AN: I'm updating this story in honour of Sherlocked the Event, for which I'm leaving tomorrow (yay!). And I'm happy to say it's almost done now – only about one more chapter to write, I think. About three more to post, plus the epilogue...
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"So now my brother is trying to make me jealous by flirting with you," Mycroft explained to Mae when they were next alone, "his girlfriend is trying to make him feel jealous by flirting with me, he thinks I'm trying to make him feel jealous by flirting with her, and...it's high time you joined in somehow, really."
"To keep the symmetry, I'd have to flirt with him to make you feel jealous, and frankly, do you really want that?" She asked matter-of-factly.
"No, but then again, I didn't want his girlfriend flirting with me either."
"Why did she do it?" Mae asked curiously, lounging in his favourite armchair, which happened to be her favourite too.
Mycroft sighed, and not only because he had been relegated to the sofa. "Trying to repay him for flirting with you."
Mae raised an eyebrow. "Is she the jealous type?"
Mycroft chucked. "No, definitely not. I believe she was irritated that he embarrassed himself by acting in such a bad form, and so obviously."
"Ah." Mae paused. "She sounds interesting. I'd like to meet her."
"I think I've had enough family dinners for quite some time, than you very much," Mycroft replied easily.
She fell silent for a while, thoughtful, and then she said: "Well, now that this is over, we can arrange a date with Rozzen. She'll want us over at Castle Arundel properly one day, but for now, she wants to see us without her husband, so we will probably go out somewhere – honestly, my guess is Chiltern Firehouse or something along those lines." Mycroft refrained from rolling his eyes, but only just barely. Mae laughed at him, and asked: "Should I tell her to tone the act down a bit?"
"Please, do. I am not sure I could handle a full evening of that." They both knew perfectly well he could, but it would not be pleasant.
And so, a fortnight later, they arrived at Chiltern to be greeted effusively by the Countess. Mycroft looked at her thoughtfully. She looked like Mae, and yet not like Mae at all. Everything about her was somehow more flamboyant. Her eyes were bigger, her lips were fuller...Mae was made for blending in the crowd, Rozzen was made to stand out. Once again, not unlike him and Sherlock, even though in case of the sisters, it was made more ironic by the fact that Rozzen was, in fact, not very outstanding.
"I was very flattered by the invitation, ma'am.," Mycroft said as he sat down after pulling the chair for Mae.
"Were you?"
Right. Toned down the act. "Naturally. Do not underestimate yourself, ma'am."
"Oh, enough with the madam! We're family, aren't we. I'm Rozzen."
"Then I am Mycroft," he replied, keeping the distaste entirely to himself.
"Mae doesn't talk about you much," the Countess continued, "so that fills me with curiosity. What do you do, exactly?"
This time, Mycroft hid a small smile of amusement. This was very in line with the idea of the Countess he had. Blunt and to the point, but not in a way that would be impolite. "I occupy a minor position in the British Goverment."
Rozzen laughed. "Oh, I know that! Even Mae, close-lipped as she is, told me that much. But what do you do there?"
"Oh, this and that."
"An errand boy? You don't seem the type. What is your job title?" It took special skills to ask such persistent questions without sounding rude, but the Countess had them.
Mycroft had many job titles, in fact, in many different institutions, to give him some sort of official standing with people who weren't high up enough to know who he was. "I'm a team leader in the Home Office," he said, because it seemed like the most appropriate one for the situation, even though if there was one job title he honestly despised, it was 'team leader'.
"Not so much of an errand boy, then!" Rozzen replied, laughing again. "What is your division?"
"OCS."
"Sorry, I don't know your British acronyms, that would be-?"
"I beg your pardon, I haven't realized," Mycroft said completely untruthfully, a little irritated by the interrogation. "Office of Surveillance Commissioners."
"So you are responsible for all those cameras everywhere!"
Yes, he was. "Actually, I'm more responsible for making sure no one misuses them! Though I do mostly administrative work," he added self-deprecatingly.
"Well, I can hardly fault you for that, when Mae works as a second secretary at our embassy! What you see in this kind of work, I simply do not know, but to each his own, I suppose."
Mycroft gave Mae a quick look. Was it actually possible that her sister had no idea what she really did? Not even the slightest inclination that her power extended beyond that of a second secretary? It seemed highly unlikely, and yet… "One finds one's little amusements," Mycroft said, by way of a feeler.
"With security cameras? That scares me!" Rozzen's laugher tinkled. "But I imagine you do, in that department...but Mae? I sometimes even wonder what does the French Embassy do here, since it is not like the governments need to communicate through that nowadays, and we're not in conflict or anything...I don't understand the point of most of the things Mae tells me she does at work. That's why I always feel obliged to make up amusements for her! Which reminds me," she turned to her sister, "there will be a party at the castle next Saturday, do come!"
Mycroft caught the tiny flash of irritation in Mae's eyes, and understood it for what it was, a message for him. "I'm afraid we already have plans for Saturday," he said, "though I might try to see if it can be cancelled, only-"
"Oh no, no, don't trouble yourself! You are right, I forgot she now has someone else who can keep her amused. I got used to worrying about her, you know – she has lots of acquaintances, but doesn't make good friends easily, so I feared she would be alone when she got the job here, but I suppose now I can rest easier. A relief, really."
Later that evening, in Mycroft's flat, Mae said: "Thank you. That is quite an unexpected benefit to making the relationship – such as it is – public, but certainly appreciated. It was immensely tiring to keep coming up with excuses, and I couldn't always do it, of course."
"You still won't be able to avoid her entirely," Mycroft pointed out, even though it was obvious.
"No, nor would I want to. But she will stop inviting me to events so obsessively."
Mycroft's attention caught at 'nor would I want to.' He thought for a moment, then said: "You asked me, before, how is it possible that Sherlock doesn't have a clue. I cannot help but wonder the same thing about your sister now."
Mae smiled. "She doesn't want to see it," she replied. "I told you she found the notion that I would be smarter than her difficult to deal with. As long as I give her a chance to act like I'm her silly little sister, she will always take it." The silly little sister was looking through some top-secret files as she spoke, a hard expression in her eyes. "Sorry," she said then, "one urgent decision I had to make. I'm all yours now."
Mycroft poured her some vintage port and as she swirled it in the glass, she said: "I wonder, if I could choose between the kinds of lies I spin around my family, and the kinds you do...what would I choose? And what would you?"
Mycroft opened his mouth, uncomfortable, but she raised her hand. "No, don't answer," she said. "It wouldn't have been honest anyway, so I don't want to hear it. It just seems interesting to think about it."
Mycroft didn't need to think about it, he had already done so many times before, but he couldn't quite help himself now. He hated contemplating it, and by the look on Mae's face, she did too. They would need a lot of port tonight.
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Some days later, Mycroft got a text from his brother, saying only: "Come."
He almost caused several traffic accidents on his way to Baker Street.
Once there, he discovered there was no Sherlock in sight, but there was a mostly naked Irene Adler on the sofa, her mouth curling into a smile as she said: "Thank you for coming so promptly, Mr. Holmes."
He sighed. "I would think it obvious." he said, "but apparently not, so I have one good advice for you: do not do that."
"Well, I needed to speak to you, and this was the most efficient way to achieve it." She rose from the sofa. "I will be leaving for a time," she said.
"To where?"
"You are not my minder, Mr. Holmes."
"You are well aware that I could prevent you."
"Yes. But why would you?"
Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "You have just used my brother's phone to get me here at a frankly embarrassing speed."
"Oh, surely you are above such petty revenge..." She looked at him and smirked. "Or maybe not." She shrugged. "You would just find out anyway, now that you know enough about my new identity, so I can just as well tell you. We're stuck on the Moriarty case, and I've stayed here with Sherlock for too long. I'm bored. Isobel Xiou needs to make an appearance again. It sounds like the perfect summer job."
"May I ask what country?"
"No, you may not. You will find out soon enough."
"It is only that if you were out of ideas, I have some tips."
She laughed at him. "I'm not going to touch Russia with a ten feet pole," she said. "They'd have my identity before you could say 'one of the best secret services in the world'. You may say many things about Vladimir Vladimirovic, but he is not incompetent. Certainly not as far as secret service goes."
"Well, he's had his practice."
"Precisely. Politicians who know what they're about are very inconvenient to deal with."
Mycroft agreed wholeheartedly with that. "A good thing there are so few of them," he said. "But there are other options, beside Russia..."
"I know, Mr. Holmes. I have been doing this for some time, remember. I would not choose an insignificant region – I want to be able to sell."
"Then may I request the right of first refusal?"
She smiled at him, would-be innocently. "Of course," she said. "After all, we are almost family, aren't we?"