It was late afternoon by the time the Boeing touched down in a private airstrip north of London. Despite the luxurious amenities aboard the aircraft, everyone was exhausted when they arrived. Mycroft had mysteriously kept his distance from Joanne, seeming to avoid her whenever they chanced to meet in any of the plane's cabins. What little conversation they had was stilted and brief, as though he were anxious to make a hasty exit from her presence. After only an hour or so of this, Joanne holed herself up inside her room, the anxiety about her future mounting. Wondering if Mycroft had divulged anything to his brother, she sought out Sherlock, who had managed to get hold of any and all information regarding Nikola Tesla. She found him in the Boeing's lounge on his laptop, deeply engaged in an old 1950's top secret microfiche file.
"How did you get access to that?" From the look of the web page, she could tell it was something off limits to the public. "That's from the CIA, isn't it?"
A grunt in the affirmative was her only answer.
"Seriously, is there anything you Holmes's can't hack or access? Did Mycroft give you a password or something?" She came around and studied the file, her interest piqued.
Sherlock gave a brief wave of his hand. "Nope! And I don't need my brother to get into something like this."
"I thought you'd seen all the stuff on Tesla already. What's this one about?"
"Mainly proving through internal documents how your government covered up his work and buried it. They lied about those trunks for years."
"Obviously; it's what they do best." Joanne paused, wondering how to bring up the problem with his brother.
"It's amazing the psy-ops they performed regarding this man, making him out to be a complete crackpot by the end of his life, when he was anything but! They wanted him erased from history." After everything they had been through because of this man and his work, Sherlock was genuinely becoming interested in researching further details about him. It didn't take long for him to become hooked.
"Sherlock... About your brother... He's been avoiding me since we got back from Pine Gap and the lab. Did I do something wrong?"
He looked up, giving her an incredulous look. Joanne inner sense interpreted it as You should already know, why are you asking me?
"Go ask him."
"Yeah right! He leaves the room as soon as I enter it! I get the impression he's annoyed with me. Just wondered if he'd said anything to you." Her head was starting to ache and realized it was a mistake to have asked. There was no way Sherlock would betray his brother's confidence even if he had said anything.
Scrolling down the file, Sherlock didn't take his eyes from the screen, yet somehow seemed to read her thoughts. "My brother and I may have occasion to work together at times, but we are hardly close. If there was something on his mind regarding you, then he certainly would not confide in me on that topic. Now, if you don't mind..." Another wave of the hand. He wanted to be alone with his files.
Joanne trudged back to her room. Sherlock knew something, alright, but for whatever reason was keeping it to himself. It can't be good, she thought. Steeling herself for the worst, she began in her mind to let go. This wasn't her life or her world. She belonged back at Dr. Packman's as a medical assistant. It was only a freak accident through her gift (or curse) of Synesthesia that had brought her to the attention of these men. Joanne lay on the bed, mentally preparing for her long flight back home. Home. It seemed miles away, and not just in distance. Still, Naches the gander was waiting for her. She felt more than a twinge of guilt for having left him so long. How long had she been gone now? Nearly six months? God, she prayed, please let him be ok. I know he's wild, but please don't let anything have happened to him. That goose is my baby. It would be hard, but Joanne knew she would have to write this entire experience from her memory, and never think of it again. Bury it all beneath the Ice Pond, she vowed silently. Chuckling silently, she smiled at the difference of Sherlock's talent compared to hers. He has a Mind Palace to remember everything. I have an Ice Pond to forget. Closing her eyes, she slept the entire trip, not waking up until the stewardess knocked on the door to tell her they had arrived.
The ride home was uneventful. Following a friendly reunion with their driver Wilson Compton, the Bentley was brought around to take them on the final leg of their journey. After dropping Sherlock off at his flat, Mycroft and Joanne continued on in silence, each thinking their own thoughts. Wilson was also quiet, though Joanne detected an air of mystery about the man when he regarded her. She quickly put it out of her mind, her thoughts directed toward home back in Washington.
Breaking the silence, Mycroft was the first to speak. "Is there anything you would care to tell me, Joanne?" Spoken in his characteristic soft voice, Joanne could hear what she thought was apprehension beneath it.
I could ask you the same thing, she thought scathingly, but didn't say aloud. What if I'm wrong, and he's not thinking about me at all? He already has so much on his plate what with Andrena, her scientist's and their work, and getting the whole WPS sorted and running; not to mention the problems within his own government. They were still tracking down Andrena's many contacts who held various high positions throughout the British and other world governments who had helped in the disappearance of some of their top security people. The network was huge, resembling that of Moriarty's. Don't be selfish, Jo, she admonished herself. It's not all about you! It never was! Instead, she only shrugged and replied, "Nothing in particular."
"I see." Mycroft seemed to consider this, and said nothing else until they arrived at Ravenwood.
Joanne's heart ached at seeing the beautiful house, knowing she would probably never see it again. Olivia Compton rushed out to greet them. "Dinner is ready if you feel up to eating. Oh! It's seemed ages since you both have been away!"
"It has, in fact," Mycroft replied. "Nearly six months, I believe?"
Wilson and Olivia helped them with their luggage and brought it up to their rooms. As for dinner, Joanne had no appetite, but not wanting to insult the woman's work over the meal, she joined Olivia and her son in the dining room for a quick bite. Mycroft for his part didn't bother to come down, and instead ate in his study where he promptly began taking and making telephone calls to various diplomats and other politicians. Knowing Joanne was tired from the trip as well as from recent events, they nodded in sympathy when she took an early leave to retire.
The next morning found Mycroft ensconced once again in his study. The door was slightly open. She could see Mycroft with the phone in one hand, and the other scribbling a hurried message on a note pad. Joanne wasn't sure whether to enter or knock. Deciding on the latter, she was about to do so when she froze at Mycroft's next words:
"...the passport for Miss Hartwell. Is it ready? Good! Bring it round straight away. Also..."
Mycroft's voice faded out of hearing as Joanne walked quickly away. A sudden need to be alone outside came over her as she rushed out the side door. Wending her way through the trails around the expansive estate, she presently found herself seated on a marble bench overlooking a stream. Passport. So, he does plan on sending me back. A part of her had hoped his casual statements to keep her on were indeed, not so casual. And what of the three 'surprises' Julian had hinted at? Although he had been deliberately vague about it, the elder cousin did not reflect anything negative concerning them. Something good? She couldn't understand how a passport was good; this only indicated Mycroft had obtained one for her trip back to the states... on a commercial flight. When traveling to various countries with Mycroft, no passport had been needed.
Joanne closed her eyes and listened to the birdsong and wind in the trees. Soon, soon she would be back at the old park with Naches. Her mind drifted to the memories of them beneath the willow tree where they would sit together for hours. Beginning the process of burying her memories beneath the ice pond was always the hardest step. To do this, she first had a distance her emotions from the people involved. Feelings and emotions regarding them and her current situation would have to be deleted or at least, heavily muted . The second half consisted of focusing on her final destination, which included a happy reunion with Naches and her other feathered babies at the park... and her lonely little apartment. She thanked God that she had been able to talk Mycroft into keeping the lease for another year, leaving it open should she decide to return home. There was her work to consider as well. Joanne fervently hoped that the Packman's would welcome her back after such a lengthy absence.
So deep was her concentration that she did not hear the soft footsteps as Mycroft approached and sat on the bench beside her. Only the high golden notes of his cologne alerted her to his presence. She jolted back to the present. How long had she been sitting here? An hour? Two? When burying things beneath the ice pond, time seemed to vanish.
"Do you not have your cell phone on you? I have been trying to reach you, but there was no answer." Mycroft seemed to reflect a mix of worry, anxiousness and incredibly, a little shyness.
Joanne patted her pockets for the phone, not finding it. She realized it was probably back upstairs, having left in a hurry to calm down outside. "I must have left it in the bedroom."
"You never go anywhere without it. Is something disturbing you?"
Figuring honesty was the best policy she sighed, looking down at the grass. "I was heading to your study earlier to see if you'd finished breakfast. The door was open a little, and I overheard you mention a passport for me. I didn't hang around to hear anything else, but just walked until I came here." Remembering the embarrassing time that she had eavesdropped on Julian back on Patos, she almost felt the need to explain this latest really had been an accident. Her hands twisted in her lap. Why bother? she thought. It doesn't matter now... nothing does.
"And this distressed you? A simple passport?" Mycroft leaned closer to study her, truly perplexed. He knew at once she was telling the truth and that she had left immediately afterwards, though what she thought was distressing about a passport was beyond him.
Joanne gave him a sidelong glance before quickly casting her eyes downward again. It was too hard to look into those intense blue eyes that seemed to bore right through her. Taking a breath, she continued. "Yeah, a passport - never needed one when I was traveling with you. So, this means you're sending me on a one way ticket home and on a commercial flight, not one of yours."
Morose as she looked, Mycroft's heart soared. She wants to stay! Ah, if only she knew... Not wanting to prolong her agony, he knew that what he offered next was the correct thing to do. It had kept him up for the past few nights tossing and turning, wondering if she had taken seriously his suggestion of staying on and working with him. Desperately hoping he wasn't wrong, he plunged ahead and brought out a red velvet box from his coat pocket.
On sensing his gesture and hearing the bright silver tinkle of the pocket watches' chain, Joanne looked up slowly, her eyes growing wide at the familiar red jewelry box. They grew even larger at the name written across the top. Garrard. This was no Cartier, and the latter was top notch in its own right. But this.. this brand of jewelers was used by none other than the British Royalty. No way! Is he going to ask...?
Mycroft paused before opening it. "Joanne. You know that I think highly of you and more than value the work you have done for our country. Am I to assume that you would prefer to stay on in London? With me?" His voice dropped a soft octave at the last question, still a little unsure. Although Joanne seemed pleasantly surprised, there was a hesitation in her light blue eyes. Had he been wrong after all?
It was taking Joanne a few moments to process what she thought he was asking; the last two hours had been spent submerging the emotions she felt for this man and his brother beneath the ice pond. Now, the pendulum slowly began to swing back again, her heart pulled in two directions. "You really want me to stay? To work here?" Joanne croaked.
She really thought I was going to send her away, he thought. Mycroft smiled gently. Now she would just need a bit of gentle persuading. "Yes, on both counts. Do you remember the flat above my brother's? You would continue on there until..." His face flushed, not quite ready to reveal the rest of his plan until this part had been sorted and agreed upon first.
"Until what?" she prodded.
"That will depend upon on your answer of my first proposition."
With a flourish, he opened the box.
What she thought was an engagement ring was instead an old fashioned, wrought iron key
What she thought was an engagement ring was instead an old fashioned, wrought iron key. Along its length were engraved letters and numbers, written in her Syncode as they spiraled in intertwining lines around the shaft to the bottom. Looking closely, Joanne realized that it was not iron after all, but a tarnished solid gold, the loops and swirls of its handle beautifully crafted and intricately made. She could swear there were more letters and numbers along a few of the ridges.
Her smile faltered, turning instead to confusion. What's this? I thought he was going to ask...? Not wanting to sound stupid or ungrateful, Joanne wondered if she should have known what this was, yet her mind came up blank. A skeleton key with my code on it. "It's pretty, but I don't understand?" she faltered.
The smile widened. "Your passport, Miss Hartwell."
Now she was lost. "Ok, explain. I admit, this is way over my head."
"It is a passport of sorts, and holds a key; well, a few actually."
"Is one of them the key to your heart?" Only half joking, Joanne realized it was the truth when he moved closer to show her the meaning of the codes.
"That is one aspect of it, yes." The ice blue eyes gazed directly into hers. There was holding back now. "I love you, Joanne; very much so. Once you realize what these codes signify and what they unlock, you will understand."
On closer examination of the key's shaft, Joanne saw that the codes were not simply engraved, but rotated on a type of movable track. Each number and letter could be shifted to form more codes in a kind of double helix design as they wrapped around the shaft.
"It's a codex!" she exclaimed. "I see now. The codes can change at any time from their current placement along the edges. But what are they for?"
"For your work here in London. I could not risk stating its intended purpose and what it was over the phone to Wilson earlier. It was he to whom I was speaking, letting me know that it was ready for pickup from the jewelers. But it is indeed a kind of passport as you will see. This line of code," he explained, pointing to the first strand, "is the key code to access my personal office should I be out of town. I believe you are familiar with the place."
Oh yes, it was the dungeon like room where she had first met Mycroft when this whole affair had begun.
"And the second strand here, is the code to the safe that is inside that room. Besides myself and Anthea, you are the only one to know these very important codes, though of course she does not have access to the safe. For security purposes, they are changed on a rotating basis. You are to change the codex accordingly, though I dare say you will be able to remember them, and I would encourage you to keep it on you at all times. Still, in the event I am not here, you will have access continually... should you take the job." At this, Mycroft looked more than a little tentative, worried his description of the job offer sounded more like an order than a request. The habits of a lifetime, he surmised.
It floored Joanne the amount of trust and responsibility Mycroft was literally handing to her. "And the job is?" Joanne turned the key in her hands, squinting to see the code on the key's multiple loops. Even these tiny letters and numbers slid along a nearly microscopic track. "What are these for?"
"Ah. The security codes for this house. Those on the top loop open the outside gate, the one on the right deactivates the security to enter the main and side doors." He paused, thinking of the possible job opportunities for her. "There are a few things I had in mind for you, should you choose to remain here. The use of your code is always invaluable and could be needed at any time, for both MI5 and MI6. At the moment, I was thinking perhaps with your gift of languages you may begin training on a few to start with, mainly Farsi, Arabic and Russian. I hear you already have a grasp of the Cyrillic alphabet?"
The codes to his home as well? It was a heavy responsibility to be sure. "Yes, I can read it, but only phonetically. Unless it sounds like something in English, or a phrase I already know, well, that's the limit of that, really... You want me to work as a translator?"
"Among other things, yes. You also have a natural aptitude towards codes and ciphers and would do well in either department. I believe your various talents would be a great benefit to our country's Security Services... and to the British Government." Mycroft's cool blue eyes, now warm and entreating, held a special promise.
Joanne did not miss the double entendre of this last part. It was a lot to think about, and yet she already knew the answer. How could she possibly say no? Although not a marriage proposal, anything was possible now. This truly was the key to his heart and everything he held dear: The safety of his country and in turn, his family. There was nothing holding her back from staying here, except for one thing - Naches.
Mycroft guessed the direction of her thoughts, but said nothing. "I would of course like you to begin as soon as possible. I can have the things from your apartment shipped to the new one above my brother's flat. Once you are settled in, you can begin training. Before all of that however, I believe a vacation is in order - for both of us. How would you feel about spending the next month with me at Brockhurst?"
"A vacation sounds great. I have not been to your weekend getaway home. I assume it is as grand as this one?" Knowing Mycroft , she wouldn't doubt it.
Shrugging nonchalantly, Mycroft merely stated, "It's a country home, mid Victorian." With that, he got up slowly, his knees cracking. "Not as young as I used to be", he quipped. "Best be heading back. Olivia will no doubt have lunch ready by now. As for Brockhurst, we can leave in a few weeks or so - still some loose ends to tie up regarding this mess."
It seemed to Joanne that she had just ate. Had so much time really gone by? Her appetite had returned now that she knew that Mycroft wanted her to stay, and not only that but work with him as well. Me, the average Jo, working for MI6 (and MI5)! Even after all she had been through, it was still hard to believe. She would have never considered such a career change at this time of life; that and a move to a foreign country; not for a mere visit as she had always done in the past, but to live. Joanne suspected that England would not remain foreign to her for long.
"Hey Mycroft; why is the key made to look older than it is? I thought it was wrought iron at first; anyone would at first glance." She turned the key in her hands as they walked, studying it.
"For protection, mostly," he explained. "As you said, anyone would think it merely an old trinket of some kind. The engraving and moveable tracks are small enough that one would not be interested in inspecting the object further." Mycroft paused, thinking. "I may pair it up with a real antique chain; you could wear it as a piece of jewelry, though to be safe, I would keep it hidden beneath your blouse." He blushed suddenly, not used to discussing these kinds of intimate things, especially since he knew and had experienced exactly what lay beneath it.
Joanne linked her arm in his, knowing what was going through his mind. Appearing scandalized, she squeezed his arm in pretend shock. "Mycroft! You really are bad, you know." She reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
It was Mycroft's turn to look outraged, though secretly he quite enjoyed the close contact with her. Although this level of affection and familiarity were foreign to him, he knew it was something he could get used to in no time.
Joanne continued. "It really is a good idea, especially if I get the codes mixed up; best to have it on me at all times, I think..."
As they walked, he fished out another key from his pocket, this time a regular one. "For your flat. Also, I believe you will find the upstairs quite changed." He said nothing further, leaving her to wonder if this was the second 'surprise' Julian had mentioned. She found out that evening when he dropped her off.
Hearing the now familiar tunes of Sherlock's violin coming from her bedroom, she dropped her bag on the sofa and went to investigate. The place looked the same as she remembered when Mycroft and Anthea had shown her about over six months ago. Not everything, she realized as she reached the source of the sound.. What was once an ugly vacant lot on the roof had been transformed into a veritable mini forest, with trees, bushes and a water fountain in the middle of it. A garden settee sat on the side, as well a table near the windows. Bird feeders holding multiple kinds of seed and suet hung from various bushes and trees. He remembered! she mused happily. In the middle of all this wild greenery stood Sherlock, playing his Stradivarius.
"Welcome to 223B Baker Street," he drawled, continuing the music
"It's lovely, Sherlock! I can't believe it. With a pond and bird feeders, too!."
"Don't thank me, thank my brother. Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I rather fancy this place," he said, encompassing the garden with his bow. "While you are at work, I may just come up here to enjoy the quiet... Mrs. Hudson," he explained with a roll of his eyes.
Joanne figured there wasn't a room Sherlock couldn't break in to, and arguing would be useless. Anyway, she owed Mycroft so much already, and she did give her promise to look after him. She smiled, happy to have 'her' baby brother back. "You're always welcome to visit whenever you like Sherlock, you know that. Just don't enter when I'm in the bathroom, ok?" Joanne pointed to the door on the far wall of her room.
The expression he wore bore an uncanny resemblance to that of his brother when he was insulted: the scrunched brows, the wrinkled nose; it was too cute.
"Right. I'm going downstairs." With that, he turned abruptly to leave, taking the stairs two at a time. On his way out the door, he turned back with a wink. "Welcome home."
Brockhurst
They took off for West Sussex in Mycroft's private helicopter that he kept always ready on the back lawn at Ravenwood. Flying over the landscape, Joanne exclaimed in wonder: Multiple Tesla towers were already being erected! "For the WPS or the modified Teleforce?"
"The World Power System. In future, it will be our main source of power. Unfortunately, there are concessions to be made with the oil and gas companies. Although many things can and will still be powered by them, cars and aircraft for instance, a balance needed to be struck to keep them quiet and from causing too much trouble. Only the guarantee that it is clean energy seemed to mollify them a bit," he chuckled into the microphone.
Both wore headsets to hear each other over the din of the rotors. "That must have taken some work," Joanne answered. Anyone Mycroft negotiated with always seemed to come around to his way of thinking. It was slightly unnerving. She wondered what kind of threats had been levelled not only at the power companies but at various heads of state and those deep within the cogs of the government machine. And it had taken him only three weeks to get the towers started...
"In a way, the old system really is still needed," Mycroft went on. "Because of the variance in volts between the day and the night, regular power stations are needed to supply the difference. We are working on smaller versions of these at the moment, where a miniature tower will be supplied in people's back yards. That of course is still years off."
Joanne was so glad that she had been a part of bringing back the inventor's work and legacy. Billions in every country would benefit from it (those countries who allowed it, anyway), and his name was now cleared. A crackpot no longer, Nikola Tesla's name was up there with Einstein, and celebrated as such.
It didn't take them long to arrive. Joanne, not familiar with the different counties of England had for some reason thought West Sussex was north of London; instead it was a short trip south, and only twenty minutes via helicopter.
She gasped at the splendor of Brockhurst as it came into view.
It looked like a small fairytale castle in the forest, it's red roof and dusky stone walls like a ruby set in emeralds. "It's gorgeous!" she breathed. "It's even more magnificent than Ravenwood, and that is a splendid place in itself." Wow..
Mycroft for his part beamed with pride. "This is my home from home."
"Is that a carriage house by the garage? Like at Ravenwood?"
The aircraft lowered and touched down. "Yes, the Compton's stay there on occasion as well," he answered. Mycroft exited first and helped Joanne down.
They were parked on the back lawn and entered nearby the observatory. "How often do you visit here?" she asked. "Looks very well kept up! Don't tell me Wilson's dad does all this himself!"
"Well, he does help to direct the summer hires, though I assure you, security are also hired to watch them."
"And who watches the security?" Joanne poked him playfully, not expecting an answer.
Mycroft gave her an imperious look. "I do."
"Yeah right, you would have to have eyes a-" Joanne stopped, noting the many security cameras. "Oh."
He motioned toward various hidden spots where more cameras were located. There was no way she would have been able to spot them had he not pointed them out. "That's a lot of cameras," she observed. "How do you find time to watch the videos from them all?"
"Their presence is more for deterrence purposes, though I do on occasion log in and check them throughout the day. The security systems for both Brockhurst and Ravenwood are routed through to my laptop. Should anything be amiss and they are set off, I am instantly alerted."
Because they arrived so late in the evening, there was only time for a brief tour around the inside. The grounds would wait until tomorrow. Joanne was surprised to see both Olivia and Wilson arrive in Mycroft's Bentley. Apparently they went were their employer went, within the country anyway. It also ensured that when Mycroft traveled by flight, there would always be a car waiting. And now I am a part of this lifestyle, Joanne mused. Moreover, a part of the life of Mycroft Holmes...
She was pleasantly awakened the next morning by the strains of a Chopin waltz on piano, it's haunting melody drifting throughout the large house and up to her bedroom. Music runs in their family, she thought sleepily as she made her way downstairs. Nobody in hers played anything that she could recall. As she walked, the sound became more distant before Joanne realized she had taken a wrong turn down one of Brockhurst's many halls. Retracing her steps and making a right, the music grew louder until she found herself in a large but mostly empty sun room - empty except for Mycroft and a lone piano. Not wanting to disturb him, she leaned against the doorjamb, observing him quietly. Long elegant fingers swept over the keys, his face relaxed and serene for the first time that she could remember. The years of stress and worry seemed to melt away, making him appear a decade younger. This was a side she had never before seen of the British Government. Joanne hoped they would be spending more time here in the future; it would do him good. Mycroft's playing was superb as the music flowed from beneath his fingers. Is there anything this man can't do? she wondered.
Sensing her presence he stopped abruptly, looking up at her with a guilty expression. "I... I'm sorry, I did not realize you were standing there. I hope I didn't wake you."
"The natural light did that. I must say though, your playing was much more enjoyable than an alarm clock!"
Mycroft smiled, pushing back the stool. "Indeed. Do you play?"
"Unfortunately, that is not one of my talents; never been musically inclined."
They headed for the dining room where Olivia had set out a bountiful full English breakfast.
"Strange," observed Mycroft as he helped himself to the eggs. "With your talent in languages, I would have thought music would be included."
Joanne chose the scones and potatoes. "Ah, the whole left and right brain thing. True, I'm a lefty and use the artistic right side of the brain, but then again, I've never tried playing anything, so.. who knows? These scones look delicious! I bet these are made from scratch!"
"But of course!" Mycroft lifted his chin indignantly. "And please do not inform Mrs. Compton that you would even think otherwise. I would never hear the end of it!"
"It's a deal."
"I'm afraid I have more telephone conferences this afternoon. However, I would like you to meet me at the stone covered bridge near the entrance to the pond, you can see it just beyond those trees," he said, pointing to a thick grove of trees. Behind it stood an exact replica of the Palladian bridge in Bath. "There is something I would like to show you. Also, there is that second matter to discuss."
Joanne knew he was referring to the conversation earlier this morning. "Oh yes! It had to do with living at the flat, I think."
Mycroft nodded. "That and more, yes. Meet me there at half past four. I will be waiting, Joanne." With that, he retired to the study after snagging an extra pastry from the sideboard.
She smiled. He loves his sweets! Joanne wondered if this would be the 3rd and final surprise Julian had spoken of, and glanced at the clock. It was only 11:30; what would she do for the next four and a half hours? Remembering the paint set he had obtained for her when she'd first arrived to Ravenwood, Joanne figured the time would go by faster by drawing something. After helping Olivia clear and wash the dishes, she collected the supplies and headed out.
Mycroft waited impatiently, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In his hand, he held a small red box, similar to the one that had held the key. Any moment now, Joanne would appear on the path directly across the canal. He desperately hoped he would not become tongue tied or forget all he wanted to say; it had taken most of the night to search for the right words. He remembered her hesitancy on seeing the key. But, he reasoned, it was understandable. She did not realize at first what it represented. She will know at once the meaning of this box's contents.
Before long, Joanne appeared beyond the hill, coming into view like a vision. Sunlight glinted off her dark blond hair, highlighting the natural copper that ran through it. She looked lovely in a late summer print dress he had picked out for her one day on the way home from work. Mycroft had seen it in the shop window as Wilson drove down the busy street and had immediately ordered his friend to turn back. Although not usually impulsive, Mycroft had had a sudden image of her in that dress, and looking at her now, knew that he had not been wrong.
Joanne spotted Mycroft on the bank opposite the bridge, noting at once that he seemed anxious and nervous about something. As always, he was impeccably dressed, and was glad she had changed from her earlier attire from this morning. Unfortunately a bit of paint had somehow gotten on her shirt. After Olivia had assured her it would easily come out, Joanne proceeded to change into the dress Mycroft had personally chosen for her. There was something special about today. First the key, and now the last surprise.
"You're wearing the dress, I see," Mycroft noted. The hungry eyes looked her over thoroughly, bringing a hot flush to her cheeks.
"Yeah, it fits great! It's like you memorized my measurements or something..."
This at once brought a guilty pink to his ears. "Yes, I... Well... it's a talent that runs in the family, I'm afraid."
Joanne remembered something similar had happened during Sherlock's involvement with Irene Adler. Not wanting to know the details, she simply smiled and gestured toward the large expanse of Brockhurst's grounds. "Lets walk. It's so beautiful here, Mycroft. I really can't believe you don't visit more often."
They walked at a leisurely pace, taking in the view and wildlife that Mycroft admitted he had never paid attention to before. Swans idled in the water, dipping their heads beneath the water to feed on the various aquatic vegetation. His heart lurched at the love for this woman beside him. He stopped, and took both her hands in his.
"Joanne, there is something I need to tell you..." No, he admonished himself. Ask, not order! He began again. "Actually, there are a few things I need to say to you. Firstly, that your presence here has made a tremendous difference - for both myself and my brother. You see, before I met you, everything around us was always taken for granted: Not just the beautiful surroundings here and at Ravenwood, but everything and the people in it. You have taught me about the small things in life, that are just as important as the big things that I deal with on a daily basis at work. In fact, it is these little things that are most important. Even my everyday relationships had no real meaning. The Compton family for example. They have always been in my life, as though in the everyday background. It was only after seeing my life through your eyes that I realized just how much I took them, and everything else for granted."
Mycroft paused as though out of breath, wondering if he had said too much, even though it was the truth. There was so much else he wanted to tell her, but his mind blanked as he looked into her cornflower blue eyes.
For her part, Joanne looked thrilled that he would divulge these private details to her. "Wow. I had no idea I made that kind of impression on you." She studied Mycroft's long fingers entwined in hers. "No one's ever told me I made a difference in their life before. Not in a positive way, anyway." Her brow furrowed in confusion as a small smile lit her face. "How do you mean I've been good for Sherlock? He's like a bratty little brother!"
One of Mycroft's hands uncurled from hers to cup her chin as he gazed into her eyes. "You are more valuable than you know, in so many ways Joanne Hartwell."
Tears misted his eyes. "You are good for him as an older sister... a normal one, that is," Mycroft added, thinking of Euros. "Do you know, the last time he laughed - a real laugh - was when he was a little boy, before..." Here he trailed off, lost in sad memories before straightening up and gently squeezing her hands. "And then you came along, and I hear that boy in his laugh once more. You have no idea how much that means to me, Joanne. You are good for us, for my family... and for me." With this, he took her hand in his and knelt before her on one knee, bringing out the little red box. "Joanne Hartwell, would you do me the greatest honor of being my wife?
Once again, the top was embossed 'Garrard'. Inside was not a key, but a real engagement ring. It was a beautiful large sapphire encrusted with brilliant sparkling diamonds. The platinum band was also lined with them. Joanne recalled a similar ring on Prince William's wife, Kate Middleton. Well, it was from a jeweler's of the Royal House, after all. Still, as pretty as it was, her focus was on Mycroft Holmes's own blue eyes. She would trade any sapphire to own the heart of the cerulean eyed man before her any day. "Oh Mycroft, yes! Yes!"
Smiling, he slid the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit. Still on bended knee, he looked up at her, tears of joy, love and wonder in his eyes. "You do understand what kind of man you are marrying, Joanne? As you know, I am not the easiest person to live with, and you will be alone at times when I have to be away. Are you quite sure?"
Joanne hauled him up slowly, Mycroft's knee cracking once gain. "Ah Mycroft, what a pair we make: You with your creaky knees and me with my bad back."
"Tradition, Joanne. Tradition defines us," he remonstrated.
"And I love you for it. As to your question, yes, I think by now I know of your crazy lifestyle." She paused, remembering his job offer. "Hey, maybe we can travel together at times, depending on what kind of work you have for me!"
"That would be quite possible, yes - job description pending," he added, a faraway look in his eye. She's right, he thought. Maybe they would not be forced to spend as much time apart as he had earlier thought. With a newfound spring in his step, he guided Joanne toward another pond that he had deliberately not shown her until now. As they neared the water he paused, pulling out an envelope from his coat pocket. "I have something for you."
Not another surprise, my heart can't take any more exciting news today! A job offer with British Security and a marriage proposal from the head of it and the man I love... Joanne noted that it was not sealed, and already open. Strange. Another mystery, she thought. Her eyes widened in surprise. The single sheet of paper was addressed not to her, but to Mycroft from Julian. It was dated two days before her first arrival in London, over six months ago. Understanding dawned. "This was the letter he sent with me on the plane in the beginning! Why are you showing this to me now?"
Mycroft smiled indulgently. "Why don't you find out? Read the last paragraph, in fact. The rest is already known to you."
It was true. The first two were somewhat lengthy, containing intel on what was then known of their adversaries and the various goings on at the top level of British and Australian Security.
The third and last however was of a more personal nature:
And now I come to the subject that is most near and dear to my heart. Take care of her, cousin, and keep her safe in the days to come. It is my greatest wish that she make you happy, and likewise that you make her so as well - and very possibly your wife, should things progress as I think they will. Now, now Mycroft, I can see you already about to throw my letter into the fire. Please don't. My only request as your elder is that you give this new relationship a chance. 'Only just met her', you are thinking? We Holmes's are always two steps ahead, cousin mine! I predict that within the years time you will have courted and proposed to our Joanne. Show this to her, to prove I was right (She will always wonder what was inside this letter that she has flown so far to deliver). I must let you know however, should you mistreat her in any way, you will have me to answer to. Please Mycroft, make her happy, for me.
Your ever faithful cousin,
Julian Holmes
"Ahh, dear Julian!" she breathed with tears in her eyes. "He always knew, didn't he? We shall have to let him know what a great matchmaker he is."
Mycroft snatched the letter out of her hands with a look of horror. "We will not!" Tucking it safely back inside his pocked, he shuddered. "He has an already inflated view of himself as my elder cousin. I will not watch him gloat!" He paused, not wanting to appear too insensitive. "Mind you Joanne, he was, and is, correct."
"Yes he is! I'm glad you finally showed it to me, Mycroft, really. I always wondered what was inside that made your ears turn red the day you read it. Remember?"
Oh yes, he did quite vividly. Shyly, he linked his fingers through hers as they walked. This whole thing was so new to him and yet, so wonderful.
"So, about the flat," Joanne began. "You said something earlier about staying there until..." She trailed off, not wanting to push him into sharing his life on an even more intimate level.
"Ah, yes. It would be unseemly if you were to move in right away, don't you think? Actually, tradition states that a man courts a woman for a year before they move in together. Hmm. Well, I have not performed one example of courtship until today, although we did spend that night together at Port Lockroy." He stopped, remembering every detail of that night.
"We did, that's true. And we have known each other for over six months now," she added.
"Yes, but I wasn't really courting you, was I? Our relationship was strictly business... except on that night." Mycroft's eyes glazed at the memory.
"Mmm. It was good, wasn't it?" Joanne leaned in against him, hearing his heartbeat through the tailored suit in one ear, and birdsong in the other. She would never tire of the amazing burst of colors, textures and sound that electrified her senses when she was this close to him.
Mycroft kissed the top of her head, still smiling. "Well, then. Only six more left.. or less," he intoned, softly stroking her hair. "And since I need to make up that time lost in official courtship, I would like to present my first present to you now." He indicated the nearby pond as they walked.
"Another one? Wait, that's four! Julian said you only had three!" Joanne clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing that what Julian had divulged was more than likely from a private discussion between the two men.
Mycroft turned to her with a puzzled expression. "I knew my cousin wouldn't keep quiet about that. But so far, I have only shown you two."
"The wonderful garden outside of my bedroom back at the flat, the job offer and of course your marriage proposal. Three!" she exclaimed, holding up three corresponding fingers. The sapphire and diamonds sparkled in the sunlight.
"The garden? No, I did not discuss with my cousin the plan to renovate the empty space behind your bedroom. That was something that simply needed doing."
Joanne marveled as they continued walking, the water's edge nearly visible through the trees. If only people could see beyond this mans cold exterior to his warm and passionate heart. "I'm almost afraid to ask what the third is, Mycroft; you outdo yourself with each one!"
Still, Mycroft said nothing.
"Ok! I give up! What..."
Honk!
Joanne came to a full stop. It couldn't be.
Honk! Ronk!
It was! Eagerly, Joanne rushed forward towards the pond, her eyes searching. There he was, her little feathered boy, Naches! She gave a shout as she stood at the water's edge. Naches was already cutting the water like a knife as he swam like mad toward her.
"It seems he spotted you before you ever saw him," Mycroft observed. He stood mesmerized by her gift with animals, remembering the penguins back in Antarctica who had gathered fearlessly about her, letting Joanne hug and pet them.
Joanne hugged her little gander before he swam back to his feeding spot. "Seems he found a good source of pond weeds over there. Oh Mycroft, I really don't know what to say." For once, she was at a loss for words. Instead, she once again linked their fingers, knowing Mycroft understood the depths of emotions surging through her.
"Your expression says it all, my love." He sighed in contentment, taking in the peaceful scene. "Oh, and other geese from a nearby facility that takes in injured birds who can no longer fly are coming tomorrow. Your Naches will no longer be alone. Also, I plan on taking more time off to spend here... with you" he added with a sidelong at her.
Joanne was incredulous. "No way! You can't cut your hours!"
"Who said anything about cutting hours? The work would be the same, but it would be done from here. Anyway, I have been thinking of retiring someday," he added with a grin.
She hesitated. "And my job?"
At this, Mycroft turned toward her and gathered her in his arms. "Unless its an away job, you go where I go... although I believe there are ways to make sure you accompany me on most of them," he murmured into her hair. Raw emotion coursed through him as he inhaled the scent of jasmine on her soft skin. He could never recall being this happy. "Remember, we work together." Mycroft watched as Naches happily splashed about in the water and preened. "Yes," he mused. "We do make a great team, don't we?"
"Always," she answered, and promptly reached up to kiss him.
This chapter is dedicated to my sweet little gander Naches, who passed away in my arms January 21, 2021. Fly high, my friend.
reference links, story notes and information regarding Tesla's work
Credit diglestrade tumblr for the Mycroft cutout playing piano image
• Attraction_Review-g668287-d7393490-Reviews-Bransfield_House-Port_ museum pics here
• . #long
• arts/educational-magazines/somewhere-i-have-never-travelledgladly-beyond explanation
• .au/en/about/We-are-CSIRO
• . /defining-moments/resources/csiro-founded
• news/nikola-tesla-files-declassified-fbi
• topics/world-war-ii/the-manhattan-project
• .
• watch?v=0_hFabF1Fjw&ab_channel=HISTORY The Tesla Files: Shadow Government Revealed
• . .au/bsparcs/exhib/journal/as_
• . /fellowship/fellows/biographical-memoirs/ernest-william-titterton-1916-1990#british He participated in the Operation Crossroads nuclear tests at the Bikini Atoll in 1946, where he performed the countdown for both tests.
• wiki/Ernest_Titterton
• history/making-jitterbug-work-marcus-oliphant-and-manhattan-project
• Vannevar+Bush US GOV guy and scientist. oversaw manhattan project, operation pigeon (tesla?) asked john trump to obtain and report on tesla's belongings. Tesla working for bush? tesla as a crackpot an elaborate cover story and the spread of disinformation propaganda to cover what he was really involved in.
• . . director of it
• /magnifying-transmitter-nikola-tesla
• /nikola-tesla/articles/my-inventions-v-magnifying-transmitter
• TELEORCE and EQ Oscillator, various inventions explained w detail: cgi-bin/library?e=d-00000-00-off-0hdl-00-0-0-10-0-0-0direct-10-4-0-1l-11-sk-50-20-preferences-10-0-1-00-0-0-11-0-0-&a=d&c=hdl&cl=CL1.14&d=HASH86f8f67512ed24374cd21f.20
• books-1/nikola-tesla-s-teleforce-telegeodynamics-proposals-by-leland-anderson/
• . this will be used in conjunction with tesla's idea of the free electricity via magnetism
• the EQ oscillator of Tesla, tied in with earth resonance and magnetic fields? Reason for both antarctica and australia: antarctica for the magnetic poles proximity for tests, australian desert for the EQ tests. Began at atolls under guise for privacy, top secret, ect. perfected and moved to the other two simultaneously. OR was in order of steps as they were discovered: first atolls, used magnetic poles for discovery to lead and connect to tesla's EQ oscillator and be incorporated w it in australia.
• wiki/Telegeodynamics
• . /fysikk/english/research/projects/antarctic-ionospheric-and-space-weather-research-a/
• science/geomagnetic-field
• event/International-Geophysical-Year
• cgi-bin/library?e=d-00000-00-off-0hdl-00-0-0-10-0-0-0direct-10-4-0-1l-11-sk-50-20-preferences-10-0-1-00-0-0-11-0-0-&a=d&c=hdl&cl=CL1.14&d=HASH86f8f67512ed24374cd21f.5
CSIRO
Council for Scientific and Industrial Research CSIR
In 1927 a federal–state accord resolved that the CSIR's role would be long-term and national, while its state counterparts would be short-term and regional.
Importantly, it had more independence from the government than its predecessors. Its chief executive officer was Sir David Rivett, whose vision and leadership shaped the CSIR over the next 20 years. He sought to strike a balance between working on immediate problems with existing scientific knowledge and expanding that knowledge with pure research.
Rivett was also instrumental in securing sufficient government funding despite the onset of the Depression.
In 1949 the legislation that established the CSIR was amended to create the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO). This came about because the government believed that a largely civilian research body should not be doing classified defence research, as had occurred during and after the Second World War.
• wiki/Operation_Mosaic
• wiki/Operation_Totem
• location/marshall-islands
• /apsnet/cleaning-up-johnston-atoll/
• . 1ws7w90.6?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents
• The British Government expected that the United States would continue to share nuclear technology after the war, which it regarded as a joint discovery, but the United States Atomic Energy Act of 1946 (McMahon Act) ended technical cooperation.[2] Fearing a resurgence of United States isolationism, and Britain losing its great power status, the British Government restarted its own development effort,[3] which was given the cover name "High Explosive Research".[4] The first British atomic bomb was tested in Operation Hurricane at the Monte Bello Islands in Western Australia on 3 October 1952.[5]
• the australian and british scientists were granted permission to continue working on the project since it didnt involve nukes and the mcmahon act had no bearing on it; thus they could stay near the military sites at Bikini. They had been there since the early 40s.
• wiki/Pine_Gap
• sites/davidbressan/2019/07/10/how-nikola-tesla-planned-to-use-earth-for-wireless-power-transfer/?sh=62e505837490
The Oscillators:
Serbian-American physicist engineer and inventor Nikola Tesla is nowadays famous for his work on electricity and energy. He developed the alternating current system, making it possible to transmit electricity over vast distances, and worked on wireless communication and energy transfer. He was a brilliant, but also very eccentric thinker, claiming to get visions and displaying odd behaviour in public like an obsession with personal hygiene and pigeons. Maybe the more enigmatic parts of his personality make him such an interesting subject for conspiracy theories. Tesla is credited to have worked on unknown energy-sources, caused the Tunguska explosion with his "death-ray" prototype, and supposedly worked on an earthquake-generator.
In 1896 Tesla was working on oscillations for wireless energy transfer. The idea was to build a steam-powered oscillator, able to create various changing frequencies. If the frequency matched the resonance frequency of a receiving device, this device should transform the mechanical oscillations back into an electric current.
Tesla's patent for a steam-powered electric generator or oscillator. The device produces electric... [+]
In 1897 the device was ready and in 1898 Tesla supposedly managed to oscillate his laboratory at 48 E. Houston St., New York, enough, that alarmed neighbors called the police, fearing an earthquake happening. Tesla later explained the principle to reporter Allan L. Besnson, who in February 1912 published an article about Tesla's resonator in The World Today magazine:
"He put his little vibrator in his coat-pocket and went out to hunt a half-erected steel building. Down in the Wall Street district, he found one, ten stories of steel framework without a brick or a stone laid around it. He clamped the vibrator to one of the beams, and fussed with the adjustment until he got it. Tesla said finally the structure began to creak and weave and the steel-workers came to the ground panic-stricken, believing that there had been an earthquake. Police was called out. Tesla put the vibrator in his pocket and went away. Ten minutes more and he could have laid the building in the street. And, with the same vibrator, he could have dropped the Brooklyn Bridge into the East River in less than an hour."
The "earthquake-generator" could also be used for more peaceful applications. Tesla imagined an array of smaller devices distributed all over the planet to relieve energy from Earth and also to send energy from one spot to another. A transmitter, a device consisting of a piston vibrating inside a cylinder, transforms electric energy into vibrations. Using the rocks in the underground as sort of conductor, the vibrations are sent to a receiving device and the oscillations transformed back into electricity, to be used locally. However, the "telegeodynamics" system by Tesla never managed to get beyond the prototype. In reality, the device was not powerful enough to send energy through Earth. Dampening of the oscillations by structures and the underground was far too strong.
Another vision by Tesla was more successful. He imagined using the oscillations generated by his device to study Earth. Seismic waves generated by an oscillator and projected into the underground are reflected back to a receiver by faults or different layers of rocks. Studying the reflected waves, geologists may be able to X-ray Earth (Tesla also made important contributions to modern X-ray technology). Modern seismologists still use this principle. Pulses of energy, generated by electromagnetic devices, controlled explosions or mechanical pistons, are sent deep into the underground. Geophones record the reflected signals and geologists use the collected data to generate a model of the geological structures hidden beneath the surface.