Mycroft's eyes fluttered open due to something shaking his arm, there was a little voice inside his mind which told him just to brush it off and return to his slumber but then he realized the presence beside him was rather large and could only be Captain Darrington.
"Sir?" Darri shook him again. "Mister Holmes, I'm sorry to wake you."
Hiding his irritation at being awoken Mycroft ran a hand over his face as he pushed himself up into a sitting position with the other. Though he'd been asleep for a good many hours it hadn't done all that much to make a dent in his exhaustion from his previous sixty hours of consciousness, still, he was Mycroft Holmes and sleep deprived should have been a prerequisite of describing him at this point.
Beside him on the bed knelt Sander with messy hair and sleep still clinging to him; he really was quite adorable.
"No, it's okay." Mycroft assured his sons' bodyguard. "What do you need, Captain?"
"Em, a woman calling herself Anthea phoned, apparently you weren't answering your cell phone. She said – and I quote – 'it's time to deal with that damn frog', whatever that means."
Mycroft understood exactly what the comment had meant, Anthea hated Gabriel Toussaint just as much as Mycroft. He hummed to himself as he mentally shook slumber away only to see just how crinkled his suit had become during the night, an utter mess. Out from his waistcoat he took his pocket watch and quickly checked the time.
"Yes, that sounds like her." Blue eyes turned to Sander. "You can go back to sleep if you'd like, it's still early."
The young boy shook his head clearly having decided he was firmly awake now and wouldn't be returning to slumber. Frankly Lysander had probably awoken as soon as Captain Darrington had placed his hand on the doorknob.
"All right." Myc accepted then turned his attention back to the black man in front of him. "Capitan, would you mind getting Lysander dressed and fed, please. I shall take him to his first day and trust you shall be fine to collect him later?"
Darri nodded. "Of course."
The British Government stood up and crossed the room to check on Galahad who still slept soundly in more or less the same position as the last time Mycroft had looked in on him. Happy that his boys were content Mycroft left their room for his own where he made quick work of getting into a hot shower before he selected a new suit for the day; navy herringbone. Again looking like the government official he was Mycroft walked directly to his office, unlocked it and freed his laptop from the safe. After a dramatically large yawn he took his laptop, inside his briefcase, downstairs and into the kitchen where he found Lysander dressed and munching on his buttery toast and eggs. Holmes the elder had intended on just having som strong coffee to keep him awake but as soon as Darri spotted him another plate of toast and eggs was set down on the kitchen table.
Myc glanced at the breakfast. "You don't need to feed me, Captain, you are the boys' bodyguard not my housekeeper."
The black man shrugged. "I've always liked to cook, get it from my mother. She was Jamaican so I was constantly being fed good food, guess I just like to share that even if it's just some eggs. That and I've been here three weeks and already learnt you don't eat nearly enough, Mister Holmes." Darri flashed his employer a smile. "How would it look if Missus Holmes returned and found I'd allowed her husband to starve?"
Mycroft didn't respond with words, just shot Darri an appreciative expression before he sat down to eat. The bodyguard seemed pleased and turned his attention to little Lysander.
"Sander, would you like some more toast?"
The child shook his head so Darri instead busied himself getting Mycroft the coffee they all know he craved. As soon as it was set down by his side Mycroft hummed happily in approval and quickly snapped it up to sate his thirst.
"Sander," began the boy's father once the coffee had been gulped, "I should have spoken to you about this much sooner." Sander's blue eyes blinked at him. "I was wondering if you'd like to learn sign language? We would be able to have full conversations without you feeling pressured to speak aloud and I'm sure it would make your schooling much easier."
Mycroft could practically hear his son's cogs turning while he thought about it. Doctors had looked at Lysander and had concluded the same as Mycroft, the boy could speak he just had no desire to do so and there was no way in hell father would force son. Just when the auburn-haired man had started to think Lysander wouldn't respond he was awarded with a determined nod.
"Excellent. I shall begin teaching you at the weekend."
With that decided the Holmes men at their breakfast while Darrington excused himself to head up and check on Galahad. Today was a big day for Lysander, it was the first day of school and Mycroft was determined to take him himself. Fuck his duties for MI6, his son was far more important. It would also be the first time the brothers had been separated from one another since coming to live with Myc and Artemis.
Breakfast was eaten, coffee was drunk, a second cup of coffee was drunk, and then Myc and Sander left for the boy's first day. Mycroft's car was out front waiting when they left the house and quickly made its way to the school. In all honesty Mycroft thought he was more nervous than his son. Lysander had overcome much since he'd been freed from Hades but he'd not interacted with children other than Violet before. School wasn't like anything Lysander would have encountered before and Mycroft didn't want his beloved boy to feel fear or trepidation.
Once the car had stopped Mycroft and his son stepped out and stared up at the school as a plethora of children passed moved this way and that. Mycroft couched down to Sander's eye level and rested a large hand on the boy's shoulder.
"There is no need to be frightened, son, you are going to do wonderfully." The suit-clad man encouraged. "I won't lie to you, I despised my early schooling because I quickly realized I was smarter than the teachers. You are likely to realize the same, Sander, but you are not here for punishment but because socializing is going to be good for you." Or at least Myc hoped it would be. "There is one thing I must insist upon though. Children can be cruel and some of them may be inclined to tease you because you won't speak or some other illogical reason. If that happens I need you to promise me you'll inform your teachers rather than responding violently. While I will grant it is sometimes the only thing the intellectually challenged will take notice of, you could kill them and we can't have that. Do you think you can promise me that?" Lysander didn't hesitate, just nodded. For a boy nearing six he was remarkably smart and mature. "That's my boy." Mycroft leant in and kissed Lysander's forehead before he stood up to his full height. "Don't be shy, Violet attends this school as well. She is, of course, older than you so she won't be in your classes but I'm sure she'll be happy to see you at recess."
After a little encouragement Sander headed into the school and Mycroft stood as his eyes shined with pride, his son was so brave. The auburn-haired man was jolted out of his fatherly thoughts all of a sudden when his phone started to ring, he answered quickly thanks to his ever punctual nature. As soon as he did he was questioned by Anthea as to when he'd be at the office and for a moment he had to wonder who was in charge. According to his assistant Toussaint had been throwing his weight around for the last hour or so due to a combination of arrogance and wanting some kind of petty revenge for the way Mycroft had shown him up the previous day. Myc knew he couldn't stand there all day and that his work was never over so he slipped back into the car and headed for the MI6 building.
Upon arriving there he went straight to deal with Gabriel Toussaint and his overgrown ego, a task which swallowed up the entirety of his morning. He wished he'd not gotten out of bed; should have stayed in that peace with his children. Still, Myc always had an unending stream of work to do and he was damn good at it so there wasn't any use complaining about it now.
When Toussaint was finally, finally, dealt with Mycroft made his way into the outer office where Anthea instantly shot to her feet and rushed over to him. Into his hands she shoved a rigid mailer and informed him it had just arrived. Mycroft took the mail and asked not to be disturbed before he closed himself away inside his dark office for some peace. He all but fell into his chair where he sighed before turning his attention back to the rigid mailer, it had his name typed on it rather than written and honestly looked suspicious, though Mycroft knew it would have been scanned, checked, double checked and then checked once mote by people even more paranoid than him before it was passed to Anthea so it was certainly safe.
Calmly he opened it and removed a single sheet of paper, for a moment he was reminded of the note Artemis had left him. Mycroft lifted an eyebrow when he saw the page was totally blank, curious he clicked on the desk lamp and inspected it closer. There in the top corner he spotted one long line and three short which he instantly recognized as a B. Artemis! This was from Artemis!
Carefully and with glee he took the rigid mailer apart into neat pieces knowing that with her the paper had no more information whatsoever. Under scrutiny he found that on the adhesive seconds there were very, very, small groups of numbers written in Artemis' handwriting. Oh how happy he was to see his wife's handwriting. It was painfully obvious to him that he needed a book in order to crack this code but which one? Artemis had read his entire library and clearly preferred fiction but even that didn't narrow it down much. However, Artemis had sent this to him at work rather than the house so she'd intended for him to crack it from his office, and that knowledge alone narrowed down his book choices significantly. Before his wife had left she'd been reading War and Peace in the original Russian, thankfully the book still sat on the side table where she'd left it.
Having figured out which book he was looking for and that her code was in Russian rather than English, deciphering was a piece of cake. Not that I of all people need any cake. Once he'd translate the message and figured out that the bracketed numbers meant he only needed to pay attention to the first letter of each word, Mycroft understood what his wife was telling him.
With a sigh he pushed the buzzer box. "Charlotte, please get me everything we have on August Disraeli."
"Certainly, sir, but isn't he dead?" Came he quick response.
"Looks as though we were wrong."
~X~
Yet another day had dawned and Mycroft stood in his lonely bedroom getting dressed in one of his many hand-made suits. As he slipped on his waistcoat The auburn-haired man paused with it half on his slender shoulders and sighed. He reached into the hidden pocket his tailor had crafted while pretending he didn't have questions – probably thought Kingsman was real – and took out one of the two spare magazines for the Beretta his wife favored. He couldn't stop himself sighing deeply while he looked at it, bullets neatly arranged in a stack that wouldn't be used. Mycroft didn't actually need to carry it, Artemis had taken the gun with her when she'd left so he really had no reason to carry them for her. However, Mycroft had grown used to the pressure of Artemis' spare mags against his flanks. So he tucked it back into the tiny pocket and buttoned up his waistcoat.
Artemis and Mycroft had a plan now so he could see the light at the end of the tunnel and had faith she'd return home to him soon. They knew who set up the hit on Myc's life now and he didn't for a moment doubt that she'd be using that favored Beretta before all was said and done.
Due to it being Sunday and since Darri has scheduled the day off in order to go visit his sister and her new baby, Mycroft had opted to work from home to care for the boys. So, once dressed, the British Government made his way downstairs having paused only to retrieve his laptop from the safe in his office, got himself some tea and set to work while the boys continued to slumber. The suit-clad man worked for a good ninety minutes before he realized Sander would be awake in the next few minutes as was his usual habit, his sons would be awake soon and that thought alone soothed Mycroft's soul.
Wanting to cast aside his work as a government official for a while in favor of being a good dad Myc left his laptop and went to the kitchen where he made more tea for himself and for Gal, Sander preferred juice but Galahad rather liked tea sweetened with a little honey and that was exactly what he'd get in his sippy cup.
Eventually he made his way upstairs to the children's bedroom Mycroft found Galahad rolling around in his crib with his favorite bear while Lysander – who was mostly dressed – struggled to tie one of his shoelaces. Honestly the sight warmed Holmes the elder's heart as he knelt down to help.
"Good morning, boys." Said Mycroft. "Did you sleep well?"
Sander nodded before signing 'morning, father'. Quite frankly Mycroft was surprised at how easily his eldest son had picked up signing, maybe Lysander shared the polyglot talent of his mother. Then again the dark-haired boy was remarkably intelligent and mature for his young age.
"Your juice is downstairs waiting for you, go help yourself." He told his son as he rose back to his full height. "Please put some bread in the toaster for me while I get your brother ready for the day."
Sander nodded before he scurried off to do as asked. Mycroft watched his son go for a few seconds before he turned his attention back to his youngest and lifted Gally out of his crib bear and all. Galahad wasn't rowdy or argumentative so dressing him was one of the simplest tasks of the day. Mycroft Holmes was an undeniable genius but still the fact that he actually had a family hadn't quite sunk in. This was his son smiling up at him.
Knowing better than to keep Sander waiting Mycroft took Galahad downstairs – still clinging to his bear – and into the kitchen just as the toast popped up and slipped his boy into his high-chair. Quickly eggs were scrambled and served to the boys along with their toast while Myc cut them some fruit to nibble on. Mycroft had eaten so many meals alone but not any longer, the kitchen table which had been practically unused for years got a whole family around it almost every morning.
Gally babbled for a time as he chewed on his sliced strawberries and apple while Sander happily drank his orange juice and crunched his toast. Mycroft started to wonder if more of Hades' violence had stuck with Galahad than previously assumed, the boy was a little over eighteen months and really should have started to talk by now but not a single word had left his lips. Sure he babbled so he certainly said more than Sander did but Myc really would have liked for at least one of his sons to speak verbally.
Breakfast came to an end, Mycroft helped Galahad into the living room so he could play with his brother and his bear before he grabbed his laptop so he could continue working at the coffee table. As of late Gally had taken to playing with Lego and actually seemed to build some pretty interesting house-like structures but that day he seemed to be playing some kind of bouncy game with his bear; Mycroft didn't really mind what he played as long as he was happy and safe.
Mycroft wasn't there to play though, he needed to read everything he could on August Disraeli. The man was something of a terrorist for hire and had been the cause of several bombings all over the world, the last one had been in Turkey four years previous, a few years before Sherlock and their parents had found out about Eurus. Disraeli's family had been killed during some kind of revenge killing by persons unknown and Mycroft vaguely remembered being made aware of it while working on a different operation for the Americans. According to all of Mycroft's information August Disraeli had been in a coma after that revenge attack and had later died due to his injuries, but it was quickly becoming clear that their information was wrong and that truly didn't sit right with him.
Suddenly he snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a odd thud behind him and lifted an eyebrow knowing it was Lysander. When he heard it again Myc rose from his seat on the sofa flashed a glance to Gal before he rounded the sofa just as a third thud came. Behind the sofa he found his son sat behind the couch throwing a lock knife at a cardboard box. For the life of him the auburn-haired man didn't know where the box had come from but in that moment he was more focused on the knife.
"Lysander, where did you get that knife?" Surely most parents need to as their five-year-old that question.
Sander looked at the knife sticking out of the box which he had clearly just thrown then over to his father and signed out 'Mama gave it to me'.
Mycroft hummed in an unclear tone and bent to retrieve the knife from the skewered box before he went to crouch by his seated son.
He thought for a moment before speaking. "Against my better judgement I'll let you keep this, however it is under some conditions." Lysander seemed relieved and quickly nodded accepting his father's wishes before he'd even heard them. "You never take it out of the house unless you have my expressed permission and you don't throw it unless your brother is far out of the way. Also, do not mention to your teachers or anyone else from your school that you have this knife or that your mother has an armory."
Lysander nodded in agreement again but soon signed out 'can I tell Violet?' and Myc didn't have a problem with that since Violet already knew. Furthermore, Violet had shown interest in learning sign language so any conversation between his son and Lestrade's daughter seemed to be a positive thing.
Having laid out his rules for the boy Mycroft returned the knife and watched as the blade was thrown forcefully back at the box. Myc knew his son wasn't playing, he was training himself much as Artemis did and being fully aware that Lysander wouldn't do anything dumb he returned to his laptop and August Disraeli.