A/N: I don't know what age Lady Smallwood is supposed to be, but for the sake of my story, I'll make her 51, three years older than Mycroft. Besides, if she was trying to get a date with Mycroft, it would make more sense if she's close in age, than if she's the same age as her late husband (early sixties).
Next chapter will probably be the final one, and then perhaps an epilogue. Thank you so much for your continued support! I've written more one-shots, and would appreciate if you took the time to read that too.
"I hadn't expected that particular question from you, Mr. Holmes," the lady told him with a slight frown. "But then again, you don't really do predictable, do you?" Her Sherlock detected a twinkle in her eyes.
"Call me Sherlock, please," the detective flashed a charming grin. "No worries, I'm on your side. I think I can help. I just want to know if you're really serious about my brother before I undertake any further... action."
Alicia's lips quirked into a small smile. "You may call me Alicia, since you're here on personal business. Forgive me for asking, but are you aware that you're brother is a legal adult? I'm sure he can manage his affairs on his own."
"Alicia," Sherlock dropped his grin and looked at her seriously. "You know my brother. You know how hard it is for him to express his feelings, especially if there's a chance he could be rejected. For his sake and for yours, why don't you just tell me in short what you think about him. I promise not to interfere further if you don't want me to."
The lady sighed and folded her hands on the desk. "Very well. I believe I can trust you that our conversation goes no further than this room." She gave him a stern look that made him feel like a naughty schoolboy, and he nodded his head obediently.
"I've been working with your brother directly upwards of fifteen years. I've watched him investing his heart and soul into his work. I've watched him interact with colleagues and employees, with government officials and diplomats. I've seen him handling crisis after crisis, and never shirk his duty. Let me tell you this, Sherlock Holmes. People like Mycroft Holmes are rare, very rare.
"He is, of course, exceptionally intelligent, and his position is one that many view as the kingpin of the government. Not many people in similar positions remain completely uncorrupted. Your brother still does his job with utmost devotion because it matters to him. It matters that the country be secure, and that people can go about their lives without disruption. He doesn't make it about him, about what he can gain from his position, only about how best to do is job. That is something I really admire."
"I'm not surprised to hear that, Alicia, I know Mycroft to be very straight-laced and dutiful. I do sometimes wonder how he gets on with others he works with. Personally, I can find him to be an annoying pain in the neck, if you know what I mean." He winked at her.
"Now, now, I know you two've had you're little... squabbles. However, I'm sure you want what's best for him, isn't that so? Or you'd hardly be here." Lady Smallwood stifled a grin.
"Well, it's my brother. I'm bound to find him irritating now and then. But, honestly speaking, I'm sure he's not the easiest man to work with at times."
"I'll admit that he has high standards and he suffers no fools. That's why only the best work for him. He may not admit it, but he cares deeply for his employees. They always get taken care of when they need it. Though, admittedly, it sometimes freaks them out to find out that he knows exactly what they need before they ever said a word." This time, she let her grin show."
"Yeah, I can just imagine that," Sherlock mused. "Here you go, John, a bonus and a hotel weekend to take care of your pregnant wife. Yes, you haven't told anybody yet. I just knew it from the creases in your shirt." He chuckled.
"If I may be somewhat indelicate, I want to ask you something a bit personal," he continued. I suppose you're aware that Mycroft is not an overly sentimental man. Isn't that something that... concerns you?"
"I wonder a bit who you're really worried about. Is it me, or your brother?" Alicia asked softly.
"Both of you," he answered firmly.
Alicia nodded. "Honestly speaking, your brother may sometimes disregard emotions as unimportant, and is wary of too much sentiment. However, I believe that he is slowly changing in that regard. I also believe that he needs to have outside input in order to learn more about human sentiment, and truthfully, how to let himself feel once in a while."
Sherlock gave her a penetrating gaze. "And you believe you could be the outside input."
"Yes," she answered unhesitatingly.
"I feel I need to inform you that whatever your brother may say, I never believed for a moment that he doesn't care. In fact, it was seeing just how deeply he cares for his family that led me to get involved with him personally. Although he was constantly denying it, probably to avoid accusations of nepotism, even a blind man could see how much he's concerned about all of you. Especially you, Sherlock. You will never even know how many times he put himself professionally and personally at risk for you, but I do. I hope you do appreciate it, deep down at least, although you two don't have the type of relationship where you openly express such sentiments."
Sherlock looked contemplative at this. "I do, Alicia, I do. And I care for him, too. That's why I'm going to ask you, not as a threat, but as a plea; please don't hurt him. He's been hurt enough. If you ever want to break off with him, please let him down gently."
Alicia looked at his earnest face, and giggled. "My, my, aren't we overprotective today! Don't worry, I won't." A spark of mischief appeared in her eyes. "Now, you were saying something about help. What do you think you can offer, Sherlock Holmes?"
I think I like her, Sherlock thought, and proceeded to outline his plan.
Mycroft was sitting on his sofa, looking forward to a well deserved rest after his difficult day. The glass of scotch on the coffee table was a treat he rarely indulged in, but sorely needed after barely managing to resolve the issue in parliament, where warring parties nearly destroyed the bill he had worked so hard on. When he heard the now-familiar alarm signal, however, he was tempted to throw the glass against the wall.
"Not bloody again," he grumbled as the curly head popped into view.
"Language, brother mine," the curly headed child-man answered cheerfully. "Tsk, tsk, what would Mummy say?"
"Don't be a bloody hypocrite, you say far worse," Mycroft answered moodily. "I didn't think I deserve another lecture, I actually behaved myself recently.
"Can't I just come say hello to my dearest and only brother?" Sherlock let honey drip from every syllable. Mycroft had to restrain himself from smacking him.
"I was just about to watch a program on TV. You're more than welcome to join me. Otherwise, shut up."
"Ooooh, can we do TV night? We didn't do that in ages! Come on!"
With that, Sherlock plopped himself down on the other end of the sofa and stretched out, laying his legs over Mycroft's lap, his shoes resting on the arm of the sofa. "I just had this cleaned, would you mind your shoes please!" Mycroft growled. "And take your smelly feet off me!"
"No fair," Sherlock whined. "I was getting comfortable." He sat up and took off his shoes. Then he stretched out again, this time with his head in Mycroft's lap. "You're impossible!" the older brother hissed. He gave a put upon sigh, and put a hand on the curly head. "Alright, you know the rules. We switch to a random channel, and then we begin the deductions. Then we can use Google to or any other technology to see who's right. But not before we're finished. Give me you're phone or you'll tempted to cheat."
"What about you? Put your phone away too!" Sherlock protested.
"Well, with the Labour MP's and the Tories about to kill each other and cause the collapse of our government, I think it prudent to keep myself informed." Mycroft sniffed condescendingly.
"No great loss, that," Sherlock commented idly. "You don't need them to continue running the government."
"Perhaps. However, appearances are important, and must be kept up."
"You know, with you being the British Government and all, I would think you could have done me that one little favor I asked of you. How could you be so callous to deny your only brother such an insignificant request?"
"Come now, Sherlock, don't start with that again. There's no way I'm going to conquer an island for you."
"Not even a miniscule one? I'll give you a better offer. A lifetime truce with your government, instead of three years. Please?" Sherlock gave his older brother a puppy dog look.
Mycroft groaned. "Please tell me you're not really that much of an idiot as you sometimes seem like. I thought you like London, anyway."
"Sometimes, but there's all those pesky little rules that annoy me. I'd like to conduct my experiments in peace, without the law looking over my shoulders. I need my privately owned country to do that. Hey, perhaps I could get John to join me, with Rosie... Mrs. Hudson too, of course. We'll fly in for crime scenes. Tell you what, Mycroft, if you ever get tired of swimming with the goldfish, I'll grant you asylum. Otherwise, I'll leave you to run your British Peninsulas."
"That's British Isles, you know that!" Mycroft threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Oh? There's a difference?" Sherlock asked innocently.
"Forget it. Let's begin. Alright, here, I thing the news anchor is having an affair with this reporter. He was educated at either Harrow's or Eton's but attended a small, less renown college. He was married once before..."
Mycroft continued with his deductions, and Sherlock interjected with his. His head was still lying on Mycroft's lap, turned to face the screen. Mycroft kept his hand lightly atop his hair, feeling an unfamiliar sense of contentment spreading inside him. His brother needed him and trusted him, and he could dream of nothing better.
After two hours of their game, Sherlock got up and prepared to go home.
"By the way, Mycroft, you'll find a nice little box in the pocket of your jacket. Don't lose it."
Mycroft stared at him, his face paling. He quickly put together the puzzle pieces. "I suppose Anthea helped you with that."
"Of course. That girl's quite eager to see you get settled, for some reason," Sherlock smirked. "She probably thinks you'll go soft when you're chained up."
"She doesn't want me going soft, she likes to be challenged." Mycroft grumbled. "So you teamed up against me and bought an engagement ring. What about Alicia?"
"She received a text about a lunchtime date in her favorite restaurant. The staff has been informed to make all the arrangements. You just need to show up and do your part. I'm sure Anthea can teach you if you don't know how."
"Thank you so much, brother mine, for arranging my life for me," Mycroft hissed through clenched teeth. "Do I get any say in this?"
"Go be a man, brother mine," Sherlock looked his brother in the eye. "I dare you."
Mycroft looked at him silently.
"Let me know," Sherlock continued in a gentler tone, and then gracefully made his exit.