Author's note: First of all: This chapter is not going to be that long either. Real life, my friends.
And there is going to be a lot of Mycroft. Because I love him. He embodies what every older sibling would love to be able to do. And because my fics (at least the longer ones) tend to suffer from all-characters-have-to-appear-syndrome. That reminds me... Did I miss anyone? I'm sure there's someone I could make appear...
So maybe you shouldn't expect too much plot in this chapter either. Also, I have no idea when this fic is going to be finished. Business as usual, I'd say.
I don't own anything, please review.
Mycroft Holmes still kept an eye on his younger brother, of course he did. He had always looked after Sherlock, and he wouldn't stop now that he had returned from the dead.
Especially because he felt that he had given Moriarty the information that had ultimately led to Sherlock's downfall. And, while he had helped Sherlock during the last two years of his exile, he didn't think the debt had been paid yet.
Although Sherlock had forgiven him – or, more accurate, he had offered him a "clean slate" – to forget about everything that had marred their relationship in the past and start over.
He had expected, how could he not? It was all he'd ever wanted. Finally being allowed to call on Sherlock – and John – to have tea with his younger brother, to slowly grow close to him again.
He still kept an eye on him, though. Sherlock easily got himself in trouble, and he was always ready to interfere.
The only reason he hadn't shown up at Scotland Yard immediately when Sherlock had left DI Lestrade's office was because he'd realized his little brother would immediately run to his blogger, and Sherlock had stayed at St. Bart's afterwards, with Miss Hooper, who had been kind enough to help him arrange his disappearance almost four years ago. And Mycroft had decided, as soon as Sherlock had reappeared, that he would only interfere in case of an emergency. He trusted his brother, and it was time that Sherlock finally understood it.
And then his brother had stormed out of the DI's office looking considerably agitated, and Mycroft, after seeing his face on the cameras, had been worried enough to cancel all his meetings scheduled for this afternoon. Sherlock might need him, after all.
Mycroft didn't know what had happened in the DI's office, simply because no one at Scotland Yard had bothered to install a camera there (a mistake he never would have made; DI Lestrade was important, and his supervisors should really have noticed this by now). And not even he wanted to risk having a camera installed at Scotland Yard – should it be found, it could very easily su7ggest terrorism to the police force.
So he hadn't seen what had taken place between them. But he saw how Sherlock reacted – Anthea had alerted him as soon as his brother had stormed out of the office – and realized that the DI must have done something.
Considering John Watson stormed into his office half an hour later, apparently rather angry, it was more than possible; it was certain.
Sadly enough, the cameras in St. Bart's morgue were focused on the area where the bodies lay and at the entrance, so that Mycroft didn't know what Sherlock told John.
True, it seemed that the DI and Sherlock had reconciled, but Mycroft didn't learn what had taken place between them during that conversation either. The DI's back was to the camera so he couldn't lip-read the apology, and Sherlock, of course, didn't discuss what had happened.
Which was why he finally decided to drive top Scotland Yard himself; Sherlock's face had told him enough. Something serious must have taken place. And just because Sherlock had forgiven his friend didn't mean Mycroft had to.
Or that he wasn't allowed to check up on his younger brother when he felt like it, and right now, he most definitely felt like it. He couldn't forget the look on Sherlock's face as he had left the DI's office.
So he got in a limousine and was driven to Scotland Yard, where he simply strode through the crowd of police men; he had long ago learned that you simply had to be self-confident to get where you wanted.
He did, however, notice Sergeant Donavan's eyes following him as he walked towards the DI's office – she knew who he was, she had, despite everything, been at Sherlock's funeral, looking so guilty that he had decided not to bear her a grudge – and she seemed – relieved?
Not that it surprised Mycroft. While Sherlock certainly hadn't noticed, firmly believing that the best way to deal with annoying people politely was to ignore them, Donavan had grown rather... protective of him ever since he returned. Making sure he was safe at crime scenes, scowling at her ex-lover when he insulted Sherlock. And now she apparently had even realized something had happened between the DI and Sherlock.
She might be useful after all, if this continued.
He filed the information away for further notice and opened the door of the office just in time to hear their newest theory. Until Anthea had alerted him that something was wrong, he had been in meetings all day – in fact, his last few days had been busy, even judging by his standards – and he hadn't paid attention to the case his brother was working on. He'd simply sent Sherlock the requested information without wondering why his brother needed it. Seeing DI Lestrade's face, he decided he would have to take more care in the future. Especially since he could tell, from both John's and Sherlock's postures, that whatever had happened was still on their minds.
"Although I would like to hear about the case before I do" he added after his offer of help.
Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes, but, if Mycroft didn't deceive himself, not without a certain exasperated fondness.
John started to talk, maybe because the doctor realized that the DI was unable and Sherlock unwilling to talk.
He didn't mention the fight Sherlock and Lestrade must have had, but he must be aware that was why Mycroft had come in the first place.
Sherlock and Lestrade knew it too – they had to – and Mycroft felt the nervous looks the DI shot him when he thought he wasn't looking. But since he could remember Sherlock's face, he didn't feel particularly guilty.
After John had finished, Mycroft nodded and turned to the DI. "Do you need help with Hopkins too?"
Lestrade shook his head. "I already dealt with him."
In Mycroft's opinion, that was far from true; if it had been one of his colleagues, he would have been fired already – and on his way to the Continent, most likely. But he wasn't surprised that the DI preferred Hopkins to quit himself and report him afterwards. He had never been one for grand gestures – which was why he had never expected any thanks for helping Sherlock all these years ago.
So he let the subject drop – he could make sure that Hopkins really quit afterwards – and said, "So you need to find someone who hacked into the police's computer system and deleted his file."
Sherlock nodded. "Highly intelligent, most likely a white male, by now he should be about forty-five years old".
"I will see what I can do". Mycroft walked to the door, then turned around and asked, "Do you wish any other steps to be taken?"
Sherlock knew what he meant, he always did. He even glanced at the DI before he answered, "No, Mycroft. Everything is fine".
Mycroft took this to mean that it probably wasn't, but it would be, and John was there, so he supposed he could well leave them alone.
Anthea was sitting in the limousine when he returned, having rescheduled his afternoon.
"Is there something you want me to do, sir?" she asked, appearing calm, even though Mycroft could hear the well-concealed worry in her voice, and he hid a smile.
"No, thank you".
She nodded and he told the driver to bring him back to his office.
Author's note: Like I said, awfully short chapter, but I didn't want to leave my followers without an update.
Maybe my protective instinct ran away with me a little... Don't touch my brother, don't insult my brother, don't even think about doing anything that might upset my brother. Ever. Just saying.
And for someone who says "Caring is not an advantage", Mycroft certainly does it a lot, I'd say.
Did I put a Mycroft/Anthea hint there? I'm not sure. Oh well.
I hope you liked it, please review.