AN: This is a short one – it just worked out that way.
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The next time they met, it was in Mae's flat and she was on the phone, speaking in rapid French. Mycroft simply took out his own mobile and endeavoured to work on something non-essential. He had dealt with the crisis at hand before coming over.
What did make him raise his eyes from it, however, was when Mae switched to Arabic. She gave him a calculating look, but did not leave the room, or even lower her voice.
Mycroft got over his astonishment quickly, and listened very attentively to her end of the conversation, scrolling through his phonebook at the same time. The moment her call was over, he started his own. Catching the sound of his Hebrew, she gave him a small smile and went to work on her computer.
"Why did you do it?" He asked her once the call was over, after only a small hesitation.
She shrugged. "Our interest in this is the same," she said. "This makes it more expedient." She looked at him. "Why didn't you leave the room while making your call?"
He shifted, a little uncomfortable. "It wouldn't have been fair, would it?"
She laughed. "Oh please," she said, "when has that ever stopped you?"
True enough. Why did he stay? "You are right," he said at length. "We do have the same goals, and sometimes it just makes no sense at all to work separately." Even though the mere thought was unnatural. He always worked alone.
She echoed his thoughts when she said: "Though I hope it doesn't mean some kind of perpetual teamwork from now on."
"Certainly not. Neither of us are cut out for it, I believe, and besides, there are other things to do when we are together, besides work," he said, touching her hand lightly.
She smiled and closed her laptop. "True," she said, raising. "Better ways to pass the time."
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Sherlock was bored now, without Irene to occupy his time, and so they finally managed to convince him to visit Rozzen with them. Mycroft was a little worried about that event, but at least he was confident that after the previous experience, his brother would leave Mae alone.
"Does she know you are just playing a little game with each to get to some secrets?" Sherlock asked conversationally in the car.
Mycroft gritted his teeth, but Mae merely smiled and said: "No. And she will not find out."
"Will she not?" There was unmistakeable challenge in Sherlock's eyes.
Mae only continued smiling. "No," she said. "One does not simply find out secrets like this, does one? For instance, it would be highly surprising if anyone discovered Mrs. Watson's past..." Sherlock shot an angry look at Mycroft. "Please," Mae said, "do not be insulting. Do you believe I would not thoroughly check up on anyone you are connected with?"
"No," Mycroft replied for his brother. "He simply still does not believe that you could actually not be a goldfish, in spite of all the evidence."
Mae's smile broadened. "All the better for me," she said.
"Hardly surprising that I would not be willing to simply trust my brother's word, isn't it? If you got in the habit of doing that, don't. He always lies, and would betray you in a flash."
"But of course," Mae's smile never wavered. "As I would him. That, as you so kindly pointed out, is the basis of our relationship. Now, I believe we have arrived."
Mycroft, who had been at that moment contemplating the irony of someone who sort-of dated Irene Adler accusing someone else of treachery, gratefully got out and opened the door for Mae.
"Do you truly believe you can make him betray himself?" Sherlock asked while they were on the front steps.
This time, the smile got even broader. "I believe that is too complicated for you to understand," she said. "And now hush, my sister is coming."
By this, Mae ensured that Sherlock stayed very silent for most of the visit, a hitherto unachieved feat. Mycroft resolved to buy her a bouquet of orchids on the earliest opportunity.
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About ten days later, Mycroft was contacted by Irene Adler. He did not hesitate to accept her offer, but there was something else he did hesitate about. He took his time to think it through, and reaching a conclusion, he awaited Mae with sherry poured out the next time they were scheduled to meet.
"Sorry I'm a little late," she said after he let her in. "There were some urgent calls to make."
Mycroft did not comment on the fact that she chose not to make those in front of him. He was well aware that the last time was the exception, not the rule. He himself made many calls he would not want her to witness. But still, it did not mean the exception could not be repeated – and in fact, he planned to do so just now.
"Do have a seat," he said.
She did, and took up the glass. "Thank you," she said and drank with appreciation.
He gave her a little time, then remarked: "I have had some interesting news from Cuba."
Her eyes widened just the tiniest bit. After a short silence, she said: "Isobel Xiu has been rumoured to be at work there."
"Has she?" He replied neutrally.
Mae gave a short laugh. "Very well, then. What news?"
"An opposition to the idea of normalizing the relationship. A very involved and sophisticated opposition."
She frowned a little. "Surely there would be those who would benefit more from this information?"
"Yes, and I fully intend to send it on to them...in time. But I had, shall we say, privileged access, and I thought it would be interesting to evaluate the situation in detail and decide what we wanted."
"What we wanted?"
"Well, yes." He frowned. "A boost in the relationship there would be very advantageous for both of us, for different reasons, and it would be advantageous for both of us if the other's relationship was boasted. Any influence there always comes very handy."
"You are being very magnanimous today."
He was growing irritated. "Do you see a flaw in my reasoning?" He asked sarcastically.
She shook her head, smiling of all things. "No," she said. "But you know as well as I do that this is, for a large part, a power play. If we were going by purely practical concerns, we would share much more. What I did two weeks ago...well, it made the situation much easier for you to know my approach. The advantages really outweighed the disadvantages in so obvious a way I could not ignore it. But sharing exclusive information, that is going a step further, isn't it?"
It was. That was why he had hesitated. He wished she hadn't called attention to it.
She took one look at him and understood. "I am sorry," she said, and she sounded sincere. "It is just that...until now, I was certain I knew exactly what game we were playing. You are making me tread more carefully."
He suddenly laughed, and it startled her. No wonder – he did it rarely enough, at least as far as sincere laugh went. "What is it?" She asked.
"Sherlock once asked me if there was something really wrong with us, because we were not very emotional, and almost never displayed even the little we might feel. I'm trying to imagine what he would say if he heard this – that as long as you could be certain this was simply a warzone, you were comfortable, but once you started to doubt it, it made you tread more carefully."
Mae raised her eyebrows. "I imagine your brother would be intimately familiar with that."
"Oh, yes. Yes, he would be. That is why I wonder what he would say." Mycroft paused. "I understand your misgivings, but I have made my decision, and we really should agree on an approach."
"Yes, of course." She still didn't seem quite herself, but she nodded and straightened in her chair. "So, who should we put the most pressure on?"
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It was only days later that Olivia Mansfield requested a meeting. "What," she asked in a hard voice, "is going on in Cuba?"
Mycroft put on his most innocent face. "I have no idea what you are talking about," he said.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Do not play games, Mycroft. If I am to employ my agents sensibly, I need to be in the picture."
"I would never withhold essential information from you," he replied. "That would be rather pointless."
"You never seem to part with anything non-essential either, though, which is a little strange, don't you think? We are supposed to be on the same side."
"And you are certain you always tell me everything your agents find out?" He returned.
She hesitated. "No," she admitted then, "but since you find out anyway, it hardly matters."
He shook his head. "I understand you see this as a turnaround, but when I do not tell you something, it is for a good reason. Most of the things I do, I do for this country." Except the ones he did for Sherlock, but no need to mention that. "It would really be more expedient if you gave me your information directly."
"And has it occurred to you that when I do not tell you something, it is for a good reason?" She mimicked.
"You frequently lack the whole picture," he pointed out.
"Yes, because you do not tell me."
He sighed. Working with Vernon was so much easier. "I swear," he said, "if you weren't so good at your job, I would have you removed from the position."
She chuckled. "You say the sweetest things."