Sir Michael Johnson retained his smug expression as he outlined his proposal to Sherlock. The politician had put a lot of effort into making the deal appealing to the younger Holmes. The duties he would be responsible for were the type that appealed to the detective, according to Johnson's research.
Sherlock had several good reasons to accept, in Sir Michael's opinion, and little reason to refuse. He would get the the thrill of using his skills while working for the government, access to any lab he wished to work on his little experiments, and more influence in the government. According to the research, Sherlock was very concerned about his sister, and would jump at the opportunity to control her care.
There was also the fact that he would be sort of replacing Mycroft. Sir Michael assumed that would be a plus for Sherlock. He was well aware of the fiercely competitive nature of their relationship, and the bitterness Sherlock felt towards his brother for usually having the upper hand. The politician was fairly confident that Sherlock would sign, albeit not before putting his own terms into the contract.
Yet there was the fact that the detective seemed so upset by his brother's treatment. Perhaps there was more sentiment involved in the brothers' relationship than he had realized. Never mind, he could play up that angle, top. After all, with more power and access, Sherlock would be able to investigate and help Mycroft's case.
"So what do you think?" he drawled. "This might make it easier for you to continue with your own investigation, if you're not ready to take my word for it." He smiled benignly, in an almost paternal sort of way. " You can take some time to think about it, if you like."
"Oh, there's no need," Sherlock said airily. "I've made up my mind. Give me that contract."
"Make sure you read it over carefully," he cautioned, while suppressing a cry of triumph.
Sherlock took the paper from him without a word. He didn't glance at it once. Slowly and methodically, he ripped it up into tiny pieces, his expression remaining blank all the while.
"You have my answer," he said flatly. Johnson watched him leave, feeling hot rage bubble up inside him. Sherlock Holmes would still learn his place. He would make sure of it.
He smiled cruelly as he contemplated his next step. Mycroft Holmes was out there somewhere, probably waiting for his little brother to come to his rescue. He would kill two birds with one stone. He would destroy the trust Mycroft had in his little brother, and in that way, he would destroy both of those pesky Holmes's.
Sherlock felt he had reached an impasse in his mission. "Know thy enemy" was a step in the right direction, but now he was somewhat at a loss. Johnson wasn't as malleable as he had hoped. Going against him directly was too much of a risk at this stage. Sir Michael was too powerful and well-connected, and Sherlock doubted that even the Prime Minister or the Queen would be at loggerheads with him, only for the sake of Mycroft Holmes.
What else was there to do? He hated to admit it, but he needed help. He could use the advice of someone even smarter than himself. He chuckled in bitter amusement. Where was that overweight, annoying busybody when you finally needed him? "Mycroft, how could you do this to me?"
Why, hello, brother dear! I must admit, I expected you to come much earlier. Having a hard time admitting that we're stumped, aren't we?
Sherlock realized that he had drifted off into his Mind Palace. As usual, some of the people he wanted to see the least were waiting to welcome him. "Don't irritate me now, brother mine, or I'll leave. I did come here for your sake, you know."
Mind Mycroft smiled in amusement. Weren't you the one who invited me here? This is your head, after all.
Sherlock sighed in frustration. "I wish I would have had some control over my head. Unfortunately, my mind has a mind of its own."
Mind Mycroft chuckled. You need to learn to control it, sometime. Now, how can I help you, little brother?
"The question is how I could help you, since the actual you has gotten himself into a fine pickle," Sherlock retorted.
Hmm, I see you've done a good job so far. Prepared the soil, planted the seed.
"And a seed, once it's planted, grows roots," Sherlock rejoined.
Exactly. Now, what do you need in order to take down Sir Johnson.
"Information. I need to know his pressure points, I suppose. And, uh, I really need to get all the details about the operations you were involved with. So I can prove, black-on-white, that you are not to blame."
Who would be able to give you that?
"Well, you would."
So come get me.
"Get you?"
Yes. The soil has been prepared. The seeds have been planted. Now come and bring me home.
The little jaunt of his need some preparation. Anthea's help was vital, of course, and she was more than willing to provide it. She would also serve as the lookout on the home front, keeping an eye out on the anti-Mycroft faction and their machininations.
John would be coming along, of course. Sherlock felt a pang of guilt at dragging his friend into this. He consoled himself with the fact that they most likely wouldn't be in fatal danger. Their opponents wouldn't be stupid enough to try to eliminate them, which would only make them look bad. Or would they?
The detective pushed away his doubts. He was afraid time was running out. Mycroft had made enough enemies around the world, and when news of his escape leaked out, as well as the fact that he was currently alone and without protection, the predators would all pounce simultaneously.
"I'll be leaving for several weeks, Mrs. Hudson," he informed his landlady.
"By yourself?" she asked him, brows creasing in concern.
"No, John's coming with me."
"Good, good," she nodded in approval. "I'll tell him to make sure you're eating. You're practically skin and bones as is!"
"You know I don't eat when I'm on a case," he waved her away.
"Oh, is it a case? I was hoping that the both of you, you know... never mind."
"Yeah, something for Mycroft," he said absently.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his landlady freeze up. "Don't tell me that brother of yours is putting you into danger again. And John, too! Whatever were you thinking, Sherlock, accepting a case like that from him?"
Sherlock was struck by a sudden thought. I haven't finished preparing the soil. How could he bring Mycroft home like this? Mrs. Hudson wasn't the only one who was current antagonistic towards Mycroft.
His brother would come back to co-workers who had either betrayed him, or not done anything to help him (excepting Anthea, of course). To parents who were angry, and blaming him for destroying the family. John was eager to assist Sherlock now, but would he prove to be more tolerant of Mycroft?
Would Sherlock himself be able to change his usual attitude towards Mycroft, once his brother was safe at home?
Would he bring Mycroft out of solitude, only to have him face isolation?