Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
NOTE 5/5/2013: This chapter has been edited and is now chapter 3. Nothing major has changed, just has a new chapter number.
Background: See prologue chapter.
A/N: See prologue chapter.
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Chapter 3
Twenty-four hours later…
The scene at the bank was a mess thought Mycroft as he observed from the back of his limousine. His brother really knows how to get himself into some really serious situations, though he really cannot blame this one on Sherlock this time. All he had done was go into a bank. Mycroft hasn't had a chance to go over the security camera with a fine tooth comb yet though.
And where was his brother anyway? Everyone should be out of the bank by now, whether they are walking or in body bags. He glanced in the direction of the ambulance… those unfortunate, surviving family members.
Mycroft let out a sigh. His brother knows he hates showing his face when there are news cameras around, but this situation really worried him and Mummy and they both would not rest until Mycroft could ascertain whether or not Sherlock was all right or not.
He let out another sigh after two minutes of silent contemplation. There was nothing else for it. He was going to have to get out of the limousine and… talk… to the one in charge of the fiasco and find out what was holding up his brother inside the bank. Bloody younger siblings and the things older siblings do for them.
Mycroft opened the door, stepped out of the limousine with his umbrella, you never knew when it was going to rain in London and better be prepared Mummy always said, and shut the limousine door.
He had just straightened his suit, which was rumpled from sitting in the limousine when the doors to the bank opened and several people came out. Most he did not recognize but he recognized three of them at once having… detained… two of them at one point or another and one being his own brother who…
Was he carrying a child? Why was his brother carrying a child? Willing? And was Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector walking beside them as if they were going to protect them both from anything they deemed a threat?
What in the world happened in that bank in the past twenty-four hours?
Oh... He could feel a headache coming on, the kinds of which only Sherlock could give him.
"Anthea?" said Mycroft quietly as he saw his brother and company head his way.
"Yes, sir?" she replied from his side, phone in hand.
"Send all the footage from the bank to my office so I can go over it. I want all of it. From the moment my brother walked into the bank until right now."
"Yes, sir," she replied and she moved off to the side and started doing as asked.
His brother was now three feet away and then he, Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector stopped walking and Mycroft took a couple steps in their direction and stopped and everyone, except for the child in Sherlock's arms, stared at each other. The child had his head on Sherlock's shoulder, avoiding looking at anyone.
Then Mycroft said, raking his eyes up and down his brother's form trying to see if there was any visible damage, "Sherlock." In that one single word, he asked many things of his brother.
"Mycroft," said Sherlock simply and in that single word, in his normal, almost scathing tone when addressing him, Mycroft knew Sherlock was suffering no lasting damage from his ordeal.
"So I see you suffer no long lasting side effects from your ordeal over the past twenty-four hours," said Mycroft posing it like a statement. He was going to double check the bank footage either way but he would rather his brother tell him, especially since there was no audio and lip-reading was a tedious task.
"So it would seem," said Sherlock, not giving anything away, though there was a hint of a smirk.
The child shifted slightly in Sherlock's arms as Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector watched the conversation. Mycroft let out a sigh. His brother was going to make him ask what happened.
"Who is the child?" asked Mycroft, beating around the bush of asking what actually happened inside the bank during the last twenty-four hours for the moment. The child was actually a more pressing issue at the moment since he seemed attached to his brother and he was about ninety-three point seven percent positive that his brother did not kidnap him.
"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Sherlock which caused the child to jump and Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector to look at him in shock.
Mycroft simply raised an eyebrow at him and said, "I did not say a word."
"You were thinking it," said Sherlock testily.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one he does that to," the Detective Inspector said to Doctor Watson who nodded his head in agreement.
Mycroft and Sherlock both ignored them and the child stared at them all with wide eyes behind his glasses.
"What was I thinking?" asked Mycroft as if he didn't have the foggiest idea of what Sherlock was talking about.
"If I were going to kidnap a child, I would be more creative than to take them to the bank to make them pick up their own ransom. Give me some credit, Mycroft. I'm not that boring!" said Sherlock. He looked indignant at the very thought.
Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector just shook their heads at him and the Detective Inspector also added, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
'Smart man,' thought Mycroft. He would hate to do something unfavorable towards the man. He was actually quite good at his job, despite what Sherlock thought, and he got results.
Suddenly there was a breeze and the wind blew the child's bangs off his forehead.
'Somebody upstairs hates me,' was Mycroft's next immediate thought as he got a look at the boy's forehead and knew immediately who it was. No further introduction was needed for him.
"You know who he is!" said Sherlock at once.
Of course, he couldn't hide that from his brother no matter how blank he kept his face. Mycroft let out a sigh. Somebody really hates him. What did he ever do to deserve this kind of punishment? He was a mass murderer in a previous life, wasn't he, and this is his repayment. It was the only logical conclusion he could draw.
"Don't ignore me, Mycroft!" said Sherlock.
Mycroft let out another sigh and cast a glance around at all the bystanders. If there was any possibility that they thought he was in the bank… No better continue this conversation somewhere else.
"Mycroft!" said Sherlock.
No doubt, if his hands weren't full, Sherlock would have thrown something at him by now, thought Mycroft. He just can't let anyone else gather their thoughts.
"Mycroft!" said Sherlock and he sounded exasperated this time.
"Come with me," said Mycroft finally looking back at his brother and his friends, even if he won't admit it to himself yet. "We need to get out of sight. I hate cameras."
Sherlock shifted the child to his other side. Obviously, he was getting a little heavy but he was reluctant to put him down, interesting, and he gave his brother a hard look. Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector just sighed, which they probably spent a lot doing in the past twenty-four hours.
After another moment, Sherlock nodded his head and both Sherlock and Mycroft, who pivoted, headed towards the limousine, expecting the other two to follow them.
John and Lestrade exchanged a look, let out another sigh and followed the two brothers. They came to a mutual agreement that the Holmes brothers weren't even worth the argument anymore as they caused ulcers and they would never see what they did was wrong anyway.
Anthea, who was still busy texting on her phone, reached with one hand and opened the door to the limousine to let her boss and his company into the car.
"Shall I sit up front with the driver?" asked Anthea, attention still on the phone.
"If you don't mind," said Mycroft, but he made it sound like an order. John wondered how he did that.
"Yes, sir," said Anthea. She glanced up for a second and she looked shocked that Sherlock was holding a child before her face blanked again and she looked back at her phone, waiting for everyone to get into the limousine so she could shut the door.
Sherlock looked at the child and said, "I have to put you down so we can get into the car, all right?"
The child nodded his head slowly and glanced at Mycroft nervously.
"He's harmless," said Sherlock as he set the child down on his own two feet.
Mycroft looked insulted at that. He wasn't harmless. He was feared by many.
"See? Just look at his face," said Sherlock.
The child looked over at Mycroft who quickly got rid of his insulted face and looked annoyed. Unsurprisingly, that only made the child more nervous and to Mycroft's internal surprise, Sherlock, Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector all scowled at him.
The child gestured to Sherlock to get down to his level and Sherlock did so and the child whispered in Sherlock's ear, or he thought he did but everyone could hear, "He's not like them, is he?"
Sherlock, Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector all scowled briefly to themselves before Sherlock blanked his face and said to the child, "No. He's not like them at all. He's, as much as it pains me to say it, and believe me it pains me a great deal, young Harry," Mycroft sighed to himself, he hates it when he is right, "my brother is really nice to those he cares about… in a twisted, stalker –"
"That's enough, Sherlock," said John. Harry was looking a little freaked out at the last bit.
"Yes, right," said Sherlock nodding his head. "The point," he continued, "is that Mycroft is harmless. Isn't that right, Mycroft?"
Sherlock gave him a look that said he better tell Harry that he was harmless or so help him he would find heads and toes in all of his refrigerators.
"I'm completely harmless, Mister Potter," said Mycroft in a dry voice. "Please do get in the limousine now." He got in himself and waited for everyone else to get in after that little bombshell he had just dropped. He only regretted not getting a proper look at his brother's face; it was so hard to shock him.
Unsurprisingly, the first person in the limousine after him was Sherlock who gave his brother a contemplative look as he sat across from Mycroft. The next person was Lestrade who sat on the seat between Sherlock and Mycroft. He was followed cautiously by Harry who sat immediately right beside Sherlock, in the farthest seat from Mycroft, who didn't know how he felt about that right now but that was the least of his problems for the moment if the child was afraid of him. Doctor Watson got in last and sat in the last available seat beside Harry.
The door shut with a snap after that and Anthea got into the front.
"Back to the office," said Mycroft.
"Yes, sir," said the driver.
Mycroft then raised the partition. He didn't want any potential conversation overheard, even from his own trusted staff, though his driver was new so he was not completely trusted yet.
They rode in silence though. No one was willing to break the silence and Sherlock was determined to stare at him while not blinking at all.
The child, Harry Potter, was oddly still. Weren't children more active and more animated when riding in a vehicle? Then again, he was just involved in a twenty-four hour hostage situation so he is probably exhausted. Yes, there he goes, lying his head on…Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock was letting him, what is the world coming to?
Mycroft seriously hopes his brother realizes he cannot just take in stray children… they are not pets. Mister Potter has a family that he has to go back to.
Sherlock's stare got even more intense as that thought crossed Mycroft's mind. Not for the first time, Mycroft wonder if his brother was a mind reader as he knew his own facial tells and ticks were nonexistent at this point.
Then there was Doctor Watson's and the Detective Inspector's reaction as they walked out of the bank as well that Mycroft had to consider especially since they were the levelheaded ones when dealing with anything related to Sherlock. But they seemed to be on the same page as Sherlock in consideration with Mister Potter.
Which lead him to the same question: What the hell happened in that bank for the last twenty-four hours?
He let his thoughts drift after that for the remainder of the ride that lasted a total of twenty minutes, this driver obviously knew some short-cuts. As long as he was not a traitor, Mycroft would enjoy this man's driving abilities.
The limousine stopped and the driver and Anthea got out and the driver opened the door. Mycroft exited the limousine first followed by Lestrade and John.
Sherlock looked down and saw that Harry had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him, since he knew children needed sleep, even though he thought it was dull, and he knew Harry barely got any last night due to the situation they were in, he decided to carry him. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, Harry was on the light side so Sherlock moved him into his arms, slid in the seats until he was at the door and got out of the limousine, without causing injury to himself or Harry. He was quite pleased with himself. He then moved Harry into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, without losing Harry's glasses which were still miraculously on his face, as holding him like an offering to some sort of deity was uncomfortable for both of them.
Sherlock looked up at everyone and saw everyone looking at him.
"What?" he asked, a bit defensive but quietly, lest he woke Harry up.
"Nothing," said John and Lestrade, though they were grinning like fools at him.
Mycroft simply didn't say a word to him, just gave him a weird look.
"Anthea, you can go to your office and finish up what I asked you to do there," said Mycroft.
"Yes, sir," said Anthea, not looking up from her Blackberry as she headed off towards her office.
"Follow me," said Mycroft to Sherlock, John and Lestrade.
He led them through the corridors until they got to his office. He opened the door and let them in.
"You can lay Mister Potter on the couch," said Mycroft, gesturing his brother towards the couch that was out of the way but still in the line of sight of anything in his office.
Sherlock nodded once and laid Harry down on the couch. He looked at him for a moment, considering, before he took the blanket off the back, what Mycroft was doing with a blanket on his couch Sherlock would never know and he didn't feel like deducing right now, and covered Harry with it. Then he reached over and took Harry's glasses off his face and put them on the table beside the couch, least Harry breaks them in his sleep.
Satisfied that Harry was as comfortable as he could make him, it was Mycroft's couch, after all, he turned back to Mycroft, John and Lestrade who were staring at him.
"What?" he asked again. Honestly, the staring was getting old, not to mention confusing. Did he have something on his back? Did he sit in something?
"Nothing," said John and Lestrade, again, grinning at him like idiots.
His brother still did not say anything; just gave him a calculating look. Sherlock stared at him as well. That confirmed it. He must have sat in something. First chance he got where it wouldn't be suspicious, he was going to the bathroom to check what it was and try to remove it.
After a few minutes of silence and staring, both Mycroft and Sherlock saw out of the corner of their eyes, John and Lestrade exchange a look and simultaneously roll their eyes. Both Mycroft and Sherlock felt insulted. What was that suppose to mean?
Before they could voice anything, there was a knock at the door and Anthea came in with tea and biscuits, her Blackberry put aside for the moment. She put the tea and biscuits down on Mycroft's desk and left, without so much as a word to anyone.
"Sit down," said Mycroft gesturing to the three seats in front of his desk.
John and Lestrade sat down, they were exhausted after all. They were up all night and the day before. Sherlock let out an indignant noise at being bossed around but he sat down regardless if he did sit on something he could get it on his brother's furniture or he must be more tired than he let on.
"Have some tea and biscuits," said Mycroft, gesturing to the aforementioned items.
"Do you have to make everything sound like an order?" asked Sherlock.
"I do not," Mycroft responded back immediately sounding indignant.
John and Lestrade ignored them both and went straight for the tea and biscuits as Sherlock and Mycroft continued back and forth. They were going to need as much help as they could get to deal with both Holmes brothers.
"You do," said Sherlock sounding stubborn.
"Just drink the tea and have something to eat," said Mycroft, sounding fed up with the line of conversation already.
Sherlock gave an indignant sniff but he took the cup of tea that John had poured and took the biscuits that Lestrade had passed him.
They ate and drank in silence with the occasional snore from Harry.
When they were finished, Mycroft looked at them and said, "Tell me what happened in the bank."
John and Lestrade looked at Sherlock who had folded his hands in front of him and said, "Tell me how you know about Harry."
Mycroft waved a dismissive hand and said, "If you are somebody in the British Government then you know about Harry Potter and what he did and how important he is to some people. Now tell me about the bank."
"To some people? But not to you? You didn't answer my question," said Sherlock, sounding impatient.
Mycroft let out a sigh and said, "If you, Doctor Watson and Detective Inspector Lestrade tell me about the bank situation first, in full detail without omitting anything, then I will let you know all about what I know about Harry Potter."
"Why do we have to go first?" asked Sherlock, crossing his arms.
"Because I'm older than you and I said so," said Mycroft drily.
"That doesn't work anymore! We're not children!" said Sherlock, sounding exasperated.
"Then stopping acting like one for God's sake," said Mycroft, sounding exasperated himself.
Sherlock looked at his brother while John and Lestrade stayed quiet, watching the exchange. It didn't do to interfere between a Holmes brother when they were fighting each other. You rarely left it unscathed as they had learned in the past.
"Fine," said Sherlock after a moment. "Where would you like us to start?"
"The moment it became an official hostage situation," said Mycroft, as if it were the most obvious place to begin.
Sherlock, John and Lestrade thought for a moment before Sherlock leaned back in his chair and said, "Right then, here's what happened…"