AN: This is an important chapter. I still don't own it.
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Miss Ollivier called him some three weeks later and asked: "What are your plans for tonight, Mr. Holmes?"
They were changed accordingly, and after they agreed on her flat, she paused and then said: "Honestly, what were they thinking?"
It was the first reference to the business they dealt with at work between them, except that one text, and he smirked a little as he answered: "Idiots. Almost everyone is."
"I think we can agree who takes the prize in this conflict, though."
Mycroft thought so, too, but didn't really want to tip his hand. "Well the race was tight."
"Perhaps we should have separate categories for men and women? Then it would be made simpler."
"Indeed. It is also of great comfort to know that neither of the winners were from our countries," he felt safe enough to say that much.
"Yes. But then, that has always been that particular country's prerogative, hasn't it?"
"Well, it's a big country," he replied, playing along with the stereotype, "there are bound to be more idiots than over here."
She didn't argue with his faulty mathematics, and by mutual silent agreement, they ended the call here, knowing that saying anything more might be unwise.
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When he got to her flat that evening, he could see that something was a little off about Miss Ollivier – her expression and bodily stance were different than usual. But it might have been just stress from being in Paris for so long, and so he ignored it for the moment, and, mindful of his resolution to have more conversation, he asked about her sister's jewellery instead – the case had been in the papers, after all, it was general knowledge.
She smiled at him pleasantly, the irregularities in her body language more pronounced now, and said: "Oh, yes, it is all in order now. So good your brother could be of assistance, wasn't it? I'm glad that he is doing so much public good, at least I don't have to feel conflicted about you forging an extremely dangerous criminal's resurrection on his account. I'm sure it was absolutely worth it."
Mycroft prided himself on never losing his composure and never letting anything show on his face. Sherlock was always the only one who could make him lose his calm. However, he was afraid he hadn't quite managed it this time.
Funnily enough, the first thought through his head was: definitely Le Gouvernement.
It was somewhat soothing, really, knowing that this woman did have a weakness – apart from her sister – and that was, obviously, her need to show of. Or possibly it was about revenge, at least a small one, for bothering her sister. He'd done so twice now, and could see how she would regard it as excessive – once had been turnaround, but she could easily have been irritated by the second time. Or perhaps it was a warning: don't mess with me. At any rate, she had just told him a lot, and she certainly knew it. It was interesting to know she thought it worth it.
His second thought was that at least he knew she couldn't prove it. Not that he thought she'd try, but still, it was better this way. He very shortly considered employing Mary, but discarded the thought quickly – it would cause far more problems than the small chance of her telling anyone about this was worth. The information was worth the most as a leverage against him, and so it would lose value if she told tales. No, she'd keep it private - but that was only a small consolation.
He was so impressed he was in a bit of a daze. He knew Sherlock had no clue about this. Sherlock had no clue about this.
"I find it highly curious that you can afford to spend so much time in London." He said, at length.
Most would have considered this a non-sequitur, but then, she certainly wasn't most people. To paraphrase Sherlock, she wasn't la Republique.
She smiled in response. "You know very well that people like us are not so easily replaced."
Did that particular reaction tell him something about her, or was it a cleverly invented red herring?
"No," he said, "but they are difficult to do without."
"Oh, come on, Mr. Holmes. We live in the 21st century. There is no need to do without me just because I'm not on the continent."
"Precisely because we live in the 21st century, I wouldn't think any use of long-distance communication possible."
"Oh, of course the codes have to be arranged in person. But after that, it's plain sailing."
Yes, it would, wouldn't it? He would like to try and watch someone break a code she invented.
"Well, your dedication to your family is certainly admirable."
"I think I just started this conversation by how outstanding yours was."
"It is good to know we have something in common."
"Oh, I'm sure it's more than just this, Mr. Holmes."
He knew very well it was.
He was torn. He could clearly see that this woman was at least on his brother's level, if not straight out his own equal, and therefore it wasn't really safe to keep meeting with her, because the chance of her letting something slip was balanced by his own chance of betraying himself.
On the other hand, now that he knew for certain that she was Le Gouvernement (he felt a little irritated at himself for getting into his brother's habit of calling people by the names of the institutions they controlled, but it just seemed he couldn't help it), it was impossible to just give this possibility up. These things didn't happen. People who had these kinds of positions always sat at the centre of their own networks, communicating through intermediaries, and never came in personal contact with each other.
It was too precious an opportunity to waste.
Of course is she had been Russian or Iranian or some such, he'd have had to, the risk would have been too high. But she was an ally, when all was said and done – spying between France and Britain these days was closer to a friendly competition than to a real conflict. The danger was low, the gain could be great.
The possibility of regularly speaking with someone who wasn't a goldfish and didn't have the character development of a teenager was welcome too, really, and he didn't want to let go of that potential the very moment he realized it, though he tried not to think about that part too much. After all, as he'd told Sherlock, he was not lonely.
"So, what did your brother think about my sister?" She asked.
"I'm not sure it would be polite to answer that question," Mycroft said apologetically. "He is a very harsh judge of people, and has no regard for rank."
She smirked almost mischievously. "Let's play a game, shall we? You write the things he said on a paper, and I write the things I think he said on another, and then we compare it."
Mycroft wanted to laugh. Here he was, in bedroom with Le Gouvernement (damn it, again), and they were playing games. He remembered his brother, and he found himself nodding.
He didn't hold anything back, and she was spot on on all accounts. Above-average intelligence, sense of invincibility, naive view of world in some aspects, mostly heartless.
"So is she caring, then?" He asked, only partly in joke.
"Of course. I wouldn't lie, would I?"
Mycroft almost laughed out loud at this. As much as he'd tried to avoid it, it seemed he really would have to meet the countess personally. Or rather, both sisters. He needed to observe the dynamics first hand to know what this was really about. Also, he had to admit he was curious. No sister of this woman could be completely uninteresting.
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To that end, he met with Vernon the following week. He patiently listened to him drone on about the recent great successes of MI5. The man really was good, even excellent at his job, and a little self-importance and pompousness was a small price to pay. When that was exhausted, Mycroft finally managed to get to what interested him: "I need a social event that will contain both Countess of Arundel and her sister, Miss Ollivier – the one from the embassy."
"Oh, I know which one. You still on that, then? It's been quite a while."
Mycroft noted in the back of his mind that this will soon become an issue. Aloud, he said: "Well, I am getting somewhere, but there is a lot where it came from, so it's unlikely I'll be done with this particular project any time soon."
"What have you discovered so far?"
"She has a hand in most of French policy, both foreign and domestic," Mycroft said, not wanting to divulge more at the moment.
Vernon whistled. "Well, that's certainly a worthy target, then. Want some assistance?"
Hell no. "No, I have it in hand, I think, but thank you nevertheless."
"If something came up, just let me know. She's bound to be a tough nut to crack."
"Especially as she's trying to crack me in turn, yes. But slowly and steadily is the way here," Mycroft pointed out.
"I guess you're right. I'll find you an event matching your request."
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
"Hey, anything for the Queen and Country, right?"
Right. Or almost anything.
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And so, two weeks later, he attended some Foreign Office garden party. Earl and Countess of Arundel were there, naturally, and so was the Countess' sister, chatting cheerfully to various guests. It was the first time since they met that Mycroft saw her outside of her work clothes, but the change wasn't very marked. The designer champagne dress she wore had a full skirt, as befitted the occasion, rather than pencil, as her suits were wont to, and there was a perfectly matched straw hat atop her head. She worked her way through to Mycroft when she spotted him, and said: "What a lovely surprise. I didn't take you for a social man."
"I'm not, by rule, but my duties sometimes do draw me out. It is not, however, my natural milieu."
"I can imagine. I wonder what particular duty could this have been?"
He knew very well that she knew, and so he smiled and said: "Oh, K thought this party could be of particular interest to me for some reason."
"I cannot imagine why." Then she grinned. "Now that you are here, however, can I introduce you to my sister?"
Mycroft blinked. "Isn't that a little...blunt?"
"Of me? An heni na avantur netra, ne gounid ket," she declared, making Mycroft thankful that he'd been studying Breton in her absence (it was quite a nice challenge, since he didn't know any other Celtic language) as he replied: „I'm sorry to correct you in your own field, but I believe the end of that proverb is actually ‚nà koll nà gounid ne ra,' perhaps giving you a valuable advice."
Her smile broadened. „I see you've done your homework. You're right, of course, but then I have no intention of loosing, so it is irrelevant. But back to the topic at hand, if you were concerned about my sister, then know that if done right, nothing is too blunt for her. I will not even comment on her husband. And besides, best catch her without him...like right now."
And so they approached the countess, Miss Ollivier beamed at her and said: "Oh, Rozzen, here you are! I've been wanting to introduce you to someone – you know how you told me about Sherlock Holmes, how he solved that incredibly complicated robbery for you? Well, this is his brother. I met him through work, and I thought I simply must introduce you."
"Lady Arundel," Mycroft inclined his head. "It's an honour."
"Oh, it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes. Your brother really is a genius, you know. If I'm ever in a tight spot like this again, I won't hesitate to use his services. I did, a little, you know – one never knows who one can trust – but those diamonds really were very precious, so I went to him in the end, and it paid off. I know Mae wishes I'd have told her about it, but really, what could you have done, cherie?"
Miss Ollivier smiled at her a little abashedly and says: "Well, you know, I know some people...through work...perhaps I could have been of use. I wish you would turn to me first if something like that happens. Please? Do that for me?" She laughed a little self-consciously. "I know I've already asked you that, but you didn't agree, and this is really important for me... Though I know that Mr. Holmes' brother is trustworthy, so I guess if I'm not available, you can turn to him."
The countess laughed indulgently. "Isn't she a dear?" She said. "Mae, I know you have an important job and all that, but I am a countess after all. I know quite a number of people myself. I assure you, if I went to Sherlock Holmes, it was because there was no other option. And I recommend you doing the same, if you're ever in a tight spot and I can't help out for some reason."
"Oh, I will, don't worry. But...why can't you promise you'll tell me, Rozzen? What could it hurt?"
"You, cherie. It could hurt you." Lady Arundel smiled. "But don't worry about that."
"You know I work in foreign relations. It's not like I've never dealt with an important piece of info in my life, is it?"
"Well, all the more reason not to add more to it," the countess replied, smiling condescendingly. Then she said: "My husband is calling me. I have to run. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes."
And she was gone.
Miss Ollivier turned to him, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Mycroft replied by a slight twitch of his lips.
It was, frankly, fascinating. Also a little nauseating, to be honest.
Mae Ollivier lowered her IQ by about forty points when in company of her sister, apparently. Just the thought of doing something like that in front of Sherlock was abhorrent to him.
He was well aware that what he saw was a public front, but he was almost certain that rather pertained to the form than to the content of what he heard. He knew the sisters weren't quite that sugary towards each other in private, but there was no particular reason why Miss Ollivier would act so dumb in public if she didn't do so in private, when she didn't act that way outside her sister's company. Actually, that was a little puzzling. Didn't the people who knew Mae Ollivier from work get confused when they saw her act this way with her sister? Not the people who knew what she really was, but the common, everyday people she met at the embassy?
But then again, they likely didn't really see the two sisters together. But it was a complication, nevertheless, pretending something like this.
Obviously, it could also be meant only for him, an attempt to convince him they cooperated less tightly than they really did, that there was no spying going on, when in reality there was.
But he already knew that Mae Ollivier was protecting her sister, who likely thought it was the other way round. If Miss Ollivier acted with her real intelligence towards the countess, surely the older sister would have realized what the situation really was like? As even Sherlock admitted, she wasn't precisely stupid, compared to most people.
Except – what if the countess had played Sherlock, pretending to be so overconfident, when she really knew she was dependant on her sister? Possible, he supposed, but not very likely – it would mean a very detailed plan that had predicted his employ of Sherlock. Balance of probability was against it, but he kept it in his head as an alternate answer.
Back in the land of the more probable, the main question was: why did the younger sister downplay her real skills so much?
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AN: I'm sorry if I made a mess of the Breton – like Mycroft, I don't know any Celtic languages, so I had to rely on the internet resources entirely.
Also, about Moriarty: I am absolutely convinced this is the answer to his sudden reappearance, and am amazed that I haven't seen it in any fanfiction yet – many people I've talked to about this came to the same conclusion...