By the time Mycroft finally managed to get back home, he was beyond exhausted.
The unfortunate situation with MI5 had taken a little longer than he had expected (and infinitely longer than he'd hoped), which resulted in Mycroft's being forced to beg his assistant to pick up the boys from after-school care and mind them until he could get away. She was the only person (other than his brother and Doctor Watson) whom he'd trust with the task at such short notice. The bill for overtime was well worth it (even if he had had to twist her arm to except it).
Nonetheless, a mere hour and a half behind schedule, the mess in question had been cleaned up, the agent's responsible had been thoroughly disciplined and Mycroft was finally released from his desk and allowed to go home.
The trip from his offices in Westminster to the apartment in St. John's Woods was a short one, only 20 minutes, having missed the traffic typical of Friday afternoons thanks to day-dwelling Londoner's rushing home to begin their weekends.
And though a more or less traffic-free drive home was a nice change, it was approaching eight by the time he'd finally hefted himself out of the car, up the stairs and through the front door, that is to say, the night was not getting younger and he still had much to do.
As always, Cerberus was at the door waiting for him, or rather, waiting to seize the opportunity for another run about the block.
"Oh no you don't," Mycroft huffed, stooping down and grabbing the monster as he made his bid for freedom.
"You really must cease this ridiculous behaviour," he told the dog, lifting it up to eye level in an attempting to cow him in much the same manner he did with the politicians in his charge, with a firm tone and a stern glare.
Unfortunately, Cerberus, wise to Mycroft's methods, promptly thwarted his efforts in a manner no politician, or indeed, human being in general, would dare to attempt – namely, leaning forward and giving his nose a big, slobbery lick.
"What is the point of you?" Mycroft groaned, juggling the menace, his briefcase, umbrella and coat around until he managed to close the door and unburden himself of them all.
Roughly rubbing away the fresh drool streaked across his face, he glared down at the dog and hissed, "You my friend, are an absolute savage."
Cerberus gazed up at him, tail wagging and tongue lolling out of his mouth. The damn dog was mocking him, of that, Mycroft was certain.
However, before he could so much as open his mouth to scold him for his cheek, or even realise that doing so would be both useless and ridiculous, he was off, trotting down the hall to the living room.
Rolling his eyes, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and hung it up beside his coat, before following the hell-hound's lead.
"I didn't know pears sunk," Carys mused as the end credits of a QI episode rolled by on the television screen.
"I did," Alfie announced, puffing out his chest.
"I did too," Harry piped.
"No you didn't," Basil murmured, flicking over a page of one of the many text books he had laid out on the coffee table before him.
"We absolutely did," Alfie argued.
"No you didn't," Basil retorted, absent-mindedly twirling his pen between his fingers, "You shouldn't lie."
"And you shouldn't be such a stick in the mud," Alfie retorted, poking out his tongue.
"Alfie, how many times must I tell you to stop calling people names until you finally do it?" Mycroft sighed, walking over to the sofa where everybody had gathered for the evening.
Any response Alfie may have had was drowned out by Harry, who cheerfully cried, "Daddy!" before scrambling over the back of the aforementioned sofa and leaping into his father's arms.
"Daddy we had a QI marathon," he excitedly announced.
"Did you really?"
"It was three episodes," Basil muttered, rolling his eyes.
"It's more than we usually watch," Harry countered good-naturedly, "That means it's a marathon."
Mycroft chuckled.
"Did you learn anything interesting?" he asked, fondly ruffling Alfie's hair as he leant over the back of the sofa and gave him a quick hug.
"Yeah," he piped, grinning ear to ear as he plopped back down on the cushions, "These scientists in America, they drugged these bees with... um... ?"
"Cocaine, Marijuana and Caffeine," Carys gently prompted.
"Yeah," he replied, "The Caffeine made them really hyper-"
"The Cocaine made them really precise-" said Harry.
"And the Marijuana made them really slow," Alfie giggled.
"They weren't bees actually," said Basil, glancing up from his homework at last, "They were spiders. The test was to see how the drugs affected their web making. Remember?"
Mycroft laughed.
"Either way, it's probably best not to talk about this in front of your uncle... it would only give him ideas."
"And on the ominous note," Carys chuckled, "I'll take my leave."
"Thank you so much for taking care of them," Mycroft murmured as settled Harry back down between his bickering brothers and accompanied her to the door.
"It's no problem at all sir," she replied, already pulling her Blackberry out of her purse, "I'm glad I could be of assistance."
"Well I truly appreciate the help, so again, thank you."
"You're welcome sir," Carys chuckled, "Back to more official business though; we've got an appointment at City Hall tomorrow?"
"Yes I'm afraid so," Mycroft sighed, "We've another mayor-sized problem to remedy."
"Oh joy," Carys drawled, "But I suppose it's something to look forward to sir. That particular breed of incompetence rarely fails to be amusing."
"How true," Mycroft chuckled, "So I'll meet you in the lobby of City Hall then?"
"Ten o'clock sharp sir."
"Marvellous," Mycroft replied around a yawn that he'd, rather embarrassingly, been unable to contain.
"Have a good night sir," Carys said, buttoning up her coat and flashing him a friendly smile, "And try to get some rest tonight, you look like one of the living dead."
"What a charming comparison," Mycroft scoffed, "Be sure you do so as well. We have a big day ahead of us."
"Of course sir."
"And Carys, really, thank you again."
"Don't worry about it," Carys insisted, smiling nevertheless, "Evening sir."
"Good evening."
"Bye boys," she called, over Mycroft's shoulder, lingering just a moment longer as the boys bellowed back their reply, before spinning on her heal and departing without any more fuss.
"Would you like me to cook dinner dad?" Basil asked after Mycroft all but collapsed on the sofa between him and the twins.
"No thank you," he yawned, "I'll do it in a minute."
"But you're really tired," Basil pointed out.
"I'll manage," Mycroft chuckled, "You need to stop worrying so much Basil. It's quite the nasty and most unfortunately inevitable habit... we wouldn't want it sinking its claws into you too early would we? And Alfred Stephen Holmes, I will not tell you again, no name-calling."
"I didn't say anything!"
"You were thinking it."
"You can't tell me off for thinking things!" Alfie cried indignantly.
"First of all, I'm not telling you off. I'm merely warning you that you're about to say something that may hurt someone's feelings in the, no doubt, vain hope that you take note and learn from it," Mycroft replied, lips twitching in effort to keep the smile struggling into being from his face, "And secondly... I most certainly can."
Harry giggled.
Even the ever-solemn Basil cracked a smile.
"That's not fair at all," Alfie grumbled, crossing his arms and legs and shuffling into the corner of the sofa, or to put it another way, assuming his 'sulk position'.
"Perhaps not," Mycroft mused, "Nonetheless, that's how it is."
Alfie huffed.
"Anyway, I've got some news for you."
"Oh?" murmured Basil, actually going so far as to close his book so to not get distracted.
Harry and Alfie's interest were likewise captured (although Alfie attempted to hide it out of spite).
"Anything interesting?" his eldest asked.
"Maybe," Mycroft replied, "I ran into your uncle today-"
"That's not interesting," Alfie whined, "You run into Uncle Sherlock all the time, mostly on purpose."
"Alfie don't be rude," Mycroft gently reprimanded, "And I wasn't actually talking about your Uncle Sherlock."
Basil frowned.
"I had lunch today, with your Uncle Sherrinford actually," Mycroft continued, "My elder brother."
"Why?" Alfie asked, "What did he want?"
"Alfie – you're being rude again," Mycroft sighed.
"They're fair questions though," Basil murmured, "You and Sherrinford never have lunch. I was under the impression you were borderline estranged."
"I wouldn't say estranged," Mycroft replied, "Merely… uncommunicative."
"I see," Basil drawled, clearly unimpressed.
"But why though?" Alfie pressed on, ever the determined one.
"Is he alright?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.
With a fond smile, Mycroft assured them that both their aunt and uncle were perfectly fine.
"They're very eager to catch up with you three though."
"Really?"
"Really. They'd like you to come visit them for the weekend actually," Mycroft replied, "Only if you want to of course."
"This weekend?" Basil asked.
"It doesn't necessarily have to be this weekend or not at all," Mycroft replied, "But your Uncle's in town tonight and he offered to take you back home with him tomorrow if you wanted to, just for the weekend mind you."
Basil frowned.
"What do you want us to do?" he asked.
"It's your choice Basil. I'm happy as long as you are," Mycroft answered, "If you want to visit, by all means, visit – it's only for the night. However if you'd rather stay home, then you're welcome to do that as well."
"But what would yo-"
"Where do they live?" Harry asked, cutting Basil off.
"Up in Buckinghamshire," Mycroft replied, "In Gerard's Cross."
"Really?" Alfie cried, "That's really expensive isn't it?"
"Quite," he chuckled, "They live in the family home. It's been there for generations. Since the late 19th century."
"Wow," Harry obligingly whispered.
Mycroft grinned.
"So is that where you grew up?" Basil asked, the twin's excitement gradually chipping away at his misgivings about the situation.
"Yes it is. Sherrinford inherited it after your Grandmother passed away."
"Could we see your bedroom?" Alfie asked, "If we went."
"I doubt it would look the same as it did when it was my bedroom," Mycroft pointed out.
"Still... "
"Still, I'm sure your Uncle would show you it, if you asked."
"Brilliant!"
"Do they have any pets?" Harry asked.
"I don't know," said Mycroft, "They have a cow in the backyard, I know that. Haven't the faintest clue why but Sherrinford brought it up a few times."
"A cow?" the twins cried, "We've never seen a cow before! Can we go Daddy?"
Mycroft chuckled.
"If you want to-"
"We do!"
"Then I'll call you Uncle up after dinner," Mycroft finished.
"How about you Basil?" he asked, turning to his eldest, "Would you like to visit?"
Basil bit his lip.
"You really don't have to if you don't want to," Mycroft insisted, "I don't want you feeling pressured into doing something you'd rather not."
"I don't," Basil promised.
For a moment he pondered the matter, whilst Harry and Alfie enthusiastically discussed their suddenly very interesting weekend-to-be (or rather, their soon-to-be first cow sighting).
It didn't take him all that long to reach his decision though.
"I'll go," he said, "Someone's got to keep and eye on those two-"
"Basil-"
"And… I would quite like to see the cow," Basil continued, a small smile tugging at his lips, "Should be interesting."
The night went by relatively quickly after that.
Mycroft called Sherrinford, to inform him that the boys were quite happy to visit. Sherrinford seemed very pleased about that and Mycroft tried very hard to let that enthusiasm settle some of his uneasiness that was still lingering in regards to the situation. Sherrinford wouldn't do anything to them. It was only for a couple of days. It would be fine.
It didn't work all that well. However the movie marathon the movie marathon that Hary and Alfie insisted upon after dinner enjoyed much more success, calming Mycroft's nerves so thoroughly that he didn't even make it halfway through the first movie before nodding off.
Like the previous one, the following morning Mycroft woke to a crick in his neck, sun in his eyes and something soft brushing against his cheek.
However, that's where the similarities ended, as the 'something soft' that morning was not the hem of an evening gown but rather the tips of Harry's messy brown hair.
Glancing down, Mycroft found the rest of the boy sprawled haphazardly across his chest, snuffling quietly in his sleep.
And apparently using one's father as an oversized (and if Sherlock was to be believed, overstuffed) cushion was not an altogether original idea, as both Alfie and Basil were doing so as well, the latter having somehow wedged himself between Mycroft and the back of the sofa and the former draped in a rather housecat-like fashion across his legs.
However it wasn't this peculiar sleeping arrangement, mildly uncomfortable though it was, that succeeded in waking Mycroft, but rather the noisy and insistent buzzing of their apartment's doorbell.
Mycroft frowned. Sherrinford wasn't due to come pick the boys up until nine, why was he already there? Come to think of it, what time was it?
After carefully extracting his arm from under Harry, Mycroft grabbed his mobile from the coffee table and tapped it back to life.
9:12am
Mycroft was not a man who indulged in swearing often. Nonetheless, as he carefully disentangled himself from the impromptu dog-pile and hurried to the intercom, he allowed himself that small comfort, maintaining a more or less constant litany of curses under his breath as he went.
"Hello?" he croaked once he finally reached the speaker.
"Finally," his brother drawled, "I've been standing out here for the last ten minutes."
"Yes, I gathered. So sorry about that, the… alarm clock didn't go off."
"… I see."
"Sorry again. I'll buzz you right up."
"Yes. That would be nice," Sherrinford replied, Mycroft could practically see the eye roll that accompanied that statement.
He sighed and pushed the appropriate buttons.
"Thank you very much," Sherrinford said, a tad snidely, but Mycroft reasoned that he had left him standing on the front step for the past ten minutes.
He didn't dwell on it though. He had approximately 48 seconds before his brother made it up the single flight of stairs leading to the apartment's front door, he planned to make the most of it, namely, by dashing about said apartment, setting as much of it to right as he could.
Exactly 48 seconds later there was a knock on the door.
Glancing about regretfully, Mycroft obediently made his way down the hall to let his brother in.
"Sherrinford," he greeted, pasting on his best politician's grin with ease.
"Mycroft," Sherrinford replied, returning the smile (and thankfully holding back from repeating that unsettling hugging business from the day before).
"Sorry again for the wait," Mycroft sighed as he led the way to the living room, "We're running a bit late this morning."
"A bit?" Sherrinford scoffed upon spotting the boys, all still unconscious (and resistant to Mycroft attempts at rousing them) on the sofa.
"Yes. We had a bit of a movie night and didn't quite make it to bed," Mycroft quietly chuckled.
"So I see," Sherrinford murmured, whilst he glanced about, inspecting the flat.
Fortunately for Mycroft, who was finding the whole situation highly embarrassing, Ceberus chose that moment to dash out of whatever crevice he'd spent the night haunting. Seemingly intent in ripping him into very small pieces, the dog leapt up and then over the sofa, straight at Sherrinford.
Lurching forward, Mycroft was just able to catch him before the assault was undertaken.
With Cerberus struggling valiantly in his arms, snarling and growling all the while, Mycroft carefully stepped around his brother and darted back to the kitchen, quickly locking the dog inside.
"So sorry about that," he called, "He gets like that with some people. I probably should have warned you."
"Probably?" Sherrinford cried the second Mycroft returned to the living room, "What the devil was that thing anyway?"
Before he could respond though, Harry, who, like his brothers, had been woken by the commotion, cheerfully piped, "That's Cerberus."
"What?"
"Cerberus. Our dog."
Spinning around to face Mycroft, Sherrinford cried, "That thing's yours?"
"Well it would be rather worrying if he wasn't," Mycroft calmly replied.
"Worrying? How's that monster not being yours worrying?"
"Well, considering he was in our apartment," Mycroft chuckled.
Mistaking his Uncle's exasperation for confusion, Harry climbed up so he was sitting on the back of the sofa, and explained, "You see, if he wasn't our dog, it would mean that someone else must have put him in here-"
"And they would have had to have broken in to do it-" Alfie announced, plopping down beside him.
"Which means that for some reason, someone has taken it upon themselves to compromise the safety of our home, which really would be worrying," Basil concluded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "So really, it's a good thing that he's our dog, naughty behaviour aside of course."
Sherrinford stood stunned, a moment longer, before quite obviously forcing himself to calm down.
"Right," he murmured, "Of course."
Turning to Mycroft, he announced with a slightly strained smirk, "Well, they certainly take after you."
Grinning, Mycroft instructed him to make himself at home whilst he and the boys quickly got their things together. It didn't take all that long, only needing to stuff a couple of sets of clothes, their pyjamas, the twin's comfort toys and some of Basil's books into their school rucksacks.
"It's a lovely place you have here Mycroft," Sherrinford announced as Mycroft ushered the twins into the living room whilst Basil went to fetch the toiletries, "It's so… compact."
"Thank you," Mycroft replied, smiling tightly, "It works quite well for us."
"So I can see," Sherrinford murmured as Basil returned, zipping up his bag.
Standing up from the sofa and rubbing his hands together, Sherrinford asked, "Are you boys ready to get going?"
"What about breakfast?" Harry asked, "Mummy always makes us eat breakfast."
Mycroft sighed and steadfastly avoided his brother's uneasy glance.
"Made, Harry."
Harry ignored him.
"We could pick something up on the way to my house," Sherrinford suggested.
"McDonald's?" Harry asked, sharing a grin with Alfie
"Harry I don't think-"
"McDonald's is fine," Sherrinford announced, cutting across Basil's protests.
"Unfortunately plebeian," he teased, "But fine."
"But Dad doesn't like us eating fast food," Basil insisted, "It's unhealthy."
"It's alright Basil," Mycroft replied, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly and flashing him a small smile, "Just this once won't hurt."
"But-"
"Basil! Stop being a-"
"Alfie…" Mycroft warned.
Alfie glared down at the carpet, but said no more.
"Well, now that's settled, let's get going," Sherrinford announced, slinging his coat over his shoulder.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon," Mycroft said as he accompanied them to the door, "If you have any problems, call me. Make sure you behave yourselves, which means no name-calling Alfie-"
"Fine," Alfie sighed.
"Good. And… try to have some fun."
"We will," the boys chorused.
"Oh and also-"
"Mycroft," Sherrinford chuckled, "If you Mother Hen any more, I fear you might start clucking."
Harry and Alfie giggled at that. Basil frowned at them.
Mycroft sighed.
"Just, call me if there are any problems… any at all-"
"Yes, you said," Sherrinford laughed, before turning to the boys and instructing them to, "Say goodbye to dad."
The uneasiness he'd felt regarding the situation increased ten-fold as he hugged them each as the passed out the door. Too late to call it off now though, and really, since when did he listen to gut-feelings over reason?
"They'll be fine," Sherrinford insisted, clapping him on the shoulder as he turned to leave as well, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Of course they will be," Mycroft murmured, although whether it was directed to Sherrinford or himself he wasn't quite sure.
With one last amused grin, Sherrinford walked out the door, letting it click shut behind him.
Sighing, Mycroft went back to the living room, releasing Cerberus from the kitchen as he went.
The dog dashed about the apartment in search of the boys as Mycroft dropped back down on the sofa with a sigh. He could spare a couple minutes before leaving for work, and he was already feeling exhausted.
After determining that they were indeed on their own, Cerberus jumped up beside him and let out a low, forlorn whine.
"I know," Mycroft sighed, smiling sadly down at the beast, "I feel the same."