A/N: Hey everyone :) I'm really unsure about this one, I think perhaps the concept is a bit farfetched and uncharacteristic but I wanted to try it out anyway and see what you thought XD The idea just sort of came to me this morning for some reason so I wrote it down :P
So, I apologise for the OOCness if you don't like that kind of thing, but perhaps you'll enjoy :)
Mycroft had taken little notice at first to the man who had suddenly decided to start following him around whenever the politician was alone. Of course, the man thought he was going undetected and extremely discreet on his crusade, but he had probably not counted on Mycroft Holmes being the most observant man in London (probably England.)
It had started about two weeks ago. Before Mycroft went to his office for work, he would often stop at a small café on the way and purchase a coffee and pastry to take with him for breakfast. Once he left the café, he would disregard any remaining change he had into the nearest homeless person's cup – a small good deed in hopes of a quiet day, both for himself at the office, and Sherlock not to nearly get himself killed and Mycroft having to clean up the mess.
After that first morning two weeks before, Mycroft made note that it was the same homeless man receiving his daily pennies. Perhaps the man had realised Mycroft's pattern and so stuck around just to earn some money every morning. He was always sat waiting, in the doorway just next to the café, and although Mycroft took little notice of him, the scar running down the man's left cheek was very distinguishable.
However, it had not stopped there. A week ago, Mycroft had been taking a shortcut through a less than pleasant alleyway to get home – it had been a rough day and he wanted to get there as quick as possible – when he spotted the shadow of the man following behind him. Mycroft simply raised his eyebrow, a sign of interest, not fear and simply continued walking, umbrella swinging rhythmically at his side. By the time he reached the street leading to his house, the man was gone.
So for the rest of the week, Mycroft would catch the man following him out the corner of his eye, or watched him flitter by as he quickly ducked out of sight when the politician almost caught him. He was there outside the café every morning, and although Mycroft did consider saying something, he did not really see the point – if the man wanted to harm him, he'd have done it already, there had been plenty of times when they were alone, but that did make Mycroft curious as to what his true motive was… surely not a secret admirer, Mycroft was not entirely sure how he would handle that, for once.
Eventually, Mycroft grew very weary of the man just following him like a lost lamb and thinking he was doing a good job of being overlooked, not having the decency to approach Mycroft, so the politician decided it was time to do something about it.
He headed off down the alley where he had first spotted the man so that they were alone; he knew the man had seen and also changed route. About halfway down Mycroft stopped, trusty umbrella clutched at his side, and turned around.
"Why are you following me?" he announced calmly. To anyone else it would appear he was addressing an empty backstreet, but Mycroft was no fool. "You've been following me for the past two weeks and I see you outside the café every morning" he explained flatly; he so hated having to explain himself. Mycroft sighed "I won't hurt you, if that's what you're afraid of" not now anyway, it depends what you want from me.
The man scuttled out from behind a pile of dustbins, clearly annoyed but also embarrassed about being caught. He turned to face Mycroft, his hands neatly folded behind his back, but his jacket pulled back slightly to reveal a knife.
"Who are you?" Mycroft asked ignoring any sense of danger he could be in.
"My name is Liam, Liam Jenson" the man replied as he looked Mycroft in the eyes; the politician deduced the man was telling the truth but as yet he was not sure why.
"And why exactly are you following me, Liam Jenson?" Mycroft enquired as he closed himself off by folding his arms across his chest. "Have you been sent to kill me?" the directness of the question clearly shocked the man, but Mycroft simply awaited an answer.
"Your, um…your brother sent me" Liam responded as he scuffed his shoe against the ground.
Mycroft smirked "So you have been sent to kill me then"
Liam's eyes widened "Oh no, quite the opposite, sir" he suddenly bit his lip; as if he realised he had said too much.
For the first time in a while, this confused Mycroft a little. He was very lucky that the man was being compliant with his interrogation, but so far it appeared more questions had been raised than answers.
"And what exactly do you mean by that?" Mycroft asked; he had an inkling, but it would be so very unlike Sherlock.
"I…I promised Mr Holmes I wouldn't say if you ever caught me. He suspected I'd last a month"
Mycroft scoffed "My brother always does underestimate me" he said with a shake of his head "If Sherlock hasn't sent you to harm me, then he must be trying to gather information of some sort" he claimed; there was third possibility, but surely not.
Liam shook his head "No, sir"
Mycroft raised his eyebrow "Are you implying that you are a member of my brother's homeless network who he has hired to follow me in case I get into physical trouble and need assistance?"
"Erm…" Liam appeared stunned for a moment, before looking down at his feet again "Yes, sir"
"But why?" Mycroft questioned more to himself than Liam "Sherlock hasn't shown any concern for my wellbeing since we were small children"
"He says you have him on high level security, sir" Liam confessed; there was just something about Mycroft which made people want to spill their secrets, probably so he could not do it before them. "He says it's because you worry about him, incessantly, though he doesn't understand why"
Mycroft rolled his eyes; he had plenty of reason to be concerned with whether Sherlock would still have a pulse at the end of each day, but his concern was not something to be said out loud because 'caring is not an advantage' as he so often had to remind himself. He should know that caring brought nothing but grief anyway; Sherlock was very stressful as a little brother, throwing himself into dangerous situations without thinking about the consequences.
"Well tell my dear brother that I do not need to be followed day and night, and that I have my own team of security if I need them" Mycroft said and turned away.
"With all due respect, sir…" Liam started, and Mycroft turned back to him with an expectant look "I've already stopped you from being jumped twice this week"
Mycroft's eyes widened a little in astonishment rather than fear. "Really?"
"Yes sir, I'm an ex-army officer trained in hand to hand combat and some kinds of weaponry. Your brother selected me for my skills"
Really? Mycroft wanted to say again, but he knew how idiotic some people sounded when they repeated themselves so much. Sherlock had gone to all the trouble of actually hand selecting someone worthy of protecting Mycroft. The older Holmes was not sure he could even fathom that. When had Sherlock ever shown he cared for him to any degree? This did not make much sense. Perhaps Sherlock felt he had something to gain from Mycroft being alive; although heaven knows what, he complains about me enough.
"Does Sherlock pay you well?" Mycroft asked.
"Fair enough considering I'm a homeless bloke" Liam replied.
"Hmm, well since you have saved my life twice you're clearly skilled at what you do. So, perhaps a more steady income and place of accommodation are in order…" Mycroft said as he looked into his pocket and pulled out a card "Come to this address tomorrow morning, and I might have a job for you"
Liam took the card cautiously as if he thought it were some kind of trick, but anyone should be able to tell from his appearance that Mycroft Holmes did not make offers he did not intend to maintain.
"Erm…thank you, sir" Liam said as he put the card in his pocket for safe keeping.
"Yes" Mycroft said, not one for moment of sentiment "Now, if you would be so kind as to leave me alone for the rest of the day, I intend to pay my brother a visit anyway"
Liam nodded once, before hurrying off down the alley. Mycroft smirked and walked off himself into the direction of Baker Street; oh Sherlock will be pleased.
Mycroft arrived at 221B to the sound of Sherlock frantically tapping away on his laptop (no, it was John's) and the doctor himself was sat in his chair reading a newspaper.
"Good evening" Mycroft announced his presence as he strode into the room.
John turned to give him a polite smile and Sherlock almost robotically (from habit) asked "How's the diet?"
"Fine" Mycroft said in his usual stiff reply before going to sit in Sherlock's currently vacant chair, much to his brother's annoyance.
"I'm erm…I'm going to go get that milk" John said as he got up and grabbed his coat; he tried to avoid the Holmes brothers' tense meetings whenever he could.
Once they were alone, Mycroft sat twisting his umbrella around on the floor until Sherlock finally spoke up.
"Whatever it is, no, I'm busy"
"I met a colleague of yours today" Mycroft said, ignoring his brother's weak attempt to be uninterested.
"I thought you knew everyone I associated with" Sherlock scoffed.
"Well, apparently I was not supposed to find out about this one" Mycroft said, and although he had his back to his brother he could hear Sherlock had stopped typed, no doubt tense with where this was going. "A Mr Liam Jenson, nice chap, actually"
Sherlock stood up at this and strode across the room as if going into the kitchen, but then paused and turned back to his brother.
"And what exactly did he say to you?" the younger Holmes enquired.
Mycroft opened his mouth to tell him everything, but something made him stop. It was not fair to draw attention to Sherlock's actions of sentiment when Mycroft himself so greatly detested being called on for such deeds.
His probably less than discreet way of showing he was concerned with Sherlock's safety was to bombard him with security cameras and giving any assistance on a case he could. Perhaps hiring a homeless man to follow him was Sherlock's own bizarre way of showing he did worry for Mycroft's safety too. It would not be fair to make him say it out loud, as Mycroft himself never did about Sherlock, so perhaps he should let it slide. Besides, it would probably save a lot of embarrassment for the both of them.
Mycroft finally formulated a response. "Just that you had sent him on some sort of mission, he wouldn't disclose what. We met quite by accident and I did not have the time nor patience to interrogate him in the middle of the street"
Sherlock frowned suspiciously "If you didn't find out anything of interest then why bring it up?" He asked.
Mycroft sighed "Well whatever he is doing is clearly supposed to go unobserved. You might want to tell him to be more subtle"
"Oh…right" Sherlock said, still uncertain, before going to sit back at his desk.
"I am your big brother, Sherlock" Mycroft felt he should remind him despite everything else. It's my job to make sure you are safe.
"Yes" Sherlock said as he went back to typing "And I can't afford a crack team of security or operate the CCTV" whether that was for his own protection or Mycroft's was not specified.
Mycroft just smiled to himself; he would take that kindly.