5. Mycroft
"Well," the matriarch of the Holmes family declared with a smile of calm satisfaction, looking somehow regal and solid despite the frailty of her years, "Isn't this lovely? My boys are home, and their girls…"
"Of course, Mummy," Mycroft answered, always the good son, and for their mother's sake Sherlock didn't say anything to the contrary. Even if these family dinners could only be called pure torture. He supposed he could look on it as retribution; it wasn't as though he hadn't caused her even greater pain in the past.
"It's a pleasure to be here," Sherlock's 'date' added politely. Mummy gave Victoria a delighted smile.
"I'm so glad our Sherlock has finally decided to settle down," she declared, as though it were just the two of them in the room, "He was so troubled, for the longest time. It's a mother's greatest wish, you know, to see her children settled and happy."
"He's certainly the happiest I have known him," Vic answered, smiling fondly at the man they were discussing. This was most certainly true, of both of them, Sherlock thought. Victoria had only gotten lovelier with age and the proper hormone treatments. She was certainly softer than the last time Sherlock had seen her, calmer, more settled in her own skin. If Mummy knew that Victoria Trevor had started her life as Victor she made no notice of it, seeming delighted that Sherlock had obtained a girlfriend at all.
"And what about you, Mycroft, you always sound so tired these days," Mummy said, turning her attention to the other couple.
"We've had a bit of an incident," Mycroft's friend answered for him, "Everyone has been scrambling lately to fix it."
"So, do you two work at the same office, then?" Vic asked, studying them curiously.
"It's where I met Dorothea," Mycroft answered.
"Mikey offered me a drink at the office party, and we got to chatting," Dorothea elaborated. They both gave identical pleasant smiles, reaching to grasp each other's hands. Sherlock found the display nauseating. "And where did you two meet?" Dorothea asked, looking across the table towards Sherlock and Vic.
"Vic's dog bit me," Sherlock answered. At that, Mycroft's date gave him an interested look, but Sherlock didn't bother to elaborate.
"We were childhood sweethearts, I suppose you could say," Vic said for him, "Then we went our separate ways, of course, but we never did lose touch."
"How touching," Mycroft said, smiling with the eased practice of a politician, "Are we to hear wedding bells in the future?"
Sherlock glared while Vic turned bright pink.
"Mycroft, don't tease your brother," Mummy scolded, before looking hopefully towards her younger son, "You shouldn't wait too long, though, dear…I'd rather like to see my grandchildren before I go."
Victoria's face was quite fascinating to watch as the pink deepened into red, her lips twitching somewhere between laughter and horror.
"Mummy…you do know that Victoria…" Sherlock began hesitantly.
"There're always surrogates, dear," Mummy answered, as Sherlock's face started to redden. Mycroft looked far too delighted at the turn this conversation had taken. Dorothea still maintained polite interest.
"I'm sure the eldest should be the first to marry and procreate," Sherlock suggested, giving his brother a victorious glare once Mummy's interest returned to Mycroft and she could no longer see his expression while he willed his face to return to its usual color. It didn't help that Victoria had finally settled upon mirth and seemed to be having a fit into her napkin. It was bad enough to pull Mummy's attention back upon them.
"Are you quite alright, dear?" Mummy asked, "Perhaps you should help her out, Sherlock."
"Fine, fine," Vic managed to get out as she attempted to regain control of her face.
"And when do you intend to settle down, 'Mikey'?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm afraid I've put family on hold for a bit to work on my career. And how is your new business doing?"
"Did you start a new business?" Mummy asked, before Sherlock had a chance to scowl, "You never told me, Sherlock! Well, you'll just have to tell me now. Come now and tell me all about it. Does he do this with you, Victoria? He can be so secretive with his life."
"All the time," Vic answered, smiling fondly, "Well go on, Sher. Tell your mum about the business you created."
"I'm a consulting detective," he answered, sitting up slightly straighter, trying to radiate unconcern and confidence instead of the nervousness that had come unbidden to settle in his stomach.
"And what does a consulting detective do?" Mummy asked, "Is it like those private eyes in those novels your father used to like?"
"Not quite," Sherlock answered, "I help the police when they get out of their depth." Mummy frowned. Sherlock tried not to squirm.
"You mean you help catch criminals?" she asked, "Isn't that dangerous?"
"Hardly," Sherlock answered, "I leave them to do the actual capture; I just point them in the right direction." One more little white lie among many. Now if only everyone else would play along.
"Is that why you wound up in hospital with broken ribs?" Mycroft asked in a curious tone, as though he didn't already know all about every incident Sherlock got up to, "Pointing them in the right direction." Sherlock glared as the pleased smile on Mummy's face was slowly being overcome with concern.
"When were you in hospital?" she asked, "You should have called me."
"I didn't want to concern you; it was nothing," Sherlock answered, his eyes not leaving his brother, "Perhaps you should ask Mycroft about the safety in his 'minor government position'…how many assassination attempts did you prevent in the last year?"
"Don't alarm Mummy like that, Sherlock," his brother said sharply, before turning to look at her, "It wasn't me they were trying to assassinate." Only then did Sherlock see how pale Mummy was growing and he looked down, something unpleasant gnawing at his chest. For a moment there was no talking at all.
"Would you like me to play something?" Sherlock asked suddenly, breaking the silence, and Mummy's soft frown broke into a delighted smile.
"Would you?" she asked, "It's been so long since I heard you play."
"Perhaps a duet," Mycroft offered.
"Oh, fantastic," Dorothea said, "Let's arrange ourselves for the concert!" So the three woman settled themselves into their chairs while Mycroft took his place at the piano and Sherlock retrieved his violin.
"It has been a while. Our old Christmas routine?" Mycroft asked lightly as Sherlock took a moment to tune his instrument.
"Simple," Sherlock answered abruptly, "Are you out of practice, dear brother?"
"My instrument doesn't fit around my neck," he answered and before Sherlock could reply he started in with the Nutcracker Suite and Sherlock had to follow or be left out completely. By the end of the impromptu concert, Mummy was practically glowing and a good deal of Sherlock's resentment had settled into something far more content. This was familiar. This was good. Of course it didn't last.
After the music and applause and more drinks were passed around, they settled down again for conversation. This time, Mummy wandered off with their 'dates' with promises of baby pictures and womanly talk, leaving Sherlock and Mycroft to their own corner. Sherlock knew this was not a good plan, not at all a good plan, but he never could deny Mummy anything. If she wanted to go and tell embarrassing stories to his closest friend, then so be it, and if she wanted him and Mycroft to bond…they could at least pretend.
"Fingers feeling sore?" Sherlock asked smugly when he noticed Mycroft flexing them.
"As you said, it's been a while," he answered, not put out at all. Then suddenly he was looking quite serious and a bit foreboding as he leaned in closer, his voice going quiet to keep it from carrying over to where the women sat giggling over something or other. "Sherlock," he said, "This latest charade…your friend seems very nice."
"My girlfriend," Sherlock insisted, despite knowing that Mycroft had already seen through that.
"Would it be so objectionable, if she were?" he asked.
"And what of you and 'Dorothea'?" Sherlock demanded, "Shall we be getting a happy announcement anytime soon?"
"This isn't about me," he answered, infuriatingly calm, "I've at least tried dating."
"I'm not interested," Sherlock hissed, "I've told you this. I'm asexual." Mycroft sighed, giving him that look of concerned disappointment that he had no right to be feeling. It wasn't as though he was father, after all.
"There are people you can talk to," Mycroft tried again, "They can help you. I'm sure your friend wouldn't mind…"
"I don't need help," Sherlock answered furiously, though still attempting to keep his voice down so as to not draw attention to them, "I don't need a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I don't need anyone."
"I know something happened," Mycroft answered sharply, suddenly sounding angry himself, "The way you started flinching at every attempted touch. I know someone hurt you." Sherlock found himself shrinking away from the unexpected fury radiating out of Mycroft's every pore, despite the fact that none of it seemed directed at him.
"That was the drugs," Sherlock insisted, forcing himself to stop shying away like a traumatized puppy. Mycroft took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to relax and let it go.
"Well," he said, "Just give it some thought. Please. And give Victoria a chance."
"Vic doesn't want a relationship, anymore than I do," Sherlock insisted.
"If you truly believe that," Mycroft answered, "Then you are even more naïve about relationships than you like to play at being." Across the room, Victoria was looking at him, a radiant smile making her face glow as Mummy shared something in a conspiratory voice.
"She deserves someone who wants her," Sherlock said, more to himself than his brother.
"Perhaps," Mycroft replied, "But so do you."
Author's Note: Finally! I've finished the last of the five. It went in completely a different direction than I first imagined, but I think I quite like where I got to, in the end. Now all I have left is the +1 and I can mark this story off as complete.
