The Monday morning was always dull for Clare. Charles left for work at the crack of dawn and she knew he wouldn't be back until seven that night which left her with an entire day on her own. There was only so much cleaning of the penthouse apartment which she could manage. But it seemed that things were taking a turn on the cool Monday morning. She didn't particularly understand why but as soon as she answered the intercom to their apartment she knew something was either wrong or on the verge of changing.

"Hello," she answered as the apartment bell rang and she pressed her finger to the answer button.

"Clare," the familiar voice of Mycroft Holmes called up to his sister and she blinked quickly. "I need to speak with you."

"To what do I owe the honour?" Clare asked, pretending to be humbled by her own brother's visit in a tone so full of sarcasm which Sherlock would associate with.

"Can one brother simply not visit their youngest sibling?" Mycroft asked, feigning innocence in his voice which earned a small chuckled from the young woman as she rested against the wall and took a deep breath.

"Come up, Mycroft," she spoke, giving him access to her apartment as she opened the door which led out to the private hallway and waited for him to come out the elevator. She continued her pondering in silence, only the noise of the ticking clock audible. It didn't take long before she saw her brother move from the lift, his usual umbrella swinging in his hands and his body covered in the finest suit which money could buy. Clare remained resting against the doorframe as he managed a small smile at her.

"Nice to see you, Clare," he spoke and she moved from the door, allowing Mycroft to push past her before she closed the wood in its hole and moved to the open spaced kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle.

"So what brings you here, Mycroft?" she enquired from him, pouring a tea bag into each cup and pulling the milk out from the large fridge as Mycroft took a seat on the bar stool at the breakfast bar.

"I would have thought you would have known," he commented, running his hand along the smooth marble surface, looking at his sister with intent.

"It is to do with Sherlock, isn't it?" she replied. "You want to know what I know about his new flatmate."

"Do you not think it odd that Sherlock is living with someone?" Mycroft asked her and she shrugged, pulling the long cardigan back onto her shoulder from where it had fallen.

"I don't think he is gay if that is what you're implying?" she wondered, teasing her brother and Mycroft knew better than to fall for it.

"I know that," he chuckled. "I want to know what Sherlock is doing."

"Even a sociopath gets lonely," Clare explained, hearing the kettle boil and turning her back to her brother and pouring the drinks as she continued speaking to him. "I know it is slightly odd but Sherlock maybe just wants someone to talk to and besides, the rent must be high in Baker Street."

"I shall speak to Sherlock about this soon," Mycroft decided, taking the mug from his sister and holding it in his hands. "I had a word with Doctor Watson last night but he didn't divulge into anything."

"You did what?" Clare replied, pushing her hair from her face and standing the other side of the breakfast bar. "You did your power play thingy, didn't you?"

"Come along, Clare," Mycroft drawled and he chuckled gently. "It is quite amusing to see people squirm under my interrogation. Your fiancé was an extremely good example."

"He thought he was going to be held hostage, Mycroft," Clare said flatly to her brother and he grinned into his tea as he sipped on it. "And I have your invitation to the wedding. Give me a moment and I will get it."

"No need," Mycroft assured her. "Twelfth of December at one p.m...St Bernard's Chapel, correct?"

"I would ask how you knew," Clare replied, "but I forgot you were the British Government."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," Mycroft said with the smirk still in place on his face. "I needed to find out to clear my diary and you were wasting time in making your decorative invitations. Although I am shocked that you asked Sherlock to walk you down the aisle. Do you honestly believe he will get to the chapel on time? It is a bride's prerogative to be late, not Sherlock's."

"I would have you both walk me down the aisle, Mycroft," Clare said sympathetically. "But Sherlock...well..."

"You don't need to explain," Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You two have always been close. My work has always taken priority."

"We're not a traditional family, are we?" Clare giggled lightly to herself and Mycroft nodded in agreement with her statement, sipping on his drink once again.

"I suppose you could say that," he spoke. "Tell me, have you invited mother yet?"

"I called her the other night," Clare whispered. "She told me straight out what she thinks of my marriage."

Mycroft remained quiet for a moment, looking at his young sister as she looked into her tea and he sighed gently.

"I could have a word with her if you wish?" he offered and she shook her head quickly.

"She made her feelings known," she assured Mycroft. "She sees my marriage as nothing more than me being a gold-digger."

"She's an old woman," Mycroft shrugged again. "As long as you are sure that this is what you want then you need not worry."

"I love Charles," she assured him. "Is that not enough?"

"I've heard it is for some people."

...

A/N: Thanks to anyone reading and do review!