Chapter 13

In London later on in the evening, Mycroft and Aoife settled down in his living room with the promised fish and chips. She'd opted to sit, bare footed and cross legged on the floor to eat her chips. He'd reluctantly consented to eating said 'chipper chips' with his fingers, straight out of the chip bag, but from his favourite Chesterfield chair. He drew the line at coca cola though. That far he would not go, so instead they opted for tea. Judging by the amused twinkle in Aoife's eyes she was enjoying his discomfort immensely. She was tired after the long flight and had changed into a form fitting tracksuit for comfort.

The woman could make a refuse sack look like it was a bespoke design by Chanel, he thought as he looked at her. It was dark green and complimented her auburn colouring and indeed, her Irish heritage, perfectly. She was a woman who was 'easy in her skin' he mused, as he watched her sucking the salt off her fingers. Stunningly beautiful by any standards, she exuded confidence in her physical appearance without a hint of vanity, and was self-assured without a trace of arrogance.

It was more then beauty though, he thought, she was charismatic, witty, utterly charming, smart, and even tempered, but had a strong and stubborn streak if crossed. She possessed an in-built sense of justice and fair play that stemmed from her parenting, but more fundamentally, from the murder of her twin brother. She was a rare gem in a world of glass baubles and he was a very lucky man to have her.

She felt his eyes on her and glanced up at him, noticing the amusement in his eyes. Well, amusement and something else entirely, which made her smile a little smugly.

"Well", she said, as she sucked her ring finger with a loud pop, "it's part of the ritual, to suck off the salt", she said, bold as brass and devilment dancing in her eyes, "do you know nothing, Mr Holmes?" He laughed heartily at her.

"Oh Aoife, I used to think I knew almost everything, but with you, I find I'm learning something new every day." She smiled happily and retorted,

"My Dad always says that the day you stop learning, is the day you die; so long may you continue to learn, dearest." She popped the last chip into her mouth and then twisted the bag and tossed it in the paper bin, smirking at him provocatively.

"Just testing my theory on my boyfriend's OCD tendencies. How long can you leave that greasy paper bag there before you transfer it to the kitchen bin?" He spluttered out laughing again.

"I have no idea what you're talking about! Anyway, I'm not sure which I object to more, the idea that I have OCD tendencies, or the use of the word 'boyfriend'." He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust and she giggled as she sipped her tea.

"What should I call you then?" she teased. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest as he smirked at her.

"'Mycroft' will suffice, thank you very much.." Aoife rolled her eyes and laughed again.

"I can't describe you as 'my Mycroft'!"

"You most certainly can."

Her eyes danced with merriment as she stood up and brushed off her track suit top, then slowly pulled it over her head to reveal a very fitted black vest t-shirt. Mycroft grinned and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is the heat getting to you Aoife?"

She grinned as she walked towards his chair and then paused and tugged down the bottoms and stepping out of them, tossed them after her top. Mycroft slid down slightly in his chair, eyes popping, and a very happy smile on his face.

"Not at all," she said, quite matter of fact. "However, as I intend to shag 'My Mycroft' in his chair imminently, I thought I'd remove some impediments to that intent."

It took a second for Mycroft to realise his mouth was hanging open and he gulped and clamped it shut. He felt the blood rushing to his groin, and his pulse began to race as he looked at her. He thought, not for the first time, that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wet his lips as she smiled down at him and then he held out his arms for her. She leapt like a gazelle into them, straddling his lap, and he pulled her tightly into him. Grasping her gently by the back of her head he tilted it so he could look in her eyes.

"You are so beautiful, Aoife." A soft smile hovered on her lips and she rested her forehead against his for a long moment before kissing him deeply. He ran his hands lovingly down her back and then taking hold of the hem of her t-shirt, he pulled it over her head. She leaned back slightly, tossing her long hair behind her and he sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. He had her bra off in seconds and palmed her breast as he buried his lips into her neck, gratified to hear her soft moans in his ear.

He was groaning himself when she shifted in his lap and reached down to unzip his trousers and release him. She moved to pull her underwear to the side to facilitate him but he shook his head. "Stand up", he told her firmly. She locked eyes with him, surprised, but did what he said, rising up over him on his chair, her long athletic legs barely touching each of his shoulders. He ran his hands slowly up the back of her thighs, and she began to tremble. He gripped her around her buttocks to steady her and her knees buckled into his chest. She grabbed the back of his chair and he tugged her silk underwear down her legs, lifting her foot to remove them. Freeing his target, he shifted her slightly and then clamped his mouth on her sex. Aoife groaned out loudly as he slowly worked her to climax. She called out his name as she came, collapsing back down his body onto his lap and he held her firmly as she shuddered into his chest, burying her face into his neck as she caught her breath.

Mycroft whispered lovingly into her ear for long moments and ran his lips along her neck as he held her tightly in his arms. Suddenly, he felt her tears on his cheek and pulling his head back in concern, he looked questioningly at her as he wiped them away from her face with the back of his hand. She shook her head and kissed him softly and then she whispered,

"I never knew, Mycroft, I never thought..." she faltered, and looking at his concerned expression and the love blazing in his eyes, fresh tears fell down her cheeks.

"Knew what, my love?" he coaxed her gently. She shook her head again and a tenuous smile began to hover on her lips.

"Knew that it could be this good; or thought I could ever feel this ridiculously happy." Mycroft's heart skipped a beat as he heard her words and he kissed her long and tenderly.

"I never thought 'it' was for me at all, and then you marched into my office demanding I re-open the Moriarty case, and I was a goner. I've been waiting for you my whole life Aoife." She laughed gently.

"I wouldn't say 'demanded' exactly..." and once again she had him laughing. He cupped her breast again and dipped his head to kiss it.

"Oh really? Wouldn't you? How then, would you describe it?" She wriggled on his lap and gripped the side of his head to press him to her.

"I would say it was a diplomatic request from one sovereign nation to another...oh!" she gasped as he ran his tongue across her nipple. Mycroft chuckled and lifted his head incredulously at her.

"That might have been what you told the Taoiseach, Aoife Quinn, but I remember it somewhat differently." She giggled and tapped him lightly on his shoulder.

"Oh hush you, I was right, wasn't I? Even if you didn't believe me at the time." He looked more seriously at her.

"Well, that's a mistake I won't repeat, my love."

She sucked in her breath sharply again as he reclaimed her breasts with his mouth and hands. Then his own heart raced as she wrapped one arm tightly around his shoulders and reaching beneath her, she grasped him firmly in her hand and then sheathed herself slowly until he completely filled her. His hips shifted and he rocked up under her and she began to move too. She kept her eyes on his as she moved with him, only closing them when she climaxed again, this time in unison with him.

He'd never felt as intense a high before her, he thought, as he held her tightly in his arms. No other lover had ever affected him like she did. He knew it was because he had never been emotionally invested with anyone else before her. She held onto him for a long moment and then kissed him and slid off his lap. She grinned and then pulled her underwear and vest top back on, shrugging bashfully at him. He fixed himself up as he laughed at her, shaking his head incredulously. "Now you're shy?! Aoife Quinn, you are hilarious!" She exhaled a laugh and picked his mobile up from the coffee table.

"Here darling, saved by the bell. It's been buzzing away there on vibrate. Someone is looking for you rather urgently." He sighed heavily.

"Someone is always looking for me..." he paused, as he saw it was from Mike Stamford. "Hang on, I do want to take this. That's curious, he hasn't left a voicemail, just a text to call him back urgently." Mycroft got a very uneasy feeling as he called Stamford; growing more so when he answered on the second ring. "Mike, hi, sorry, you were looking for me?" Mycroft's face hardened and he began to frown as he listened to Mike's response. "You're quite sure Mike?," he listened to the answer and sighed deeply. Then he thanked him, and as he terminated the call, he uttered one word. "Christ!" and Aoife looked at him questioningly, now very alarmed. He held up a halting hand and called his younger brother immediately.

In Wicklow, Sherlock had just carried a dozy but giggling Molly up to their bedroom where, after two minutes in the bathroom, she'd collapsed on their big bed, a tad dramatically, much to his amusement. He soon joined her and she rolled over beside him, sighing contentedly as she wrapped her arm across his chest and promptly fell fast asleep again. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Placing it back on his chest, he covered it with his hand. Then his phone lit up. He'd left it on his locker on silent mode, waiting to hear from Mycroft. He slipped out of bed and answered quietly with "well, blood?" He heard his brother sigh deeply and Sherlock froze.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. It's not him." Sherlock was stunned.

"That's not possible Mycroft. The man is the image of them." Mycroft sighed again.

"That's because he's their Uncle; their father's brother. He may well have reared them with their mother, and I suspect he did. God knows where their father is, or if he's even still alive." Sherlock stormed out of his bedroom and into the hall so Molly would not wake up.

"Jesus Christ, Mycroft. That bloody family!" He gripped his head with one hand and thought hard. Then he said, "is Aoife there with you?" Knowing what he wanted, Mycroft handed his phone to an incredulous Aoife.

"Sherlock, God!"

"Aoife, I need you to go back to your people here in Ireland and start a search for the father. Go right back to those social security numbers and trace the entire family as much as you can; births, marriages and deaths of every bloody Uncle, Aunt, Grandparents, the whole cesspool.."

"I will do it right away Sherlock, but listen to me now for a minute. It was quite a common thing for a brother or sister to marry their sibling's spouse, upon their death. It was not at all unusual. It still happens too." Sherlock listened to her in silence and his heart began to calm.

"I can see how that could happen. People already know each other well. In this case the Moriarty children were probably already comfortable with their Uncle." He sighed. "You may be right. It's possible that the uncle may even have killed their father. Thank you Aoife. I am once again in your debt. I may need to stay here longer now, chase this up, if that's ok with you?"

"Oh Sherlock, don't be silly, stay as long as you need. I have an apartment in Dublin if I need to come home for this.." Sherlock interrupted her.

"No Aoife, if you need to come, please stay here with us. I'd prefer to have you with us for this, ok?"

"Alright Sherlock. I'll get on to Dublin now and let you know in the morning. We'll know more by then."

"Thank you," he said. "Oh, and Aoife?"

"Yes?"

"Send your full security team back to this house tonight please?" Aoife agreed immediately and handed the phone back to Mycroft.

"Sherlock?"

"Send somebody trained to deal with patients with dementia to question the Uncle in Virginia please. Not much point in me flying back."

"No problem Sherlock. Look, try not to worry. We'll to a full threat analysis between us in the morning. Do you need us to come over there?" Sherlock thought about it and answered with a question.

"Do you think you need to come?" His brother smiled, thinking how far they'd come in repairing their once fractured relationship, that he'd ask him that.

"No, Sherlock, I don't. Not yet, at any rate. We'll know more in the morning. What are you going to tell Molly?" Sherlock laughed ruefully.

"I'm going to tell her we have a case."