A/N: This took so much work to do, in the end I had to go jogging to get the answer from the recesses of my warped mind.
As always enjoy!
Lord Holmes left the estate a week later, departing on a fast horse despite his age.
Sherlock didn't return to London with him, instead he watched over his somewhat miserable mother. The household seemed to have deflated somewhat at the loss of Violet and Benedict's playful words.
Violet soon shook herself from her unhappiness; she was used to her husband disappearing at a moment's notice for the sake of the country. When she was in the fresh flourishes of her marriage she had initially wondered if it was Great Britain she had married, not one man. But as time progressed and as Mycroft and Sherlock were born, she cherished the time both with Benedict and away from him. When he was with the family for too long he could be commandeering, and well it was a free spirited woman he had married, and free spirited she would remain.
She also needed something to occupy her mind and watched as Molly bustled into Sherlock's study with freshly cleaned glass tubes and lab equipment. Her eyes narrowed, her smile widened and she slipped into her study to plan how to help her poor socially awkward son and the very mysterious Miss Hooper.
Violet knocked on her son's study, hearing the clink of glass and metal instruments.
"Yes?" Sherlock opened the door and his face changed when he saw his mother. "Ahh Mother, yes?" He stripped off the thick leather gloves and raised an eyebrow at the smile on her face.
"Isn't it Sunday Sherlock?" He nodded. "Isn't it Miss Hooper's day off?" This time Sherlock's face was creased into a frown but he slowly nodded again. "Then why is she helping you Sherlock?" She gave him a mischievous smile and Sherlock sputtered. The girl in question was actually holding up part of his experiment and her arms were beginning to ache. She coughed to gain his attention and he spun to stare at her, Molly saw Lady Holmes' head pop around the door and smile into the gloom.
"Sorry Sir but I'm going to drop this unless you help!" She bit back giggles as he rushed to relieve her of the awkward contraption and the pair placed the delicate gizmo on the table.
"Apparently it's your day off Miss Hooper." Violet was standing patiently, watching the interaction between her charge and her son with interest. She watched Molly blush crimson and stammer something along the lines 'I enjoy helping you Sherlock.' Which in turn made Sherlock get a little hot under the collar, Violet had to bit the inside of her cheek as she saw him twitch his nose. She knew that little give-away; it meant he felt awkward and was embarrassed. She smiled again.
"Clearly I was wrong then Sherlock to think that Miss Hooper would like to go riding today? I believe Phillips' son Jonathan is helping Lydia to ride." She held her face in a neutral position as Molly's eyes lit up. "Maybe Sherlock could help tutor you?" She grinned and left with a rustle of skirts.
Sherlock watched Molly turned to him wide eyed, pleading and Sherlock felt something break inside him.
"Please…Sherlock?" Molly whispered.
"I…cannot I am afraid." He watched her face fall but added. "You may go with Lydia, I do not doubt that Polly will be there as well and Phillips Senior, you will get riding lessons from him. I can cope on my own with this." He turned back to the cluttered work bench, desperate to ignore the silence of the room.
"Thank you Sir." She clipped out and before he turned around he heard the soft click of the door.
"Dammit." He groaned staring at the mess of metals and materials in front of him unhappily. "Dammit."
London
"Mycroft!" Benedict strode through the plush corridors of the 31 Margery Avenue. The modest building was in the middle of London but not many people gave it another glance as they bustled around outside.
"Yes?" The younger man turned to face his father who was taking in the smaller details of his eldest son's appearance.
"How are you?" He started but his son held up his hand.
"Save it Benedict. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes with a Mr Moriarty and his Son who are very interested in donating money to saving our Queen." Mycroft said pompously, ignoring his Father's sudden pale demeanour.
"What are their names?" Benedict had to lean heavily on his normally decorative cane and gasped slightly, struggling to fight the panic that was flooding his body.
"Why Father?! Bothered that I've got them as my clients not yours?" Mycroft sneered. "Sir Andrew and his son James."
"Mycroft, you have to listen to me." His father was deadly serious and Mycroft turned to him in curiosity. "These are not men that we need in this building. They are dangerous and threaten our personal safety. Forget the Queen in this Mycroft, they threaten your Mother, your younger brother, myself and most importantly yourself." He clutched his son's arm and heard footfalls behind him. "Please son." He swiftly vanished into his office before the two Moriarty's arrived to greet a rather brooding Mycroft. With his ear pressed to the door Benedict strained to listen to the polite chatter that was occurring outside but all too soon Mycroft moved his new clients onto his office across from Benedict's.
"Sirs, it is so good to meet men so clearly invested in the future of this great country." Mycroft smiled and gestured for the pair to sit as he took his place behind his desk.
He studied the pair; Moriarty Senior was once dark haired, now streaked with grey, his moustache fairly small, his beard was also well trimmed. Even if Mycroft hadn't read up on his newest clients, he would have immediately seen that Andrew Moriarty was an academic; the ingrained chalk in his sleeves and the battered leather briefcase, the gold trim had been replaced but the bag itself was well loved. So well loved that the lock was broken and the flap slipped back a bit. Inside were three notebooks and Mycroft could just spy the corner of an academics hat as well; he must have come straight from teaching.
His son was a different story. Mycroft watched the dark haired man, his narrow face held a trace of insanity and his eyes were lit up with some sort of mad glee at being in the building. The dark eyes were roving over the room, taking in every little detail. There was not a trace of anything on James Moriarty, he was impeccably dressed, there was barely a crease in the very expensive suit. Every so often James' eyes landed on Mycroft who smiled politely but couldn't help feeling a sudden swoop of fear in his stomach.
"We put a great deal of thought into the running of this country." James said watching young Mycroft as closely as Mycroft was watching him. Mycroft broke eye contact and went to fill three tumblers with his finer whiskey.
"We just thought we'd like to add a little more of a hand." Andrew smiled kindly at Mycroft who warmed slightly to the older man, more so than the slightly psychotic young man sitting opposite. "How is your father Mycroft, can I call you Mycroft?" Andrew lifted the crystal tumbler and toasted to the him.
"My Father is very well at the moment." He said stiffly, James and Andrew shared a passing look, things were not well between father and son in the Holmes household.
"I have known your father a long time." James knew his father's play of being fatherly, a figure to trust, to confide in.
"My father is a very secretive man, it comes with the job." Mycroft was still wary of the two men, his father's warning still prominent in his mind. "Shall we get down to business?" He smiled politely and for the next hour the trio discussed the donations that the Moriarty family would make and the benefits they would receive in return. James was bored at the end of it but held his countenance well under his father's watchful eye. Finally it was too much for him to bear and as they were concluding dropped a passing comment.
"I hear your younger brother and Mother are out at your country home at the moment?" Mycroft smiled slightly and nodded.
"Yes they are out at Elderflower right now, Lady Holmes enjoys the summer weather in the country." Mycroft smiled again and led them out to their waiting hansom. "Enjoy your day Sirs." He bowed his head in respect.
"See you soon Mr Holmes." Andrew nodded and the cab pulled away from the street. "What was that all about James?" The older man hissed at his smugly smiling son.
"Think about it Father, the Hoopers' were close with the Holmes, who would you entrust your daughter to if you knew you were marked? Would you send her to the crazy Aunt that lives in Devon or your family friend that's actually part of the secret service?" James raised his eyebrow, now away from Mycroft his Irish lilt was returning in full strength, his father's carefully composed English accent was now his natural tongue but James had spent too long at their manor in Kenmare to disguise it for long.
Andrew's eyes narrowed but he said nothing more as they returned to their hotel room.
"Fine." As the door was shut and the maid dismissed. "Give word to Sebastian to send a few of his men to Elderflower to see."