Hadn't taken everyone very long to head out into the hall and grab their coats with the exception of Artemis, of course, who stood by the front door quietly waiting. Mycroft would have asked her to put a coat on but he'd already won one battle for the day by convincing her to wear his sweater and Mycroft always knew when to pick his battles.

Snow crunched underfoot as they headed down the path and out the front gate. Hadn't even been a minute before Sherlock started to complain while John – the poor man – did his best to silence his lover and get a hat onto Rosie who he had strapped to him in her baby carrier.

"Dear, aren't you cold?"

It took Artemis a moment to realize Missus Holmes spoke to her, she wasn't used to people's concern nor was she used to this … family dynamic. She peered at the elder woman with that blank expression of hers, didn't even stop walking for a second.

"No. I don't feel the cold."

With that she carried on beside Mycroft as though the question had never been asked in the first place. He looped their arms together, the idea being that if he kept her relay close and they stayed just slightly ahead of everyone else there wouldn't be too many – if any – more awkward questions asked of her.

Even before they'd reached the small hill closest to the house Sherlock had once again started to grumble about being bored and no amount of 'shut it, Sherlock' from Watson actually managed to silence the man. Quite frankly Sherlock should have been lucky he was even their, who had saved him from a dark pit after Magnussen, who'd saved him from Serbia after he'd gotten himself captured? Mycroft! Mycroft always saved his little brother. Sherlock should have been grateful to be able to walk along beside the man he loved rather than rotting somewhere dead or alive like he would have been had it not been for his big brother. Still, that wasn't exactly Sherlock, he was a child with the IQ of god.

"Must we do this?" Sherlock continued to complain. "There's a fireplace and tea back at the house."

It was his father's turn to quieten his middle child; oh didn't middle child explain a lot. "Sherlock, hush, we always go on a walk. Get some fresh air and take in nature. It's Christmas, a time for being thankful for the things we already have not what we want."

"Surely we could just take in nature from inside the house? Humans did invent windows, and we'd not be buried in a foot of snow."

Watson let out a long, loud, exasperated sigh, the sort where his head rolled back and really pointed out he'd had enough of his lover's whining for one day. In Mycroft's mind Doctor Watson deserved a medal for putting up with his baby brother.

The British Government finally turned to fix his sibling with one of those stern glares of his, the ones that froze people in place and made them fearful; the ones that hadn't ever worked on Sherlock.

"Do shut up, brother mine, and it's no more than four inches of snow, not a foot."

"Hate to take your brother's side love but Mycroft is right-"

Sherlock quickly cut the doctor off. "Yes, I know the snow is nowhere near twelve inches."

John rolled his eyes; he'd take that medal now. "I meant shut up. This is nice. I swear you're more of a child than Rosie is."

Everyone except for Artemis and Sherlock smirked or chuckled though they didn't laugh for very different reasons.

The small group carried on with their little walk while Missus Holmes snapped a few pictures every now and again, she knew better than to try and get pictures of her sons so she mostly photographed the landscape.

When they reached the larger hill's summit, though frankly it didn't really even class as a hill, Missus Holmes delighted in the beautiful view despite the mass of trees blocking most of it out. This was why she always insisted on them taking this Christmas morning walk, it was so she could spend some – hopefully – quiet time with her sons and husband, so they could see the beautiful things in the world.

"The house behind us," she began with a soft smile, "and all this snowy countryside in front of us. Such a shame we aren't higher up, can't imagine how pretty it must be from the top of those trees."

The white-haired Holmes chortled to himself then nudged his son with an elbow. "We need one of those big government drones of yours, Myc."

Yes, because Mycroft would happily go about redirecting needed government equipment for a nice serene picture taking assignment.

"No need." All eyes snapped to Artemis as she grabbed the camera from Missus Holmes. "I'll do it."

Before anyone could ask what the former Reaper had planned Artemis had shoved the camera strap between her teeth, rolled up her sleeves and headed to the closest tree; a very tall one which Sherlock had fallen out of several times as a child. Everyone rushed after her, some slightly concerned others curious. Easily she started the climb, Mycroft had seen what Artemis was capable of, she could certainly climb a tree.

"Well isn't she full of surprises." The eldest Holmes said to himself more than his wife or anyone else.

Missus Holmes stared up at Artemis as she vanished through the branches. "Is this safe?"

Sherlock snorted. "No, but Artemis does quite well with danger." He cast his brother a knowing expression.

The five adults and little Rosie watched on until Artemis was completely out of view, only powdery snow falling from the branches remained as any indication she was actually even up there. While his parents seemed concerned Artemis would fall and hurt herself Mycroft wasn't concerned in the slightest, even if Artemis did somehow fall she'd just stand right back up and carry on; like Terminator but with less metal and repetitive catchphrases.

A few moments passed by then a few more before they heard her returning to the ground. Branches crackled and crunched under her added weight but never broke, had they not been so close Mycroft doubted they'd have actually even noticed her in the tree; as if Artemis would ever make so much noise. Her feet appeared first, then those long legs and finally the rest of her all carefully balanced on a single thick branch.

"British, catch."

With that she tossed the camera down gently straight into the suit clad man's hands; had hadn't ever been one for sport so he was rather pleased to have not made a fool of himself. They'd probably all expected her to just come back down the way she'd gone up but it was much easier to get up this tree than to return to the ground, that was why Sherlock had fallen so many times. Mycroft started to calculate her an easier path to the floor but before he'd even got half way Artemis simply flipped off the branch and landed with a dense thud on the ground before them with a little puff of snow. Mycroft shoved the camera into his father's hands who started to look through the pictures she'd taken impressed by the view and distance he could see. Meanwhile Mycroft helped his beautiful girl to her feet, she didn't need his help but it was the gentlemanly thing to do; he did his best to ignore how cold her skin had gotten.

"How much longer does this walk go on for?" She asked him quietly.

"Not long, Little Assassin, Mother is cold so we'll be returning soon."

Sure enough, not five minutes after Artemis had leapt from the tree his parents had suggested going back to the house – something Sherlock had delighted in – and the group slowly returned to the house.

Once inside Watson and the curly haired Holmes vanished upstairs to put Rosie down for a nap while the white-haired man went off to make fresh tea. Mycroft kindly hung up his mother's coat for her then they made their way into the living room to sit down while Artemis remained outside to do another perimeter check.

"I like Artemis, Myc." That certainly got her son's attention. "Though she isn't half odd."

He raised an eyebrow. "I prefer to think of it as protective. She's very good at her job, Mother."

"Oh I don't doubt that, my smart boy was never going to choose anything but a smart and unique person."

"Thank you, Mother." He said while he silently wished she'd stop talking.

"Maybe a little young though, how old is she Myc?"

Ah the dreaded question for back story she didn't have. He'd worked out how old she was based off the file he'd found in Hades' records but Artemis had the right to know first. Not willing to answer he dodged the question.

"I know she's younger than me but surely that is not a fault. Artemis is a highly intelligent woman who just so happens to be younger. Doctor Watson is clearly older than Sherlock."

His mother raised an eyebrow, clearly on to the fact he was trying to scoot around the subject.

"Yes, but both of them are at least over thirty." Sensing she'd not get any more out of her son she changed tact. "I know it's probably all highly classified but where did you meet such a girl?"

Good God, stop. He had really started to regret bringing Artemis to his parents' for Christmas in the last few minutes.

His eye twitched a little. "Em, it was a very long time ago. We were both working, though Artemis did not work for Britain back then."

Missus Holmes perked up at that. "Ooh, she's not from here? She sounds so English though. Is that why she called you British earlier?"

The suit clad man nodded. "Indeed, it is her nickname for me. Also, no, Artemis is not British though she is very good at accents."

"So where is she from?"

Of course that was her next question. When could he pack his bags and return to London?

"Classified." Mycroft loved that word, it could shut a door so quickly.

Missus Holmes rolled her eyes. "Should have seen that answer coming. Well, with skin like hers she's got to be either Scandinavian or Eastern European. Beautiful green eyes though."

Yes they most certainly were. He sat there fully aware he knew much more about Artemis than she knew about herself. Seriously, he knew her real name, where she'd been born and yes, how old she was. Mycroft had to tell her, had to give her that file, he knew that now for sure. When they returned to London he'd sit her down in his office and tell her everything. Maybe they could look into finding her family. Still, Myc needed to survive Christmas with his brother and parents first.

He found himself watching Artemis through the large window as she moved around outside, he knew his girl was fully aware of his eyes on her even if she didn't turn to look at him. The living room door opened than and his father carried in a tea tray, he handed out cups which were quickly accepted. Sherlock and the doctor never returned but that wasn't any big surprise and no one mentioned it; no one wanted to think about it.

"So is she 'the one'?"

Myc's head snapped to his father so quickly it nearly broke. That question certainly caught him off guard, why would his father just go ahead and blind side him like that? Was this some kind of game his parents had decided to play? Mycroft had nearly choked on his tea.

"Come now, don't scare the poor boy like that." She chastised her husband lightly.

"But what about grandchildren? We aren't getting any younger."

That was Mycroft's cue to had a mini stroke. Grandchildren? Had that word honestly just come out of them?

"Well, we have little Rosie." Missus Holmes continued. "She's a delight."

The white-haired man nodded. "I understand that, dear, but she will need a little cousin to play with when she's a bit older."

Nope, moved on from mini stroke and gone straight to full-blown heart attack. Was his vision blurry too? Missus Holmes turned her attention back to her eldest completely unaware of his internal screaming.

"You never brought a girl- anyone home to meet us before. From what Sherlock has told us we expected to be introduced to your policeman friend. Gareth is it?"

"Gregory. And why would you think-" He cut himself off.

Ahh, yes, of course, Sherlock the little bastard of Baker Street! One of these days he was going to ring his brother's neck.

Missus Holmes shifted forwards in her chair careful not to spill her steaming tea.

"You're father makes an excellent point though. Is Artemis the one for you? She's a touch odd but kind enough and you seem happy."

Translation: you're not getting any younger so take what you can get. This was why he didn't like spending an extended period of time with his parents, they sprung unwanted, unneeded questions on him like they were going out of style. Somehow they'd gone from a morning walk to tea and when are you getting married and giving us some more grandkids. Why couldn't they have been satisfied with Watson's daughter? Didn't matter, Hades had taken Artemis' ability to ever have a child, not that he'd be telling his parents about that … ever. And married? Artemis didn't technically exist – not that it would have been a problem for a man with his resources – but Mycroft had resigned himself to the perpetual bachelor lifestyle years ago. He'd die alone and Myc had come to terms with that. And what if he did suddenly, magically decide to ask Artemis to marry him? Marriage was a pointless waste of time to her, she'd have said no. Why was he even thinking about any of this? He needed out of the room, out of the house, out of the county would have been nice too.

Mycroft set down his cup and rose to his feet as he straightened his suit. "Excuse me, I should go and fetch Artemis before she freezes."

It's running away but he'd not admit to it. Once outside he took a half empty pack of cigarettes from his inner breast pocket and happily lit one. He sucked in the rich smoke and sighed at the little nugget of relief he got.

"Aren't you trying to quit?"

The suit clad man jumped, how did she always just appear? When he turned he found Artemis leant against the wall beside the front door with her arms folded across her impressive chest.

"No," he admitted, "that's just what I told Lady Smallwood. This keeps saying smoking is bad for me."

Artemis padded down the path to her tall ruler of all England, snow crunching under foot and let him wrap an arm around her waist.

"I can protect you from everything except your own lungs, British."

That actually made him laugh, a breathed out chuckle. Oh he'd needed that. Smoke continued to dance around them lightly before it vanished into the air never to be seen again. In truth, whatever killed him, it wouldn't be the cigarettes.

"I take it the perimeter is secure." He teased softly.

"Yes." She nodded. "All secure and safe."

"Good." With that he pressed his lips to Artemis' own, they were cold from the chilled air. "Is everything on track?"

"Uh-huh, Kerberos has been outed as a traitor just like you wanted. I will, however, need to supply Hades with more information on Project Tesla lest they grow suspicious of me. What is it anyway?"

Myc sighed and lifted his cigarette back to his lips a moment. "When Nikola Tesla died the US government confiscated several trunks of his work before the poor man's body had even gone cold. Cleared out his room and those trunks were never seen again. There are dozens of conspiracy theories as to what they contained and where they went but in reality not all of them remained in America. Britain was paid with some of the trunks for some … shall we say aid we provided them. Our people have been sifting through the papers ever since and attempting to further Tesla's research. Let's just say that Project Tesla could make current drone technology look like the incompetent work of a hack."

Artemis didn't ask any follow up questions, rarely did, just stood there with the tall man while he smoked and enjoyed the silence. Once he'd finished he crushed the cigarette butt under foot and sighed.

"Mother will no doubt be starting Christmas dinner, my Little Assassin. Would you like to play chess with me?"

She nodded. "Very well. You know, I had expected this Christmas thing to be a total waste of time, although I have started to learn a great deal from your family."

Mycroft cocked an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Their opinions of the world and its running. Also, a woman's perspective in regards to normal life."

The British Government thought about her words as they made their way back up the path and into the house. He'd not realized until that moment but Artemis did spend all her time with men, his mother was the only woman she'd ever spend any prolonged time with; she didn't even communicate with Anthea all that much. He'd think about that more once Christmas was over.