Sherlock and John stood soaked before Mycroft's large desk. Rain dripping off soggy shoes onto the carpeted floor, creating a puddle of evidence that would remain even after their departure. "Why did you ask me to take on a case you already solved" Sherlocks face twisted. "You really should carry an umbrella." Mycroft scoffed seemingly at their unpreparedness, purposely delaying the conversation further to infuriate the younger Holmes. The faint sounds of London could still be heard over the pouring rain. Mycroft noted he should use one of his other more sound proof offices on days like today; He preferred absolute silence as it left him to organize his own thoughts neatly into boxes. He was never one to thrive within a mess. Sherlock stood before him glaring with his fists clenched at his side as his words tumbled out with quick, angry precision. "4mg of pure Aconitum laced in the Olivier that was prepped and labeled the night before due to Ms. Merkel's mild food allergies. Aconitum in its pure form can seep through even gloved hands causing her a mild fever the night of the Dinner party..The absent server had caught a fever due to this and thus called in late. She however was just as oblivious as any of the other staff as the poison had already been put inside the-" Thunder rolled throughout the charcoal coloured sky interrupting the dark-haired detective. "Must I go on brother? I do believe you know the rest." Mycroft leaned back in his comfortable office chair, the portrait of Elizabeth II hanging above him; both alone in the problems of their responsibilities. The office door opened with Athena quietly entered with towels in hand. "Oh, do accept it Sherlock. You are drenched." Mycroft nagged as the younger Holmes ignored the offer. Sherlock begrudging yanked the it from her, wrapping his wiry figure up in the plush heated towel. "Thanks." John offered Athena an apologetic look for Sherlocks actions.
"Your help was not without purpose, Sherlock. I assure you."
"I do not have time to run around to solve a case that you've already taken care of."
"Yeah, I'll say" The doctor added in. "We saw the news. 'Syrian head of state commits suicide on the Tower Bridge early this morning.' " John's voice mimicked that of the new's reporters. Mycroft ignored John's accusation although it most of the truth. The news always got the times messed up- It was evening. He had realized in the hospital who had poisoned him. The head of state, Mr. Halim Khaddam had tried to secure an upper hand within the British Government- knowing full well what would entail if those papers went without correction- by eliminating the countries most indispensable brain-trust. It had simple enough to figure out but their had been certain lose ends that hadn't come into a neat bow yet. He had bought himself time to figure out Veronicas uncanny role in all this by sending Sherlock to confirm his conclusions, but was left disappointed and frustrated with her answers which lacked all reasoning and logic. The case felt unfinished.
Least he had not been upstaged by Sherlock as the detective had completely missed Veronicas importance altogether. "You are missing something." Mycroft smiled his smug smile towards the younger Holmes who had now sat across the room, getting his chair wet. "What?" Mycroft watched intently as Sherlocks slipped into his mind- circling through his mind palace, picking through the random tidbits of information he had collected throughout the case. Mycroft waited with bated breath hoping. Hoping he had taught the only person who came close to being his equal well enough over the years. Sherlock's eyes returned their focus. "I can hardly see why the replacement server is revenant. She spilt the wine for the opportune chance to seduce you in the kitchen." Mycroft sighed. Sherlock was so easily influenced by what he thinks he knows as fact. Veronica Follies was indeed attracted to powerful people, the list of her lovers careers proved as much. She however, did not intervene with Mycroft out of a deliberate pursuit for seduction. That much he felt confident on. She was not the type of woman for mind games or well thought out plans, rather chased her desires on a whim. Subtly was not the woman's strong suit, Mycroft had observed as much when he visited her apartment. She was prone to carelessness. The memory of her becoming so easily unbound by him in just a few short moments found its way into his mind. "Oh. You think she is relevant." Sherlock laughed out.
"Don't tell me her amateur plans of seduction have gotten to you, brother." Mycrofts face turned scornful at that idea
"Absolutely not."
"Sherlock-" John nudged gently with a whisper, reminding the other of the cases waiting for them.
"If you'll excuse us now, John and I have actual cases to get to." His voice didn't hide the discontent with Mycrofts antics that still crawled in his skin. Sherlock lept up and looked to instantly regret it. His still damp clothing clung to his body, showing every outline of his chest. Any movements rubbed skin into an uncomfortable submission to the clothing- causing an irritable torture for the both of them as the exited.
Athena's heels squished into the wet carpet. "Should we call a carpet cleaning service, Sir?" Mycroft gave a small nod. "Perhaps I should consider getting hardwood…easier to clean." Mycroft stole a glance out the window. The rain still poured down drearily. "Athena, what do you think of gut feelings?"
It was rare the man ever asked for her personal thoughts on something and this was not lost on her. She gave him an inquisitive look before speaking. " Gut feelings arise from the limbic and reptilian parts of our brains... hardly something a rational person would allow to rule their daily decision-making process. I suppose the merit of those functions only comes in dire situations when the average person is not capable of analyzing the situation." She kept her answer short and to the point, one of the things Mycroft found so agreeable about his assistant. Her words rang true to him as well and shook the thought of Veronica free from his mind. Nothing was coincidence. Veronica seemed to be lead by feelings. To have a feeling that he needed a quiet, clean exit without drawing too much attention was correct. She had entertained plenty of government officials and the like to have known such a thing. It wasn't too much of a stretch of imagination either to think of poisoning. After all, it could have been assumed every guest in there would've loved to kill off one another to gain power. He showed all the early symptoms. Mycroft concluded that she had subconsciously observed his state and drawn to the conclusion without intermediate understanding in the forefront of her mind. However irrational her actions had been, they had helped him avoid a scene and get to the hospital quicker. Mycroft refused to give her so much credit as to think she had saved him. He wasn't closely behind her in figuring it out. He assured himself that with or without a Veronica Follies he would've handled it just fine. A small feeling knew that might not be the honest reality but he didn't entertain that feeling; shoving it far back into his mind. The lose ends tied into a lopsided bow, one that didn't satisfy his need to understand everything but enough that Veronica Follies no longer entertained his thoughts.
Three weeks later Mycroft found himself sitting at his desk, frowning over a report. It seemed he would have to bring Sherlock onto a case for the second time this month. This case however did have heavy repercussions if it was not accepted by Sherlock. He flipped through the photos of Irene Adler and let out a sigh. It seemed he would have to bring an apologetic front when he dealt with Sherlock later this afternoon. There was no way to avoid bringing his brother and his sidekick, John Watson onto this case. He'd apologize for the sake of England.
"What do you know about this woman?" Mycroft showed Sherlock a photograph of Irene.
"Nothing whatsoever."
"Then you should be paying more attention." Mycroft replied. His words carrying the heavy advice he should've given Sherlock earlier.
How he had wrongly deduced that server girl was one thing, but to be completely oblivious to Irene Alders presence within the lives of some of the most powerful men and women in Britain was another. Sherlock was missing important information often it seemed. Mycroft was almost sure he had run into criminals or clients who had naturally through their wealth and status been involved in one way or another with Irene. He'd look into it later.
When Mycroft returned to his smaller government issued office he found a small book of hardwood samplings sitting atop his desk. Always attentive he thought of his assistant. He had allowed her to take three days off to travel to Paris with her Husband. Her relationship rarely got in the way of her work and even when she was away she still managed to get most the work load done. Mycroft suspected her to feel the desire to become a mother soon though if she did not already, he had noticed her gaze drifting happily to mothers with strollers when they drove to meetings. He thought as he browsed through the pages, running his elegant fingers over the small 1inch textured samples of wood. There was a wide selection of hardwoods in all sorts of colors but Mycroft made his mind quickly, selecting the Peruvian rosewood. It went well with his personal style that his other office was decorated in. He called his temp assistant, someone who had trained underneath Athena for years. "Update the surveillance on Veronica Follies in Apartment 13, Maida Avenue to 1." She was connected to Irene Alder and due to her peculiar and unmotivated involvement in the case previously he thought it best to keep an eye on her once again. Veronica Follies was somewhat of a loose cannon and it didn't bode well with Mycroft Holmes.