I.
4 December, 2014
International Summit on the Afghanistan issue begins. Call for Home Office to change immigration quotas in response to Syrian refugee requests. Ministers begin their pre-election maneuvering in earnest. Lord Smallwood's sexual dalliances announced in Magnussen newspapers.

IV.
Mycroft ran his fingertips across the red fabric on the arm of John's chair as he sat across from Sherlock at 221B Baker Street. He tapped the carpet with the tip of his umbrella examining the stains which told of chairs being moved and replaced, as well as showing the evidence of many takeaway dinners. As always, Sherlock's home was a layer cake of clues revealing a dusty domesticity of the sort that father would approve. Mother, of course, would insist that he clean it.

Sherlock frowned at the newspaper and then tossed it angrily to the floor. Mycroft thought of saying nothing, but he never could resist with Sherlock. "I told you not to go against Magnussen," he said.

"I may have just been released from the hospital, but I can still throw you up against the wall if you Don't Shut Up!"
"Lady Smallwood should not have come to you. There are some fish that are simply too big to catch."
"I don't want to catch him, I want to stop him, but he defies me at every turn. I thought that he used a heads-up display, but I found that his glasses are simply that, glasses."
"You must leave Magnussen alone."
"Why? He's not going to leave me alone. He knows about Mary."
"If he was going to talk wouldn't he have done so by now?"
"That's not the way he works. Look what he did to Lady Smallwood. He knew about Lord Smallwood for months, but he only now released it to the papers. He likes to watch people wriggle. He wants to cause as much pain as possible. He will calculate the worst time to tell the police about Mary."

"Is that what you expect him to do? Tell the police?"

"Perhaps, what do you think he will do?"

"I'm more concerned about Mary. She's being very quiet."

"Yes, I think that she is waiting until after the baby is born to make her move. John has been going with her to her doctor's visits. I believe that she expects him to return to her when the baby is born."

"And will he?"

"Possibly... probably... John has always wanted a family."

"And if he doesn't return to her?"

"That could, potentially, be very dangerous for us both."

"You will be happy to know that I have some of my best men watching this flat. I have no intention of giving her an opportunity to strike again. Even so, we have yet to see the limits of her skill."
"About that...here," Sherlock said leaning forward as he passed a USB stick to Mycroft, who took it.
"And what is this?" Mycroft asked holding it up briefly before putting it in the pocket of his waistcoat.
"Mary's past, or at least what she will admit to."
"How did you get it?"
"Mary gave it to John, and I made a copy of it while he was asleep."
"You've read it, of course."
"Of course."
"It will be interesting to see how it matches up with my information about her. Would you care for a copy of her file?"
"If it wouldn't be too much bother, but only when John isn't here. He hasn't seen it yet."
"How long has he had the data stick?"
"Since the day I first left the hospital."
"And he didn't read it! Ah, she asked him not to."
"She said that he wouldn't love her anymore if he did."
"And as a romantic, he would rather keep his love pure than know the truth. How... interesting."
"You know that you secretly wanted to say, 'How stupid'."

"It is never wise to operate in ignorance of the facts."
"I knew that you were about to say that."
"Of course you did. You have known me your entire life. When have I ever willfully chosen ignorance?"
"Never. And that is a tool that I use constantly to my advantage."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"If you didn't have that insatiable need to know how to do everything then I would never have been able to talk you into playing children's games with me."
"That isn't because I want to know how to do everything, Sherlock. That's simply my desire to show you your place."
"How refreshing to hear such honesty after the fairy tales that you told me when I was in hospital. I'm better now, so tell me. What are your plans for Mary?"
"What do you mean, plans?"
"I know that you're planning something."
"I am doing absolutely nothing about the viper in your best friend's bed."
"And you had better continue to do nothing."
"Or what? Sherlock, what are you planning?"
"You didn't answer my questions. I see no reason to answer yours."

"You must know by now that you can't trust Mary," Mycroft said frowning as he rolled the tip of the umbrella around the edge of his shoe.
"And you must know that I have sworn to protect her, and I will do so even if it means going against you," Sherlock replied.
"I would think that Mary would understand that the rules changed the moment that she decided to shoot you. She won't expect you to protect her after that, Sherlock."
"But John will. He's not the kind of man to take an oath lightly. Not for himself, and not for his friends. I won't forsake him."
"Let us hope that it never comes to that."

Sherlock fell silent then, so Mycroft leaned back in the chair and looked toward the kitchen.

II.

If John were here, he would have brought us tea by now. But I came at this time precisely because I knew that he would not be here. It has been difficult to find anytime that they are not together. John has been especially protective of Sherlock since his return to Baker street. Guilt, I suppose, that the woman whom he brought into their lives almost killed his best friend.

Perhaps I could ask Mrs Hudson to make us a pot.

IV.

"Appledore."
"What about it?"
"Get me inside so that I can see the vaults?"
"And how exactly do you expect me to convince Magnussen to let you do that?"
"You must have something that Magnussen wants?"
"All Magnussen wants is power."
"Then perhaps you could give him some."

Mycroft frowned then and drove his umbrella into the carpet before looking up at Sherlock.
"I hope that you are not trying to imply that I, Mycroft Holmes, should endanger the security of this nation by giving even the smallest bit of power to Magnussen. You can not stop men like him by giving them power. Give him a taste of power, and he will only want more."
"Is more power what you want then? Is the British Government too small a stage for Mr. Mycroft Homes?"
"I will say this once and only once. I will give nothing at all in trade to Charles Augustus Magnussen. He could hang and quarter Mary and the baby and I would not lift a finger to stop him. Do I make myself clear?"
"Very."

Both of them turned their heads at a sound from below. "I hear a key in the door. I suppose that is my signal to leave."
"If you insist."

Mycroft rose to his feet, and looked down at Sherlock who looked simultaneously confident to be back in his own flat, and frail after his months of hospitalization. An image flashed in his mind of a little boy recovering from the flu. He turned toward the door at the sound of John's footsteps on the stairs.

"Sherlock," John said entering the flat. His steps slowed as he noticed Mycroft was in the room. He stood by the door as he removed his gloves and nodded. "Mycroft," he said.

Mycroft puffed up his chest and walked forward holding out his hand. "A pleasure to see you again, John."
John shook his hand, and then looked toward Sherlock. Mycroft could almost see the thoughts passing between them. "What's going on. Is it something about Mary?" John asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight tilt of his head. "It's fine," Sherlock replied with a wrinkle of his nose and a lowering of his eyes.

John walked away then to hang up his coat, and Mycroft turned back to face Sherlock. "Oh and Mummy expects you home for Christmas Dinner. Festivities start at eleven."
"Are you coming too?" Sherlock asked placing his fingertips together.
"Of course. Mother wants to have a traditional Christmas dinner to welcome you back to health."
"Since when have we ever had one of those?"
"I know, but it is useless to oppose Mummy."
John walked over to stand beside Sherlock's chair. He looked down and said in a low voice, "How are you feeling? Any pain?"
Sherlock craned his neck to look up at him and smiled briefly. "I'm fine, John," he whispered before raising his voice and turning his head back to face his brother. "Mycroft here was just inviting you and Mary to Christmas dinner at my parent's house. Can you come?"
"I was doing no such..." Mycroft began, but Sherlock cut him off.
"Well can you come?"
"I...I'll ask her. It might be a good time for... talking."

Mycroft glared at Sherlock.
"Weren't you leaving?" Sherlock said. "You must have countries to spy on. Wouldn't want to delay you."
Sherlock glanced aside at John who was standing beside him. John's fingertips were on the arm of Sherlock's chair, his middle finger just touching the edge of Sherlock's jacket. Sherlock's expression had just a hint of smugness as he watched Mycroft's eyes glancing at it.

Mycroft grasped his umbrella handle a bit tighter.
"The car will pick you up at nine. Please don't make Mummy wait. She gets so cross if the dinner gets cold."

Mycroft walked toward the stairs. He stopped at the door and looked back.

II.
How dare he bring a trained assassin to Christmas dinner with our parents.
I would try to talk him out of it, but to what end? He is such a stubborn child. If John and Mary don't come, then he won't either and mother will be heartbroken.

Look at how unified they are. Sherlock is sitting taller in his seat, and he can hardly hide his smile. John's foot is forward, primed to move between us if needed. I can't tell if John is trying to protect me from him, or him from me.

IV.
"Goodbye, Mycroft." Sherlock said with a smile.

Mycroft turned then, and walked down the stairs.

II.
He doesn't have to flaunt it. I'm not blind.

It doesn't matter anyway.

I don't need a goldfish.