Warning: Fluff, mention of nudity, and a meeting with Mycroft's "superior."
Chapter Twenty Four: Family Ties
"A grandmother is a mother who has a second chance." Author Unknown
"Sir?" Not-Anthea said, her flawless face betraying a hint of apprehension. "We have a situation."
"What is it, Melissa?" Mycroft replied calmly. After the disappointment of failing to intercept Sherlock at Paddington Station, he and John sat in the small lounge together, brooding and trying to figure out where to look for Sherlock next.
Not-Anthea's dark eyes widened slightly as she talked to her boss. "Sir, as you have requested, Mrs. Hudson is being transported here. Our agents intercepted the train she was on, and escorted her to one of our transports. Estimated time of arrival is in less than five minutes."
"Did she come voluntarily?" Mycroft inquired.
John smirked at Mycroft's question.
Since when did that ever matter to Mycroft?
"Yes, Sir. However, she is not arriving alone. You see…she is with her."
Mycroft closed his eyelids for a moment, then opened them slowly, like an owl. "How much does she know?"
"She wouldn't say, Sir, although she did know that you requested Mrs. Hudson's presence, and insisted that she accompany her."
"Then she knows Sherlock is alive." Mycroft grumbled, looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Yes Sir." Not-Anthea said, sympathetically.
Mycroft closed his eyes again. "Very well. See to it that the staff prepares her room as well, if you would be so kind. She likes the gold satin sheets, and make sure there are fresh flowers. Orchids, preferably. Also, see that her usual security detail is on standby. Oh, and please ensure that Mr. Douglas stays in the study. I don't want him pestering her, like the last time, and calling her 'The Great and Powerful Oz!'"
"Right away, Sir." Not-Anthea said, stepping to the door quickly.
"Oh, one more thing, Melissa." Mycroft noted, stopping Not-Anthea in her tracks.
"Yes Sir?" Not-Anthea asked with some trepidation.
"Please remove 'Abby' from sight, at least during the duration of her stay with us."
"Right away, Sir!" Not-Anthea said, rushing out of the door to make the necessary arrangements.
Mycroft got up from his chair and walked over to the decorative mirror hanging on one of the walls. Deftly, he smoothed back his hair and checked to make sure his clothes were still pristine.
Then, as an afterthought, he walked over to the opposite side of the room, where a table waited with several decanters and empty crystal glasses.
He quickly poured himself a glass and downed it in one gulp. He then poured himself another glass.
"Uh, Mycroft? Isn't it a little early for that?" John ventured hesitantly.
"This is for emergency purposes only, John." Mycroft mumbled as he quickly finished off his second drink.
John studied Mycroft, who still looked as alert as ever, but he had failed to hide the obvious discomfort he was feeling. "Dare I ask? Is her Majesty coming?"
"Worse!" Mycroft replied, his cold blue eyes flashing with an inner fire. "Much, much worse!"
Mycroft glanced at his golden inlay pocket watch, then snapped it shut and headed for the door. "Well, they should be arriving any second. I might as well get this over with!"
"Who is coming?" John asked, unnerved now.
Mycroft paused, looking back at the army doctor with some hesitancy. Finally, he answered. "One of the most influential women in Britain, John. Although she, like myself, prefers to work from behind the scenes and thus rarely draws attention to herself. Most people have never even heard of her, and yet she is a driving force behind many of Britain's policies in the last few decades. She commands respect at all times, and despite appearances, she is considered to be extremely dangerous by her enemies. Thus, it is best not to displease her."
"Is she one of your superiors?" John asked quickly as they walked out of the room.
"She might as well be!" Mycroft mumbled.
"John!" Mrs. Hudson cried joyously as she threw her arms around the bemused doctor, who was touched by the landlady's affection. "Oh, thank God! I heard on the news that someone was shot at the flat! So, are you alright? Are you in any pain?"
"I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson." John tried to persuade the elderly woman. "I'm just fine. The man who attacked me was shot! I'm fine!"
Mrs. Hudson answered by hugging John again. "Oh, my poor boy! I'm so glad you are alright! If you went out and faked your death, like Sherlock did…"
John pulled himself away from Mrs. Hudson's embrace. "You know?"
"Of course, my dear!" Mrs. Hudson replied. "Ophelia arrived at my sister's flat, just thirty minutes after the news about you came on, and told me she received word that Sherlock was still alive! Can you believe that? Oh, that wretched boy! I can't believe he would do this to us! Just wait till I get my hands on him!"
John couldn't help but be amused by the thought of Mrs. Hudson chasing after Sherlock with her broom, just like the time she did one time when one of Sherlock's experiments almost destroyed the kitchen.
He also couldn't help but be grateful to this as-of-yet unidentified "Ophelia," as he did not relish the thought of telling Mrs. Hudson that Sherlock had lied to them all.
"Now, where's Mary?" Mrs. Hudson said, looking around. "Ophelia said that she was fine, but I want to see it with my own eyes. Not that I don't trust her, of course, but Mary's such a sweet girl, I can't believe that anyone would attack her…"
"Wait! Wait! Hold on. Who is 'Ophelia?'" John asked incredulously.
Mrs. Hudson looked up, and smiled at John's obvious confusion. "Oh! Ophelia is Sherlock's mother, dear! Didn't you know?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
John thought that if his jaw dropped any lower, it ran the distinct possibility of hitting the ground. "You actually know Mummy?!"
The sound of quiet laughter came from the entrance door. "I see that my sons have discussed me in front of you, Doctor Watson!"
John turned to see an elderly lady, about the same age as Mrs. Hudson, being pushed forward in a wheelchair. She was dressed in a navy coat decorated with silver and pearl buttons, as well as matching shoes. Her hair was reddish-brown, a few shades lighter than Mycroft's, although hers was streaked with silver. She seemed to be very slight, almost delicate, as though she could shatter physically if someone touched her. However, the firm lines etched in her face and jaw line indicated that she deferred to no one, and was used to get what she wanted when she wanted it.
The woman turned her familiar blue-grey-green eyes towards Mycroft, who stood quietly to the side, as though he was trying to disappear into the expensive wood panels and tapestries lining the hallway. "Mycroft, dear! How are you?"
"As well as can be expected, Mummy." Mycroft answered quietly, inclining his head. "But I am concerned you have taken such liberties with your health! You know what the doctors have said."
The woman smiled before turning to John and Mrs. Hudson. "Mycroft seems to think that any journey I take is bound to be my last! He forgets all the trips I undertook for Her Majesty when he was younger! And occasionally, when my services to the Crown are needed."
"The doctors said that you shouldn't be moving around so much, Mummy." Mycroft muttered, his voice inflectionless. It was evident that this was a family argument that had existed for quite a while.
"The doctors also said that I would never walk again! But they were wrong!" The woman, whom John realized was named Ophelia, replied smugly before gripping the sides of the chair and standing up. She caught John's glance and, like all Holmes members, seemed able to read his mind. "Multiple sclerosis. As a medical man, I am sure you know what that entails, Doctor Watson. But I can get around fine most of the time, and only use that thing whenever I must undertake long trips." Ophelia explained as she looked back at the wheelchair with some contempt.
Now that she was standing, John could see she was tall, just like her sons, although his earlier impression of her slightness was further enhanced now that she was no longer sitting down.
Ophelia walked forward a few steps towards John and offered her hand. "I am so pleased to finally meet you, Doctor Watson. Sherlock has told me so many delightful things about you! And I have heard quite a bit about you from Mycroft, as well."
"Doctor John Hamish Watson, let me introduce you to the Lady Ophelia Ambrosie Cyrille Holmes." Mycroft intoned, as though he was at a royal function.
Ms. Holmes inclined her head graciously, but she gave her son a look of fond annoyance. "Mycroft, really! As Doctor Watson is a friend of Sherlock's, as well as a war hero, I highly doubt that he would be impressed by the use of titles!" She then turned back to John, her expression open and friendly. "Please, would you address me as 'Ophelia?' I prefer it when I am amongst people I wish to acquaint myself with."
"Certainly, Ms. Holmes! I mean, Ophelia!" John stammered again, feeling more and more foolish, as if he was back at Buckingham Palace and was caught actually trying to steal an ash tray.
"Hey! I didn't know you were a war hero, John!"
John turned around to find that Clarky, of all people, had apparently snuck out of the foyer and had witnessed the exchange.
For such a big man (easily as tall as Sherlock, and several stones heavier), he was remarkably adept to moving around without anyone noticing.
"I'm not, Clarky." John replied, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
"Really? And what basis do you define heroic, Doctor? According to your file, you once saved a few of your fellow soldiers by charging several heavily-armed insurgents with nothing but your Browning pistol. As I recall, you killed five of the enemy, and kept the rest at bay until a helicopter could come to extradite your wounded comrades." Ophelia replied good-naturedly.
"John, you never told me that!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, looking at John with wonder.
John lowered his head. "It was nothing! I did what anyone else would have done!"
"I don't think so, John! Remember, I was over there too, and the best plan I had in combat situations was to grab my ankles, lower my head, and kiss my butt goodbye!" Clarky disagreed, looking at John with new-found respect.
Mycroft looked at Clarky with an amused expression. "You forgot about that one particular incident, Dr. Clarkson, when you ran into a burning building to save several people, including your superior officer!"
Clarky turned beet-red. "That happened while I was still in boot camp! And that's classified! No one's supposed to know about that!"
Mycroft grinned and turned to John and Mrs. Hudson. "Dr. Clarkson probably should have been awarded a medal of valor for his actions, but the incident was kept quiet, due to…"
"Due to the fact that I had to carry my drunk, naked-ass Sergeant out of a well-known hovel, because he chose to be in bed with, shall we say, a working woman?" Clarky muttered, looking humiliated. "Since Mr. British Government here seems to take an interest in knowing everything about me, I might as well just say it like it was!"
"I would say that's a true example of valor, Clarky." John said, trying to keep his expression neutral.
Clarky rolled his green eyes in annoyance. "John! Let's compare the two, shall we?" Clarky shot back disgruntledly. "Just picture it! You have one man taking out insurgents left and right as if he is the reincarnated Alvin York, and then you got me, with a naked man flung over my left shoulder, running out of a prostitution sand pit! I couldn't look any of my army buds in the face for a week after that!"
John giggled as he pictured poor Clarky, doing a heroic act in the most bizarre circumstances. He could imagine how it must have looked to people who had no idea what was happening…
Clarky nodded. "See! So you can see why my superiors didn't want that story coming out!"
"And are you the 'Dr. Clarkson' that was involved in the takedown of that horrible organization that was engaged in illegal buying and selling of organs on the black market?" Ophelia asked kindly.
Clarky started, realizing that he had forgotten that she was there. "Oh! Yes! I mean, of course, ma'am! And did I hear correctly earlier that you are Lucky's mother?"
Ophelia nodded. "Yes, I am Mycroft's and Sherlock's mother."
Clarky grinned winningly and stepped forward, taking Ophelia's outstretched hand into his own and pressed his lips to it in an air of exaggerated chivalry. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am! I met your son a while back, and I had the pleasure of working with him for a few months, back at the States."
"I would say that's a first." Mycroft noted dryly. "For anyone to say it was a pleasure to work with Sherly!"
"Now, now, Mycroft! I know you are upset with Sherlock for not involving you in his plans, but that is no reason to act like a petulant child! Besides, you were the one charged with making sure that your little 'gamble' didn't result in your little brother getting hurt in the first place." Ophelia scolded mildly.
Mycroft cast his eyes to the floor, chagrined. "I apologize, Mummy."
Ophelia addressed her son again, this time in a gentler tone. "Everyone makes mistakes, Mycroft. The important thing is to learn from them. Now, what do we know if Sherlock's probable whereabouts? I deduce he is going after Moriarty on his own."
"Correct." Mycroft said. "We have recently regained control of the CCTV system, and our people are currently surveying the footage for any clues as to Sherly's whereabouts."
"Very good." Ophelia said approvingly.
"If I may ask a question, Mrs. Holmes?" Clarky asked hesitantly.
"Of course you may, Dr. Clarkson. And please, it's Ophelia."
Clarky smiled. "Only if you call me Clarky. All my friends do!"
John couldn't help but be a little envious of how easily Clarky managed himself in front of the infamous Mummy that he himself had heard references to but had never even seen before now.
He could now see just how Clarky managed to make the usually diffident Molly to open up to him and be more comfortable with people in social situations.
Ophelia nodded in affirmation. "Very well, Clarky. What is your question?"
Clarky shrugged. "Well, I wasn't here when it happened, so I just finding out about everything. But how is it that you learned about Lucky? Did Mr. Holmes here call you?"
Ophelia smiled, but her voice had a slight edge to it. "Actually, Mycroft did not contact me. I learned of Sherlock's status this morning, just after breakfast."
"Oh." Mycroft said, his polite tone conveying a mild threat. "And who amongst my staff thought it best to disturb you with information of this delicate situation before I myself could come to you with the facts?"
Ophelia turned her stormy eyes towards her eldest. "Mycroft, dear, you really need to stop this! You cannot protect everyone all the time! Although God knows how much you try! But please remember that I am your mother, not a child, and I do not need to be protected from shocking information! Remember all the times that Sherlock had gotten himself into trouble, one way or another? I do not recall being emotionally shattered by it!"
"Learning that your younger son was barred from the American Embassy for insulting the Secretary of State versus believing him to be dead for eighteen months just to find out that he is still alive is hardly a comparison, Mummy!" Mycroft pointed out. "I would rather break the news to you myself. Or, better yet, drag Sherly in with me and have him explain his actions!"
Clarky elbowed John. "Lucky gets himself barred from events all the time! Big deal!"
"And the American Embassy is not a 'big deal?'" Mycroft observed dryly, turning towards the wisecracking Tennessean.
Clarky shrugged. "I got myself banned from Florida University for helping to kidnap their mascot one year! So unless your brother stole an alligator and almost drove it across state lines, then I'm not impressed!"
"Then prepare to be impressed…" Mycroft started.
"Now, now, Mycroft!" Ophelia broke in. "We all know Sherlock was rather rambunctious as a young child! No need to bore these nice young men with stories without Sherlock here to explain his reasoning!"
"Very well, Mummy." Mycroft intoned respectfully.
Ophelia gave her son a sly smile before turning back to Clarky. "To answer your question, Clarky, I received a visitor earlier this morning. A solicitor from America, by the name of Chelsea Atkins."
"Ms. Morray's second-in-command." Mycroft observed, his blue eyes narrowed.
"Correct." Ophelia answered. "She explained that Sherlock faked his death, and that Ms. Morray had found out. As she recognized the threat that Moriarty continued to pose to us all, Ms. Morray left instructions for her lieutenants to assist Sherlock in taking Moriarty's empire apart."
"And Ms. Atkins, on instructions from Sherlock, informed you that my wayward brother was alive, so that you would tell me." Mycroft deduced.
"Correct again, my dear." Ophelia replied. "And here I am! Although from your lack of surprise, I gather that you have already learned about Sherlock's survival. May I inquire as to how you obtained that information so soon after I did?"
The three men stared as the full import of Ophelia's words sunk in. "You mean, you don't know?" John asked, his jaw dangerously close to falling on the floor again.
"Know what, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Her face showed that neither she nor Ophelia knew what they were talking about.
"Okay…" Clarky said, looking at Mycroft and John significantly. Turning back to the two women, Clarky put on his most charming smile. "So I take it no one has told you about a little girl who saved John and me earlier?"
"Little girl? What little girl?" Mrs. Hudson asked, her eyes round with confusion.
"Whatever is he referring to, Mycroft?" Ophelia asked, directing her powerful gaze at her eldest son.
"He's talking about Sheridan." John replied, hoping that this was all a misunderstanding, and that the ladies, in fact, knew that Sherlock had fathered a child.
"Sheridan? Who is Sheridan?" Mrs. Hudson inquired, her words dashing John's hopes as quickly as a bucket of water does to a lit flame.
Mycroft threw John and Clarky a cold look that could have spoiled milk before turning his attention back to his mother. "Mummy, as you have no doubt deduced, I learned from a separate source about Sherlock's miraculous survival. During that exchange, I also learned about another secret about my brother that we have been hereto excluded from until today."
"Is it bad?" Ophelia asked. Although her tone remained the same as before, her expression was not as guarded as her son's. "Is something wrong with Sherlock?"
"Not that I am aware of, Mummy. As of right now, I have no knowledge of Sherlock's status. Only that he is alive. No, the secret that I am referring to is not what I would consider bad, exactly. More along the lines of unexpected." Mycroft replied evasively.
"I see." Ophelia acknowledged, although her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what other information could possibly be more unexpected than learning that my youngest son faked his death by jumping off a building and continuing his charade for a year and a half?"
"And who is this 'Sheridan?'" Mrs. Hudson asked, looking at John and Clarky with apprehension.
"I'm Sheridan."
All five adults turned to the source of the voice. At the end of the hallway stood Sheridan, who regarded the newcomers curiously. Behind her, Not-Anthea stood a few feet away, looking ready to step in if something happened, but otherwise occupied with her Black Berry.
Oblivious or uncaring to the tension in the room, Sheridan took a few steps forward. "I'm Sheridan." She repeated in a softer voice. "Melissa told that you wished to see me."
It turned out that Not-Anthea, perhaps sensing the interrogation that her employer was to go through at the hands of his infamous mother, thought that the best way to end his suffering quickly was to go and retrieve Sheridan so that she may introduce herself.
John thought the pre-emptive move was risky at best. After all, considering how they all had reacted to the news so far, it was highly probable that the two elderly and frail women could have dropped dead from the shock.
Another potentially bad outcome would be if the women reacted negatively to Sheridan's existence.
Not that he thought Mrs. Hudson would, of course! After all, she once entertained notions that Sherlock and him were a couple!
But Ophelia, who had come from an influential background, and seemed to come from "old money," could have been upset by the fact that Sherlock had a child out of wedlock.
John should have known better.
Mrs. Hudson responded first by lightly slapping John on his arm. It was not enough to hurt him, just to let him know that she was exasperated with him. "John! Why didn't you tell me my Sherlock had a daughter?!"
John stammered. "Uh? I didn't know! Until today, anyway! Why don't you go blame Mycroft?"
"Because that is my job." Ophelia acknowledged seriously. She gave Mycroft a knowing look. "Mycroft, dear, am I to understand that the beautiful little girl standing a few meters away from me is my grandchild, and that Sherlock did not seem to think it important enough to inform me of that particular matter?"
"Yes, Mummy." Mycroft replied quietly.
"I see. Well, once we find your brother, then we must have a talk with him about this!" Ophelia answered significantly. "He's known how much I have longed for grandchildren! You would think he would be considerate enough to share this with us!"
She turned her gaze to Sheridan and her face softened instantly. "Is it my imagination, or does she not look exactly like Sherlock did when he was that age? How old is she, Mycroft? Seven, or eight, perhaps."
"She is eight years old, Mummy." Mycroft explained. "Her birthday is on June 12th."
Ophelia looked at her son curiously. "Then am I to understand that her mother is Ms. Danielle Morray?"
Mycroft nodded wordlessly.
"You mean you both realized that Sheridan is Sherlock's daughter after seeing her for one second?!" John asked, amazed at the two women's quick observation.
"John! It's so obvious, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson remarked. "Oh, this is wonderful!"
Without another word, she walked quickly over to the young girl (bad hip and all) and embraced her.
Sheridan looked back at John and Mycroft over Mrs. Hudson's shoulder, her silver-like eyes clearly asking for guidance on how to handle this unexpected turn of events. She didn't look disgusted at the contact, just incredibly surprised. But before anyone could say anything, Mrs. Hudson pulled away from her, but still stayed close enough to peer into her face. "She is the very picture of Sherlock! Look at her eyes! Ophelia, she has your eyes!"
"She does." Ophelia said wistfully. "But I observe that she has her mother's ears. And her nose is also like her mother's."
Sheridan had been quiet until now, perhaps sensing that she needed to let the women have time to adjust before interjecting any comments. However, this reference to her departed mother could not go by unremarked. "You knew Mom?" Sheridan whispered, almost too low to hear.
"I am afraid not, my dear." Ophelia said, taking a few steps towards Sheridan. Her eyes seemed misty. "I have seen pictures, of course. She was a beautiful girl. And very intelligent, according to her file. A prodigy, in many ways. Sherlock was always intrigued by people who were unique, in some way." She turned around and awarded Mycroft with a smug smile.
"Alright! I'll admit it, Mummy!" Mycroft suddenly interjected. "You were correct in deducing that Sherlock viewed Ms. Morray as something more than a passing fancy! So I will admit that your so-called motherly instincts were surprisingly accurate, for once!"
Ophelia pursed her lips in annoyance. "Mycroft! My motherly instincts, as you insist on calling them, have been correct more times that you would care to admit. And the woman's name was Danielle! Stop acting like she was one of the politicians and non-entities that you deal with on a daily basis. She is also the mother of my grandchild! I think it is allowable for us to be a little less formal when we speak of her!"
John heard the possessiveness and pride in Ophelia's voice and smiled, a warm feeling growing in his chest.
So much for worrying that Sheridan wouldn't be accepted right away by her paternal grandmother!
He couldn't help but be touched by the scene unfolding around him. He knew, from his meetings with Mycroft, that Danielle Morray's entire family was killed by Moriarty. So Sheridan has grown up without the benefit of having aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, or any of the extended family that she should have been entitled to.
At least now Sheridan was no longer so alone.
Mrs. Hudson leaned forward, looking at Sheridan kindly. "Do you know who I am, Sheridan?"
"You're Mrs. Martha Hudson." Sheridan said, smiling at her. "Dad told me what you looked like! You're Dad's landlady, but not his cook or housekeeper! You rent the building at 221 Baker Street. I got to see inside it today. You keep it very clean, by the way!"
"Why, thank you, dear!" Mrs. Hudson gushed.
"And you are the Lady Ophelia Holmes." Sheridan continued, looking towards Ophelia. "Dad says you are his mother, and that he calls you 'Mummy.' He also said that you can 'see' like Dad, Uncle Mycroft, and I can. Is that true?"
"It is." Ophelia acknowledged. "But my ability is nowhere near that of my sons. They surpassed me in that regard."
Sheridan regarded her paternal grandmother with frank interest. "I'm very pleased to meet you both, finally! Dad told me about you, and I know it must be a little disconcerting, meeting me like this…"
"Sherlock's ability to shock me is a skill that he takes great pride in!" Ophelia said, smirking a little. "However, this is one time that I am happy to say that his impetuous actions lead to a desirable result!"
"But why didn't Sherlock tell us?" Mrs. Hudson asked, her face a mixture of elation and hurt. "I think I have the right to know if one of my boys has a child!"
Clarky smirked and leaned forward until he was close to John. "One of her boys?" He whispered low enough to where no one else but John could hear.
John nodded, chagrined. "You should have seen her the day I told her I was going to get engaged to Mary! You would have thought she was the one being proposed to!"
Clarky snickered loudly, earning him several curious glances. When he caught everyone looking at him, Clarky coughed, embarrassed. "Well, I hate to interrupt this, but Greg sent me to get you, Mr. Holmes. We just got a call from Scotland Yard. Greg says it's important."
John looked at Clarky with alarm. "Did they find Sherlock?"
"John, everyone who knows that Lucky is alive is in this building! No one else from the Yard knows yet!" Clarky pointed out before turning back towards Mycroft. "But Greg says you better come quickly. Something about a Bear girl, or something!"
"Bear girl?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"He means 'Burhl,' Sir." Not-Anthea noted, looking up from her Black Berry. "I am just getting the report now. Our sources say that Claudette Burhl was the intended target of an abduction."
"Intended target? Then whoever was behind it did not succeed." Mycroft noted mildly.
"Isn't Burhl the same child who was abducted last time, when Sherlock was arrested?" Mrs. Hudson asked John.
"Yes." John answered stoically.
Mycroft's face was a mask of concentration. He turned to Not-Anthea. "Melissa, please escort Mrs. Hudson and Mummy to their rooms. John, Sheridan, you both come with me. We need to discuss this new development with Inspector Lestrade."
"Before you run off with Martha's and my grandchild, Mycroft, I wish to have a private word with you, if you have a moment." Ophelia said quietly.
Mycroft nodded. "Melissa, please take Ms. Hudson to her room, and then take her to see Ms. Morstan. Dr. Clarkson, John. Please take Sheridan back to the parlor with the others. I shall not take long."
Wordlessly, the others left, leaving the foyer empty except for Mycroft, Ophelia, and two men on security detail, who successfully melted into the background.
"Yes, Mummy?" Mycroft asked politely, once everyone else had cleared out. After the others had left, mother and son retreated to the private lounge that Mycroft and John were in moments before. "What do you wish to speak to me about?"
Ophelia regarded her eldest seriously. "You understand the mission has changed now, my dear. Our original purpose, when we set out to destroy Moriarty's empire, was to capture the man himself, so that he may questioned for any information he may have that could be of use to the Crown."
"I remember, Mummy. After my superiors learned of my intentions, they instructed me to capture Moriarty alive. Until today, I had every intention of following their instructions."
"But not now." Ophelia guessed.
"No. As you know, I was loath to do so anyway. But I wished to set aside my personal feelings on the matter, and ensure that Moriarty would not destroy another family, as he tried to destroy ours."
"So we are in agreement." Ophelia replied evenly. "Today, your brother, against all reason, has been restored to us. And, miraculously, we seemed to have gained a new addition to the family!"
Mycroft nodded. "Anyone who knows Sherly at all will have a difficult time believing that he is a father!"
"I know Sherly, and I have no difficulty in believing it." Ophelia chided gently. "But now the situation has changed. We must now balance Moriarty's possible value to the danger he poises to Sherlock and my grandchild."
Mycroft frowned, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "There is nothing Moriarty has, information or otherwise, that is valuable enough to keep him alive, Mummy. I will see to it that the danger he poises will be neutralized. Permanently."
"So you would disregard your superiors' orders, just to satisfy a mother's worry." Ophelia noted, smiling a little.
Mycroft smirked. "Mrs. Hudson once told me that family was all that one had, when everything else was gone. You were wise in choosing her as your informant regarding Sherly's welfare."
Ophelia smiled wider. "Please, Mycroft. Martha is hardly an informant! She is a woman with a kind heart, and she loves Sherlock just as much as we do. She has been courteous enough to keep me informed of my son's comings and goings over the years. Even after his alleged death, she still met with me occasionally to reminisce about him. I am indebted to her, and thus I must look to ensure her continued safety as well."
Abruptly, Ophelia set her jaw, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "That is why Moriarty must never have a chance to escape, Mycroft! Despite what the Crown thinks, Moriarty must die! He cannot be allowed to draw breath if we have any hope of protecting our own!"
Mycroft nodded, his expression equally as serious as his mother's. "Moriarty, assuming he is captured alive, will not be around long enough to pose any risk to us. You have my word on that."
Donovan should have become accustomed to surprises by now, especially after everything that had occurred today. But nothing prepared her for the news she got after Lestrade got a call from Inspector Gregson.
"So someone tried to snatch Ambassador Bruhl's daughter again!?"
Lestrade nodded grimly as he pocketed his cell phone. "Based on what the security guy whom Mr. Bruhl hired to protect his daughter told Gregson, we believe that the perv was a known associate of Moriarty's by the name of Peter Harper! The Yard is currently searching the hotel and the surrounding area for any sign of him."
Donovan nodded. Now that was something that didn't surprise her in the least! "So that bastard was trying to kidnap her and take her to Moriarty?"
"Looks that way. Anyway, Gregson asked for us to come to the Yard. They also want us to bring John with us."
"John? Why?" Donovan asked.
Lestrade looked at Donovan significantly. "The Bruhl girl was taken out of the building by an unidentified fire fighter. He coaxed her to come along with him by giving her some dog tags for her to wear. To make her brave, she says."
Anderson cocked his head to the side. "I'm confused, Greg! Why does any of this have to do with John?"
"Because the dog tags have John's name on them." Lestrade said.
"So your father stole John's dog tags?" Hopkins asked Sheridan.
"He didn't steal them! Stealing would imply that he planned to keep them!" Sheridan said crossly. "He borrowed them! He was going on give them back to John after he captured Moriarty!"
"No wonder I couldn't find them!" John said, feeling half-exasperated and half-amused.
"I saw Lucky wear those dog tags once!" Clarky remarked, almost to himself. "When I asked him about it, he said they belonged to a close friend of his that he lost. Of course, when he said 'lost,' I thought he meant that his friend died. Not the other way around!"
Sheridan looked unhappy with the news. "Dad said that he planned on giving them back to Uncle John! Himself! So why would he leave them behind?"
Anderson laughed. "Uncle John? Sherlock actually calls him Uncle John?!"
Sheridan looked at John, eyes wide with alarm. "Oops! Sorry! I forgot! Dad was supposed to talk to you about that!"
Lestrade was amused by this turn of events. "Sherlock wanted you to refer to John as 'Uncle John?'"
Sheridan nodded, her cheeks blushing slightly underneath her alabaster skin. "Dad said that when this was all over, he was hoping to ask John if he wouldn't mind being an uncle to me! If John forgave him, that is! I told Dad he was being silly, and of course Uncle John would forgive him! Dad is still worried about it, though. Dad seems to think I need a normal uncle, because I only had two that were related to me. And according to Dad, one of them is a psychopath, and the other one has a power complex!"
John felt a rush of warm affection towards the absent consulting detective. There were times that he wondered if Sherlock held John in the same high regard that John felt for him. Sometimes he suspected that Sherlock just kept him around as an audience of one. Someone who openly admired his gift, but only served in the capacity of an assistant.
Now, it seemed that Sherlock really did regard John as a friend. Why else would he plan to name John as an "honorary uncle" to his daughter?
"Sheri, you can call me Uncle John, if you wish to." John replied to Sheridan encouragingly. "I have never been an uncle before, though. You'll have to be patient with me."
Sheridan looked up, relief and happiness reflected in her teal-colored eyes. "I've never been a niece before, either. Hopefully, you and Uncle Mycroft can help me with that!"
Mycroft seemed mildly indigent. "Leave it to Sherlock to tell my only niece that I have a power complex!" He muttered darkly.
"Well, you do, mate!" Hopkins said. "I remember you sending your men after me back in Paris a year ago! It's still better than being the psychopath, though!"
Sheridan looked at Mycroft, her pale face drawn with worry. "Uncle Mycroft, you don't think Dad is planning on breaking his promise, do you? He told me he would come back for me!"
"I am sure it simply was an oversight, my dear." Mycroft said calmly. "Sometimes your father gets impatient, and he tends to forget things."
Sheridan wrinkled her nose. "Still, Dad wouldn't forget anything that belonged to Uncle John!"
Mycroft smiled indulgently. "Your father simply forgot, Sheridan. It is something you need not concern yourself with."
Sheridan still looked unconvinced.
"Sheri?" Donovan interrupted, smiling encouragingly. "You said earlier that Sherlock said something about the number '666' having to do with a location?"
Sheridan nodded. "That's what he said! I wish he had told me before he left, though!"
Mary looked over at John, but addressed her question to Sheridan. "Sheri, when you last saw Sherlock, was he wearing an old blue coat, by any chance?"
Sheridan looked over at Mary, surprised. "You saw Dad?!"
Mary smiled sadly. "Only for a moment, Sheri. I thought he looked familiar, somehow, but I'm afraid I didn't recognize him at the time! He left before I could speak to him, though."
John looked over at Lestrade, silently begging him to remain quiet about the Slasher.
Lestrade thankfully took the hint. "Sheri, what were you doing when your father told you this?"
Sheridan tilted her head to the side as she recalled the events in detail. "Well, we were going over my science lesson. See, he was teaching me how to make a homemade fire extinguisher, in case anything happened when we learned how to mix chemicals…"
"So Dr. Evil is teaching Mini-Me how to make bombs! Lovely!" Anderson muttered sarcastically.
Sheridan ignored him. "While we were doing that, I was going over my daily lessons with him. We were reviewing my history lesson, and I was talking about the pyramids in Egypt when Dad suddenly wasn't paying attention anymore. When he does that, it means he is thinking, and I need to be quiet, so I waited a few minutes. Suddenly, Dad jumped up and said he had to track down one of the Bad Men. Then he got into his disguise and left, telling me he would be back in a few hours."
"And that's all?" Hopkins asked anxiously.
"I'm afraid so." Sheridan said, looking disappointed with herself.
"Well, I better head back to the Yard." Lestrade said. "Now that Molly, Mary, Sheri, and Mrs. Hudson are safe, Moriarty can't use them…"
Mary suddenly shot out of her seat. "Harry, John's sister! And Clara! They…"
"I have already seen to the matter personally, Ms. Morstan." Mycroft said, gesturing for Mary to return to her chair. "Ms. Watson and her lover received a call a few hours ago to tell them they won an all-expense paid trip to Tuscany. They are currently on a plane, with several of my best agents watching over them. Not to their knowledge, of course. They will be protected, I assure you."
"Well, at least Mrs. Hudson doesn't have to worry about that Bad Man getting her! Dad would never have let him go!" Sheridan observed.
All the adults turned to look at the young girl. "What do you mean by that, Sheri?" Donovan asked.
Sheridan looked at Donovan, smiling. "The Bad Man! Harper! He was the one who was supposed to shoot Mrs. Hudson if Dad didn't jump! I think Dad really hates him!"
Lestrade leaned forward. "So you know the identity of the three snipers?"
Sheridan nodded. "Dad found out and told me! Harper is one! Moran was the one that was supposed to kill Uncle John, so that is another reason I am not sorry I shot him!" Sheridan folded her arms across her chest, looking extremely smug.
"How about the one who was supposed to shoot Greg?" Clarky asked.
"Oh, he still works with the Yard! As a Sergeant! His name is Michael Baxley!" Sheridan replied enthusiastically.
Author's Note: Hurray for Sheri! She finally has some grandmothers to spoil her! And John has accepted his role as an "honorary" uncle. After all this time, I think Sheridan deserves to be accepted into a family, don't you?
Don't you love how Ms. Hudson and Ms. Holmes seem to be in an alliance of sorts? Ophelia has Martha keep tabs on Sherlock for her, as she isn't able to, due to her poor health. In return, she allows Martha to particially claim Sherlock and share the mothering responsibilities (and now, grandmother responsibilities).
For a while, I have been making a big deal about how dangerous the Morray family was (being part of the criminal underworld and all). But the Holmes family are equally as dangerous! While they seem to be on the right side of the law, the secret conversation between Ophelia and Mycroft show that they can be equally as ruthless as Moriarty, especially when members of their family are threatened, and especially now that a child is involved.
And the fact that Mycroft is now willing to disregard orders from the top in order to arrange a (cough) accident for Moriarty shows that his priorities have shifted from his job to his family.
Meanwhile, we now know the identity of the third sniper. Michael Baxley, the idiot Sergeant who arrested Chase for singing "God Save the Queen" a year prior. But just how ruthless is he, and is Lestrade's life still in danger? Also, where is Sherlock headed to in such a hurry, and why did he leave the dog tags behind?
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock! And all work and no play makes Peaceful Defender a dull girl! (a nod to Stephen King's "The Shining," which I don't own either.)
Heck, do I own anything?!
Peaceful Defender (Holding an ice pack over her head)-Uh! I apologize to my readers! I had quite a birthday celebration a few nights ago, and I am still paying the price for it! And no, I didn't drink except for one glass of wine. I know my alcohol intake limits, and I always stick to them. One glass when I go out! Period! No more than that!
OC Chase Douglas-Then why do you look so hung over, Peaceful Defender? You look like you got hit in the face with the DMP's umbrella!
Peaceful Defender-I got hit over the head with a pool cue when one of my friends who couldn't come to my birthday party two days ago took me to a local club and tried to play pool last night. So my head hurts a little. I might even have a concussion.
John Watson (holding up one hand and raising two fingers)-How many fingers am I holding up?
Peaceful Defender (squinting)-On which hand?
John Watson (frowns)-I'm only holding up one hand! How long since you been like this?
Peaceful Defender (tries to think)-One day, two days...I lost count!
John Watson-You're worse than Sherlock!
Peaceful Defender (ignoring him)-So, because I am somewhat indisposed at the moment, one of my readers, Missy the Least, has been kind enough to step in and help me with this commentary. And she brought us some real Chinese food for us to sample!
John Watson-Isn't she one of the Fan Fiction members who identified Moriarty earlier in your story?
Peaceful Defender-Yes! She also offered to help with my commentary, if the need arose. Considering the fact that I am now see double, I took her up on her offer.
Missy the Least-Chase Douglas, I've got a bone to pick with you!
OC Chase Douglas-Me? What did I do? I only drank one cup of coffee this morning! I swear!
Missy the Least-Would you kindly stop teasing poor Mycroft? Just because he's on an Avengers kick...
OC Chase Douglas-I KNEW IT! (throws himself onto the floor and hugs Mycroft's legs) I knew there was no way Bruce Banner was the Incredible Hulk! He gets angry way to quickly! I knew it had to be someone who could control his anger, until he needed to let it loose! (Looks up at Mycroft) Come on, DMP! Say it for me! "DMP SMASH!"
John Watson(looks at Mycroft sympathetically and points to Chase)-Do you want me to shoot him?
Missy the Least-"NOOO, not the guys in steel and spandex, I mean the realAvengers! Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel, British superspies, the guys and gals who put MI-6 on the map, they were Bond before 007 was...Myckie knows what I mean, he's only about 4 years younger than me, he obviously remembers them, he's got Steed nailed, down to the legs crossed leaning on the umbrella move. Speaking of which, please show him that we Americans do actually have manners and introduce me, hmmm?
OC Chase Douglas-Oh, right! Missy the Least, this is my idol, whom I aspire to serve and protect! Mr. Mycroft Holmes, a.k.a. the "Demented Mary Poppins" to his enemies!
Peaceful Defender(whispers to John Watson)-He kind of reminds me of a hyperactive cocker spaniel, the way he runs around Mycroft!
Missy the Least-Mr. Holmes, it's an honor and a privilege, I'm Marie, very pleased to meet you. Please don't let Chase's antics fuss you. He's good hearted, but kids of his generation don't stand much on ceremony anymore. Frankly, if the kid didn't have a nickname for you, no matter how silly, I'd be worried then. To an American, not being on some type of first name basis is almost an insult to the person being called by their formal last name...unless the last name sounds like a first name or to distinguish between several people with the same first name. Anyways, thank you for taking us seriously and allowing our merry band to help take down Moriarty and his ilk.
Mycroft Holmes-The pleasure is all mine, my dear. And I do extend my sincere congratulations for the ingenuity and cunning that you and your friends showed in the most dangerous circumstances. Had Moriarty caught on that you had recognized him, and were in the process of obtaining proof to show that he was still alive, your lives would have been in considerable jeopardy, so I applaud you on your perseverance and bravery.
Missy the Least-By the way, would you introduce me to Sheridan? That child needs some serious mothering, a lot of hugs and a lot of bedtime stories, and I volunteer to babysit. I have a bunch of the classics with me, and what I don't have, I can just tell from memory (I do a very good Gollum).
OC Chase Douglas (grabs hold of Mycroft's umbrella and starts petting it) My Precious!
John Watson-I say he had a little more than one cup of coffee!
Mycroft Holmes-Missy the Least, I will be pleased to introduce you to Sheridan at some point in the future. I only wish you would have made the offer to do the same to Mr. Douglas here…
Peaceful Defender (scoffs)-Oh, admit it, Mycroft! He may drive you crazy, but you actually like having him around!
Mycroft Holmes-His skills are useful, I suppose. Perhaps, once I have the time to spare him, I shall send him back to the states to complete his education, so that I may employee him in the future. (Looks down at Chase continuing to stroke his umbrella) Provided that he behaves himself, of course.
Missy the Least-Meanwhile you all need something to eat! Peaceful Defender, if you'll help me with those bags there, I've brought takeout from Chinatown in NYC - 5 different kinds of dim sum, a tureen of hot & sour soup, batter fried sea bass, spicy shrimp, beef with oyster sauce, chicken stir-fry, 'lion-head' meat balls (the best ground pork you will every eat), plenty of rice, a tin of Chinese jasmine tea (just need cups and hot water, sugar if absolutely needed NO MILK JOHN!), soy sauce (the good stuff), and chop sticks with free lessons, and orange slices, almond cookies and fortune cookies for dessert. Figure I'll introduce you folks to some really good Chinese food (just don't hate me what it spoils you for anything else!).
Peaceful Defender-That sounds great! Let's eat some of this, before the next chapter is posted. Who knows, it may cure my headache!