A/N: Finally! Here is the final chapter. Sorry it took so long. Please read my note at the end.
A Very Mycroft Christmas – 4
Mycroft led everyone into the dining room with a trace of apprehension. He had been worrying over the seating arrangements at his large rectangular table for days. He had pondered just about every configuration of the guests but none of them satisfied him. Finally, he went and purchased a circular table just for this particular dinner. It eliminated the need for someone to sit at the opposite end of the table from him, a position he hadn't been able to satisfactorily fill in his mind.
The circular table allowed him to position people much more comfortably and equably, much like the legendary table of King Arthur.
Everyone was happy and relaxed and the conversation flowed over a range of topics as the dishes Mycroft had labored over were devoured.
As the meal was winding down, Sherlock's phone chimed. Both Mycroft and John frowned a bit at Sherlock for not having respected the meal enough to silence his phone. Sherlock gave them each a look of defiance and pulled out his phone and looked at it. He looked briefly shocked, before putting it away with a pleased smile and blush. Mycroft saw John straining to look at the message, then after having seen it, looked positively thunderous. He gave Sherlock a steely-eyed glance that spelled trouble.
Mycroft could think of only one person that could be contacting Sherlock that would make John so angry: Moriarty.
A few minutes later everyone was getting up from the table, and John practically hauled Sherlock from the dining room by the scruff of his neck.
Mycroft and the rest of the adults had the table cleared and the leftovers put away by the time the two of them reappeared looking a bit rumpled and flushed. Captain Watson was swaggering confidently, followed by a meek and slightly agitated Sherlock.
Mycroft's skilled eye quickly determined that, while some serious snogging had been going on, there hadn't been anything more. They were both left in a state of high arousal, clearly John's intention. Mycroft smirked at Sherlock, who attempted to sneer back, but failed miserably. Mycroft knew at least one thing Sherlock would be getting for Christmas, and he'd be lucky to be able to sit comfortably by New Year's Eve.
Once everyone had their after-dinner drinks in hand (Harry had coffee) they congregated around the Risk game. Mrs. Hudson quickly offered to play with Tim while the rest of the adults played.
The beginning of the game went as Mycroft predicted. The first one eliminated was Margaret; her heart simply wasn't in it.
"I like to cooperate, not compete," she said with a smile and a shrug as Sherlock defeated the last of her armies.
Next to go was Harry, although she made a valiant effort and tried a desperate last stand on Madagascar. After Lestrade finished her, she shrugged philosophically and said it was the best showing she'd ever made. She then went back to working on the model of the solar system that she and Sherlock had been working on earlier.
That left Mycroft, Sherlock, John and Lestrade. Both John and Lestrade turned out to be better players than Mycroft had anticipated. As a result, the game went on for several more hours with gains and losses governed more by chance than strategy.
Mycroft became aware of Margaret's presence over his shoulder, watching the game unfold. He looked around to see that Mrs. Hudson and Harry conversing on the couch, Tim was nowhere to be seen.
"I put him to bed, he was done in," Margaret answered his unspoken question. Mycroft glanced at his watch and was startled to see the hour.
He offered to send Mrs. Hudson and Harry home in his car, an offer they gratefully accepted. By the time Mycroft's driver arrived, Harry was packed up and Margaret provided both Harry and Mrs. Hudson with generous portions of leftovers.
Once they had gone, John began mysteriously losing and within 30 minutes was out. He lingered by the board as Margaret was, and began giving Sherlock pointed looks. After some time Sherlock finally huffed in annoyance and began losing as well. The difference was he lost much more slowly, and each time he lost he managed to strengthen Lestrade's position.
By the time Sherlock finally gave his final bow Mycroft was at a definite disadvantage. Sherlock gave a satisfied smirk that indicated that he certainly didn't feel the loss. Mycroft shot him a look that communicated that he knew exactly what Sherlock's intentions were.
John and Sherlock were packed up and ready to leave very quickly, and Sherlock adamantly refused to accept the offer of Mycroft's car, saying that they would call a cab.
There was another round of goodbyes and well-wishes, and the last glimpse Mycroft caught of the couple was of John taking a decidedly possessive grasp of Sherlock's arm as they went out the door.
Inwardly, Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief. The poorly disguised sexual tension between the two of them had started to put his teeth on edge. Now he could truly relax and focus on the game.
Mycroft and Lestrade went back to their battle, with Margaret continuing to observe as she sipped her wine. It took some time, but Mycroft began to recover from the position Sherlock had put him in, and a long campaign began against an unexpectedly subtle and skilled opponent. Without other players to distract, Mycroft began to fully appreciate the patience and resolve Lestrade had as a player.
They battled across continents, islands, and oceans as the clock ticked on and on. They sipped their brandies, pursed their lips, as they stared at the map of the world and their scattered armies, planning their next assault on the other.
Mycroft was so absorbed that he gave a slight jump when he heard a soft snore behind him. He turned around to see that at some point Margaret had fallen asleep on the couch.
He quickly got up and fetched a throw to put over her and returned back to the game and Lestrade, who was smiling warmly at him.
"She's a lovely girl," Lestrade said.
Mycroft glanced back over to her, a sudden, odd pain in his heart.
"Yes, she is," he agreed.
"Margaret told me a brief outline of your situation….it's a hell of a story, Mycroft," Lestrade continued quietly.
"It most certainly is."
Mycroft found himself at a loss to add anything further.
After a slight pause, Lestrade went on, "What father would do such a thing to his daughter? He knew he was dying – to make her have a baby so young, knowing she would be all alone…and then to violate your patient rights and privacy…It's just crazy. And I'm used to seeing all kinds of fucked-up shit in my line of work."
Mycroft arched a brow at him in surprise.
Lestrade blushed, "Sorry, I think I've had a bit too much wine. My language filters are offline. And, I'll stay out of your personal business, as it's none of mine."
"I assure you, I've taken no offense. It's very kind of you to sympathize with my situation."
Mycroft could see Lestrade relax at his words.
"Good, I'm glad," he said, giving Mycroft another heart-tugging smile.
After a few seconds of silence, Mycroft gestured at the game board, "Should we continue?"
Lestrade rubbed his face tiredly and replied, "I dunno, Mycroft. I think I'm about to collapse. I should think about calling a cab. Can we call it a draw?"
"Of course! But please, let me put you up for the night; I have plenty of room. I can put you in either of the spare bedrooms and changing the sheets can be done in just a minute. It will be much better than waiting for a cab and having a chilly ride home."
Lestrade smiled again, almost shyly, "Well, as long as you're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble."
Mycroft waved, "Nonsense! What's the sense of having guest rooms without friends to fill them with?"
He continued in a slightly lower pitch, using one of his more charming smiles, "Please don't make me a stranger, Greg."
"All right then, show me where you want me and I'll help you make the bed."
They went upstairs and Greg stripped the bed in what had been Harry's room while Mycroft got clean linens. Together they had the bed remade in just a few minutes. Mycroft then brought Greg a pair of his pajamas, a robe, slippers, and a new toothbrush.
"My goodness, Mycroft, you should run a B&B!" Greg smiled, as he took the armload from Mycroft.
Mycroft shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious, "I don't want anyone in my home to lack for any comfort I can provide."
There was another loud silence, and both men were blushing.
Mycroft cleared his throat, "Well, I better see that Margaret gets to bed safely. Er, I'll cook breakfast in the morning, but if you need to leave early, feel free to help yourself to anything before you leave."
"Thanks, Mycroft. Thanks for your generosity and hospitality. Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, Greg."
Mycroft walked back downstairs and sat on the couch by Margaret's waist. The motion roused her and she gave Mycroft a sleepy smile.
"You guys finish the game?"
"No, we called it a draw. I put him in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I wanted to make sure you didn't stay here all night and get stiff or chilled."
"Thanks, Myc," she smiled and sat up, then looked at him again, more intently this time.
"Myc? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, my dear. Why do you ask?"
"Now I know something's wrong. You've never called me 'dear' before – ever."
Mycroft smiled at her a bit guiltily.
Margaret flopped back along the couch and looked up at Mycroft slyly.
"It's Greg, isn't it?"
Mycroft didn't answer.
After a few seconds of silence, Margaret went on softly, "Don't let me stop you from having something you want."
The two of them looked at each other, and in that moment Mycroft discovered that he was able to communicate wordlessly with her in much the same way that he was able to do with Sherlock.
In a long moment of silence, they showed each other their doubts, uncertainties, worries, and desires. Mycroft then took one of her hands in his.
"Margaret, I just want you to know that whatever….arrangement you and I settle on, you will always come first, no matter what."
Margaret began to protest, "Myc, you can't – "
"No, you and Tim will always be my top priority. I don't resent that – I never will. I know it's an unbearable cliché, but you've given me the most precious gift I've ever received and I will always treasure you. So if you're ever unhappy – about anything – I need for you to tell me."
"Thanks, Myc," she whispered, tears in her eyes.
Mycroft felt a suspicious prickling in his own.
"Come on, then," he said gently tugging her up by the hand, "nothing needs to be decided whilst we're all tipsy and emotional. We'll have plenty of time to give these matters sober deliberation and come to a well-considered decision – which can be changed at any time anyway."
Margaret laughed and allowed herself to be led to her bedroom. At the door, she suddenly leaned up and gave Mycroft a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.
"Happy Christmas, Myc."
"Happy Christmas, Meg."
Margaret gave a startled, but delighted laugh, and Mycroft chuckled back.
It was a very happy Christmas, indeed.
THE END!
A/N: Thanks so much to ALL my readers, but I want to take this opportunity to send special thanks to the following awesome people: First, my fabulous beta JARRI SCYTHE! I couldn't have done this without you sweetie! Very special thanks to KHORAZIR for immortalizing selected scenes from my series. Each one made me cry tears of joy! Special thanks also to those who helped me along this journey with their helpful reviews, criticism, insights, and encouragement: EMMA DE LOS NARDOS, JUSTINE LARK, LADYOSCAR23. There are many also who I would like to give special thanks to for being faithful readers and reviewers. This is an incomplete list, and it could be much longer: Garonne, IBegToDreamAndDiffer, Zonya, AstraeaAegle, Asbeth, annabelleaurelius, MrsCumberbatch, xelectrogirlx, krystal89, Mirith Griffin, The Red Leper, Sidney Sussex, endsoftime, Mercy Flynn, and finally Sister Raven, for encouraging me at the very beginning of this odyssey. As, I said, incomplete – I want all of you to know that I read every one of your reviews and treasured all feedback I received. I will go back and finish "The Trouble with Harry," I promise! I am also currently working on a case-fic in honor of Khorazir. Once those are done, I will begin a new series of Sherlock stories that will be series 2 compliant! Hugs and kisses to all!