Just as he'd promised Mycroft had ensured all the dead Armenians were cleaned away long before his mother or father could even think of leaving the house on Boxing Day. Honestly, Mycroft had done the same with himself and Artemis, he'd packed up their things and escaped the house for London before his mother had the chance to offer him a cup of tea. Maybe he'd been rude but the eldest Holmes brother had longed to return to London since they'd arrived on Christmas Eve, then there was the simple fact he'd wanted to avoid the awkward 'your girlfriend killed twelve people last night and didn't bat an eye' conversation.

He might have broken a few speeding laws on their return to the big city but soon they returned to his large house which Artemis' presence had started to turn into a home. She need much prompting to take her weapons downstairs while Mycroft scurried off to his office to check his emails and make a few phone calls. Didn't take him more then five minutes to figure out exactly why they'd been attacked and by who, Lestrade had kept a full record of the case and had been there when Sherlock had decided to play 'piss off the Armenian Mafia' as Lestrade had put it. Mycroft had done more sighing during that call than the last week as a whole; some days there really was no controlling his little brother. Sherlock had always done that, angered the wrong person out of arrogance or just sheer Sherlock-ness and then Mycroft would be left to deal with the fallout which followed … and he did. Mycroft always did and always would no matter how badly Sherlock screwed up because Mycroft was the big brother and he loved him. None of that meant he didn't grow excessively tired of doing so at times. Those Armenians hadn't just endangered Sherlock Watson and Mycroft – if it had he'd not have cared since they had Artemis – but their parents had been endangered and Sherlock hadn't even bat an eye.

The British Government sat there in his desk chair with his head rested on a fist for quite some time as he tried to lock this Christmas away deep down where it couldn't irritate him as much. The younger Holmes brother may have ruined it all but Artemis had actually taken part in the festivities which had been his goal from the very beginning; was most of the reason he'd agreed to go to his parents' house. His little assassin had opened up somewhat as well which had been wonderful, even made him a present.

Mycroft removed the folded sheet of paper carefully from his suit jacket's inner pocket and unfolded it to look at. More of a diagram than a sketch but Artemis had really made the effort and had ended up giving him something with true meaning, true value. He adored his sketch of the cabin and he adored her.

It took him rather a long time of rooting around in disused drawers and that cupboard he'd not looked in since he'd moved in but finally, finally, he'd stumbled across a frame large enough to fit it. Mycroft hadn't ever been one for family pictures, photographs of any kind really but he grinned when he came across the simple wooden frame; where it had come from he honestly had no idea. The suit clad man marched back to his office and slumped down into his desk chair with the frame and sketch before him, he carefully folded the page edges to make a neat rectangle then slipped his gift into the picture frame. Myc sat just staring at it for a few seconds, it couldn't stay on his desk, not with the huge window that let in so much sunlight behind him, no, there the pencil would fade quickly. There was really only one place for it, his office at work, it could sit there happily without being disturbed since there weren't any windows in his work office; dark and quiet.

The old grandfather clock out in the hall had his head snapping up then and Mycroft finally realized just how long he'd been searching his house. Leaving his Christmas behind the ginger man rose to his full height and left his office in search of his resident assassin. He could have called out for her – it was a large house after all – but Mycroft didn't bother, he knew she'd be in one of two places; his library or the basement he'd converted for her. A quick glance into the library revealed the large room to be empty so the basement it was.

He knew she'd have heard his footfalls so he wasn't too bothered when she didn't look up as he entered the vast basement room which now seemed closer to Artemis' personal warfare room. Blue eyes quickly dropped to the floor where she sat meticulously cleaning the rifle she'd used the previous night while surrounded by at least a dozen other guns she'd either already cleaned or needed to move on to. At some point in the hours since they'd arrived home she'd changed into her work out clothes – a black crop top and gay leggings – and judging by the paper targets down range she'd murdered a lot of paper people as well. Her slender body had his attention more than the targets though, not for any sexual reason though he had to admit just how beautiful she was. No, he stared because on her exposed stomach he could see the bullet wounds from when he'd shot her years earlier and the newer, just healed, mark Doctor Watson had patched up. There were others he didn't know the origin of as well, some small and faded, others more prominent. Worse still were the ones which caused him pain as well, the burn marks on the middle of her back, all of them clearly intentional scars; no way Artemis could have done those to herself so someone must have held her down. After a steadily breath Mycroft forced his blue eyes away from them and walked further into the room until he was stood just outside the ring of weapons she'd surrounded herself with. Finally she turned those impossibly green eyes up to face him.

"Are you hungry?" He asked softly.

They hadn't stayed for breakfast and hadn't stopped on the way back to London either so God knew when they'd actually last eaten.

"I can eat if you want me to." She responded right as she started to resemble her rifle; a skill she was much too good at.

He flashed her a small smile. "That isn't what I asked."

Artemis paused then with her eyes locked on his face. To anyone else she'd have appeared blank or disinterested but Mycroft had learned about her tiny facial cues, half of which he doubted she was even aware of. Yes, he knew she wasn't blank, in actual fact Artemis wassearching his face to try and figure out the answer he'd wanted and why. His raven-hair bodyguard had proven much harder to read than anyone else he'd ever met but he was a quick study. He let her sit there a moment and work through it, figure it out for herself, he could see the serious thought she gave to his simple question; eventually, though, she nodded.

"Yes, I think so."

Mycroft hated that this beautiful, young woman had been twisted and turned to the point she couldn't even tell if her own body was hungry or not. She'd probably got herself on some sort of schedule or belief that is she ate at least once every four days she'd be fine. Artemis didn't eat to enjoy her food or because it was meal time, no, she ate to stop herself passing out. Maybe we should try a maple bacon doughnut, that would work on me.

"Good."

He reached out a hand to help her up, a hand she accepted quickly and hopped to her feet then stepped out of the ring of firearms.

"Come on, I'll make us lunch."

~X~

It was the second week of January when Sherlock and Doctor Watson were marched into Mycroft's work office while he and Artemis had been enjoying tea with Lestrade. Security dumped them before the British Government while the elder Holmes sighed deeply and set his tea down. Lestrade – who sat on the black leather couch – shared his friends irritation while Artemis just continued to stand at Mycroft's side without a single readable facial expression.

Sherlock's brow furrowed when she spotted the police officer. "What the hell are you doing here, Lestrade?"

The silver-haired man downed the last of his tea then set the cup down. "I was invited, unlike you it would seem."

"Sherlock," said the suit clad man who drew the younger Holmes' attention back to him, "why are you breaking in? You could have called if you missed me."

"Shut up, Mycroft!" Sherlock shot back. "I needed to test a theory for a case and the only place with a camera system worthy enough was here."

Of course it was. "Well, brother mine, whatever it is you were doing has clearly failed-"

Sherlock cut his brother off abruptly. "Only because John here doesn't know what crouching is."

Watson's eyebrows shot up in protest. "What? Hey, don't go pinning this on me. I told you till I was blue in the face this was a dumb idea." He waved to Lestrade. "Also, hi, Greg."

"Hi, John."

Clearly irritated Sherlock suddenly started waving both hands around the room at everyone as if it was some sort of out of control jazz hand thing.

"Yes, yes, hello everybody. Chubby older brother, Gareth, walking homicidal maniac. Can we move on?" He sighed for effect. "Now that we're inside and the mass greeting is over with I need to see your camera footage to see precisely where and when we were first spotted."

That was Sherlock Holmes, polite and courteous as always, never demanding, insouciant or just plain rude.

"Or I could just throw you out, which is quite frankly where I'm leaning."

John sighed, keenly aware he'd need to be the voice of reason between the Holmes brothers yet again.

"Mycroft," he began calmly, "just let him see it. You know he'll only try it again if you don't show him now. It's easier on all of us this way and I told Missus Hudson she'd only need to watch Rosie until two."

"I really don't have time for this." Mycroft muttered to himself. In truth he'd not really had time to have a tea break with Gregory but he'd forced himself to sit down and take his mind off of Hades for an hour. He'd got no real choice but to relent. "Alright, fine. Anthea!"

Mycroft's assistant appeared not even a full five seconds later, just stood in the doorway as she peered around security.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Take my brother and Doctor Watson up to the main conference room and pull up the camera footage for today."

"Very good, Sir."

Sherlock didn't wait just flicked that ridiculous coat of his and walked out of his elder brother's office leaving Anthea and John to trail along behind him as if they were nothing more than lackeys. With a wave of his hand Mycroft sent security off and finally the room returned to the calm quiet it had been before.

Lestrade took a breath. "If he was my brother I'd have killed him when we were kids."

That got a smirk from the ginger.

"Yes, well, I am in remarkable control of myself." He stood then but something underneath his skirt seemed to irritate him and caused him to tug his waistcoat down in irritation. "Damn this thing."

"It'll be camera forty-six." Said Artemis, a comment which had both men snap their heads towards her with raised eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"Of all the cameras that guard this building camera forty-six is the most easily missed, I almost did. The cover to get past it is actually what prevents you seeing the camera itself. It is exceptionally well placed."

"You memorized all of the cameras and where they are, didn't you?"

Lestrade didn't appear to require and actually answer but Artemis nodded anyway before she continued to speak; Mycroft leaned on his desk.

"Don't you do the same thing when you first enter a building?"

Gregory shrugged. "Nah, I more look at the wallpaper, notice if anyone has dusted recently."

"I am sorry for cutting our lunch short, Gregory, but I must attend to Sherlock. Might I ask you a small favor?"

"Sure Myc." The policeman nodded. "Anything."

"Thank you. Would you be so kind as to join us upstairs and then make sure my brother actually leaves the area once he's outside."

That got a smirk out of the silver-haired man.

"Yeah, I can do that. Not a problem."

Mycroft nodded his thanks and then his friend and lover followed him out of his office and up to the main conference room, the one with all those full length windows that let in way too much light. They found Sherlock had made himself rather comfortable slumped in a chair with his feet up while John stared out the window at the street below and Anthea did as she'd been asked via a laptop in the corner of the room.

The British Government clapped his hands together. "Alright, let us get this over with. Anthea, bring up camera forty-six, please."

Anthea – ever perfect at her job Anthea – obeyed and quickly turned the large screen on and brought up the requested camera. Sure enough after a few moments of re-winding Sherlock and Doctor Watson came into view creeping around in what they'd thought was a sneaky way; clearly not.

John folded his arms across his chest. "How did you know it would be that camera?"

Mycroft didn't miss a single beat. "Because Artemis is very good at her job." He turned to his assistant and thanked her before looking back to his irritating baby brother. "Now that you've seen that and realized you were far more visible than the good doctor, you can leave."

"Em, Myc," started Lestrade in a mighty confused tone of voice "what is going on with your cameras, mate?

Six sets of eyes flashed to the large screen in an instant to see the cameras quickly turning to static one after another. A look of horror crossed Mycroft's face.

"They're early." Either Artemis went totally ignored or no one heard her.

Suddenly gunshots rang out from down the hall, lots of them in controlled bursts followed by screams and shouts. Artemis had her gun out in seconds.

"Doctor Watson, did you bring your firearm?"

John's mouth fluttered for a second or two before words managed to tumble out. "What, to this place? No!"

Artemis turned her attention to the policeman. "Inspector Lestrade?"

Gregory shook his head. "Good. That will make this far easier."

Before any of them could even think about questioning what the hell that meant Artemis raised her weapon at them and they all hopped backwards in shock. John, Anthea and Gregory raised their hands while Sherlock just stared at her with surprise. Mycroft's mouth fell open as he looked at her, the woman who had saved his life, the woman who he'd introduced his parents to, the woman he'd fallen in love with.

She was still one of them.