Time and discretion was on the line, with so much to loose.
Mycroft could only assert his power where he saw fit, but if it would come to it, he would abuse it. Especially, seeing the unconscious women with her bulging stomach, on the gurney, being rolled on to private jet plane. Complications have been present throughout the process, now it has become dire. There was more than one life at stake.
Mycroft had given her the space she needed. There was no point in trying to keep her detained after Sherrinford. It was apparent to Mycroft that she wanted nothing to do with them, never looking to them for protection or safety. Victoria wanted to be on her own and he was going to do just that. And yet, it would be the illusion he wanted her to have.
Ignorance is bliss, as they say. And bliss was what he wanted her to have as way to repay for the damage that was done to her. So, he let her continue on her bliss while his finest men had her followed. They were the best of the best, trained to deflect danger, ensuring her safety and if she did try to flee, they would be one step ahead. They gathered everything from what she bought to who her patients were. After all, they were the British finest soldiers!
But what they couldn't see was a belly growing. The frumpy clothes, the change of her body, the tiredness she carried with her everyday!
Yes, they were the finest soldiers, indeed.
Mycroft was going to cut their wages for their ignorance.
Sherlock, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with the thought of a child coming into the world. Another life, that he absolutely no idea what to do with. Sherlock and children were not something you heard or saw in a sentence or in real life. Nor did he ever intend to be surrounded or be near one.
Victoria would carry and care for the child. Although, there was the exception that Mycroft had a soft spot for her. Sherlock had taken a mental note, the first time Mycroft spoke to her, it was with ease and to the point; with a hint of humor. Which is rare for Mycroft. And yet, when they first met, it was not over coffee or lunch, it was at a time when she had to recover from Sherrinford. Victoria had made an impression on him. Was it her attitude? Was it her demeanor? Sherlock could not say or notice. Yet, it was evident that he would go to great lengths to keep her safe and healthy. As he watched the doctors, who were reading her vitals and checking her blood pressure.
She was to be a mother to a Holmes but would not see it that way. There was the selfishness that they would have nothing to do with them. Which made him understand why she remained behind the desk, she was too afraid to expose herself. The way she demanded they left and leave her alone. The fear and anger wasn't just for what had happened almost a year ago, it was for her safety of the child. It was motherly instincts to protect herself from predators, willing to do what it takes to protect the life in her.
It was logical.
It was primitive.
It was natural!
They were taking her for her own protection and she would have no say in it, what so ever. The Holmes were selfish men for their own needs, but this time, it was for another Holmes that was yet to be born.
Victoria did not forgive any of them and was bearing a heavy regret on herself of her actions. Sherlock could hold no compassion for her. He gave a fair warning to her on what would happened if she continued the path, but why didn't she listen? Because of her kind and motherly instincts that he found so disgusting. The warning had become a heavy burden she would carry, as Sherlock thought while watching her shift in her sleep.
And yet, she wasn't the only one to be blamed. Sherrinford Holmes. Ford, as she called him. Sherri, as Sherlock used to call him to get a raise out of him.
The youngest of the Holmes and the most difficult of them all. If there was anything that he had done in the past that would ever come back to haunt them, it would be nothing but childs' play. Minor and easily brushed off.
But this?
Sherrinford had out done himself! The jet plane took off as Sherlock and Mycroft sat across from each other, not meeting each others gaze. They could not say a word to each other. Not yet at least. Mycroft had watched the sleeping form of Victoria, while Sherlock looked at the clouds.
"This certainly places us in a very difficult position." Mycroft said in a low tone.
"Us? I think what you mean to say is, you."
"Don't start the blaming game. It's rather childish!"
"You said Sherrinford had died. You confirmed it!" yelling at him.
"The shot was confirmed but the body was not-" retorting back but resorting to keeping his tone low, he did not want to wake Victoria.
"England's finest indeed!" he mocked Mycroft.
"Sherlock, Sherrinford is looking for her!"
"I know and when he does he will dangle her in front of us. What is she to him? Why does he want her? Mrs. Latimer holds absolutely no purpose in the world he lives in."
"She spoke to you the most, what did she say about him?"
Sherlock then remembered the first time he met her.