Sherlock was beyond enraged.

"Behind my back! With my padawan!" the knight roared.

"He is our last hope of saving this planet, Sherlock," Mycroft snapped back.

John shrank deeper into his seat, trying not to disturb the feuding masters. Sherlock had commanded him to take supper promptly, the boy hadn't dared disobey orders from on high tonight. Not when his master was so kriffing angry.

"He is the last hope of saving this planet for the Republic! This planet has been corrupted since they sent babes to parish if they are not deemed worthy!"

"Watch your emotions, my brother. Your thoughts betray you," Mycroft said calmly.

"Oh yes. The precious Island loves this planet. Forgive me," Sherlock snarked. He threw himself into the seat next to John and ripped away a bit of cheese. Where it would have normally been followed with a protest, this time John stayed perfectly silent. Master could have all his supper if it would calm him down.

John pushed the small plate of meat and cheese towards his teacher, but Sherlock motioned it away. The boy frowned down at his food. "You always feel better when you eat," he mumbled.

Sherlock took a bit more cheese.

Mycroft frowned between the two of them. A look that was getting quite old in John's humble opinion. John took a deep steadying breath, he had to try to calm his mentor down or risk upsetting Mycroft further. Gently he nudged his master side.

"Be nice," he implored. "You haven't apologized yet, Master. You-"

"If you are about to imply that I owe this man something after what he has done this evening, let me halt you, John. In fact I think I shall take the bed meant for me tonight, if you don't mind, Mycroft," Sherlock said sharply as he rose from the table. "John, you will finish your supper and come to bed. You will need rest if we are to depart to the high temple tomorrow."

"I thought the High priestess was in the temple in town," John said surprised.

"On some days," Mycroft said easily. "It would be easier to reach her there than where must go tomorrow."

John swallowed. "Oh."

"You're thoughts betray you also, padawan," Mycroft said taking the seat across from John. "You are uneasy."

John shook his head. He wasn't about to confide in Mycroft, not after this mission. At the start the master had been the most feared swordsman next to Master Dooku. Now he was big poodoo head who was mean to his master every chance he got. John swallowed down a sip of milk.

"Ah, yes. I remember that face. You are cross with me," Mycroft said, surprisingly gentle. "You think I have betrayed Sherlock."

Again there was a frightened head shake. John gripped his mug tightly, observing as the blue liquid sloshed in his cup. It wasn't that he betrayed Sherlock, but Mycroft was being cruel by excluding his master's opinion. John fingered the hilt of his mug. "How come you two don't like each other?"

Mycroft pondered for a moment. "You are evading the question," he said eventually.

"There was no question given, Master," John said nervously into his cup.

Mycroft's lips twitched. "Remember those skills when you begin negotiations."

John's head dipped further over his food. The mood to talk was not with him, but the understanding that Mycroft was the higher rank and had not dismissed him yet kept him planted in his seat. He gingerly ate some of the assortments of meat.

"My padawan used to hate Gorian food," Mycroft said suddenly. "She always claimed it tasted like rancor poodoo."

The trick worked.

John smiled.

"It's alright," he said with a slightly more merry tone. "But Master says I'd eat anything that didn't eat me first. 'Specially when I get hungry."

"If you are anything like Anthea, I imagine that is often."

The boy nodded eagerly. John offered some of his supper to the older man, hoping to hear more of his fellow padawan. Mycroft looked at the offer with some distain, but eventually accepted some.

"How come Anthea was thirteen when she was apprenticed?" John prompted swiftly.

Mycroft swallowed thoughtfully. "Many masters thought her power was too raw, and she was far too reckless to be taken as a padawan. I saw an opportunity to have a strong learner, and I took it."

John looked slightly blank for a moment. "I guess it's better than having the council decide for you…"

Mycroft frowned at the blatant impertinence, John flinched at his own words. "Can I be excused?"

"May I," the master corrected.

John bowed his head. "May I be excused?"

"Would it truly be so awful, young one? Having me for a master?" Mycroft asked quietly.

John panicked. No, no they couldn't take him away from Sherlock. They had passed all their exams, and Sherlock was his master, no one else. He wouldn't allow it, he had to stay with Sherlock.

"Anthea died because she would not obey me. You and your master avoid my instructions at every possible turn. Even now you are far too eager to be away from me," Mycroft said with a sad smile. "Sherlock I can understand, but I never thought I had wronged you."

Oh.

OH!

He had hurt Mycroft's feelings.

It was hard to imagine someone as strong and powerful as Mycroft having feelings that were vulnerable, but Mycroft was a person too. John felt guilt raising in his throat, hugging the master was out of the question. No doubt it would not be appreciated, but John felt a strong need to make amends for his misdemeanor. He shoved his plate away.

"Master, I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I don't think being your padawan would be a terrible thing, but I do have a master of my own. And I will go to him and follow his orders first. Not because you give poor instruction, but…but he's my master," John explained carefully.

Mycroft sighed at the young boy. "You were meant to be mine, you know. I visited you when you were a babe of four."

John nodded, memories of a ginger haired man hanging about when he was younger filtered into his mind. Mycroft had never played with him or reached for him, it was mostly a lingering presences. Even when learning about masters as a youngling, John had never thought of Mycroft presences as a potential master. A master was supposed to reach for their padawan as much padawans reached for masters. That's what Sherlock had taught him anyway. Mycroft had simply never reached.

"What are you doing there, Jo-Jo?"

The four year old toddler blinked up at his new guardian, Master Ali, and smiled. Though he didn't cared to be called Jo-Jo, the offense went unscorned as the tot rolled up from his cot. "S'eeping," he said, while reaching for the Rodian master.

"Sleeping? How can you be so aware if you are sleeping, my young friend?" The alien master chuckled. He hoisted the growing tot into his arms and beamed as the normally shy child snuggled into him.

The boy, just learning about the Force and its mystical ways frowned thoughtfully. "The Force, Master?"

"Ah, from the mouth of babes," the Jedi smiled. "Master Mycroft has come again today, would you like to see him?"

To his surprise the boy's head shook. "No, he never plays wif' me. Master Jenno, she can come," the boy decided swiftly. Jenno was a Falleen knight who had her eyes on one of the older boys, a Michael Stamford. Though she refused to claim him until he was at least twelve. Often times she could be seen rolling about the floor with several younglings in tow.

"I think you must see Mycroft for a little while, Jo-Jo. He may be your master someday," the Rodian said gently.

"Nope," the boy said pleasantly. "My master has curly hair, and…and…an…atti-attidude?"

"An attitude?"

"Yes!" the boy clapped his hands excitedly. "And he'll play wif' me and give me kissies. Master Mycroft won't give kissies."

"How do you know this, young one?"

"B'isions,"the boy said brightly.

It was the delusions of a child.

No Jedi master would ever give kisses.

The Rodian master carried the little child into the play room, John's arms tightened around the alien's neck as he noticed Mycroft standing off in the corner. Shyly, he buried his face into his guardian's neck and shook his head. The new Jedi master secretly frightened him. He couldn't explain what was so frightening, only that he did want Master Ali to leave him alone with the stranger. Ali gently extracted the child in order to pass him over to Mycroft.

The older Jedi made no move to take the child. It was absolutely ridiculous, even the odd knight, Sherlock, would hold the younglings when he came to visit Enora. John blinked up at the older master as if to say "I told you so". He set the small boy down on the play room's matted floor.

"Be very good, Jo-Jo," he said lightly.

"Yes, Master," the boy said unsurely.

"I hate being called, Jo-Jo," John muttered as his mind flashed back to the present. Nicknames in general drove him mad. His name was John. Just John.

"Poodoo Breath!" Sherlock called from the other room.

John unlaced his left boot and threw it at the young man, Sherlock barely missed it. John's grin only lasted for a short time, he turned back to Mycroft with a small incline of the head. "It's not that you are a bad master, sir. It's just…Sherlock's mine…If roles were reversed, Anthea would have declined Sherlock for you." John smiled brightly and darted to his room where Sherlock was waiting with a left boot in hand. John giggled and reached towards the older man happily.

Sherlock smirked and pressed the little one against his stomach, holding him tightly.

"Little one," he said warmly.

John cooed.

oOo

He could remember everything about the day Anthea had come to him.

Nervous, unsure of why she was being summoned, perhaps she had thought she was at last being sent to Agri-Corps. It was a place for children who did not move on to be padawans, no doubt it had been a frightful time for her.

Dooku had been adamant that he not take a learner only sixteen years his junior. It was far too risky, padawans needed to see their masters as a guardian figure, not a potential equal. But Mycroft had ignored his master's warning and taken the young Twi'lek as his padawan.

"Master? Why me?" she had asked him after they had finally bonded.

"Because you will be a strong Jedi one day, young one. And I need someone powerful to carry on my lineage," Mycroft explained shortly. Anthea had reached a hand down to him to raise him up. In a smooth motion he stood up without the aid of her smaller hand.

"Oh…. Yes, Master." The Twi'lek frowned, "Is that all, Master?"

"Yes, young one."

"Oh…"

oOo

John sat perfectly balanced on the bed, a cup of milk in his hand

Sherlock was fussing about his padawan, preparing the child for bed. A noisy slurp caused Sherlock to scowl sternly at the boy. John giggled and made his master accept his milk glass. The young boy wrapped his arms around his master's strong neck, he buried his nose into the nape and nuzzled it affectionately.

"Are you still mad at me, Master?" the boy asked nervously.

"I was never angry with you, little one," Sherlock said roughly. "You're not at fault here."

The knight lay his child back against the cool sheets and watched closely as the boy fussed about under the covers. Everything had to be completely set before John would consider going to sleep. His bear had to be present, his blankets had to be drawn around him by Sherlock, and his master had to give him a firm kiss to the forehead. It was a simple enough list, not in the least bit demanding or without reason. Sherlock smoothed the sheets around the young Jedi carefully.

"When I make negotiations, Master, will the priestesses be mean to me?"

The small boy trembled with some fear. Sherlock carded a gentle hand in his hair, wishing his padawan did not have to take the mission alone. In truth the priestesses would like hear what the boy had to say and then demand evidence to back up the statements. John was only a little boy, it would be a difficult task for him.

"I don't know, John," Sherlock said fairly. He leaned forward and gently kissed the boy's temple. "You will have to be brave, my padawan."

"But you'll stay with me as long as you can, right?" the boy implored.

"Always."