AN: Getting a little current in this one. I don't own anything in it.
-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-
After keeping her eyes serious for a beat, Mae Ollivier smiled a very special smile, and as Mycroft looked at it, he realized what it meant.
She was very well aware that it was likely his doing.
However, if it wasn't, she would have an extremely hard time dealing with it herself. Mycroft took care to make the information about espionage very high level, and to have the names of the highest in MI5 mentioned. So she decided to show her hand anyway – either he could stop it immediately because it had been his work in the first place, or he would actually help her sister. The mere possibility that her sister could be at risk was enough for Miss Ollivier to show something that important about herself.
Of course it could be a bluff on her part, but Mycroft didn't think so. Not caring about one's family overly much was one thing, but then pretending one did and so putting them in the unnecessary danger of being used as leverage...that would simply be pointless cruelty.
Still, one more feeler couldn't do any harm.
"I believe I can help you easily, but I wonder...you weren't talking to your sister just now. Why didn't she ask for your help yourself?"
Miss Ollivier shot him an amused look. "Why do you ask that question?"
"To see which answer you'll pick," he replied. Obviously.
"Of course, but what I mean is, there aren't that many options. Either she doesn't know or she doesn't want to contact me, and if she doesn't want to contact me, it's either because she doesn't think I could be of help, or she doesn't want to bother me with it because she wants to protect me – or she doesn't want my help. You can easily find out the last is not the case, since I'm always invited to the castle or to her London house, or to various events. So it's really only between - am I protecting her, or is she protecting me? And I just asked for your help on her behalf, so what do you think I'd pick?"
"It is always good to have confirmation, if possible." And her choosing to number the possibilities in such a way was certainly telling of something, he'd just have to think a little about of what.
This time, her smile was a little mischievous as she said: "In that case, I will confuse you and say it's both."
He blinked, and she almost laughed outright at him. "She was an excellent big sister," she said then. "The best one in the world. Very caring."
Caring. Could be just a provocation and a deliberate red herring, since it showed precisely the opposite dynamics of the relationship than what she'd indicated previously, and what he'd deduced. Or could be true. If true, what would it indicate?
Here, again, he found that he couldn't go on without knowing how clever precisely the countess was. There was no help for it, he would have to come in personal touch with her.
Or maybe not exactly personal...
He dropped by at Baker Street the next day.
He found Sherlock lying on the couch, staring into the ceiling. Perfect. No case, then. He knew he wouldn't have had a chance if there had been a case.
Dr. Watson was sitting at his laptop, writing. Blogging, undoubtedly. He still found time to turn his head when Mycroft entered, and to say "hello".
"Good morning," he replied, not surprised in the slightest that his brother didn't say a word. Irritated, yes, but not surprised.
"I have a case for you."
That at least got Sherlock's attention. It was a sign of how far their relationship progressed since John Watson came in Sherlock's life that he didn't tell him to stick the case up his and leave. Sure, he was still willing to talk to him almost only if he was bringing something not boring - or if he could make jokes at his expense, like that time after Sherlock returned to London from his two-year exile - but at least he wasn't simply being contrary. There had been days – years – when he could be nothing but, towards Mycroft.
"Yes?" His brother said, turning his head.
"A woman will come to you, bringing you an interesting case of robbery. While it will likely amuse you, the main point is elsewhere. You need to find out how clever exactly the woman is. And I don't want your usual assumption that people in general are idiots. It may well be true, but we don't know in this case, and it is vital to find out. She may well pretend to be stupid, or only moderately intelligent, while being really highly above average. And it's vital that we know."
Sherlock's eyes gleamed. "So you can't give this to any of your own people because she might be conceivably cleverer than them, and then they wouldn't find out, would they? But the likelihood of her being cleverer than me is exceedingly small." John Watson just sighed. "Oh, very well. I accept the deal."
"But remember I only do this on the condition that you do honestly try you best."
"Yes, yes, Mycroft. When have I ever spoiled a game?"
"I'm sorry," Dr. Watson interrupted. "But I seem to be missing something. What game? What deal?"
Mycroft felt disinclined to answer, but Sherlock smirked. "My brother," he said, "just agreed to invent a little amusing game for me. Just like good old times, eh, blud? Make sure to give it your best."
"If I give it my best, brother mine, you will never find the solution, and then where will your reputation be?"
"So, just to make things clear," John Watson said, sounding uncertain, "the British Government will commit the robbery?"
Mycroft rolled his eyes at that name for him, not for the first time and not for the last. Not that it wasn't true enough, but it sounded too melodramatic for his liking. "Technically," he remarked, "it cannot be termed robbery if the intention is not to rid the person in question of their belongings. Also, I will naturally not be personally involved in any way."
Really, what did the doctor think of him?
-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-
The next time Mycroft's phone rang in the course of his meeting with Miss Ollivier, it was directly during the act, which would have made it an awkward situation if hers hadn't rang at the same time. Which meant that it was work, not Sherlock. Mycroft realized he was relieved and felt uncomfortable about it. The world could be at war, and he was relieved that his little brother wasn't hurt. He was uncomfortable, but not surprised.
He withdrew, picked up his phone and moved to a different room to give Miss Ollivier the privacy to answer hers. "Yes?" He said.
"They're going to send the military in," Vernon's voice announced from the other end.
In his head, Mycroft swore, long and creative.
"Well," he said aloud, "we've prepared for this alternative. You know the protocol."
"Yes. Just thought you'd want to know. Also, there's going to be an emergency meeting first thing in the morning, and they will want your security analysis."
"Of course. I will be there, naturally."
"See you, then."
"Good night," Mycroft said, even though he knew very well that Vernon would get very little sleep.
He hung up and as he walked back to the bedroom, he thought about how this could actually be an opportunity to know a bit more about Mae Ollivier's exact position. This time, her hand was forced, not his.
The theory was confirmed when he found her already beginning to dress. She half-turned to him.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I have to go." She didn't explain a thing, but then she knew that he knew.
He just nodded.
"I'd like to arrange time for another meeting," she continued, "but I'm not certain when I'll be free again."
He smiled a little. "Feel free to just call me whenever the time suits you again, and we will arrange something." She nodded, and disappeared shortly after that.
Sitting in his limo on the way home, Mycroft thought about what he'd learned. This would be the final disproof for anyone who said that Miss Ollivier was simply the éminence grise behind the embassy. She was very obviously going to France, had been called away urgently. But then, this could go both for Miss Foreign Office and for someone just a little more influential. What they had on their hands was a foreign policy problem, after all.
The most significant detail was probably that she couldn't say when she'd be back. That meant she wasn't just going for one consultation and to make sure things were in order, she was going to be needed the whole time this crisis lasted. It was interesting, but still not enough to decide. It was frustrating.
Mycroft turned his mind back to the possibility of another Cold War, because frankly, it was just easier and far more predictable.
-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-
In the midst of her absence, he received a text from her. It just said: "Malaysia? WTH?"
He sighed, just a little. His feelings exactly. Really, he thought, couldn't the world just give him one crisis at a time? He supposed this was what he got for saying that this year was easy some weeks ago.
He replied with a simple "WTH indeed."
-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-
It took Sherlock two weeks to solve the riddle.
Towards the end of week one, Mycroft got a text from John Watson. It said: "Unless you want to see your brother dead, make it simpler next time. He refuses to eat while on a case, and it's getting dangerous.
So he dropped by at 221B, threatening to tell Sherlock the solution unless he eats at least something. It made Sherlock incredibly sulky, of course, as any display of fraternal authority always did, but it was also effective, so Mycroft didn't worry about it too much.
When his brother finally proudly presented him with the solution, he had to restrain his urge to go and ruffle his hair in praise like he used to when Sherlock was four and Mycroft prepared puzzles for him. Instead, he only smiled a little and inclined his head.
"Very well," he said, "and my part of the deal?"
"Oh," his brother said, "she is dumb."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. I mean, I suppose she's not as much of an idiot as most people – she is at least vaguely aware of what is going on around her, certainly aware of all those secret agents constantly at her – but that gives her absurd overconfidence as to her own abilities."
"I know of another person who would fit this description perfectly," Mycroft remarked.
"See, but that's where you're wrong – thanks to you, I could never be too overconfident. I always knew there were cleverer people than me out there – or at least one person – and so I could never feel truly invincible."
Dr. Watson made a small sound of horror, apparently imagining what Sherlock would have been like without his elder brother. Well, that sound of horror was entirely justified – without his brother, Sherlock would have been dead.
Sherlock continued: "This robbery has thrown her a little, but she thinks of robbers as a different class of people from her own, and so she doesn't feel threatened by their potential higher intelligence – which I believe shows her particular kind of stupidity rather well. She thinks she is invincible, just because she successfully managed to manipulate an aristocrat into marrying her."
"Not just an aristocrat, the future premier duke. Still, I take your point."
Another piece puzzle in place, then. Miss Ollivier was certainly here because of her sister, to protect her. At the same time, it was very possible that the countess really was caring, just as her sister had said. It would be an interesting dynamics, hard to imagine for Mycroft. Both sisters believing they were protecting the other, and the younger one being right. He could verify the caring part on countess' part easily, of course, and would do so, but he expected it would be confirmed.
This didn't exclude the possibility of some spying on the side, naturally, but it was definitely not Miss Ollivier's main motivation. Which was important – not because of the spying per se, the family really didn't know that much, but to understand the French Foreign Office who was possibly closer to being Le Gouvernement. These things always came in handy.
And he still didn't know if their meeting in that bar had been a chance. There was only one way to find that out: make her talk and hope she'd slip. He'd need to incorporate more conversation in their future meetings.
-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-
AN: When I heard about the lost Malaysian airplane, it was such a mycroftian mystery that I knew I had to at least mention it somewhere.