Okay, so.
Basically, this me wondering what Harry was like, wishing we could get to know Mycroft better, getting my head stuck in a blender and coming out with 'Hey, what if it was like this?' There are several of my original characters in this, but this is basically just all their backstories all at once. Each chapter will belong to one of the Alpha Squad, in number order.
Which reminds me, something I couldn't put in the description: Alpha Squad are all identified by numbers; 01, 02, 03, and so on, from one to nine.
Now that that's out of the way, here it is, and... Let me know what you think?
Mycroft Holmes was not a happy man. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, closing his eyes against the headline on the table beside him. He hadn't bothered trying to contact Dr. Watson. That would just make things harder than they needed to be. Besides, he doubted the doctor would be all too willing to talk to him right now. Normally, the silence of the Diogenes Club was a welcome relief from whatever chaos was going on in the political scene everyday, but now, it felt hard and cold. He rubbed his temples, taking a deep, quiet breath. His meditation was interrupted when one of the doormen approached his chair, carrying a note. He took it cautiously, turning it over. It said, simply:
'You have a visitor, Mr. Holmes.'
He frowned, but rose carefully, and, tucking the card into his pocket, followed the man out of the room.
"She just arrived." The doorman said, when they were free to speak again. "A lady." He opened the door to the private room Mycroft had often used for meetings with John, bowed the older Holmes brother in, then closed it and returned to his post.
Mycroft's 'visitor' turned from where she had been standing by the window, her eyebrows knitting together with concern. She took a few steps around the chair toward him, then stopped.
"I thought you and the team were in Iran."
"We were. I took the jet back." He nodded understandingly, eyes straying to the tea cart. "Sir, if you want to redirect us, Alpha squad is ready for action." He looked back up at her.
"What do you mean?" She smiled, just a little.
"We're prepared to investigate." He stared at her.
"Now that's... I can't have a fully equipped, high level MI6 team on this! You're needed elsewhere!" She folded her arms.
"I think I'm needed right here, right now." She paused. "Mycroft." He met her eyes for a moment, then sighed.
"You know me too well. Permission granted." She nodded, turning back toward the window and touching a transceiver in her ear.
"Operation is a go; I repeat, Alpha Squad: operation is a go." When she turned back, she saw he had an eyebrow raised.
"The jet, hm?" Her smile became a grin.
"I never said I was the only one on it." He sighed again, and she continued to watch him. "... I'm sorry. We should have prevented it."
"It wasn't your field." He told her sourly. "It was mine." He slumped into a chair, putting his head back in his hand, rubbing his forehead. She gazed at him sorrowfully for another minute, then took the few steps necessary to cross the room, sitting down on the arm of his chair and putting an arm around his shoulders gently, patting his arm with her other hand.
They sat there like that for a very long time.
Hours later, back in his office, Mycroft pulled out a large drawer of folders out from under his desk, lifting out the first one. It had been twenty years ago, maybe more. Back when he was still just an aide, albeit in a high government office. He smoothed a hand over the manilla folder, then opened it carefully, lifting out the two pictures, one from back then and one recent. She looked almost the same-pretty, but certainly not beautiful, with brown eyes, a long nose and sharp chin. The confident, self-assured expression was the same in both, but the newer picture added wisdom. He set them both aside, turning his attention to the file itself, though the pages told him nothing he didn't already know. It was a funny thing, trust, but he wasn't one to forget when a woman saves his life.
Nor was she one to forget when a man did the same for her.
He ran a finger down the edge of the folder, looking at the closely written label:
'Alpha 01: Harriet Watson'