Well, damn, guys. I've gotten so many favorites and follows and reviews! You guys are awesome, and I'm so glad you're enjoying this so far! Let me know your thoughts on things, anything and everything is appreciated :) And sorry for the delay. School's been a bitch lately. I'll try to get the next update out quicker. -MG

Chapter 3

Mycroft's lip curled in distaste, before he sighed lightly to himself, which Harry found disturbing.

"Sherlock, welcome home."

"Hmm… I wouldn't say 'welcome,'" Sherlock stated, glancing at Mycroft disdainfully. The man, Sherlock, Harry figured, turned his back and made his way toward the kitchen. His hands quickly began to fiddle with something that had being laying on the island counter. "And you are?"

There was a pregnant pause when Harry realized the man was talking to him! He chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking a glance at Mycroft and answering: "I call myself Harry, sir."

"One of your name confused assistants then, Mycroft? You're becoming lazier and lazier by the day," Sherlock's voice bit back as soon as Harry finished his last word. His tone was even and calm, but cruel nonetheless. It honestly reminded Harry of Snape.

"Sherlock!" came a new voice that had Harry turning. "Mycroft is your brother, and Harry is a new guest in our home, you will be nice." A short, sandy blonde haired man came crashing into the room. Harry immediately felt at ease, but his gut told him to be careful-this man is dangerous.

"Or what?" Sherlock countered, a nasty sneer on his face.

"Or I will make sure you do not get a case for a month. I mean it, Sherlock!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Mycroft's soft tone interrupted. "I'm sure we could all come to an…agreement. Sit." Sherlock sat angrily, while John also sat looking exasperatedly at Sherlock. "This is Harry, and you will refer to him as such. I'm taking him under my political wing for an undetermined amount of time as a favor to a friend. You will, in turn, begin teaching him about what you do, Sherlock. This is not optional, national security requires it. I'm sure you understand. John, I have hope that you will keep Sherlock on track with what I am asking him. Harry will be here at 6:00 p.m. tomorrow. I will return at, oh, say 9:00 p.m. to retrieve him. Good day, gentlemen."

Mycroft existed the room dramatically, leaving three men staring at his back. His awe suppressed for the moment, Harry turned back to Sherlock and the other man, John, as Mycroft had said earlier. His cheeks flushed bright red as he stammered, "Well, I guess that's my cue…" Harry rushed out the door and down the steps as fast as he could in the three piece suit he donned. It really was uncomfortable, as well as the gel in his hair. He hoped he doesn't have to appear like this all the time. Now, the contacts, he could get used to, Harry smirked internally.

Harry hopped into the backseat of the car next to Mycroft, who Harry knew was waiting impatiently, even if he didn't seem it. Mycroft didn't say anything to Harry when he sat down, and Harry was glad for it. He was too embarrassed to even form words. Harry checked the time in the front of the car and was surprised at what he saw. It was already 8:00! Harry wondered what Mycroft would have him do for the last hour before they went on the two hour journey home.

They rode in the car for another fifteen before it slowed to a stop. Harry looked out the window for a moment, then said: "Er… I thought these lessons were supposed to be out of the general public and lower government's eye? I would have figured the police were, uhm not to sound conceited or anything, but I would have figured they were in that category."

Harry became disgruntled when he turned back around and saw the smirk on Mycroft's face.

"Quite correct, Harry. I'm glad I don't need to explain that to you. However, a single man works at New Scotland Yard by the name of Gregory Lestrade. He is who we are to speak to…" Mycroft trailed off, his eyes slightly glazed over. Harry tilted his head slightly at him. Was that a blush on his cheeks? Before he could comment on it, Mycroft was already up and out of the car. Harry hurried to follow. They walked stiffly into the Yard, and Harry cringed at the curious yet recognizing looks thrown their way.

The elevator ride was made in silence, which Harry didn't mind in the least. Finally they walked onto a floor with a few people on it who took a glance at them and went on with their business. It was like they were used to Mycroft being there or people popping in on their floor in general. But Mycroft didn't pay them any mind, heading straight for a door in the back of the large, yet cramped room.

Mycroft, Harry was beginning to realize the man simply did not believe in privacy and permission, did not even knock, but opened the door and immediately sat down in one of the two arm chairs for the visiting side of the desk. In the boss's chair was a man probably in his late thirties, early forties, with salt and pepper hair. Gregory, at least Harry assumed this was Gregory Lestrade, was turned backwards and talking avidly on the phone.

"No, I simply do not have the men to spare and send down south. I have a city to run here, you know? Homicide isn't quite the easiest thing to keep people on board with…" Gregory gesticulated wildly. Harry heard muffled talking on the other end of the phone. "No, I have enough men. I'm just damn lucky they're all willing to be sociable and come in on their days off when I need them. They're the only ones I have…They're good to me, you know? A pain in the arse sometimes, but good to me nonetheless."

Gregory finally turned back around, catching sight of Harry and Mycroft. He heaved a sigh into the phone. "Look I gotta let you go. I have company. I'm sorry I can't transfer any of my men…. Yeah I'll talk to you later, Don. Thanks, bye."

Gregory hung up the phone, and rubbed his face with his hands. It was silent for a moment, no one daring to break it. Harry, becoming uncomfortable, asked, "Long day?"

Gregory's eyes moved to Harry from their resting spot on his hands. The man gave Harry a quick upturn of his lips. "Yeah, you could say that." His eyes shifted to Mycroft. "Mycroft. How can I help you today?"

"Gregory meet Harry. Harry meet Gregory Lestrade." Gregory stood up and held out his hand to Harry. Harry stood up and offered his as well.

"Pleasure to meet you, mate. Call me Greg. Lord knows I've told Mycroft to but he continues to call me Gregory!" Greg threw up his hands and shook his head in fond exasperation.

"Likewise," Harry responded with an easy grin. He'd be able to get along with this man well, he could see it now.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Harry looked at Mycroft, and when the older man gestured, he responded, "Mycroft is teaching me some things as a favor to a friend. How you fit into this, I have no idea."

"I was hoping that you would be willing to take him along to some crime scenes and teach him how to fill out different types of official paperwork," Mycroft took over for Harry. Harry noticed how Mycroft didn't demand Greg teach him anything, unlike Sherlock and John. He tilted his head slightly in thought.

"Mycroft, you have to be kidding me! He can't look more than seventeen maybe eighteen. Do you want the kid to be traumatized by murders this early in life?" Greg exclaimed angrily to Mycroft. The man breathed out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fifteen, actually. You'll do it then?"

"No, Mycroft."

"If I may interrupt," Harry hesitantly spoke, and both of the men turned to look at him. "Greg, I know that you don't want to do this because I'm young and 'innocent.' But the fact is that I'm not. My parents were murdered when I was a year old. I watched as a classmate of mine was murdered before my eyes at the end of the last school year. I'm not going to be scared or traumatized by whatever you have to show me."

Greg stared at him with his mouth hanging open slightly as he tongued his teeth. "Alright, alright, yeah, fine." There was a pregnant pause. "Are you really fifteen?"

Harry chuckled and the tension dissolved into a fit of ease. "I am."

Mycroft smiled tightly like he was concerned at their friendliness for one another. "You will treat him as an adult however. A learning adult, but an adult no less. You can have him from nine in the morning to around six in the evening when he will be with Sherlock and John."

Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes at Mycroft. He wasn't a dog that he could just hand off to people like he didn't have feelings.

"On days where I do not need him, at least." Well, Harry thought, at least he doesn't want to completely pawn me off.

"And where can I find you?" Greg directed this at Harry instead of Mycroft.

"I'll send you an address. We must be going," Mycroft answered in place of Harry. Harry's fingers twitched.

"Alright, well. Good chat. See you soon, I guess, Harry." Harry smiled at Greg. The man seemed so lost and tired.

"Night, Greg," Harry reciprocated. Mycroft didn't move, but continue looking at Greg. Harry took the hint and quietly left Greg's office. He came back out into the now sparsely populated floor and leaned against a desk. The cool metal corner bit into his side, but Harry ignored it as he fidgeted with his suit. His eyes flickered to the door that held Mycroft and Greg behind it. What was taking them so long? Suddenly the door opened and Mycroft stepped through, black umbrella in hand, calling behind him, "Go home; it's late. What you're doing now can wait until tomorrow."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Mycroft that the man did not see. He didn't say anything as he followed the man out to the waiting car in the front of the building. The silence continued into the first forty-five minutes of the two hours car ride, but was interrupted when Harry said with a slight grin on his face:

"You like him."