Mycroft Looks In

Ella hurried from the elevator to the waiting room of her office. "Sarah, I'm so sorry. Got stuck in funeral traffic and my phone couldn't find a signal. Is my 9 o'clock here?

The receptionist's eyes were large and red-rimmed. She shook her head. "He got cancelled."

"Oh, good." She looked at Sarah again. "What's wrong? You look upset." She paused. "And, what do you mean 'he got cancelled.'"

"I think the man from the government in your office told him not to come."

"A man from the government?" Then the rest of the information hit her. "In my office?! Why?"

"I don't know."

"No, I mean, why is he in my office without me being there?"

"He insisted in a really strong way."

"You're kidding. What did he say?"

"He . . . knew things about me. If you want to fire me, okay. I showed him in because I had no choice."

"Really! Well we'll revisit this later. We may need the police, er not for you of course. For him. If I don't contact you in 30 seconds, call them."

She walked down the hall and opened the door. "Mycroft Holmes I presume?"

The tall man turned and pointed at her with his umbrella. "You're late, Ms. Thompson. What does that say about you? Angry? Anxious? Depressed?"

"Very funny. It says I should know more routes to the office than just the freeway. Besides, we didn't have an appointment." She picked up her phone, pressed one number. "It's okay, I've got it under control." She hung up. "Why are you here?"

"For the same reason that you knew who I was before you walked in. You're seeing my little brother professionally. I'm here to—"

"I can't confirm—"

"—or deny. Yes I know. What do you have to do? Call Sherlock to ask if it's okay to talk to me? I assure you I am only here to help. Not to complicate what I'm sure is already a very tangled situation. You can call Sherlock. He's probably been expecting you for the last thirty minutes."

"Don't you two find all this know-it-all chatter exhausting?"

"You have no idea. Off you go. I know you have to call from another room. Do you want your receptionist to watch me? She doesn't seem very comfortable with being around me."

"You scared her. So you've spoken to Sherlock about coming here?"

"Not at all. Now hurry and call. I know there are no records kept in here."

Ella returned and took her place at her desk. "Why are you here?"

"I want to help."

"With what?"

"The great romance."

She said nothing.

"Ms. Thompson, I agree with you that I'm a large part of Sherlock's problem. I trained him in my image. That of an ice cube. I still feel that is the safest choice for him as he was extremely emotional and overly sentimental before I took him over. However, I love my brother and I guess life is going to work its will on him no matter what I do. Since John has come into his life, I've had less of an ability to hold Sherlock's emotionality in check. He's acquiring friends left and right. What does he have now? Four?" He shuddered. "Recklessness."

"When exactly did you come to this understanding, Mr. Holmes?"

"Last week, why?"

She leaned back and crossed her legs. "What were your previous ways of 'training' Sherlock in your image?"

Mycroft adjusted in his chair. "I admit my behavior hasn't been very admirable. I was both jealous of Sherlock as a child and fond of him. My parents showed no favoritism to him being the baby of the family, but I felt his very presence indicated favoritism. They'd had me for seven years. I should have been enough. Why did this slow-witted, mop-top, gangly child with the slobbery disposition of a puppy have to be— Good Lord, why are you looking at me like that?"

"What way am I looking at you?"

"Like you want to hit me. Ah! You've heard about Redbeard, have you? Yes, he was the cudgel I used to keep young Sherlock under my thumb. I rue the day. Does that help?"

"Not much. But I'm glad you're going to stop. Now, to what romance are you referring?"

"Oh please, the new Kimye. Johnlock of course. Sherlock was smitten the first time John offered to let him use his mobile. That was when they first met, in case you aren't aware. Anytime someone is there for Sherlock, they have his interest. When John followed up with unbridled admiration of Sherlock's 'genius' my brother was halfway to planning a life together. Most people treat Sherlock's ability at deduction as creepy."

"Sherlock seems to feel it started about a week ago, not all the way back to . . ."

"Yes, well in some things Sherlock is very slow. But I saw the signs at once. When I first met John I knew he could make or break Sherlock. I'm still not sure which it's going to be.

"What I need to know now, Ms. Thompson, is how does John feel about Sherlock?"

Her face froze. He shouldn't have, but he'd taken her by surprise.

"Thank you, Ms. Thompson. That's all I wanted to find out."

She glared at him.

"Now, how are you keeping it from Sherlock? He's not as quick as I am, but surely . . ."

"We don't talk about John, per se. We have an agreement."

"I see. Or you won't work with him. Well done. Now, why, are you keeping it from Sherlock. All you have to do is tell one or the other and that should be all it will take."

"Yes, because that's all therapists do. Just tell people how to go on and send them on their way."

Mycroft looked politely bored. "And isn't it?"

"No. There's an issue here I have to find a way to help them over. Otherwise they'll get together briefly and fly apart because of it."

Mycroft waited. "Well go on, Ms. Thompson, what is that?"

"Trust."

"And you think that is an important thing here?"

"I do."

He shrugged. "You're the professional. I suppose I can ride with that for a while. But pick up the pace, Ms. Thompson, or you'll see more of me."

She continued to glare. "What happened to you, Mr. Holmes that makes you so-?"

"Stop right there, Madam." He got up from his chair. "You will not be shrinking me. I'm doing fine. This is my way of life. I'm seeing now that I've imposed it onto Sherlock and it does not fit. I've always protected him, or tried to, but I realize that my interference has made a petulant, spoiled, arrogant two year old. Which was right about the time I began molding him."

He picked up his coat.

"If you need me to do something you cannot, this is my emergency number. Don't hesitate to ask. Oh and you should know. Mary Morstan is a good and worthy woman but she is also very dangerous. She seems to have a wise head on her shoulders and to be an amazingly good sport, but she does things for her own reasons just like Sherlock, and her intentions can be hard to see beforehand. She is one of the few people to have fooled both Sherlock and myself.

"There will be no notes about this meeting, Ms. Thompson. I'll know if you do. They will disappear. So don't bother."

"My notes help me think and choose how to handle a case. I will write what I like. If they disappear I'll write them again. Now, good day.

He nodded to her and walked out of the door, swinging his umbrella.

She closed the door behind him. "Well!" she said to herself "That makes some things a bit clearer. Goodness, what a difficult brother to have."