing under the street light. It was him. This was the man Mycroft was looking for. Stepping forward the detectives older brother cut him off, making the man freeze in his tracks. "You must be Alex Diesiel." Mycroft spoke, features hidden in the dark.

"Who are you?" The man asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I am Mr. Haggart's employer," he stepped forward into the light. "I was made aware of the situation between you two and I am going to tell you ahead of time that any actions preformed tonight are not of Jeoffry's consultation, but of my own actions." He rested his hands on the butt of his umbrella, standing with his legs spread apart just enough for a relaxing stance.

"And what are you going to do to me?" He he sneered, crossing his arms. "How about you mind your own business?" He shot.

"Oh but Alex," he lifted his umbrella, rubbing his finger against the point of it, looking at him. "my people are my business" suddenly, Alex lashed out at him. Mycroft dodged it -though barely. Swinging he smashed him in the ribs with his umbrella then in a smooth motion brought his foot up, kicking him in the face as he doubled over.

Reaching forward Mycroft grabbed his hair and shoved him down. "This is for cheating on your taxes." He muttered ominously. Opening the umbrella he cupped it down, closing it around his head, locking his jaw in between two of the bars and the back of his head pinned in place by the shaft of the umbrella. Alex thrashed, attempting to free himself. With a sudden jerk, his neck snapped. Mycroft lowered his body slowly to the ground and unfolded the umbrella from around his head. Folding it up again he tucked it under his arm, he dialed the hospital, putting it to his ear.

"999 what's the emergency?"

"Hello I need an ambulance, a man was caught in a fight and his neck was broken. But don't worry, he's still alive." He replied calmly.

"How did it happen?" She questioned, the sound of keys clicking away in the background.

"He messed with wrong man." Hanging up he climbed back into his car and shut the door. The car lurched forward, driving away from the body on the sidewalk, heading to Jeoffry's.

It was about 9:30 when Mycroft showed up, all lights in the house off save for a couple. Climbing out he made his way up to the house and rang the doorbell. It was silent at first, then the door opened, the man on the other side looking a bit confused, then smiled.

"Sorry it's so late. I had some matters to attend to." He walked in.

"It's not a problem." Jeoffry smiled, stepping off to the side to let him in. He shut the door behind him and walked over to the table, pulling out a chair. "Have a seat." Mycroft looked at him for a moment before smiling, taking the seat as he was offered.

"You said you had information for me?" He asked, crossing his legs.

"Yes," he turned and slipped into the other room, vanishing. A few minutes later he returned with a flash drive and a folder. "Here you go." He handed them over. Mycroft reached forward and took them. Resting his umbrella by his chair he flipped through the bits of information that were collected. "It's a terrorist group, underground. We don't know what they're planning yet." Jeoffry admitted, sitting down across from him.

"I see," Mycroft flipped through it but stopped when he landed on a page that seemed unrelated. "What's this?"

"My will." He replied. Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed as he looked from him to the paper.

"Your will?" Jeoffry nodded.

"Yes, the only way we can get the full details is if someone is on the inside. If something happens to me, I want to make sure Robert has a good home to go to and that he'll be taken care of." He ran his fingernail along the seam of the table seriously, but somberly.

"Of course. But you speak as though you aren't coming back." Mycroft smiled.

"I know," Jeoffry laughed, shaking his head. "Just in case though, you can never be too careful. I have the original information on the flash drive and I sent it to you in your email. I'll be heading out first thing, Robert will be staying with my sister." He explained. Nodding Mycroft closed the folder and stood up.

"I should bring this to the office, file it away." He smiled, grabbing his umbrella. "When you come out of this, you'll get a pay raise."

"I don't need a pay raise," Jeoffry smiled, looking at him. "A kiss would be nice though." Mycroft stared at him for a long moment, the joke pulling the corner of his lips up into a genuine smile, even though it felt condemning.

"I'll be sure to brush my teeth an extra round then." He turned his back on him and made for the door.

"Goodnight Mr. Holmes." Jeoffry smiled at him.

"Goodnight, Jeoffry."

Mycroft sat at his desk, computer up and running, his phone on standby. He'd been sitting stiff, focused as he had for a week. Jeoffry was in the lions den. Occasionally information slipped through, bits of information needed to make everything work. For the first time in a long time, he felt on edge, nervous. He stared at the computer, his fingers crossed in almost a prayer cup infront of his face. Another folder came through.

Reaching forward he began downloading it but stopped when the file flashed red. He froze, swallowing. Here it was. The moment he'd been afraid off. Grabbing his keyboard he began typing. The download was being stopped. Someone was hacking it, trying to keep it from going through. Mycroft worked, rerouting the file to a safe network, pulling most of the information from the main folder. His cellphone rang. He bit his lip, typing as fast as he could. Growling he snatched up the cellphone and put it to his ear. "Yes." He spoke harshly into the phone.

"The main files are being hacked sir, I'm not sure if I can get it through to you." Jeoffry spoke quickly, the sound of his steps, quick.

"How much information do you have left to get?" Mycroft questioned.

"That was all I could find, I pushed it all through in a giant heap, hope you don't mind," Suddenly the sound of gunshots went off. "Shit!" Mycroft held his breath. "You need the passcode to get the information out of it, hold on I'll find the firewall and see if I can't shut it down."

"No, you need to get out of there." Mycroft spoke calmly.

"I can do this-"

"Get out of there now." The sound of gunshots got closer, almost deafening Mycroft.

"The passcode is: 01001001011000110110010100100000011011010110000101101110-" He paused, the sound of a bullet hitting metal. The sound of his feet pounding the ground audible. "011101100110100101110010011001110110100101101110! God none of this makes sense!" He growled, panting.

"Get out of there."

"011000010110111001100100! 011101000110100001100101! 01110110011001010111!010001100101011100100110000101101110! 010000100111! 001001101! 00101110100! 011010010111001! 10110100000100! 00001100100011011110110! 0111001000000110001101101! 1110110110101100101001000000! 1110011011101000110000101110! 01001110100001000! 0001110011! 011011100110100101100-" Another gunshot went off, the sound of cement scuffing against the phone, Jeoffry grunting. Mycroft's heart stopped, his breathing slow as he listened. There was no response, no indication that he was still there.

"Jeoffry." Mycroft questioned, his voice low. "Jeoffry speak to me."

"1100...11001...10011..." His voice came through, gargling slightly. Mycrofts eyes closed. Lung puncture. He'd been shot.

"No, stop, Jeoffry stop talking, I'm sending someone there to help you-" He stood up, making his way to the door.

"0100...1011...01110...01100...111. It's...it's gook...but...but I know-"

"Shut up." Mycroft pulled the door open, heading out.

"I know you're smart,"

"Shut up!" He covered the receiver of the phone, he stopped, realizing that he couldn't possibly contact anyone outside of his office. Turning he pushed the door back open and made his way to his desk. "Listen to me and listen thoroughly, I'm going to get you out of there in one way or another." He spoke calmly, although is voice was a bit on edge. "Stay with me," he sent out the message, alerting the others he had on standby that his agent was down, sending the coordinates of where he was. "listen to me, lay still, don't move, don't talk. You have an injury to the lung, the more you talk the more air you waste, the more you're going to bleed. Pretend it killed you until someone gets to-" A gunshot went off, the phone going dead. Mycroft froze, his eyes wide before slowly sliding shut.

His head hung as he slumped down, almost missing his chair as his forehead found the desk. He ended the call, dropping the phone to the hard wood that supported his head. He sat like that for a bit, not moving, his eyes closed. Swallowing hard, he inhaled deeply and sat up, his jaw clenched. His eyes fluttered as the computer dinged, letting him know the files were retrieved. Biting his lip he thought back to the code he was given and started punching it in.

It took only a matter of seconds before all of the information was extracted and the base file was shredded, making it so that no one could trace the transfer trail back to him. Opening the folder he started reading through all of it. A terrorist attack, all of this information...everything he had been wanting to obtain, whom he had been so eager to risk someones life for...

He stared at the information, the sound of the dead phone still buzzing in his ear. He'd gotten everything he wanted...but was it worth that man's...no...his friends life? His fingers clenched, blood boiling as he thought about it, the situation making his stomach churn.

Never again. He thought, a single tear hitting his cheek.

He would never let himself fall like this, not ever again.