The Reichenbach Fall

Using the Silence

It was a couple of months after the famous trial – and the media frenzy of the guilty man walking free – that a powerful man sat in a silent room, wondering if this latest move of his was the smartest thing to do. On thinking it over once more however, Mycroft Holmes knew he didn't have much of a choice.

As the door opened, his guest being shown in, though the usually quite composed Doctor Watson seemed a little put out. "What the hell, Mycroft?"

"I assume by the men who brought you here that you spoke in a silent room?" Mycroft said with a smirk as he went to pour a drink. "Yes, that wouldn't have gone down well."

The confused doctor just looked at him as he took a breath. "So, this place is totally silent for a reason?"

"Tradition, John." Mycroft told him. "Our traditions define us."

"So total silence is traditional, is it?" He asked as he started to take in the shaded but expensive looking room. "You can't even say, pass the sugar?"

"Three quarters of the diplomatic service and half of the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley? It's for the best, believe me – we don't want a repeat of 1972..." Mycroft told the other man, getting lost in his thoughts for a moment as he sipped his drink before bringing himself back. "But we can talk in here."

"Right..." John just muttered, wondering when exactly he'd become so accustomed to the insane habits of the older Holmes brother. As something caught his eye however, he wondered if the man would truly be that crazy. "You read this stuff?" He asked, picking up the newspaper and unfolding it to see the headline that was on the front.

Sherlock: The Shocking Truth

"Caught my eye," Mycroft commented as he nodded, getting a hum in reply. "Saturday they're doing a big expose."

John just glanced at the writer, not recognising her. "I'd love to know where she got her information."

"Someone called Brook." Mycroft supplied, watching John with a piercing gaze. "Recognise the name?"

John wasn't perturbed though, being well versed in how to handle a Holmes by now. "School friend, maybe?"

Mycroft laughed loudly at the thought. "Of Sherlock's?" Chuckling a little more, he shook his head, sobering up a little. "But that's not why I asked you here."

Asked?! John thought to himself with a frown. He's got a funny way of asking anything, he thought as he saw the older man cross the room and pick up a pile of plain brown folders, passing one to him to look through.

As he opened it, John frowned in a little confusion at the picture of a man, reports and papers providing a little more information but he didn't bother to look through it fully, only scanning briefly as he asked, "Who's that?"

"Don't know him?" Mycroft asked, still keeping a sharp eye on any reaction the man may have.

John however was pretty sure. "No."

"Never seen him before?" Mycroft asked, but seeing John try to concentrate and think back, he thought he'd put the man out of his misery. "He's taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you."

John gave a loud hum as his face lit up. "I was thinking of doing a drinks thing with the neighbours."

"I'm not sure you'll want to..." The other man said darkly, catching his attention. "Sulejmani; Albanian hit squad. Expertly trained killer, living less than 20 feet from your front door."

"Well, it's a great location," John told him as he looked over the information and the picture again. "Jubilee line's handy."

Mycroft's patience was wearing thin though. "John..."

"What's this got to do with me?" The man in question asked as he closed the folder.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him, handing him another folder, this one containing the same information but about a woman. "Dyachenko, Ludmilla."

John frowned a little at this one. "Uhh, actually, yeah, I think I have seen her."

"Russian killer." Mycroft confirmed. "She's taken the flat opposite."

"Okay..." John sounded, closing the folder as his eyebrows raised at the information. "I'm sensing a pattern here."

Mycroft only handed him the other folders. "In fact, four top international assassins have relocated to within spitting distance of 221B. Anything you want to share with me?"

John just chuckled without humour as he looked through the other folders. "I'm moving?"

Glaring at the man in front of him, Mycroft wondered why his brother had such sarcastic friends. "It's not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?"

"You think this is Moriarty?" John questioned, wondering how he'd come to that conclusion.

"He promised Sherlock he'd come back," Mycroft reminded him, wondering how he could think anything else.

"If this was Moriarty," John explained seriously, "He would be dead already."

Mycroft just pulled a face. "If not Moriarty, then who?"

John however stopped thinking about international assassins and insane criminals for a moment as he realised what was actually happening. "Why don't you speak to Sherlock if you're so concerned about him?" Seeing the reaction he got though, he wondered how he hadn't seen it earlier. "Oh, don't tell me..."

"Too much history between us, John." He explained with a frown, looking into the distance as the memories played just below the surface of him mind. "Old scores, resentments..."

"Nicked all his smurfs?" John teased, knowing the pair of them were far too dramatic. "Broke his action man?" Laughing at the ridiculous man in front to him – and his glaring features – John moved on to his next question then. "In which case, what about your new friend...?"

This threw Mycroft into a vague confusion however; he didn't have friends. "Friend?"

"I'm not blind, you know." John told him, the penny dropping while John held a strong gaze, Mycroft looking away in a slight embarrassment that someone had known what they were up to. "Why not talk to Rose? You know she works with him more than I do, sees a hell of a lot more than I do..."

"Ah, that would be..." He started, trying to find the right words. "Awkward?"

"And this isn't? Oh, I get it..." John questioned, not liking that he knew such details about his friend, or that the man in front of him was involved. On really looking at the man however, John realised that – powerful and creepy though he was – he truly was just a man and the good doctor got the impression he was actually only after one thing from the young woman; and it's wasn't her mind. Tone dropping a little, an unsaid threat laced his words as he spoke. "You'll get round to screwing me too, is it? Though I doubt I'll have much fun – you're not really my type."

Not used to being spoken to in such a way, Mycroft took a second to take in the doctor's threatening tone and sarcastic words, obviously implying preferential treatment towards the young woman. Not quite sure how to defend against such an accusation – damned if he denies it, damned if he doesn't - Mycroft thought he'd try and get back on track. "We both know what's coming John. Moriarty is obsessed and he's sworn to destroy his only rival."

The good doctor was quite used to a Holmes dodging a topic though and knew exactly how to pin him down. "So, you want me to watch out for your brother, because he wont accept your help?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Mycroft smiled coldly, glad he'd got the point across.

John wasn't finished though. "And the only other person who may have actually helped you, you've decided your own fun was worth more than a contact in the right place?"

At this, Mycroft became even more confused, wondering if he'd heard the other man rightly. "I would have thought you'd frown on using people, Doctor Watson."

"I do." John told him as he rose from his seat and looked down on the brother of his friend. "And I think you already have – that's my problem."

John most certainly wasn't blind and knew exactly what had been going on between his friend and the elder Holmes brother, but not wanting to interfere thought it best to play ignorant, not ask any questions and just try and be there if she needed him. The problem the good doctor had though was that while he was glad Rose had something other than her work, he suspected whatever it was between her and Mycroft would only lead to her getting hurt. While Sherlock was cold at times – even to the point you'd question if the man was human – he had a heart, and john knew that. In his own way, Sherlock did care about them.

Mycroft however... he only cared for himself it seemed.

Even the care he had for his own brother seemed partly out of obligation and partly because of the trouble Sherlock could cause him if left to his own devises. The thought of Mycroft as a loving husband was almost as comical - if borderline disturbing - as Sherlock hanging up his deerstalker and becoming a pre-school teacher for the betterment of the next generation.

Giving the powerful man one last hard look, John turned away from him as he took his leave from the odd establishment, feeling oddly like a big brother trying to protect his little brother and sister from the big kid on the playground.

As Mycroft watched him go, he thought back on their conversation and wondered if john was right; should he have called Rose? After their last meeting so many months ago, he hadn't seen or spoken to her and so was unsure of where they stood.

He knew she had left before he woke up and so assumed it was just a one-night stand to conclude their game, but the thought had always made him frown; he didn't want their game to be over and the thought that he'd used her made him frown once more. A voice brought him out of his musings however.

"Aw, it's nice to have good friends," Said the woman herself. "Isn't it?

"Rose?!" He questioned, spinning around in his chair to see her leaning against the frame of the back entrance to the room, obviously having slipped in unnoticed. What had shocked him however was the unnoticed part of that deduction. How the hell didn't I notice that? "How-?"

Her smirk only grew at the look on his face however, laughter threatening to break through. "It's a rare day to catch you off guard, Mr Holmes."

Realising his composure had slipped somewhat, he took a deep breath. Bringing down the well-trained mask, he stood and offered her what he hadn't for his last guest. "Care for a drink, my dear?"

"Not today," Came her answer, face falling a little. "I'm working."

"Pity," He said, knowing that if she were working, they would have business to discuss.

"Indeed," She agreed as she started to come deeper into the room, though as he watched her – and how she didn't meet his eye – Mycroft got the impression she wasn't quite talking about the drink. "I thought we were on the same page when it came to Sherlock, but it appears I was wrong."

Meeting her eye as she looked to him, he realised with a pang that he'd inadvertently upset her by bringing his concerns to John and not her. Trying to find the words, he tried to explain his actions, obviously not being able to cover them up. "I just thought-" He was stopped in his tracks by a single eyebrow rising at him, her face as serious as he'd ever seen her, letting him know she'd call him on anything that was less than the truth. Sighing, he started again, not used to the knot that was working into his throat. "I didn't want to-"

"To use me?" She finished off, stepping up to him, hands on her hips as she took in his every move.

It was a curious situation for the usually cold man; he'd never felt flustered but from what he'd seen of others who had squirmed under his gaze, he imagined it was somewhat like this. And he didn't like it one bit.

"Yes," He told her, trying to shut down the useless emotions worming through him, but he was finding it a little difficult not to get distracted at the thought of using her and the unpredictable conflict he felt at the notion.

Of course he'd used people before, in various different ways, without a care in the world; women, colleagues, complete strangers or people he'd known for years, it had never mattered to him.

But using her - in any way - didn't sit well with him.

With a reputation for being the cold-hearted bastard that he was however, he certainly wouldn't admit this – barely even acknowledging the thought himself - and so tried to find a better excuse for his recent actions. "It's not really something your average person appreciates-"

"Average?" She asked, a shadow flashing across her face as she picked up on his words, turning away from him as she pulled a face. "Now I am offended..."

Sighing, he really didn't know what he should be doing in this situation. Taking a breath, he stepped forward, reaching out to her and hooking a the side of a knuckle under her chin, gently pulling her back to look at him. "You know what I meant, my dear."

"I do, Mr Holmes," She conceded, pulling his hand away gently as she caught his eyes once more. "Though I am a little disappointed."

"Disappointed?" He asked, stepping a little closure, her tone giving the impression that the anger had passed, despite his wariness of the unreadable woman.

Bringing her hands up, she started to straighten his tie back to it's perfect place, eyes not meeting his as he tried to understand what she was thinking. "I thought you of all people would understand..." She said quietly.

"You'd think so, but you're going to have to elaborate a little." He told her, slipping his hands into his pockets, finding he wasn't too sure what to do with them otherwise. He was on edge with her standing so close, the contact and body language of the young woman telling him one thing, while her choice of words and tone of voice gave a totally different impression, throwing him off and making him second guess her intentions. "I'm not a mind reader, you know."

Meeting his eye with a fire blazing in the dark blue depths, she let a cheeky smirk slip onto her lips. "I have no qualms at all about being used."

The twitch of his eyebrow and smirk on his own lips was perfectly timed by the older man to cover the surprise at her words, not that he'd ever admit the true reaction such few words had on him. "Oh, really?"

Smirk growing, she finally flattened his tie, palm against him as she moved tortuously slow. "Really - though how you decide to use me is your choice."

His traitorous mind suddenly racing to give him all the possible options of how to use her, Mycroft pulled his hands from his pockets, pulling her closer by her hips as he ducked his head to whisper in her ear. "So many choices, so little time..." Wanting to feel her skin against his lips, instead of leaning back again, he started to kiss along the soft skin of her neck as he felt her start to melt into him.

"While I appreciate John's defence, it's not strictly needed." She told him, starting to get a little breathless at his actions, though obviously trying to stay on point without pushing him away. "But you should know that despite our... activities, when it comes to Sherlock's safety we need to be on the same page."

"We are," He assured lightly, not breaking away from her.

Rose however didn't seem satisfied with that answer as she pulled away from him, raising an eyebrow once more at the older man. "Are we? Then why pull in John?"

Trying not to laugh at her, Mycroft only let the smallest of smirks show. "You almost sound jealous..."

"No, not at all," She laughed, the situation they were in almost sounding domestic, but she knew better. If their fun was going to be a detriment to her work or the protection of her friends, she'd have to put them first and she wanted to make sure the man knew that little fact. "Though I would like to be kept in the loop about these things. I live there too, you know."

Seeing how serious she was, he dropped his game for a moment and looked her in the eye, nodding slightly as he told her, "I'll remember that."

Looking at him for a moment, Rose saw that was the best she was going to get from the man, knowing better than to expect direct promises or assurances that it wouldn't happen again. Nodding slightly, she moved on. "Shame I haven't got time for a drink."

"Well, you don't actually have an active case, really..." He said, knowing that they were only working on the Moriarty situation currently. Bringing a hand up to wind its way around her neck, feeling her pulse quicken as he wove his fingers through her hair, tempting her to stay. "Surely you could stay for a little longer..."

Momentarily distracted by his touch, she lent into him as she closed her eyes slightly. "I really shouldn't..."

Seeing the battle was already lost, Mycroft just gripped a little tighter, feeling her gasp in his arms. "You shouldn't break into a gentleman's club either..."

Letting out a breathless laugh through parted lips, she gave him a wicked look as she smirked at him. "There are gentlemen here?"

At her insinuations, the prideful man glared playfully at her. "Hilarious." With that last word, he pulled her close, lips crashing to hers once more, the memory of months ago feeling like it was only the night before as the spark between them blazed into a wild fire once more.