Warnings: Mentions of abuse.


Chapter 7:

Mycroft Holmes

The very same day Mycroft Holmes and Anthea Jones (yes, her real name was 'Anthea') got married, soon afterwards the wedding the newly couple went back to his office where the politician had a meeting with the Egyptian ambassador and where Anthea had papers to hand to her employer and husband, documents to type and tea to prepare for him as well.

As the very diplomatic man he was, Mycroft convinced his partner that invitations had to be send instead of getting married in a very secret wedding as she always dreamt of. However, there was not an office full of important people such as ambassadors, the Royals, personalities of the showbiz, the PM's family and so on watching them getting married. The only ones invited were Mycroft's parents, Sherlock and his family, Anthea's parents and no one else.

Mycroft was wearing his best suit. Anthea was wearing a nice green dress that was perfect for a modest wedding and also perfect to work in an office. They said 'yes', signed papers and finished the private civil ceremony pressing their lips together in a very sweet, tender, loving kiss. Then, they smiled for Mummy Holmes' camera and Anthea pulled out his blackberry and told her now not only employer but also husband that they had a meeting with the Egyptian ambassador in minutes.

No one at the office said a word now that Mycroft Holmes and his PA were wearing matching golden rings.

And no one said a word when Anthea Jones started signing papers as 'Anthea Jones Holmes'.

The couple had their honeymoon two years after getting married.

Questions started to be asked as months and then years passed. Anthea and Mycroft visited Mummy and Father Holmes every Sunday where they saw Sherlock and Jane and their constantly growing family and they couldn't help but know, without even talking about it, without even visiting a doctor, that they could not conceive. It had been long months trying and that little baby never appeared. The politician once suggested getting himself tested because he felt he was the one unable to impregnate her. Anthea had tears in her eyes when she told him she would never let him do that because they didn't need to know who was the one who couldn't conceive. Anthea said it was not important.

Mycroft's deductive skills were so powerful that people knew they could not hide a thing from him.

So Mycroft knew that the one who couldn't conceive wasn't her wife but himself.

And the politician thought it wasn't fair. He worked hard, he worked in the shadows and because of him most of the population of his country were alive and safe. Mycroft knew he had given up too much for his career, for his job, for the duty he was meant to accomplish every single day of his life. He had known Anthea since he had started working for the government, since he was twenty something and his Anthea was a merely young girl who had just finished high school but had skills no special secretary of more than forty and with more than twenty years of experience had. They had lived far too much, Anthea had picked up the pieces when Mycroft felt his world was collapsing and she was always on a second place because Mycroft's job always came first. And now that Mycroft was allowing himself to enjoy his own life just a bit more he couldn't have the only thing he had always wanted: a family.

"Uwella," little David babbled. "Uwella!"

The politician smiled. "'Umbrella', David. It is 'umbrella'."

"Aw, he's cute, Mycroft," Anthea commented.

"Do not correct my son. Correct yours the day you have one," Sherlock said, not really thinking what he was saying.

There was a long, awkward silence filling the room. Realisation hit Sherlock soon afterwards when he saw Jane glaring at him with murderous eyes.

Jane cleared her throat and smiled awkwardly. "Coffee?" she asked nervously. "Does anyone want coffee? Tea?"

"Tea, please," Anthea walked with Jane to the kitchen. "I'll help you."

The two Holmes brothers were left alone.

And before leaving, Jane glared at the detective again.

"Apologise!" she muttered, angrily.

Mycroft smiled awkwardly to the small children playing together in the playpen and fixed his eyes on them. His brother looked at him, at then at the frown between his eyebrows, the way Mycroft shifted on his chair, how his fingers were doing drumming movements on his knee.

Angry.

Hurt.

Had a slightly desire to kill him.

What he did was a lot not good.

"I apologise."

Mycroft turned to him. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me!"

"From you, dear brother, I can take anything you say," Mycroft said calmly, but then his tone changed. "But I shall not remain silent when you have just hurt my wife's feelings."

"I'll apologise to her."

Mycroft said no word.

Sherlock was at loss of words. It was sad to deduce your brother had fertility problems and while they had never had a good relationship, Sherlock felt honestly sorry for his brother. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

The only sound in the living room came from the little twins playing together in their playpen. Minutes later Jane and Anthea returned carrying a tray with cake and tea and coffee for everyone.

When Sherlock tried to apologise, Anthea faked a smile and told him she didn't need to hear a word about it not because she didn't believe in his words but because she chose not listen to them.

"Anthea -"

She tilted her head. "It's OK, Sherlock. It's OK."

Mycroft held his wife in his arms when she cried that night. But she wasn't crying because of Sherlock's words.

Anthea was crying because they had been together for years, they had a big house but just one room in the whole house was occupied and several others were empty, waiting for children that would never come. She cried because her belly would never carry a child, she would never breastfeed, they would never change nappies and they would never have a baby to raise, spoil, entertain - love.


"He's grounded," Jane explained as she checked the boxes with medications Mycroft brought. "He's been coming with Sherlock since then."

Anthea looked at Jane and then at Mycroft. She would never understand how they managed having five children - and all of them were so different. Their oldest child was a teenager, Lock and Sophie were just there already showing symptoms of preadolescence behaviour and the twins were a demon and an angel. David was sweet, tender and Benedict was all a little demon. And yet Jane and Sherlock both looked fine - fine.

"Why you don't have babies, Uncle?"

Mycroft looked miserable. "We can't have children."

"Why? Is it because you don't like them?"

"No," The politician said, his green eyes on his wife. "Because we can't conceive."

"And why don't you adopt one? My Dad and Mum adopted Sophie," Benedict said. "They said they adopted her because they thought Mum couldn't have babies any more," the boy looked at Mycroft. "But she had me and David. I think we were an accident. Mum and Dad told me it's not true." Benedict bit his lip. "Mum says we are a miracle."

Mycroft smiled. "Maybe we could adopt, yes."

"Why don't you adopt Tim?'

"Do you think Tim would want me to be his father?" Mycroft asked, his eyes on the little boy who was chatting with Anthea a few feet from them.

"I don't know," Benedict shrugged. "I wouldn't. But because I love my Dad. Tim likes Auntie Anthea and he needs a family."

"Things aren't that easy, Benedict."

"You want babies?" Benedict asked innocently. "Tim thinks no one will ever adopt him because he's already a big boy and people always adopt babies."

Mycroft smiled to his nephew who reminded him of Sherlock when he was his age. "We have never discussed the possibility of adopting due to our demanding activities," the politician said. "But be certain that we would never choose. We will accept any child, as long as he or she wants us to be his or her parents."

Later that day, when Anthea had already turned her mobile off, when Mycroft had already finishing working and when both were finally on their bed, Mycroft asked Anthea about Tim.

"He's so sweet. He asked me if we needed our garden to be cleaned," Anthea said with a bitter smile.

Mycroft pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Would you like to adopt him?"

"What?"

"Would you like to adopt Tim?" Mycroft repeated the question.

Anthea looked at him but said nothing for a moment.

"I know it's me," Mycroft whispered. "Because of me you'll never have your own offspring. I'm deeply sorry, my love."

"Hush, it's not your fault Myc -"

"Yes it is," the politician cut her off. "I'm useless as a man."

Anthea smiled tenderly to her husband and kissed him softly. She cupped his face with her slender hands. "You're not useless. You're the bravest man I know. You saved this country. You're my husband and I love you, Mycroft. Don't ever say you're useless because you are not."


All the papers were in order. They could adopt any children they wanted and Mycroft hadn't even used his power as a member of the British government.

They could adopt Tim.

Now they really needed to know if Tim wanted them to be his parents.

"Hello, Tim."

The boy smiled. "Hello, Mr Holmes. How are you today, Mr Holmes?"

The boy was far too polite to be a homeless boy who had lived on the street for most of his life. "I'm fine. How are you, Tim?

"Good, thanks. And Mrs Holmes?"

"Anthea? She'll come soon," Mycroft explained. "What are you doing?"

"'m waiting for Ben and David. They said they'd come to play."

It was a Sunday morning. Mycroft arrived the soup kitchen with Jane and Sherlock - Anthea was to arrive soon, so were the twins, that according to Jane, had overslept and Hamish was going to bring them soon.

Mycroft smiled. "Do you like them?"

"Yes!" Tim said with a bright smile. "They are nice to me and they let me play with their toys when I go to their house."

"Oh, really?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "They invited me to a sleepover last week. And Mr Holmes showed us sheep eyes!"

"Sheep eyes?"

"Yeah!"

Those were human eyeballs actually.

"Mr and Mrs Holmes are very nice. And Ben and David's brothers are cool and their sister Sophia taught me how to use a computer," Tim added after a moment of silence. "It must feel good, ya know, to have a family."

It hurt.

"I'm sure it must feel good, yes. I wish I had a family like my brother's."

The boy frowned. "But you have a family, Mr Holmes."

"I have my wife... Well, my brother, my parents, my nephews and my niece," Mycroft explained. "But what I mean is that I don't have a family of my own."

"Then have babies."

"We can't."

"Oh," the boy looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mr Holmes."

Mycroft faked a smile. "No harm done."

"Why don't you adopt? There's a good place I know. Lots of little babies to choose," Tim said excited. "You're very important so I know that if you go they'll give you all the babies you want."

The poor thing was suggesting Mycroft a place where he could adopt babies.

Where he could choose.

"I don't think we could adopt a baby."

"Why? They are nice and little and everyone wants babies," Tim said innocently. "They say it's better to adopt babies."

Mycroft sighed. "Because my wife and I have... very demanding jobs and having such a small child... it won't be easy for us and I'm not that young to wake up and nurse a crying baby in the middle of the night."

"Oh..."

"Who told you it's better to adopt babies?" Mycroft asked.

The boy shrugged. "No one. But it's true though."

"Why?"

"Cos people like babies, Mr Holmes. And it's easier if they don't wanna tell the baby he or she was adopted."

"Would you like to be adopted, Tim? Have a family, a home...?"

The boy nodded and smiled tenderly. "I wanna have a family, a mum and a dad who love me," Tim said. "A home... maybe, I don't know. I'm used to live in the streets."

"My wife and I... we want to adopt."

"I can go with you and and Mrs Holmes and show you the place I told you," Tim said. "And maybe you could find a nice baby."

Mycroft smiled just a bit. Anthea said she wasn't sure she would have the strength needed to raise a little baby. Both were young, in their middle thirties, but they didn't considered themselves young enough to nurse a baby when they had such demanding jobs. Their jobs weren't the ones they could simply resign once they had grown tired of them.

And Anthea said she didn't want to adopt a baby when there were lots of children who also needed a home and parents who would love them.

"Would you," Mycroft hesitated. "Would you like to be our child?"

For mere seconds Tim said no word. He frowned - he was deeply lost in thought.

Mycroft knew it had been a wrong idea-

"Hi," Anthea said, sitting next to her husband and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Hello Tim, how are you sweetie?"

The boy jumped over them and threw his arms around their necks.

"Yes!"

Anthea smiled when she realised what Tim meant.


"This is my room?" Tim asked with wide eyes. "All of this?"

Both nodded. "Do you like it? We can change the distribution of the furniture or maybe the walls -"

"No!" Tim cut Anthea off. "It's amazing! I really like it, thank you Mr and Mrs Holmes."

Two months after their talk, Mycroft and Anthea were finally given the full custody of Tim and they became his parents. Tim was not Timothy "Tim" Holmes.

Anthea and Mycroft painted one of the rooms of their new big house light blue and together they bought the furniture, toys, clothes and so on. They wanted his child to have everything and be happy. Mycroft bought a new house which had all the rooms they needed and a garden. He wanted his child to have a big garden where he could play with his cousins and friends. Mycroft and Anthea wanted Tim to have all the things he never had before.

"You don't need to call us 'Mr' and 'Mrs Holmes'."

"So... can I call you 'mum' and 'dad'?"

Anthea nodded. "You can call us 'mum' and 'dad' or simply by our names," she smiled tenderly at him. "Whichever you prefer, sweetie."

"I like 'mum' and 'dad'," Tim said.

But having a child, having stored his room with all sorts of things he might need such as clothes, toys, games, a computer and so on didn't meant complete happiness.

Because Tim had problems trusting people.

The very same day Tim arrived at their house, Anthea was showing him the rest of the house and when Mycroft placed an arm around his thin shoulders the boy stepped back rapidly and looked scared. And when Anthea raised a hand to caress his soft reddish hair she saw him shutting his eyes close - as if he was expecting a slap more than a soft touch. Mycroft and Anthea both noticed that when after having a bath they boy went to his room and locked the door to dress himself. Tim looked fearful when in the night Mycroft went to his room to say good night - as if Mycroft would do something to harm him.

Mycroft already knew something about Tim's past. The boy had been left on an foster home when he was merely a few days old and since then until he was five he lived in different places, going from family to family because no one adopted him. But the politician investigated and found out not only about Tim being abused but also about him being hit.

"I'm sorry!" Tim said nervously. "I'm so sorry Dad! Please forgive me!"

Tim dropped a glass to the floor. Clearly the boy was not used to them.

"It's nothing -"

"I'm sorry! I promise I won't do it again! Please don't hit me!"

Anthea frowned. "Sweetie, we would never hit you."

Tim had tears in his eyes when he told them about his past. The last foster home where he was staying at was nice and the people there gave him clothes, food and toys. But when once he accidentally broke a glass he was hit several times with a belt and grounded for two days without food.

And later he was sexually abused.

"Adam said I had little hands..." Tim said between tears. "And he made me touch his willy all the time when his wife was not home..." he snuggled close to Anthea. "He said he'd kill me If I didn't..."

Oh God.

"And he touched my willy too and it hurt."

"It's OK, Tim," Mycroft said softly. "He will not hurt you again. I will make myself sure he never gets close to you or to any other child. I promise."

The following day Mycroft asked Anthea to cancel all his meetings saying there was a matter of national importance he ought to take care of.

And at an old warehouse Mycroft met Adam.

And Adam met Mycroft and his henchmen.

Mycroft explained Adam he had enough power to make anyone he wanted disappear without leaving a trace. And that's exactly what he did - he made himself sure Adam disappeared without leaving a trace and not before telling him he should have never hurt Tim.

When Mycroft returned home he assured his child he had already taken care of that man.

No one ever saw Adam again.


"Mummy, Father," Mycroft cleared his throat. "He's Tim. Our son."

Mycroft and Anthea organised a lunch at their new house and invited Mummy and Richard Holmes, Sherlock, Jane and their children. Mummy and Richard Holmes found Tim adorable, who wearing a pair of blue jeans, green converse trainers, a white tee and his reddish hair - that made him look like Mycroft - perfectly combed to the side and his dark eyes - that made him look like Anthea - Tim had bright brown eyes.

Tim was a seven year old boy who was taller for his age, had reddish brown hair, pale complexion, brown eyes, pink cheeks and smiled happily.

The kid looked like an angel.

"Tim, she's Elizabeth, my mother, and he's Richard, my father. They are your grandparents."

The boy smiled. "Hello. I'm Tim."

"Mycroft told us lots about you," Mummy said. "But he never mentioned you were so handsome."

Tim blushed.

His grandparents showed Tim pictures of Mycroft as a child, told him stories as well about him, about them, about their family - they made Tim feel part of them, as if he had always been part of them. They organised a lunch on a sunny Sunday and all the Holmes family welcomed Tim.

Elizabeth and Richard adored the boy. Practically everyone did. Jane and Sherlock, Mycroft's secretaries, the people at his office, the Queen and even his teacher and his classmates.

As Tim was very good friend with the twins, Mycroft and Anthea knew that it was better if they sent Tim to the same school. And Tim, Benedict and David became inseparable. The three of them were together in the same class, spent all the breaks together and Tim sometimes went to the twins' after school when Mycroft and Anthea had too much work at the office or a meeting with some ambassador. Sometimes the twins went to Tim's after school and became closer to Mycroft, to whom he regarded was a 'scary' uncle and they also became closer to their Auntie Anthea when they discovered she could cook very yummy cakes and cookies and who was very sweet as well.

"Whoa! Uncle Mycroft's so cool!" Benedict said as he looked at Tim's new video games console. "I thought he was a stick in the mud!"

"Hey! Don't talk about my Dad like that!"

The day Mycroft learnt how to play football soccer on the PS3 and when Tim mentioned he couldn't beat his Daddy, Sherlock learnt how to play too because his brother couldn't be cooler than he. Because now Benedict and David said that their Uncle Mycroft was 'cool'.

And Sherlock was not going to let that happen.

Mummy and Richard Holmes were so happy every time their two sons, their two daughters-in-law and their six grandchildren visited them every Sunday. But they were not so happy when Mycroft and Sherlock ended up arguing over who was the best at video games.

Mycroft usually won.

And Sherlock sulked.

"I've never seen him so happy like this," Anthea confessed Jane. "He even stays at home during the weekends!"

Jane smiled. "If Mycroft doesn't work on weekends, then he must be really happy."

Indeed he was.


"Dad, what do you do for a living?"

"I work in an office," Mycroft replied. "With your mother."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, I know that. But what do you do? Cos you know the Queen and the Prime Minister... you must be someone really important."

"I occupy a minor position in the British Government," Mycroft explained to his seven year old son. "I - We... we do things secretly."

"Are you spies?"

"No," Anthea said. "What your Dad means is that our jobs are not very... public. We don't appear on the news or on the papers."

Tim nodded.

"What did your uncle say?" Mycroft asked after deducing the reason why his son was enquiring him about his job.

"Uncle Sherlock said you run this government," Tim explained. "And Mish said you own half of this country."

"Ha-ha," Mycroft laughed. "Your uncle finds amusing to tell you jokes."

"But Uncle Sherlock never jokes," Tim said. "He says you can see the CCTV footage and that you know everything about everyone."

Mycroft sipped more of his wine. "It's manly because I can see things many people take for granted."

"Like Uncle Sherlock, Lock and the twins? Cos they can tell a lot of things by just looking!"

"Exactly."

"Can you teach me? Please?" Tim asked. "I want to deduce like you and like my cousins!"

Mycroft caressed his son's hair. "The art of deduction can't be taught."

"Oh... it can only be inherited then?"

The boy looked sad.

"Yes and no," Mycroft explained. "I can teach you the basics and you can use the knowledge you consequently obtain wisely," the politician warned his son. "You've seen your Uncle Sherlock being... rude to people."

The boy nodded and laughed. "Uncle Sherlock told the cashier at the shops that he had to wash his hands after masturbating. What's masturbating?"

"You're still too little to know that," Anthea said.

"Back to deductions. I will teach you the basics only if you promise to keep the information to yourself and only use it in useful, very useful situations. Am I clear?"

Tim nodded eagerly.

Once they had finished dinner, Anthea helped their maid with the dished and watched Mycroft sitting with Tim together in front of the fireplace. Mycroft was explaining Tim the basics of deducing and Tim had a little notebook where he was writing everything down.

"So... " Tim bit his pencil. "I have to observe?"

Mycroft nodded. "Careful observation is the key to a good deduction."

One year later...

"Happy birthday, Tim," Jane said and handed him their present.

"Thank you, Auntie Jane," the boy turned to his uncle. "Thank you, Uncle Sherlock."

Tim opened his present. It was a jigsaw puzzle. "I wanted this one! Thank you!"

Tim said he never knew the exact day he was born, so he wanted his birthday to be celebrated the very same day he was adopted by Mycroft and Anthea. So for his eighth birthday - for the first birthday he was celebrating in his life, his parents organised a big party for him at their house. The garden had a large table for the family and another table for Tim, his cousins and his friends from school.

"Hey, Tim," Benedict patted his back. "What did Uncle Mycroft get you for your birthday?"

Tim smiled. "This, look!"

Tim showed his cousins and his friends a golden retriever puppy with a blue ribbon on his neck.

"Dad, Dad, Dad!" Benny and David said in unison. "Can you get us a dog, please?" David said first.

Benedict pouted. "Yes, Dad, please!"

"What's its name?" Sophie asked. "Aw, its so cute!"

Hamish and Lock caressed him. "Dad, can we have a dog too?"

"His name's Hercules," Tim said. "Dad and I chose the name."

When all the guest had already left, the maids were cleaning the garden and Mycroft and Anthea were tucking him up on his bed, Tim asked his parents if Hercules could sleep with him.

"Of course he can," Anthea pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Happy birthday, Tim. I love you."

Tim smiled to his parents. "I love you too. Thanks for being my parents."

"Thanks to you for being our son," Mycroft said with softly. "I love you."