This is a follow on from my previous story A Minion of One's Own, which you can find on my profile. I would advise reading that one first. If you think that I should develop this into a story please let me know :) Equally if I shouldn't. It wouldn't be a Sherlock/OC.
I envision this occurring just after The Great Game. By the way, isn't the new series just sheet-droppingly good‽
No copyright infringement intended, and if anyone can get the other reference to literary genius in this, they can have a cookie :) Read on!
The tall thin townhouse looked asleep, only the hall and basement lights were on as Mycroft got out of the smooth black saloon car at eleven in the evening. He sighed as the chauffeur closed the car door behind him.
"Goodnight sir"
"Good night Cadman." He mounted the steps and opened the paneled front door, letting the yellow light fall over his feet as he stepped into the carpeted hall.
"Good evening sir"
"Good evening Foljam, is Tabitha in?"
"She's in the kitchen sir." The maid answered, taking his coat and umbrella.
"Thank you."
"Very good sir." Foljam walked off to place the items away and Mycroft continued down the thin corridor to a small kitchen decorated in blue and mahogany with a large square table in the middle. In the dim light a woman sat behind it reading one of the broadsheets, her tight-clad feet appearing from beneath it and resting crossed on the table.
"Mycroft, that you?" She lowered the paper to her chest and peered over it
"Yes it's me." He said with a sigh. She gave him a sympathetic look and folded up the paper.
"Has it all gone wrong?"
"Yes." He said bluntly, "Moriarty got away."
"Oh Mycroft." He moved besides her, one hand brushing her shoulder before leaning down and kissing her swiftly on the lips.
"Sherlock survived, and John."
"John saved Sherlock?"
"Yes." Mycroft replied, unsurprised by her knowledge. He moved to the kettle and switched it on, noticing it had recently been boiled. "Dr John Watson will be the making or breaking of my brother. Recently back from Afghanistan, likes danger, likes to be led"
"You said he was responsible" She reminded him with a smile as she craned her neck back to see him
"I thought he was. Sherlock's corrupted him." The kettle boiled and he poured two mugs of tea, placing them on the table by her paper before sitting down besides her, moving her feet into his lap. Tabitha watched him with her brown eyes, he vaguely registered she was wearing very elegant make up - she had been playing somewhere today, in public. Her dark lipstick had faded though - she'd had dinner and not reapplied it.
"Are the boys in bed?" He asked, she smiled and nodded
"Yes, Mo learnt about Greek mythology today, we discussed ways to kill Medusa without mirrors over lasagna"
"And Iggs?"
Her smile broadened "His teacher wants to put him in for his grade 1 piano exam."
"Wow." Mycroft said with a proud smile. As one hand lifted his tea the other rested on her feet, the thumb subconsciously rubbing her metatarsal arch. They sat in companionable silence for a minute, drinking, before she spoke again.
"So tell me about John. This man who will 'make' your brother." She teased
"Medical degree from the University of London, joined the army as an assistant surgeon, shot in the shoulder, now has a tremor-" She yawned, interrupting him, and he raised one eyebrow. To anyone else that eyebrow meant integration, surveillance and possible death. Tabitha had received it so may times she'd stopped noticing it.
"I could read all of that from his blog Mycroft. What about him, the person himself?"
"He misses war." Mycroft conceded. "He's strong, loyal, capable-"
"Mycroft." He looked at her "Relax."
"How can I relax? This is Sherlock!"
"I know," She pacified him, "and I understand, I do know your brother." Mycroft sent her a tight smile. "But it sounds like this John Watson will be good for him, someone to ground him, and it doesn't hurt to have a crack shot around." He caught her smile
"I never told you that."
"You didn't need too." He shook his head with a small rueful smile
"I try with him. I really do…"
"I know sweetie" She rested her hand on his arm. Her wedding ring was dull gold, her silver thumb ring glinted in the low light, and a heavy silver bangle slid out of her sleeve and rested on her wrist. He put together all the little things he'd noticed since he had stepped into the house. Foljam had been waiting for him, that meant Tabitha had been monitoring him and had told her when he'd be home. The style of dress and make up meant she had been in public today, dealing with clients, and the souls of her feet were hot - she had been standing for a lot of today. Her hairstyle was loose; she had taken out a few of the pins when she came home, which judging by the amount the tight curls had dropped was four in the afternoon, just after Grovner had bought the boys home from school. From her fingernails she had helped Iggs with his piano practice and from the equation accidently imprinted on the side of her wrist she had helped Mo with his maths homework. Fractions, in blue ink.
"Do you have anymore work to do tonight?" She asked
"Theres always more work." Mycroft said tiredly, and she nodded understandingly.
"I'll head to bed anyway" She lifted her legs off his lap and got to her feet, talking the empty mugs to the sink and rinsing them. Mycroft watched her, and as she turned back around she caught his eye and smiled.
"What?" She asked quietly. He shook his head, and she walked silently back over until she stood next to him. He put one hand on her distended stomach.
"The more you see the less you know." He replied smartly, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.
"G'night Mycroft. I'll dismiss Foljam." She walked out of his grasp and into the lit hallway, where he heard her talk to Foljam and wish her goodnight before heading upstairs. He sighed, turning the nights events over in his mind, before pushing himself to his feet and heading for the study for another long night.
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