Several more hours of Christmas went by, Mycroft and his father had played chess, which had been quite pleasant though much too easy, while the rest of his family milled around occupying themselves.
Mycroft hadn't foreseen the one issue though, and why hadn't he seen it coming he was a fucking genius for Christ's sake. There they were after their – rather indulgent – Christmas dinner, opening presents peacefully while Artemis just sat there with her back straight in silence. She watched as Myc opened a few things as if it were part of some strange, elaborate ritual; well, to Artemis it was. He soon found himself concerned his lover and bodyguard would feel left out, everyone passing around gifts to one another but she didn't have one to give … or maybe Artemis hadn't even noticed. When he'd given her a stack of books to unwrap she'd genuinely looked happy with the selection of everything from The Castle of Ontario to Harry Potter so she had quite the choice. However, ever since she'd just been sat in a perpetual quietude which only made Mycroft second guess himself more; sometimes gauging Artemis' thoughts and reactions could be almost impossible. The raven-haired assassin had taken part in Christmas just as he'd intended but she still wasn't part of it all. The British Government sighed, maybe this would just have to be a work in progress.
Night had fallen some hours ago though thankfully it hadn't decided to snow again much to the ginger's pleasure. When darkness had taken over the white-haired Holmes had lit a fire which had roared to life and filled the living room with a comforting warmth and orange glow. Snow outside reflected the moon though not quite as dramatically as it had early that morning when they'd woken up, In all honesty Mycroft found himself thinking about that cabin every few minutes and he didn't quite know what to make of it.
Little Rosie had gone off to bed some time ago and the suit clad man was certain his mother couldn't pack any more tea away without blowing up; surely everyone would be off to bed so he could have some peace and quiet soon. A quick glance down to his watch and the small yawns that had started to come from his father were pretty good indicators he was right … as usual.
"So what did you get for, Myc, dear?" Missus Holmes asked the assassin when she realized just how long Artemis had been still for.
Well, this is awkward, grumbled Mycroft's mind. It wasn't like he'd expected her to get him a present, he didn't need gifts, but perhaps he should have mentioned it a bit more so she didn't get put on the spot. Clearly Mycroft hadn't gotten very good at the whole having a girlfriend thing just yet. He'd just been about to start spewing forth some crap on the fly when Artemis cellphone buzzed pulling everyone's – except for Sherlock's – attention. She removed it from her pocket and peered at the screen.
"Finally, someone to kill."
Mycroft flashed her a sideways glance. "Excuse me?"
"Perimeter alarm was just triggered." She answered smoothly.
John didn't seem bothered in the least, much too happy curled up by the fire with his curly-haired lover.
"Could have just been an animal. And seriously, you set up sensor alarms?"
Artemis nodded. "I did, yes, also it's not an animal. See."
She turned her cellphone so as everyone could see the screen properly. There before them were several men crunching through the snow, all armed and looking as though they knew what they were doing.
"I'm good at my job."
Mycroft wouldn't argue with that, not for a single second.
Sherlock was the first to lean closer for a better look at the men as they passed the tiny camera she'd set up in a tree, while the Holmes parents just stared at Artemis with expressions somewhere between abject horror and what could only be described as 'oh no not again'.
"Armenians by the looks of them." Said Sherlock only for John to sigh loudly.
"For God's sake, Sherlock. I told you last week, didn't I? I said 'no, don't anger the violent mob or Armenians because they'll probably try to kill us all'. Once again, we're in danger because you."
Mycroft and Artemis ignored whatever domestic spat this was and kept their attention on the job at hand.
"That is a twelve man kill squad, whatever you did pissed them off royally." She looked over to Mycroft on her left. "That camera is a mile away."
Sherlock shrugged. "It's fine, I can deal with this-"
John cut him off abruptly, voice growing more irritated with every word. "Sherlock, shut up. How about we let the trained bloody assassin deal with the people trying to kill us because you're a show off!"
The eldest Mister Holmes' eyebrows shot up. "Assassin? Mycroft, what is going on? You said this lady was your bodyguard."
Mycroft rolled his eyes, was this really the time to start asking a million questions? "Prior occupation, Father."
Artemis drew her weapon from the holster under her sweater then and looked pointedly at Watson.
"I take it you brought your firearm, Doctor Watson." It wasn't a question but still the gray-haired man nodded. "Good. Get it, and I suggest you get your daughter as well. There's no basement in this place so we're going to have to do this with cargo in hand."
Missus Holmes shook herself out of her 'my son is dating a murderer' head space and spoke quickly but calmly. "No, there's a crawl space in the kitchen next to the pantry, we don't use it much."
John appeared relieved. "Great. I'll put Rosie in there, might be able to without waking her."
He rushed off without another word then, just the sound of him racing up the stairs though he did stay low to the ground. Artemis gestured for everyone to sit on the ground which was obeyed quickly as she grabbed a large vase off the side table by the door, she yanked the flowers out and just let them fall to the ground then tossed the water at the fire putting it out rather easily. The room plunged into darkness and everyone went silent a moment, strange how silence could be so deafening.
Both of his parents returned to staring at the suit clad man with questioning expressions while Artemis skilfully closed curtains.
Sherlock smirked to himself. "Don't think they like your girlfriend any longer, brother."
"Shut up, Sherlock." Mycroft hissed without meaning to. "She is cleaning up another of your messes after all. Can we have one Christ's where you don't drug us or nearly get us killed? Just one?"
"Stop bickering, the pair of you." The boys fell silent instantly. "Sherlock, why are these people trying to hurt you?"
For once Sherlock had the common curiosity to look somewhat apologetic. "I may or may not have put sixteen of them in jail all at once, including their boss' only son. I may have also suggested they weren't that intelligent and caused them to lose out on a million's worth of diamonds."
Mycroft facepalmed and Artemis returned to them on the floor with a rather large, black case which she clicked open to reveal an arsenal.
"Watson is hiding his daughter." She informed plainly.
The white-haired man went wide-eyed at the amount of blades and guns inside the case. "Oh good Lord."
"Mycroft, you let her bring all these guns into our house?!"
The British Government just nodded; they could be angry with him later. "Lucky I did, Mother."
Artemis sorted herself out, checking magazines and calibrating scopes. She grabbed a CZ 75 and held it out towards Sherlock who appeared quite surprised to be offered a weapon.
"You only use this to protect your parents and Rosie. If you piss about and act like a fucking child with an itchy trigger finger, even your brother won't be able to stop me choking you out and cutting off your fingers. Understand?"
Normally Sherlock would have had some witty come back but this time he just nodded and stayed quiet much to everyone's amazement. Sherlock wouldn't ever admit it but Mycroft suspected his little brother feared Artemis on some level.
She handed him the weapon then started to kit herself out with knives and two Glocks which she attached to her legs with drop leg holsters. However, it was the large Stealth Recon Scout that had everyone's eyes wide; maybe Myc would check her luggage before they came to visit his parents again. Short of throwing stars and grenades it looked like Artemis had prepared for war. She either didn't notice or didn't care about everyone staring at her because Artemis just carried on.
"There's roof access so I can pick the off easily enough." She told them after a few moments. "I don't perceive anyone getting passed me but you should be on alert just in case." Artemis continued to load the rifle. "Anyone does get in this house you let Watson deal with it first, he's the solider."
No one needed to ask if she was speaking to Sherlock or not, they knew she was. Artemis threw the rifle over her shoulder to give her back use of her hands then grabbed a tactical monocular which she tossed to Mycroft who raised an eyebrow.
"Come on, British."
"You want me up on the roof?" Surely not.
Artemis nodded. "Look, I know you're overly attached to your suits but I need a spotter, so you're going to have to haul ass for me."
The former Reaper didn't pause for more conversation nor questions, just rose to her feet and headed out into the hall with a rather reluctant Mycroft a couple of steps behind her. Artemis practically scampered up the stairs and yanked the cord to open the attic access. The pair climbed up easily enough into the dusty attic, though 'attic' was being generous, Mycroft certainly wouldn't have been able to stand upright and suspected the skylight they'd found was only there to provide better access to the roof for repairs than anything else. She handed him her weapon and as soon as he took it he realized just how much of a powerful woman Artemis was, the rifle was heavy and made his arms ache almost instantly.
Carefully Artemis shoved open the skylight and shimmied out onto the roof only to reach her hand back a second or so later to take her gun from him. Mycroft though … well, he wasn't quite as fluid at getting up on the roof. He was a mastermind not a fighter, he didn't want to do any of this. Still, these people were going to try and kill them, wasn't like they could just go ignored. While he suspected Artemis wouldn't have had any problem killing the Armenians on the ground she was a fantastic sharpshooter and it would have been irrevocably stupid to give that up just because he didn't want to climb out onto a roof in the snow and darkness.
Mycroft bit the bullet – though in hindsight that may have been a poor choice of words – and clambered up onto the roof; though he did stumble which forced Artemis to grab a hold of him. Having done her bodyguard duties she and Mycroft lay down on their stomachs facing west where the kill squad would approach form and lay in wait.
He hated this, though it hadn't started snowing again it was cold icy, snow had settled on the roof so they lay in slowly melting snow.
"They're in range." Said Artemis as she peered through her scope. "Make yourself useful and be a spotter."
Mycroft huffed, Sherlock was going to pay for this shit if it was the last thing he fucking did. Then again, it was nice to have Artemis on his side, he'd been on the receiving end and it most certainly hadn't been pleasant.
"What is that six-hundred and fifty yards?"
Mycroft shook his head even though she'd not be able to see him as he looked through the monocular.
"No, six-ninety. Can you make that?"
Artemis didn't miss a beat. "Seriously? This thing has a max range of sixteen-hundred and fifty yards. This distance I could take the wings of a ladybird."
The time for chit-chat was over, Mycroft made sure to make himself useful as Artemis had put it and act as her spotter. This was the smart part, he could do the smart but while Artemis dealt with the more violent part.
"Alright," he began quietly, "forty-five-degree oblique wind. Three-quarter value wind speed."
"Well you're full of surprises. I suggest you cover up your ears, British."
Mycroft did just that as Artemis aimed and instantly one of the twelve was down before they'd even known what had hit them. That repeated ten more times with him occasionally providing her slight updates, but, just as quickly as she'd started Artemis lay her weapon down and the gunfire ended.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Why are you stopping? There are twelve of them."
Artemis nodded without looking too bothered; not that anything ever bothered her. "I know, but the one over by the wall thinks he's smart shifting closer when I fire. He's coming for the window to my right so he can sneak past me and get inside."
The now sodden man just stared at her. "And you're allowing this why?"
"Because it's exactly what I would have done but I wouldn't have been seen doing it. Shooting this one is too easy, he deserves a fighting chance."
We're not playing games here he'd wanted to scream but kept silent when she pulled out one of her knives, it shined dangerously in the moonlight. Mycroft had no choice but to watch her slowly shuffle to the edge of the roof and then – in one smooth motion – jump off and let gravity take her. The next things he heard were a male scream, a dense thud and finally silence. Mycroft huffed, she may have been blank before but he'd started to think she enjoyed killing; or at least took too much pride in it.
Twelve men had breached her perimeter and now those twelve men were dead, the threat had been neutralized as Artemis would have said, so he carefully – fuck was he careful – lowered himself back through the skylight with her rifle and headed down the attic stairs. He didn't bother closing the access, someone else could do that, his arms hurt from hauling her gun around. One step at a time he trudged down the narrow stairs and back into the living room where he found Watson, Sherlock and his parents still sat on the floor. This wasn't what Mycroft had planned for Christmas, but at least they were all still alive; there was something to be said for having an assassin for a bodyguard.
"Is it done?" John asked as Mycroft stripped of his sodden suit jacket and tie after he'd rested Artemis' weapon against the wall.
"Yes, Doctor Watson, go and get your daughter."
John did just that, shot up from the floor lightening fast and rushed out the door. Mycroft was many things but he'd never have forgiven himself had something happened to that little girl. He fell down into an armchair as his parents pulled themselves to their feet and sat themselves down hand in hand.
"What is going on, Myc?" Asked his mother, her voice littered with fear. "Where is Artemis?"
Sherlock answered rather unhelpfully for his elder brother. "Killing everyone or did you miss that, Mother?"
"They're all dead already. She's quick when she works." Added Mycroft though they weren't helpful comments either.
"Mycroft, son," began his father slowly "this girl is rather a lot more dangerous than we'd thought."
"And she saved all of our lives." A hand shot out accusingly at his brother. "Lives, Sherlock here put in danger once again."
The topic of conversation herself re-entered the living room then and all eyes shot straight to her, Artemis had blood spattered across her face and a little on the olive sweater Mycroft had given her that morning. She took a tissue from the box by the door and cleaned crimson off of her knife then tossed it in the trash.
"British, would you like me to bury the bodies?"
The ginger shook his head. "No, no, I'll have a unit come out and clean it up."
Artemis didn't question him further, just strode over to her rifle and clicked the safety on before she started to break it down and put it away inside the case. After a moment she held her hand out expectantly towards Sherlock and he handed over the pistol without question. She made to carry the large case back up to their bedroom once she'd finished but paused and turned back to her lover. From her back pocket the former Reaper took a folded piece of paper and handed it to Mycroft.
"What's this?" He asked curiously.
"Happy Christmas."
That was the only answer he got before she returned to moving the case upstairs. Slowly Mycroft unfolded the paper uncaring about his parents' stares. There he found a drawing of the cabin they'd met in, the one he'd burnt down under her orders, the one which only existed inside their minds now. It was more akin to a tactical drawing or something an architect would make than a real sketch but still the detail utterly amazed him. Mycroft smiled, actually smiled. Carefully he folded the paper up into a little square again and grabbed his wet clothes before he followed Artemis up to their room after he'd bid his parents and Sherlock a good night. The Armenians would be gone by the end of Boxing Day and his parents had probably already figured out he'd be gone as well. Mycroft would deal with Sherlock once they'd returned to London.
He climbed the stairs again, rounded the attic stairs and slipped inside their bedroom where he tossed his clothes down out of the way and lovingly set his present down on the nightstand. Artemis had stripped down to just her underwear and had a towel in her hands which she used to wipe away the blood on her face with the aid of the closet mirror. Mycroft snaked his arms around her slender, and chilled, waist from behind and just clung to her with his forehead rested on her shoulder and his eyes closed.
"I love you."
She leant back against him. "I love you too."
Mycroft didn't speak again, just continued to cling to her as if she'd fade away. Artemis hadn't ever had Christmas before, hadn't done the whole gift giving thing but even though it was just some pencil on a sheet of paper that drawing had instantly become the most important thing he owned. Artemis had made it for him, only him, a picture of where they'd first met and of how far they'd come. They were two people who had accepted they'd be alone all their lives, but then that cabin had trapped them and their lives had changed exponentially. He loved her.
