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Chapter 52
Mycroft's POV
He was surprised when his PA told him that he had lunch scheduled at Angelo's, he never made lunches for Angelo's but she was certain that it was. So at the appointed time he had his car deliver him to the restaurant where he discovered his brothers already sitting and talking. Both of them. He cannot remember the last time he saw both his brothers at the same time.
"I see that he was effective at adding lunch to your schedule," Sherlock remarks as he spots him, turning back to their other brother, he continues, "He is really good at that," there is a smirk on his middle brother's face and those mercurial eyes seemed to gleam.
"Hello Mycroft," Aragorn murmurs, "We've only been here for a few moments, I was the first to arrive."
"Good afternoon, brothers mine," he greets his brothers as he pulls the chair out and sits down.
A moment later, the slightly heavy set Italian gentleman who owns the establishment comes bustling out with a small tray. On his tray are three hot chocolates, one regular, one prepared the way Sherlock prefers, and one prepared the way he prefers. Its one of those guilty pleasures of his that he drink hot chocolate when dealing with his brother Sherlock because otherwise there is nothing to steady the frustration he ends up feeling.
Once the owner has left he looks at each one in turn. There is something different about his middle brother though he is not certain exactly what it is. He is sure it has to do with his doctor-blogger flatmate however. As far as his youngest brother goes, well he does not see or speak with him enough to know exactly if anything is different though he does notice that his constant companion is not with him. For a few minutes the three of them sit in silence as they each sip at their hot chocolates.
Eventually the youngest of them glances his way, querying, "Still have the assistant who changes her name often?"
A small smile curves his lips as he nods once, "Indeed. Do you still have Shalen, I believe his name was, as a guard?"
The youngest of them chuckles with a small shrug, "Of course, just because you cannot see him does not mean he is not aware of where I am or who I am with. He found it amusing when my schedule was hacked and this added to it this morning."
A frown curves his lips as he considers what had just been said. Aragorn might be young but he is one of the best hackers in the world. There are not many who can out hack him. That's rather concerning for the politician who is fine with the idea of his brother being able to get past his defense, but bothered by the idea of someone else doing the same thing.
"If your worrying about this being a set up, I am fairly certain it is not." The youngest Holmes tells him before ordering
"How do you know that?" he just about demanded in his best politicians voice.
A chuckle escapes Sherlock who answers, "Because Eric is the one who did it. He's big on family and decided I needed to reconnect with my brothers. So he took the best looking time in both your schedule books and added lunch to it." Then he orders another hot chocolate.
"Eric," he repeats remembering the taller man with the unusual scales on his face, neck, and hands. He was one of the few people who intimidated him. Though he got the impression he was part of the same pack as John and thus Sherlock. He had also gotten the impression that John was at the head of that pack, but that seemed wrong, leaders were people who had authority and carried themselves as such. The short army doctor did not. Giving an internal shake of his head, he places his order with their host.
Sherlock smirks, sipping at his hot chocolate.
"So have you spent time with John's family then?" the youngest asks the middle brother as they wait for their food.
He nods once, setting his cup down, "We spend one or two evening a month with them unless there is a case going on. Actually, some of the younger cousins have asked me to teach them chemistry and deduction." There is pride in his brother's voice, even a quiet joy which surprises him greatly. His brother has never shown an interest in teaching before.
"Really? How is that working out?" Aragorn inquires politely as the waiter sets their food down in front of them, well two of them.
Again he nods before answering, "Indeed, its remarkable how well they are picking it up as well. Apparently a few of the ones working with me have decided to become detectives and think how I do it is better than the Yard, of course they are right."
Aragorn chuckles at him, shaking his head before turning his attention towards him, "So are you still trying to follow in father's footsteps?"
He can feel his skin flushing slightly as he replies, "I believe I have surpassed him for influence. However I am in our ancestral position."
Sherlock smirked and Aragorn nodded seriously.
"So do you two have lunch occasionally or is this completely out of the norm for you?" the youngest of them inquires after taking a few bites.
"I normally avoid him, however John's very family orientated and keeps pressing me to try and get along better with him." Sherlock responds after taking another sip of his hot chocolate. "Some days I even listen."
Confusion strikes him something fierce, Dr. Watson has only been in his brother's life for a few months but he is listen to with more ease than him, why? What was so special about that shifter? How could he have such an effect on his brother? The loyalty of that threat he had met, and he was quite certain he was a threat of the worst kind. He could find nothing of true importance in his military history, nearly ten years in the military yet there is next to nothing on it. At least nothing he has clearance to see, which confuses him even further. He had even tried getting in touch with their second cousin, General Avery, to see if he could come up with any information and all he returned with was that the doctor had been in one of the Special Forces units that had nearly complete black records of the hidden kind. If there was anything recorded about it, it would be highly difficult to get and he still had not been able. Nor could he understand how such an unassuming man could be in the Special Forces. It made no logical sense.
Thankfully, despite his confusion, he was able to maintain the conversation and answered almost immediately afterwards, "You know I worry about our family constantly. Even if you ignore me most the time. Though to be fair, you are not nearly as much trouble as him."
Surprisingly enough the rest of lunch goes smoothly. The three of them speak of nearly pointless things and just work on being calm around each other again. Despite the fact the last time the three of them had been together had been for their father's funeral, they manage to act as if it is a perfectly common experience for them to sit down in a restaurant and visit with each other. It ends when Shalen and Anthea come walking in together thought they are not speaking. Not far behind them is a teenage boy wearing a black suit of fine quality but watching his assistant with narrow eyes.
"Enjoy lunch?" Shalen inquires as he glances between the three.
His youngest brother smiles, as he stands he replies, "Of course, time to get back to work?"
The solid red-head nods once in response and his little brother glances at the two of them and says, "Well, brothers, its been a pleasant lunch, perhaps we can do this again sometime soon, take care," and leaves without another word.
"You have a meeting sir," Anthea tells him, her eyes never leaving her phone as she continues to type though he gets the impression she is uncomfortable about something.
"Thank you," he murmurs in response, "Good day, Sherlock."
"Ta," his middle brother replies, finishing his hot chocolate and standing to sweep out the door with the young man following close behind. When his brother gets outside, he is join by two more teenagers and the group heads towards Baker Street.
Dropping some money for a tip to the waiter, he stands and follows Anthea to the car.
The rest of the day is filled with regular meetings that he had already planned for or Anthea had scheduled in advance. When he is done with that he switches to doing paperwork, working long into the night. It is nearly four in the morning when he finally packs up and heads home. Upon getting to his flat he showers, dressing comfortably, and heads into his office to pull out the files he has one John Hamish Watson. He hates to admit it is not much but what is paints a very unusual picture.
By human standards he is a little on the short side, his build is solid, blonde hair, blue eyes, tan naturally but was darker for a time because of being in a desert. He graduated from his A-levels at seventeen, had a Bachelor's in Medicine and Surgery at nineteen, and completed his residency while going to military officers training at twenty. His first unofficial mission had happened during regular boot camp, when he and eight others had stolen a pair of helicopters and managed a rescue of several important individuals that had been thought impossible by some of the generals. When he had completed his officers training and medical residency he had went in as a second lieutenant, within six months he was a first lieutenant, within a year a captain. Then all his records vanish. He was still in, he was still being paid, however he was no longer a part of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers despite the fact that is who the records said he was with. Over the next eight years there was no official record, every single item on it was marked as classified with only two people having access, the first being Layard and the second being a General Keir that he does not know. The next time the doctor and soldier appears on the official records is when he is injured in an ambush, most the group he had been with ended up dead to snipers, though the snipers are found dead by rescue forces. Fourteen days later, two members of his team refuse to allow any medical personal near him, three days after that the entire team is gone, all of them having left the military at the same time. That was five weeks before he met Sherlock.
He had considered asking Layard if he could have access to those files but knew that he did not have a good enough excuse lined up to do so. He did not know this General Keir and something told him he really did not want to know him.
Since his brother had moved in with the doctor, his behavior had become less erratic over all. There had been a lot less mess of his to clean up. Then he had started vanishing from the camera's not just the Sherlock vanish either, but completely. His men had not been able to get near him, and all the cameras at 221B Baker Street had stopped working or been destroyed. It had been very frustrating. So he had asked Detective Inspector Lestrade about the subject and had been told to speak directly with Dr. Watson. Again the same advice was given to him by a small female perched on the edge of his desk, unseen be all but him. Then once more it was given to him by one of the most intimidating men he had ever met, which is saying something when one considers the vast variety of people he had met over the years.
His brother who had never been a very social person so to hear him clearly state that he was teaching multiple people about deduction and chemistry and vastly surprising to him.
Sitting back in his chair he rubs the back of his neck thinking. There was no other choice. He would have to speak directly to Dr. John Hamish Watson about his brother. Stretching, he heads to his room to sleep for an hour or two before beginning his day.
When he awoke, he was surprised to see that he had slept for nearly three hours. It was a Saturday, officially he did not have to be to the office unless something came up at which point his very useful assistant would tell him. However he normally spent part of his Saturday in the office making sure that he had minimum amount of back log paperwork, so after cleaning up and getting a small amount to eat, he heads into the office, choosing to drive himself in with his low riding sports car rather than call for his normal ride. He spends several hours working on paperwork before realizing that it is nearly lunch time.
Sighing, he puts everything away and grabs his phone to call Dr. Watson. He is mildly surprised when the shorter man picks up on the second ring. "Dr. Watson, I have been advised that you would be the best person to speak with about my concerns regarding my brother. Do you have plans for lunch?"
For a moment the shifter is silent before he finally replies, "Not at this point, do you have a place in mind?"
Even footing, he reminds himself, somewhere that the one with the scale pattern would not see as a threat, "I have not," he responds. Make this simple, he thinks, allow him to select something.
Again there is silence for a moment before the other man answers. "Alright, I will text you an address, see you in half hour." Before he can respond the phone goes dead and he is startled by that fact. He often does that to people, people rarely do it to him. A moment later his phone chirps and he glances at the address in shock. It is actually a fairly nice restaurant that the other man has selected.
A few minutes later he is pulling into said restaurant and is mildly surprised when a slender young man with wavy brown hair approaches him at the door, "Mr. Holmes?"
He inclines his head politely, waiting.
"I'm to show you to your table," the young man states plainly, motioning towards the seating area.
Again he inclines his head.
The young man nods once, turning on his heel and walking away, just fast enough to stay ahead, just slow enough not to be rude. Several moment later he finds himself seated at a booth with a good view of the entire room against one of the inner walls. Two menus have already been set down on the table, along with a steaming mug of hot chocolate for him and a tea for Dr. Watson. He has barely glanced at the menu when the shorter man slides into his seat.
"Good afternoon, Mycroft," the shifter greets him politely, before taking a sip of his tea.
He is startled by the shorter man's appearance, he is so used to seeing him in jumpers and jeans that the fairly nice if unusual button down and slakes in a combination of golden top and black bottoms. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me on such short notice."
"Of course," comes the soft response.
For a moment neither says anything. He is studying the man in front of him and realizing that his previous readings were wrong. This man was not just the unassuming doctor from the military. He was a great deal more.
A smile curves the blonde's lips as if he knows what he is thinking. "Actually, telepathy is not my gift, though I do have a minor ability in it. In this case I really did not need it."
He arches on eyebrow questioningly.
The shifter's smile seems to shift to amusement. "Simple really, three times you have been told to have a word with me, and three times you have not. Now you are wondering if you should have, and not a word like that first farce of a conversation we had." The shorter man shrugs, pausing for a moment when the waitress gets there to collect their orders, well his order because the doctor says nothing, just smiles. Once the waitress is gone he continues, "Now I asked Tech to make sure no one could listen in on your lunch yesterday so I do not know what was said, however since we are here, I am sure it is something that shocked you enough to finally decided to speak with me."
"I feel that we have started off on an uneven keel," he tells the shifter, "If you would be amendable, I would like to speak with you about the shifter pack that you and my brother belong to."
The two of them fall silent as the waitress brings their lunches out. For a few minutes the two of are quiet while they eat. He is considering how else to approach the subject further, finally the shorter man comments.
"I do not promise to answer everything since you are not pack, however I will answer what I can."
He nods once, continuing to eat slowly, finally he inquires, "Am I correct in thinking that you are the leader of your pack?"
The shorter man nods once before taking another bite, "Indeed."
"You have accepted my brother into the pack, why?" he inquires before taking another bite of his food.
"It was the correct thing to do. Since then, he has thrived in a way I am certain he had not previously." Comes the response from the other man as he finishes off his smaller plate.
"Why can I not track him on the CCTV any longer?" he asks, it's one of the biggest points of frustrating for him.
A smirk curves the doctor's lips as he replies, "For the same reason your men are unable to track him very well. The pack protects its own. He has a twenty four hour protection team that doesn't count when I am with him, along with Tech who is very good with computers of all types and making people do what he wants. The pack protects its own."
He nods once, finishing his lunch. "Is he safe?"
"Always, as safe as anyone can make him, the new lab means there are less accidents with the food supplies and other hazards. I am good at keeping up with him on a case, at least physically, which means I can protect him as well." the doctor replies, "I am also very good at patching him up those times when he gets himself injured somehow."
"Thank you for being willing to speak with me, could we have another discussion in the near future?" he inquires, not wishing to push his luck.
The shifter smiles, "I can arrange to have Eric give you notice any time something goes wrong or once weekly if you would like."
He inclines his head, "That would be excellent. Thank you."
With that, the shorter man smiles, standing and stating, "Don't worry about the bill, its already taken care of, good day, Mycroft." Without waiting for a response he strides away.
For a few minutes longer he lingers over his second mug of hot chocolate, not sure when it had been delivered but enjoying it just the same. It had been an enlightening lunch. He had more questions than answers but knew that pushing now was not going to get him what he wanted, so he would be patient. The reason he made such an excellent politician was his ability to know when to press forward or hold back, and how to press the right buttons. Since he was dealing with a situation he was unsure about, he would take the wise path and take his time learning further, being diplomatic.
With a shake of his head he stands, dropping some money on the table as a tip before turning to leave. He is surprised when the host who had escorted him to his table reappears to escort him out, wishing him a pleasant day and giving him more food for thought. Everything to do with Dr. John Hamish Watson caused him to consider new possibilities and details, it was frustrating, very frustrating, because now it wasn't just his brothers who challenged him, it was a short blonde too.
