Thank you to biochemist, nateyeh, roofuls and Yas for beta-reading.
TW there's a sentence I'd read as transphobic microagression, but would have been PC in 1989.
.oOo.
Mycroft knew he shouldn't be so worried, but the very idea of Eurus having a flatmate again made his palms sweat.
"What if she kills her, Harry? We might never find the body. It's only a matter of time before she drives her mad."
"Mycroft, I know that all made sense to you, but I don't actually know what's going on. Would you set the table?"
Harry could have done that with a swish of his wand, so clearly the ulterior motive involved getting Mycroft out of the way while he was getting hot pans out of the oven. Dutifully, Mycroft fetched the plates and set the table.
Sirius and Sherry were supposed to be out walking Medusa together. Mycroft hoped those two would get around to talking, but it was far more likely that Sirius was walking in dog form. Sirius always thought it inexplicably funny to force Sherry to pick up his dog poo.
"You were saying?" Harry asked, setting the potato gratin on the table and pouring them each a measure of wine. "Something about Eurus getting murdered?"
"Oh." Mycroft had mostly been concerned with Joan Watson's impressive military service record, where she had enlisted as an Army Doctor. "Now that you mention it…"
"I did think you'd be hung up about something, so I invited her to join us for dinner. If she's anything like the Doctor Watson I knew, you'll like her plenty."
The door rang. Harry stood.
"You invited her to dinner here?" He hurried after and reached him just in time to watch Harry open the door.
"Hullo, I'm here to see Mister and Mister Holmes? I'm Doctor Joan Watson."
"Hi," Harry said, sounding rather high-pitched. "Come in, come in, let's get your coat off."
Whatever he'd known about the Doctor Watson of his own world, it hadn't applied quite so well to this one.
"Am I not what you were expecting?" the woman said once she'd sat at the place Mycroft had set for Sherry.
Harry said nothing at all. Mycroft wasn't sure what to say either, because Harry had managed to catch him off guard with this dinner. It felt silly even thinking it now, but Mycroft had considered it a potential romantic overture when Harry had gone to so much effort with dinner, and Sirius and Sherry had conveniently not come back on time from their walk.
"You're—you look…" Harry caught himself, "You've dressed yourself up, and I wish I'd remembered to take off my apron."
Mycroft tactfully ignored what Harry had clearly only just understood—Joan Watson had served in the army as a man. The 2000s must be a much more liberal world, to have normal women serving on the front lines.
"Thank you for the invitation," Doctor Watson said with an air of understanding. "I think you look lovely."
Something like jealousy flashed in Mycroft's chest. He wasn't possessive of Harry, he'd never dare to be, but that didn't mean he wanted to watch this woman flirt with his—his husband.
Harry thankfully turned the topic to sensible things like politics, war, and the Doctor's intentions of moving into a flat with Eurus.
"We met in the morgue," she explained. "I said I was looking for a place to stay, and a mutual friend introduced us. It seemed like a sensible thing to do."
Mycroft paid Eurus' rent in full every month. It made absolutely no sense why she'd need a flatmate at all, unless she wanted to torture, maim, or kill her.
At least Doctor Watson was reasonably intelligent and physically fit. She'd be able to defend herself at first. Mycroft was mostly concerned what would happen when Eurus bored of crime-fighting and flatmate-having.
"Excuse me," Doctor Watson said suddenly, pulling out the phone that Mycroft could have sworn he'd given to Eurus for emergencies. "I should probably get this."
She left the flat after a few more hasty apologies. Mycroft had his people follow Doctor Watson as she got in a cab and sped off.
"Well, that was interesting," Harry said slowly. "She's not as different from the Doctor John Watson I knew way back when. It's making me question things."
"At least we know why she was dishonourably discharged, now. I had suspected something far worse than transsexuality."
"It's called being transgender," Harry said, then frowned. "Or it will be. Anyway, I know she's the good sort. If anything, she'll be a good influence." Harry went off to make them tea.
Mycroft wished he was surprised when he was later told Doctor Watson had shot a man whom was trying to kill Eurus.
He wasn't as ready to trust Doctor Watson as Harry was, but Mycroft decided he liked her enough to make the conviction go away and to have some paperwork fixed on her behalf. He wasn't sure what Eurus had done to inspire such loyalty from Doctor Watson within a week of living together, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Admittedly, it made him slightly uncomfortable to have another person in Eurus' circle of control, but perhaps a new unknown player was exactly what his sister needed to be safe.
With the number of megalomaniacs Eurus was bumping elbows with, she could very well use the backup.
.oOo.
Sirius had been standing outside Mycroft's office door for an hour. In that time, he'd left twice, returned with a tray complete with tea and biscuits, and turned into a dog and back.
Mycroft sighed. At least with magic, the tea could be reheated to a drinkable temperature, though reheated tea never did taste quite right.
"Are you going to come in, then?" he called.
The tray crashed to the floor. Sirius yelped, then said a series of words that made Mycroft feel relieved that Luna was at the Rookery for the weekend.
His office door creaked open. The tea service looked immaculate, like it had just been fixed with magic. "Sorry," Sirius said, letting himself fall into the chair opposite Mycroft's desk. "I was hoping we could talk?"
The jam biscuits were soggy and bleeding strawberry goo across the plate. Mycroft took one and, since Sirius was entirely preoccupied studying his own toes, he licked the mess off his fingers.
"Yes?" Mycroft said when Sirius had conclusively demonstrated he needed the prompting.
"I might have fucked up?"
This didn't surprise Mycroft at all, and he knew Sirius must know this also. "Would you like to elaborate, or should I guess?"
"No, please don't deduce me to death, it's just—"
This must be about Sirius' relationship to Sherry, more specifically due to Harry's reasoning for why he didn't want Sirius around the house. Mycroft could tell Sirius had been losing sleep over this confession, ergo he had been suffering from his guilty conscience for a while.
"I see," Mycroft said. He leaned back and waited for Sirius to speak.
"So, you know how I've been working at the nursing home?"
Yes, Sirius, I literally got you the job. Mycroft nodded and arranged his face into a pleasant smile.
"Well, there's this lady there, Anabel, she's got some trouble with her memory and she likes having her hair brushed and plaited. I'm good at that, I had long hair too once, did you know?"
Mycroft hadn't known about the more intricate details of what Sirius got up to all day while at work. Anthea had reported that he got along well enough with the others, and that he was an incorrigible flirt no matter the age of the lady before him. Honestly, Mycroft had just been glad Sirius had somewhere outside the flat to go most days, and that he had enough sense not to flirt with the men.
"I've seen the pictures from the Potter wedding," Mycroft said. "I didn't know you'd plaited it yourself."
"Yeah." Sirius smiled in a way that made his whole face soften. "I did Lily's updo, too. They were both so happy that day."
Mycroft cleared his throat. "You were telling me about Anabel."
"Her daughter…" Sirius began, and then rushed out the rest, "she died when a faulty gas line exploded."
"I see," Mycroft said, and he did.
Sirius went on to explain how he had developed basic human empathy towards muggles, despite having been taught from birth to see them as inferior beings to himself.
He'd finally developed a guilty conscience over his murder of twelve people during his pursuit of Peter Pettigrew, and now Sirius had come to Mycroft asking for absolution.
"That's not quite how this works, Sirius," Mycroft said, trying not to sound disdainful. "There are twelve families out there who have lost their loved ones because of your choices. Perhaps it's time you faced the consequences of that?"
"Do you mean I could meet them? Help them, like I do for Miss Anabel?"
"Absolutely not."
Sirius' face fell. Mycroft did not roll his eyes, because he had a modicum of manners and far too much patience for idiots.
"You might visit their graves, but it's not their families' burden to forgive you. They deserve their peace. It's been nine years for them, and they think their loved ones died in a tragic accident.
"Oh," Sirius said. He looked like a chastised schoolboy rather than a grown man. Though he'd been holding his teacup the whole time, he hadn't drunk from it once. "I suppose visiting their graves might be nice."
It was a poor choice of words, but Mycroft didn't have anything better to provide. He was glad Sirius was finally choosing to face his mistakes and suffer the consequences, even if they might only be a guilty conscience and perhaps some financial aid to the affected families.
"Anabel really loved her daughter," Sirius said, finally sipping his tea and setting it down when he realised it had gone cold. "I didn't know parents could feel so much for their children. Like, she had hopes for her. Dreams, and wishes. But mostly she just wanted for her to be happy. Is that what parenting is like for you?"
Mycroft sighed. He had been perfectly happy to leave the soul-searching to the person on the other side of his desk. "I think if you ask me or Harry we'd both give you different answers. Harry is much more concerned about raising our children to have the freedom to pursue what makes them happy."
"And you?" Sirius said. He looked thoughtful, rather than shrewd like his grandfather's eyes always had.
"I suppose…" Mycroft began, before taking another biscuit, "I suppose that I have been much more concerned about safety, or rather damage control. Harry's the one who insists on teaching Sherry to take responsibility for his own actions and learn from his…mistakes."
Mycroft swallowed. He moved to sip from his tea, but found the cup already empty. "Excuse me," he said, shuffling around some papers, "I'll have Anthea look into the gravesites for you later. I must be getting back to work now."
"Sure, thanks for your time." Sirius collected the tray, though Mycroft held on to the plate of jam biscuits.
Once Sirius had closed the door behind him, Mycroft leaned back in his chair and frowned at the ceiling.
There was a key difference in how Harry had always dealt with Sherry, and how Mycroft had always dealt with Eurus.
Perhaps it was why Sherry was going into politics while Eurus had broken a Dark Lord out of prison and was now playing house with an army doctor. Whenever Eurus got into any sort of mess, Mycroft had been there to smooth things over for her. Ostensibly so that she didn't decide to murder everyone in her way, but still—
Mycroft wasn't yet sure where his thoughts were going, but he'd have to talk about it with Harry soon to get to the bottom of things.
.oOo.
"Sirius had a chat with me last week," Mycroft said, sitting down on the bed and watching as Harry got ready for bed. "I'm not sure how much you've been following his activities—he's been doing well with his job at the nursing home."
"Yeah, he told me Anthea gave him a list of graves to visit. Asked if I wanted to come along. I said no."
Mycroft winced. He'd hoped to talk to Harry about it before Sirius went and made a mess of things. In retrospect, he should have been expecting Sirius' mouth to be miles ahead of his feet.
"I'm sorry, dear. I had hoped he'd have more sense than that."
Harry put on a clean pair of pants and climbed into bed beside Mycroft. "I know. You're not responsible for Sirius' actions, you do realise? He's a grown man. Let him make his own mistakes. He's like a puppy pining for my approval right now, but I'm hoping he'll mature out of it."
"You're standing between him and his godson. It's only natural for him to want your approval, if only so he can see Sherry more often." Mycroft leaned over and switched off the lights. He lay on his back and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Harry slowly, carefully shuffled over until their arms were touching. "Sirius will just have to grow out of it."
"Just like Sherry grew out of it?" Mycroft smiled at the very thought.
Harry laughed. "Sherry's got his own problems, and he needs to lean into them before he can move past them. Half of it was deep-seated daddy-issues, which his childhood with us will have improved a bit. The other is his need to be in control of everything and his inability to trust others. We're parenting a Dark Lord, but we're not going to coddle him. Especially not once he's at Hogwarts."
"Are you sure it's a good idea? Sending him to Hogwarts? He's so young. What if he murders a classmate? What if—"
"Arguably, he's older than we are. He's done the murder thing once already, I'm sure he's learned plenty from that mistake. Sherry's bored here. Letting Eurus do a little ageing ritual so we can send him off to Hogwarts a year early is the best thing we can do for him now. Besides, we'll have more time for Luna then. I really do want to give her a bit more of a chance to come into her own."
Harry's voice sounded very confident. It was either because he was a Gryffindor, or because he was a Slytherin. Mycroft felt his heart swelling almost painfully with an emotion he eventually pinned down as fondness.
"So Sherry gets bored of us and you think we should just let him go?"
"Yeah, Mycroft." Harry's hand brushed across his chest in a way that both soothed and hurt. "Just like we had to let Eurus go off to Germany. One day we'll let Luna go her own way. One day Medusa will leave us. It's all a part of life, you know."
What about you? Mycroft wanted to ask. Are you going to leave me too, as a normal part of life? Because the very thought of it was making Mycroft feel queasy. He sat up suddenly, brushing off Harry's touch, and went to the bathroom. A prematurely balding, fat man stared back at him under the unflattering lights of the bathroom mirror.
Looking at himself, Mycroft couldn't fathom what Harry saw in him that made him want to stay. Sure, they'd been raising their child together, but Sherry was leaving now, and he'd never even been a proper child to begin with. Now that things were settling down, there were no real reasons to stop Harry from getting bored and jumping off another motorway bridge.
"It feels just like flying," Harry had told him, "until you realise you're not in control after all. That's what makes it falling."
Logically, Mycroft would be fine when Harry left, but there wasn't much logic left in Mycroft with all that vertigo. He held onto the bathroom sink to stay upright. He took a few deep breaths, washed his hands, then splashed water over his face for good measure.
When he returned, Harry was sitting in bed with his eyes wide. "Are you alright?" Harry said softly, like he was talking to a spooked animal.
Mycroft climbed back into bed and turned the lights off again. "I suppose I'm a bit nervous," he admitted. Because I realised that I do not want to live this life without you in it, Mycroft did not admit to anyone but himself.
"Anything I could help you with?" Harry said, leaning back into Mycroft's side. His heat was warm and comforting.
Mycroft's hands and feet felt unbearably cold. "Perhaps," Mycroft said, trying to say it fast enough so his mind could only put up a token protest. "Perhaps you could help. Would you mind if I kissed you?"
.oOo.
"What's gotten you in such a good mood this morning?" Anthea said, handing over a thermos of English Breakfast. "Not that I'm complaining. You'll need as much good cheer as you can get considering we have the Labour Party election success to smooth over.
The tea was hot and satisfying. Mycroft smiled, then frowned. "What happened?"
"No, no, the European Parliament can wait. Tell me about your good mood. Is it because Sherry's off to boarding school soon? Did Sirius finally move out?"
Mycroft waited until she'd had a sip from her own thermos before answering. "Harry and I had sexual relations last night."
With deep satisfaction, he watched her cough, introducing her tea to her notebook. Even if she'd ruined his suit, he could have called Harry over to magic away the stains.
"Mycroft Holmes, and here I thought we had a purely professional relationship." She was grinning.
Mycroft was in too good a mood not to smile back. It wasn't like he didn't know about her exploits. And it was better he tell someone sensible like her, than someone nosy and undeserving like Sirius or Blainbridge. For a startling moment, Mycroft realised that he saw Anthea less as a secretary and more as a friend.
"It was more satisfying than I'd thought it would be. There was also substantially more giggling than I had been led to believe."
Anthea snorted, abandoning her thermos entirely. "So you've watched porn, too? And here I'd pegged you as asexual."
Mycroft watched the light turn green through the tinted windows. "Perhaps," he said. He'd never thought particularly much about it, having mostly seen sex as a banal affliction for men less intelligent than himself. Besides the not inconsiderable number of sex tapes he'd obtained for blackmail purposes, Mycroft just had never bothered with the subject.
"And?" Anthea said, leaning forward, "You can't just open with that and not finish. What was it like? It must have been halfway decent, judging by your good mood this morning."
"Yes," Mycroft said. It had been good. He'd felt cherished, and understood, and wanted. Despite Mycroft's somewhat dubious intentions in initiating the act, Harry had been exceptionally careful about their mutual consent. "It was lovely. Odd, and rather messy and wetter than I'd been prepared for. But I'm quite content."
"Yeah." Anthea smiled at him, looking so fond. "I'm really glad. You and Harry have been good for each other. He brings out the human side of you."
Mycroft used to worry about that. He didn't think he was supposed to be human. He'd much rather be logical, rational, and constantly on his guard.
But this thing with Harry didn't just make sense rationally, it made sense emotionally. Mycroft knew he didn't feel love like normal people did. He wasn't brimming with gaiety and he wasn't going to break into song, nor would he paint masterpieces on the ceilings. What he and Harry had was a quiet, comfortable affection. Something that Mycroft did not need to make sense of.
Something that he was prepared, finally, to surrender to.
"I suppose this is love," Mycroft said when the car pulled into the underground car park. "I didn't realise it was supposed to be so easy."
"You're a good man, Mycroft," Anthea said, "and you have been for a long time, even if you didn't realise it. You're a good husband, a good father, and a good boss." She grinned as she opened the car door for him. "I'd say you're a good politician, too, but we both know there's no such thing."
.oOo.
And we're back on a fortnightly posting schedule! After a brief hiatus to write Dorothy Rose (a Trans!Dudley story posted on ao3), I'm back to writing this. Thank you for your patience.
As of 8 Oct. 22, Chapters 12.2 is up on ao3, 13.1 is up on my discord (linked on ao3), 13.2 and 14.1 are being edited and 14.2 is in progress.