The days went on much the same after Artemis had been injured, Mycroft continued to work hard, as he always did, to put England back together while tracing Hades before going to sit with Artemis for at least an hour every day. Lestrade had stopped by one or twice to check on her as well which had been much appreciated by Mycroft. On one such visit Gregory had also confirmed that the dolphin he'd bought for Violet at the zoo had been christened 'Mycroft' because dolphins were smart and so was he; child logic. While the British Government had been confused he'd not complained.
As imagined Lady Smallwood and the rest of his colleagues had done everything in their power to yell, scream and throw a fit at him, but Mycroft had hardly shifted in his chair as they'd glared at him over the conference table. They had priority ultra clearance and that meant they signed paperwork which sent people to their deaths every day, this had just been putting their own lives on the line for a change; it was too close for comfort for them. 'You can't just go acting on your own, Mycroft, you can't just decide things as you please', they had been Smallwood's words and she was correct. Although Mycroft hadn't just come up with it all on the fly, he'd carefully calculated it with Artemis and even relocated some staff off site – oh how they'd grumbled and complained at the time – and before he'd truly put any of it into motion Holmes the elder had personally gone to Downing Street to have the Prime Minister sign off on it. Just because Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin hadn't been provided a gilded letter regarding it didn't mean that Mycroft had staged some sort of coup d'état.
With Artemis in the hospital the auburn-haired man had come to realize something he'd never noticed before, Mycroft Holmes was lonely without her. Had he been this lonely for the fourteen years they'd spent apart? Had he just buried it deep enough not to notice? Myc didn't wish to think too deeply about it, didn't want to lose himself in his head and ponder if Sherlock had been correct.
Speaking of Sherlock, the younger Holmes continued to refuse to speak with him. While Mycroft wasn't in the least bit surprised about that it had still irritated him somewhat; bloody child. Much to his gratitude John had stepped in as the adult of his and Sherlock's relationship – as usual – and promised to calm his lover down and talk to him. If anyone could talk Sherlock around it was most certainly Doctor Watson.
In the wake of Hades' massive blow Mycroft had been forced to double down on his work, Anthea had gone so far as to allocate an entire filing cabinet just to them. Thankfully Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin had calmed down about the Hades breach after hearing about the Prime Minister which had fortunately allowed their work to return to normal really rather quickly, in their line of work they couldn't dwell on things. Carpets were quickly ripped up, bodies laid to rest and by the end of a week no one would have ever suspected what had happened there. Then again, they were British, they didn't have all that stiff upper lip stuff for nothing. Besides, wasn't as if Mycroft was bothered about the angry glares Lady Smallwood shot him when she thought he couldn't see her, she'd soon enough accept that what he and Artemis had done was the best and only plan to deal with Hades once and for all; no Hades meant no priority orientated assassins trying to kill her. Mycroft regretted so many deaths, of course he did, but those people hadn't died for nothing, there hadn't been any other way to gather all the generals together and now Hades would finally fall, those people had died so others didn't have to, so children weren't brought and kidnapped only to be tortured and essentially enslaved. Is it right to sacrifice the lives of the few for those of the many was the age-old question, the constant moral dilemma. Mycroft had answered that question during his very first year with MI6. No, it wasn't right to sacrifice them … but sometimes it was the only option.
Despite the annoyance and irritation which still lingered in his colleagues eyes every time they spotted him Mycroft turned his attention to taking care of a small problem for the CIA while he worked on Hades long into the night, he needed to make as much progress as he could before Hades managed to regroup which really wouldn't take long at all.
Eventually, finally, came the day when the doctors wanted to wake Artemis up from her sedation. The second Mycroft had received the call he'd excused himself from his meeting – Anthea would bring him the notes – and had quickly made his way to the hospital where the suit clad man had shot up the stairs to her room taking them practically three at a time. As soon as he reached her room he found Doctor Sammel stood outside pretending the armed guards weren't there while she spoke to Lestrade; Myc raised an eyebrow at his friend's presence.
"Gregory?" He enquired as the taller man came to a stop beside his silver-haired friend.
"Myc, there you are." Lestrade flashed him a little smile. "The doctor was just telling me that when Artemis comes round we should make sure she knows not to speak."
To be honest the doctor should have known better than to speak of Artemis or her recovery with anyone but Mycroft himself but in that moment he didn't care, she'd told Greg not some terrorist and he was too focused on the words 'not to speak'.
Doctor Sammel nodded looking almost comically short stood opposite Mycroft. "Yes. I was telling the Detective Inspector that while there is no damage to her larynx or vocal folds I would like for her to stay quiet and avoid placing strain on the inner workings of her neck." Explained the doctor. "She can speak but she really shouldn't until we've run a few more tests. She should be coming around pretty soon and I thought you would like to be here when she did, Mister Holmes."
The British Government nodded. "Yes, thank you for notifying me."
Gently the doctor pushed the door open leaving Myc and Greg to follow her inside, there they could see Artemis moving ever so slightly where she'd clearly started to wake up already. Mycroft couldn't put into words just how relieved he was to see her there, eyes fluttering and knowing she'd live.
"Do you want me to go?" Blue-gray eyes flashed over to the cop. "I had just come to check on her but I can leave you alone if you want."
"No, it is all right." Said Myc softly. "You are the only person other than myself who has befriend her."
He went to approached the bed but found himself tugged back suddenly by the elbow and when he turned to Lestrade he found the man wearing a rather perplexed expression of puzzlement.
"She thinks of us as friends?" Asked the shorter man.
Myc hardly spared a nod. "Well you did give her your number and take genuine interest in Artemis and her well-being, you have been concerned for her even when you did not need to be. Yes, Gregory, she believes you to be friends. Do you not?"
"No, no, it's not that, I wanna be her friend, I just didn't think she'd have picked up on it is all."
In all honesty that was a fair assessment, Artemis could be rather oblivious to social cues at times; not that it was really her fault.
"You're the one who keeps reminding me not to underestimate her, Gregory." Mycroft's voice was softer than usual.
Lestrade nodded and finally released his friend's elbow so the taller man could go to Artemis. Mycroft stood on Artemis' left while Lestrade placed himself just behind the doctor on the bed's right. When Doctor Sammel went to lean over Artemis in an attempt to check her pupil response Mycroft's hand shot out to grab her wrist before she could touch his beloved; Doctor Sammel nearly jumped out of her skin and quite frankly Greg hadn't known Myc could move that fast.
"I wouldn't recommend touching Artemis until she has woken properly. Just in case."
"Just in case of what?" Asked the doctor as Myc released her wrist.
Greg shrugged. "She rips your arm off and beats you to death with it."
The British Government rolled his eyes as the short doctor peered over her shoulder at Lestrade like she expected it to all be some big joke, but when neither man displayed anything but very serious expressions she remembered the injuries Artemis had come in with and the armed guards outside her room. Doctor Sammel's face paled as horror stuck her; who the hell was this woman?!
Artemis' dazzling green eyes finally opened up properly and she instantly locked on to Mycroft who surprised even himself by showing her a loving smile.
"Hello, Artemis." He greeted softly.
The raven-haired beauty opened her mouth to speak only to snap it closed again when Mycroft held up a hand to silence her.
"The doctor has some questions and I'd like you to answer non verbally please." He explained. "They wish for you to remain quiet to help aid healing."
Those polished emeralds turned to her doctor then and after a cautious glance to Mister Holmes for permission she took the hint and checked Artemis' pupil response, though rather cautiously.
"I want you to answer my questions with either a thumbs up or a thumbs down, okay?"
Artemis stuck the thumb of her right hand up somewhat half-heartedly.
"Good." Doctor Sammel smiled. "That's good. Is your vision blurry?" Thumb down. "Excellent. True or false, it's 2020." Thumb up. "You're name is Artemis." Another thumb up. Doctor Sammel gestured to Mycroft. "The man beside you is Mister Holmes." Artemis' thumb pointed upwards once more. The doctor nodded softly. "Good, that's fantastic. Right, with a show of fingers how much pain are you in?"
Artemis hardly missed a beat, she lifted her right hand and made a zero which just got a deeply furrowed brow from the short woman.
"You're morphine dosage is quite low at the moment -"
Mycroft could see where this was going, it had happened when she'd been patched up in Lesotho as well, if he didn't step in she'd just get stared at and given pain meds regardless.
"Doctor Sammel," began Mycroft calmly, "Artemis cannot feel pain. She won't require any more painkillers of any kind."
The short doctor seemed to grow more confused by the second. "The medical information the government provided us didn't make any mention of Congenital Analgesia or Hypoalgesia, and she clearly doesn't have Familial Dysautonomia."
"No, she has none of them. Her body is capably of registering the stimuli however, it is ignored upon reaching the brain."
She breathed out a small laugh. "That isn't possible."
"It is with the right conditioning. So, as I said, Artemis will no longer require pain management. Did you have any other questions?"
Lestrade watched with a smirk because only Mycroft Holmes could walk into a hospital and know more about a patient's medical health than their own doctor did.
"Not right now but I will be ordering some more tests." Answered the short woman. "I'll, em, I'll leave you alone a while just remember -"
"Not to let her speak, yes, I remember."
The doctor left then though Greg assumed it was more a kind of running away, he didn't blame her. Once the door was closed he shuffled closer to the bed and glanced at Artemis who lay on her back between the two friends. She kept her eyes firmly locked on Mycroft and he couldn't help wondering if this was as close to displaying loving glances as she could get. The policeman's brow furrowed when she started to tap the fore and middle fingers of her right hand against her clavicle.
"That Morse code?" He asked assuming she was being clever again.
The auburn-haired Holmes shook his head though didn't take his eyes from her taps.
"No, it's Chinese telegraph code. With each new code burst she can pass more information with fewer dots and dashes. Ingenious."
She got a few more taps out before a look of mild annoyance crossed his features. "Artemis, please use Mandarin, my Cantonese is rusty at best."
The hospitalized assassin hardly paused – at least from Lestrade's perspective – but whatever she'd done Mycroft seemed to understand whatever the hell she was telling him much better because his face relaxed and he started to nod.
"Yes, all the Hades generals were accounted for, tagged and sent to the morgue. Hades is now the proverbial headless chicken. I have already made progress on tracing them back to certain countries where I expect there is likelihood of an installation." Myc's voice remained smooth and calm as he passed so much information across. "So far I have traced several back to Mongolia and Lithuania, it is possible these will lead to continental headquarters for Asia and Europe. Have you ever been to sites in either country?"
A couple of quick taps came which hardly made any real noise against her body.
"Is that a yeah or a no?" Inquired Greg since he honestly didn't know if she'd said, yes, no or ordered a pizza.
Mycroft sighed. "A no unfortunately."
Artemis went back to the rhythmic taps while Mycroft watched on. Lestrade ran a large hand through his hair while his friend and the assassin spoke, he knew he probably shouldn't have heard half of what they were discussing. Mycroft was usually so very careful about what he said in front of people, or was this the prime indication that he trusted Greg? The DI never got any further with that thought though because suddenly his phone started to scream out for his attention, quickly he tugged it out of his pocket and listened as Sally filled him in.
"Sorry," began Greg after he'd hung up, "body in Covent Garden. Get well soon, Artemis."
As he walked away Lestrade wondered if that last comment had sounded stupid but his only other option had been 'feel better' which would just have been dumb, besides, Artemis had to know what he meant.
While Greg went to solve a case that hopefully wouldn't need to involve Sherlock, Artemis remained in her hospital bed while Mycroft easily explained everything that had happened since she'd gone into surgery; which was rather a lot. She asked to leave, just as she had after Lesotho, but Mycroft wouldn't allow it. After her fight with Kerberos she'd just had a deep wound to her gut which hadn't actually hit anything vital, this was so much worse.
"You're staying here until the doctors say you're well enough to leave, Artemis. Just because you are not in pain doesn't mean you're not very badly wounded." He sighed. "You need to get better."
Reluctantly the silent assassin relented, if this was what Mycroft wanted from her then she'd do it, no matter how much she believed she'd be better use at his side; Artemis was still his bodyguard after all.
Winning got a little smile from the tall man and he bent down to kiss her softly. She'd been cold after her surgery when he'd kissed her due to the blood loss but now she was warm and inviting again. Perfect.
"I love you, Little Assassin." He told her in a soft whisper, wasn't as if the room had been bugged but still he spoke so only Artemis would hear him; those words were just for her.
~X~
Mycroft Holmes was far from dimwitted, he'd known leaving a woman like Artemis alone in a hospital room for weeks while she properly recovered would have been mind numbing to himself, but to Artemis it was essentially like leaving her on standby. All those sniper techniques Hades had taught her allowed the raven-haired bodyguard to basically remain alert while shutting herself down, useful if one was waiting for a target to pop their head up but not so much for a young woman who was attempting to build herself a personality. That was how Holmes the elder had ended up having Anthea to put together all the correspondence they'd managed to intercept from Hades since the generals had been eliminated so she could decode it for them, Artemis was dramatically faster than himself. Giving her that task had made him feel less like he'd packed her away in her box until she became useful again.
Leaving her in the hospital had led to Mycroft second discovery about Artemis' absence. Moving around London without her at his side had become entirely foreign to him. Mycroft wouldn't admit it – he hardly even wanted to admit it to himself – but he found comfort having her always right there listening to his smug comments and joining in without even knowing that was what she'd done. The suit clad man adored her. Still, he had things to do and Artemis needed to heal.
Artemis had been awake at the hospital for almost two weeks when a small task sent Myc to Baker Street. He sat comfortably in John's armchair while the doctor was upstairs with little Rosie, his brother's icy orbs watched him with something akin to indignation. The elder brother ignored it for the most part and checked the time on his pocket watch, he couldn't help but pause to think of his darling girl when he saw his engraved name with the dreaded R initial.
"Sherlock, I understand you are still throwing a tantrum over what happened at my office but you weren't supposed to be there in the first place and, well, you are going to start acting like an adult sometime before Rosamund graduates." He spoke with a sigh as he tucked his watch away.
Sherlock flashed him that 'I hate you' smile he saved just for his brother. "Plenty of time for childishness yet then, she's not even two."
Mycroft had expected the snark in his little brother's tone and by this point of his life it just rolled off of his back without any effect. The faint sound of Missus Hudson opening the front door could be heard but neither Holmes paid any attention.
"You've gone nine days without a case and Doctor Hooper won't acquire you any more thumbs for your experiments so stop pretending you don't want the case."
Sherlock just continued to glare at his brother. "I don't work for you!"
Some days Mycroft missed being an only child.
Gregory appeared then looking far more casual than he usually did in just a green t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket; the expression however, was his usual disgruntled one. He held his phone in his hand and sighed deeply the second he spotted the two Holmes brothers.
"All right, what's so bloody urgent this time? I warn you, Sherlock – hi Myc – if I just came across town because you wanna use my phone to text, I'll kill you." There wasn't any real bite to Greg's words, he'd long ago lost the energy for it.
The curly-haired man with all seriousness. "No, I want you to arrest him. He threatened me." He thrust a finger out at Mycroft.
"How?" The auburn-haired cocked an eyebrow.
Sherlock shrugged. "You're face, it's doing that angry, threatening thing again, the one where your veins bubble and then you have to go eat a cake to calm down."
"It's just my face!"
Lestrade let his head fall backwards for a second, he wasn't in the mood to play parent to two full-grown men. "For God's sake, Sherlock. I don't get many days off and this one was important! It's Vi-"
The detective inspector found himself suddenly cut off by a young girl charging up the stairs having abandoned Missus Hudson. She pushed her way past her father and lit up the second she spotted Mycroft. Violet Lestrade was eight and by far looked more like her father than her mother – thankfully, some would say – with dark eyes and thick brown hair exactly like Greg's had been when he was young. Those eyes though, they twinkled seeing the elder Holmes and for a second Sherlock honestly suspected she'd explode.
"Uncle Mycie!" Violet beamed.
The little girl quickly threw herself at Myc and practically forced her way into his personal space so she could sit in his lap. Sherlock had expected his brother to quickly recoil but it never came, very unlike his brother – he'd also squirrel 'Mycie' away for later – actually Mycroft looked perfectly content to sit with the child and happy to see her. Carefully the suit clad man supported little Violet with one arm while she stared up at him with one of those impossibly wide grins only children were capable of.
"Hello, Violet. Happy birthday, ma petite." He greeted with a subtle smile.
"French, Mycroft, really?" Grumbled the consulting detective.
"Her lineageis French," responded Mycroft easily, "she should speak the language rather than butchering it as Gregory does."
"Hey!" Exclaimed the DI without any real outrage. "I'm not that bad."
Neither Holmes paid him any mind, just kept their attention firmly on the eight year old as she cuddled as deeply into Mycroft's chest as she could.
"Can I have another puzzle, Uncle Mycie?"
Greg couldn't help but smile at his best friend and daughter. It was such a shame he and Myc hadn't been closer when Violet had been born, he'd have made such a fantastic godfather. Then again, Greg guessed that didn't really matter, Violet still called him uncle and if he really wanted Mister British Government would have only needed to make a quick phone call to have paperwork altered.
Mycroft nodded. "Very well." He hardly needed a moment to think. "There is a river too wide and deep to walk from one side to the other and so a boat is needed. A farmer needs to get to the other side with a recently purchased fox, duck and bag of grain. However, the boat is small and can only carry the farmer and one of the three at a time. Now, he can't leave the duck alone with the grain because the duck will eat it, and he can't leave the foxalone with the duckfor the same reason. So, how does he get all of them to the other side without any losses?"
It was adorable to watch little Violet start to ponder the puzzle. Greg wondered if his friend would ever run out of puzzles for his daughter, probably not. Sherlock was the only one who didn't seem all that impressed.
"Bit simple don't you think, brother dear?"
Myc hardly spared his sibling a glance. "She's eight, Sherlock, and not like us."
That sparked Sherlock to grumble again as he grabbed the bow to his violin and started to fiddle with it as if the others weren't there; rude but everyone was used to it.
Lestrade stepped closer to John's chair and perched on the arm so he could smile down at his little girl, he loved seeing Violet so happy. She'd been upset when he'd told her that Mycroft wouldn't be going to her birthday party later because he was so busy with work, but this was sure to pacify her. After this display Greg truly wouldn't ever let Myc claim he'd be a bad father again.
"Can he take them back over the river?" Asked the little girl who gave an easy nod from Mycroft.
While he was fully aware Violet would never possess a brain like his own or Sherlock's he still knew that Violet would grow up quick and sharp nevertheless.
"Come on, Vi, we've gotta go pick up your birthday cake. "
He reached out a hand towards his daughter only for her to look up at him with that face she always gave him when she didn't want to leave Myc. Sometimes Greg was half jealous of the way Violet had attached herself to his friend.
"But-" Began the eight year old but Mycroft cut her off.
"Go on, ma petite, best enjoy your birthday." He encouraged softly.
"You still not going to be there?" She asked with the biggest pleading eyes Mycroft had ever seen.
Suddenly Sherlock snorted loudly and all eyes turned to him.
"Oh, yes, Mycroft, do go to the princess party, you can be the queen. Go on, say 'we are not amused'. Say it."
How Mycroft had resisted the urge to murder his little brother Greg would never know but he was damn sure the man deserved a medal for it. Myc just raised an impassive eyebrow then returned his attention to the little girl in his lap.
"No, I have work to attend to." He stated calmly.
Violet practically deflated and for the life of him Holmes the elder couldn't figure out how this child had managed to become so attached to him. After a moment she finally hopped down from his knee and went to take her father's hand but paused and turned back when Myc spoke.
"Oh yes, I had intended to drop this off with your father at some point."
He reached into the inner pocket of his pinstriped suit jacket and handed over a red envelope with her name written neatly on the front.
"Ooh a card. Lestrade, your daughter should take this as quite the honor, we don't both with this stuff." Said Sherlock with fake enthusiasm and jovial smile.
"Not a card. Surely you can tell by the thickness of the envelope, brother mine. So slow."
The eight year old took the envelope with a quite 'thank you, Uncle Mycie' and started to rip it open with her tiny fingers. Lestrade just watched on from the arm of the chair beside his friend, he loved the way Violet had perked up.
"Happy birthday, Violet."
She finally managed to get the red envelope open and there was certainly no card within, instead she took out two blue and white tickets.
"Frozen!" She practically screamed. "Thank you, Uncle Mycie!"
Just like that the girl was back in his arms hugging him tight. While Mycroft really wasn't used to this kind of affection he didn't shove her away though did look significantly more awkward than the last time. Greg carefully pulled the tickets from Violet's tiny hand and froze.
Meanwhile Sherlock set down his bow and shot to his feet because he was fairly certain he'd entered some kind of mirror universe without noticing. He was halfway to the stairs before anyone even knew it.
"Oh just get married already." He spat as he surged up the stairs to check on John and Rosie.
As expected Lestrade completely ignored the comment and just carried on with his staring, Mycroft though, he needed an answer.
"Are you taking the case?!" He called loud enough for Sherlock to hear him from the top of the stairs.
"Fine! Anything to get you to leave!" Came the irritated, somewhat exasperated, response.
Without a word Mycroft turned himself straight back to Lestrade and his young daughter. He couldn't deny that his friend had been right, Mycroft did like kids.
"Myc, this has been sold out at the very start of the year. How did you-"
The suit clad man smirked to himself. "Surely you haven't started to doubt my abilities, Gregory. I may loath musical theatre and acquiring the tickets may have proved to be more difficult than navigating that UN conference when Putin and Poroshenko started glaring at one another, but I succeeded nevertheless."
Greg wanted to be stubborn, wanted to be irritated that Mycroft had gone to such lengths and probably spent rather a lot of money, but he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face because who else would have gone to such lengths for his daughter?
"That's not true, you do like one musical."
"No I don't." Mycroft responded a little too quickly; that just made Greg grin wider.
"Yes you do. You let Violet watch The Nightmare Before Christmas when we stayed at yours 'cause of that broken pipe, remember? I heard you humming the songs after."
The auburn-haired man did his best to push the subject but what sort of friend would Lestrade be if he didn't tease his best friend?
"It wormed its way into my head, does not mean I enjoyed it." The taller man insisted.
"What, two months later?"
The silver-haired detective finally stood and pulled Violet into his arms after he'd tucked the tickets into his pocket, she didn't argue with him this time.
"You loved it. Say bye to your uncle, Vi."
Violet waved happily at the seated man, a big smile on her face. "Bye, Uncle Mycie. Thank you for Frozen."
Mycroft breathed out a laugh, small and hardly there. She continued to wave at him over her father's shoulder as Lestrade carried her out intent on going to pick up her birthday cake. Alone, Mycroft remained seated in John's armchair. Had someone come to him ten years ago and said that Mycroft would gain a best friend, a little girl who had named herself his niece and the love of a woman who'd been forced to forget how to feel love, he'd have assumed it was some cruel joke but no. Sherlock had said Mycroft was lonely; not any longer he wasn't.
… and he'd not enjoyed a musical dammit!