I would like to remind everyone that Mycroft is not a bad guy, he just wants what is best for his brother and now for his niece, he is not trying to hurt Sherlock and I don't want him to be hated for his harsh truths (more specifically, my writing of him this way). Mycroft Holmes is man willing to do anything and in this case, he wants his brother to know that he'll protect Maeve from him, even if it means taking her away.


Chapter Twenty-Eight: Thirty-Eight Days Old

Two days later found Sherlock scrolling through online articles with one hand moving the page down and the other clutched by his sleeping daughter, she held onto two of his long fingers with small fists as she snored in her chair. Sherlock had positioned her bouncy chair on his armchair and turned it to face the desk, she was fast asleep with her rosy lips parted. Sherlock dressed in a pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown, the shirt inside out and his feet covered by a pair of socks. Maeve was similarly dressed in one of her sleepsuits, a pale grey with thin white stripes horizontal across her body, it covered her entire body, arms and legs, even her feet.

Sherlock found himself glancing at his daughter more than occasionally, eyes flicking to the infant to check that she was still asleep and not in any discomfort. He could tell by his hand resting on her torso that her breathing was even and unlaboured, and hear each tiny breath.

Mrs Hudson bustled in, looked around the room and then settled her gaze on Sherlock and frowned, "really, Sherlock, the mess you've made."

"It's hardly my mess" Sherlock's pale eyes flicked to his landlady then back to the screen.

"Don't you blame your daughter for your mess," she scolded and went about picking up the stuffed toys littering the floor.

"Well, they are her possessions." Sherlock grumbled and shut the laptop with his free hand.

"Is your brother coming for tea?" Mrs Hudson asked. She arranged the stuffed toys on the sofa and then set about cleaning the coffee table, the surface of which was covered with papers, books, muslins, bottles and a few toys.

"For his afternoon visit with Maeve" he corrected.

"I better make tea then" she declared.

"Is there any cake?" Sherlock asked hopefully, she'd made his favourite two days ago and hadn't yet eaten today.

"You finished it all," she told him with a raised eyebrow as she organised the living room for him, "but I just put another one of your favourites in the oven."

"White chocolate and raspberry brownies?" He asked hopefully.

She didn't answer, only looked up with a knowing look and took the empty bottles into the kitchen to be cleaned. She called back, "are you going to get dressed today?"

"What for?" He called back.

Maeve stirred at the sound of his voice and Sherlock cursed under his breath, he manoeuvred his chair closer to the armchair that he'd set Maeve up on, she tightened her grip on his fingers and her eyes opened into little slits.

"Shhh" Sherlock hushed and stood up, he unstrapped her from the bouncy chair; scooped her up, holding her with one arm and moved the bouncy chair with the other, and he placed it on the floor. He then positioned her in both of his arms, forearm under her bum and other hand on her back.

Maeve yawned against the underside of his jaw, dribble smearing across his skin as rosy lips dragged across his stubbly cheek and she settled back to sleep against him. He had yet to shave today. It was a 'lazy' day or more specifically, a dull day, nothing to keep him and Maeve entertained and no cases to work. Not that Lestrade would call him for anything under a seven or even understood the rating system of cases, not with the newspapers so interested in him and his daughter.

Maeve was due to wake soon for a feed but was dozing off again as Sherlock rocked his body from side to side in small movements. He could afford to let her sleep for a little while longer.

The door opened and closed, a paused and then practised steps on the stairs. Mycroft then, the faint tap of his umbrella against wood was a dead giveaway and Sherlock could hear his brother approaching from 100 metres, his steps were heavy but practised and quiet. The elder Holmes stopped in the doorway, today he was dressed in a simple grey suit with a pale blue shirt and darker shade tie. He stepped into the room, eyes flicking over the messy room before settling on his brother and niece.

"Will she be waking soon?" Mycroft asked as he took a seat in John's armchair, crossing one leg over the other and looking up at the consulting detective.

"It's not a precise art" Sherlock snapped, people seemed to think he was able to deduce his daughter's sleeping habits, which he was to an extent, but, a number of factors could wake her or keep her sleeping longer.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, disappointment and a challenge in the one gesture.

"She should be waking any moment but woke early from her last sleep, she'll soon wake up when it's time for her bottle." Sherlock told him, rising to the challenge while emphasising that she was not exactly accommodating.

"I can return later, if convenient" Mycroft offered.

"No, you missed last week and she'll wake up soon." Sherlock said quickly, it was important that Mycroft spent time with her.

"Do you always sleep with her in your arms?" Mycroft changed the subject with an amused smirk.

"Hardly" Sherlock scoffed.

"Are you planning on joining us?" Mycroft asked, serious again.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes at his brother, "want me gone?"

"Hardly" The auburn haired man repeated his brother's words.

"I'm have no inclination to leave to flat," Sherlock admitted, "but you'll hardly notice me."

Mycroft raised his eyebrow in a look that spoke volumes of 'I very much doubt that' and Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, he stepped through the obstacle created by his chair and handed Maeve to his brother. Mycroft took her with a practised ease that annoyed him and put her in the exact position she had been on Sherlock's shoulder, she sniffed and grasped at the shoulder of his suit before settling down.

"I'll prepare you a bottle" Sherlock said and flounced off into the kitchen.

"John at work?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock poked his head round the corner and glared at the back of his brother's head, "like you don't already know."

"I'm just making conversation Sherlock."

"Yes," he called back, ducking into the kitchen for a moment before striding back into the longue with a bottle and bottle warmer in hand, "why?"

"Isn't that what people do?" Mycroft asked, knowing the answer, "Talk?"

"But we don't" Sherlock frowned at him, he placed the items on the coffee table and then moved his chair back to its original positioned and dropped into it, facing his brother as he steepled his hands beneath his chin.

"Perhaps we should start" The minor government official suggested.

"We deduce" Sherlock articulated as he stared at his brother, "that's all we know how to do."

"Speak for yourself" Mycroft pronounced each word delicately.

Sherlock scoffed, "you are far better at pretending but I have no need to pretend."

"No, you don't" Mycroft smirked knowingly and Sherlock scowled at him, "you're involved."

"No I'm not." Sherlock snapped.

The elder Holmes raised his eyebrows in a fashion that meant he wanted his younger brother to elaborate and then flicked his eyes to the infant on his shoulder, Sherlock noticed the look and followed it. Mycroft sighed, "you are now a father and in a committed relationship, if that isn't involved..."

Sherlock interrupted, blurting out, "What about you? You have Lestrade and he has children, four of them."

"Three" Mycroft corrected with a slight wince.

"And his ex-wife, you are just as involved as I am." Sherlock spat out.

"That may be so," Mycroft conceded with a small nod to his brother, "but you've never been good at being involved."

Sherlock looked offended at the accusation.

Mycroft continued thoughtfully, "Remember Redbeard."

Sherlock scowled at him and spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm not a child anymore."

"No, you are not" Mycroft agreed, "but you need to be careful, you have a weakness and people will notice and use it against you. They already have."

"I wouldn't let them" Sherlock told him, voice sounding strong but broken, like admitting it hurt him more than he could articulate.

"Neither would I."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"It needs to be had," Mycroft told him simply, "I will do everything in my power to protect Maeve, as will you."

"I already know that." Sherlock barked, making sure to keep his voice low.

"Even from you." Mycroft returned.

Sherlock tensed and scowled at his brother, his tone as cold as ice, he warned "Don't. Threaten. Me."

"I'm making a promise" Mycroft informed him, eyes stern and voice matching his brothers at this moment.

"They would never forgive you if you took her from me," Sherlock cautioned, his eyes were harsh but pleading.

"They would if you were a danger to her."

"I'm not."

"But you could be, addicts lie, remember?"

Sherlock jerked as though he had been hit and rose to his feet, "She comes first, she is everything. Do you understand? I'd never…"

"Never what?" Mycroft asked, furrowing his brow, "take drugs again? You've been taking them since you were fifteen and hopping from one addiction to the next; drugs, drinking, sex and now solving cases, putting your life in danger on a daily basis for the thrill of the chase."

"No, this is different." Sherlock shook his head, mind swimming with the onslaught of new information and shut his eyes for a moment to regain some clarity.

"It's commitment Sherlock, the rest of your life, a life that comes before your own. It's school runs and homework, plays, teacher conferences, sickness, nightmares, puberty, boyfriends and going to sleep some nights never knowing if your child is going to be there when you wake." Mycroft said, each word hurting his brother and each word hard for him to say, but crucial. "This is involved, and not a threat, a promise, brother mine, I will put her first, even before you."

The tension in the flat sat heavy in the air as Mycroft sat with Maeve looking up at his brother and Sherlock breathed deeply, fighting the urge to rip his daughter from his brother's hands.

They were saved by the arrival of Mrs Hudson with a tea tray, she bustled in with a smile, "just this once mind you."

"Thank you Mrs Hudson" Sherlock said quickly, voice clipped and eyes still on Mycroft, he told his brother "she needs to be fed."

And with that he stormed from the room, down the hallway and into the bedroom, the door slammed shut.

Mrs Hudson winced at the sound, she tutted and patted Mycroft on his free shoulder, "don't mind him, he's in one of his moods."


Sherlock returned later, he was ignoring his brother in favour of updating his website and simultaneously searching for any interesting cases in the papers. Mycroft was sat on the ground beside Maeve's tummy time mat, she was lain on her front with toys ahead of her and stealing glances at her uncle every so often.

Though Sherlock hated it admit it, Mycroft was right, he was involved and Maeve needed protecting, even from him but he would never give her up without fight. The fat git was just interfering again.

"Come here," Mycroft said to Maeve, his voice softer than usual.

Sherlock glanced out the corner of his eye at his brother, he has picked Maeve up and settled her to sit in his lap with his hand supporting her body and head as she stared up at him in dumb amusement.

"According to the books, you should be smiling in response to other people's smiles by now," the auburn haired man told her with a slightly raised eyebrow and smirk playing at the ends of his lips.

"She's a baby," Sherlock reminded him.

Mycroft looked up at his younger brother, it was the first time he'd spoken since their little discussion earlier and he seemed to have calmed down somewhat. He responded simply, "I know."

Sherlock swivelled around on his chair to face the auburn haired man and placed his hands onto his knees, he raised an eyebrow, "Therefore she cannot comprehend the milestones that you have read about."

Mycroft's eyes widened, "I am fully aware Sherlock."

"Just reminding you," Sherlock pouted.

"Well, stop," the elder Holmes glowered at him, then re-focused on Maeve with a softer expression.

"She's close" He told him smugly, "the corners of her mouth twitch like they do before she smiles but she isn't quite there yet, not in response to others but it's only a matter of time."

"Are you boys playing nice?" Mrs Hudson asked, popping her head around the door frame with a suspicious look.

Sherlock flashed a smile in her direction. "Always."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she ducked back into the kitchen.

When the elder lady was out of earshot Mycroft asserted, "Stop causing trouble."

Sherlock mocked offence at the accusation and raised an eyebrow curiously, he countered "you were the one that came into my flat to cause trouble."

"I came here to visit my niece" Mycroft corrected.

"And cause trouble" Sherlock added, finishing with a childish pout that made him look like a teenager.

"I was trying to help."

"Interfere."

"Help."

"Threaten me."

"Stop being childish" Mycroft scolded, bouncing Maeve up and down on his lap.

"I'm not the childish one, I'm involved" he mimicked his older brother, reciting his exact words from earlier.

Mycroft frowned at him, "you really are a child."

Sherlock smirked at him and rose from his chair, he flopped onto the sofa dramatically, "What does that make you?"

"The responsible one" Mycroft answered, glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock and rolling his eyes as he turned back to Maeve and smiled at her, an encouraging smile.

"Beg to differ" Sherlock mumbled, turning his head into the pillow as he turned onto his side, facing outwards.

Mycroft remained stoic and continued to smile at his niece, she gurgled but didn't return his smile, instead focusing on shoving her hand into her mouth. He commented, "She is rather like you."

"That is rather the point" Sherlock spoke into the pillow.

"Very difficult" Mycroft continued thoughtfully.

Sherlock choked a laugh into the pillow and turned his face to look at the back of Mycroft's head, the slightly thinning auburn hair neatly combed and pale scalp. "You make it sound like I specifically made her that way."

"No, but she inherits it from you," Mycroft sighed, continuing to smile at her with no response.

"And thank God that she hasn't inherited anything from you," Sherlock announced.

The auburn haired man ignored him in favour of focusing completely on his niece, he gently pried her hand away from her open mouth and once again smiled at her, hoping that she would smile back. Sherlock watched, craning his neck to peek over his shoulder at Maeve, she didn't notice his presence, continuing to look at Mycroft with deep blue eyes and occasionally blink, dark eyelashes fluttering against pink skin. He watched minutely over his brother's shoulder as the corners of her lips tugged up faintly, as though she was testing the action and the muscles it used.

"No" he whispered to himself, loud enough that only he could hear.

Maeve tested the action a few more times before following through, pink lips pulling into a smile at her uncle in response to his smile. "Good girl, you are a very good girl."

Mycroft lifted her up to hover above his face for a moment before holding her close and turning his face to look at Sherlock, his younger brother glaring at him, seething silently, he breathed deeply through his nose.

"Do not say another word." Sherlock warned him.

Mycroft grinned and lifted Maeve back, over his head. Sherlock took her wordlessly, replacing his brother's hands with his own and placing her beside him on the sofa on her back, side pressed against his torso. He offered her his hand to her and she grabbed it, grasping two long fingers in her fists.

"I'll leave you to it." Mycroft announced, getting to his feet and retrieving the umbrella he had left on the chair.

"Piss off!" Sherlock told him, looking down at his daughter.

Mycroft smirked and left, retreating down the stairs. Sherlock waited until the front door slammed shut then raised an eyebrow at his daughter, "you did that on purpose, you little terror."