Chapter 13
The Christmas Carol
[A/N: Awfully sorry for the delay! Real life got in the way. Still is, but ah, c'est la vie, non? I'd at least hoped to be able to get this out before Christmas, but…*sigh*. And then there was the new (OMG, the *feels*! And Mycroft…!) episode…anyhow, here's a super fluffy chapter!]
"Don't fret, Harry," Remus said kindly. "John's with him, he'll be fine."
Harry nodded, not fully convinced.
"John is a doctor and a wizard," Sirius said. "Sherlock will be fine."
"But Emrys…" Harry began.
"I think he was just upset, Harry," Hermione piped up. "Once he has calmed down, he'll be fine."
"Brothers fight all the bloody time, trust me," Ron said. "I'd know; I've got five of them!"
Harry smiled slightly.
"Besides, they've got people looking after them," Ron continued.
Harry's smile disappeared. "Uncle Mycroft," he whispered. "He's by himself."
"Didn't he say he's going off for work?" Ron asked.
"He said he must travel urgently," Hermione said.
"Oh," Ron said. "You think he lied so Emrys and the others could use his house?"
"That man is too clever to lie outright," Sirius said. "But he does twist and turn the truth."
Harry nodded. "He must be traveling if he said he was…but…" He pulled out his mobile phone, a gift from Mycroft and dialled a number only a few privileged people knew.
"Mycroft Holmes' office," came Anthea's cool voice. "May I know who's calling?"
"Anthea? It's Harry. Why are you answering Uncle Mycroft's mobile?"
"Mr Holmes is indisposed at the moment, so all his phone calls are directed to me," Anthea replied calmly. "How may I help you, Harry?"
"What do you mean – indisposed?" Harry cried.
"I am afraid I am not at liberty to disclose the details," Anthea told him.
"Where is he? Is he traveling?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Anthea said curtly. "If that is all, Harry, I do have some pressing matters to attend to."
"Please, Anthea," Harry begged. "Where is Uncle Mycroft? Is he all right?"
Anthea sighed. "He is in a secure medical facility in Scotland. I am given to understand that his life is not at risk."
"What happened to him?"
"I am not at liberty to disclose."
"Can we visit him?"
"It would be unprecedented," Anthea said quietly. "Off the record, however, I think he might benefit from seeing a friendly face. I have not been instructed to restrict a visit. Should I prepare an aircraft for you?"
Harry turned to his godfather. "Sirius, can I go? Please?" he begged.
Sirius nodded.
"I think you should check with Sherlock first," Remus said softly.
Harry bit his lip. "Anthea, can I check with Sherlock and call you back?"
"Certainly," Anthea said coldly. "Consider your trip cancelled, Harry."
Sher disconnected before Harry could utter another word.
"I don't think she likes Sherlock," Harry said weakly.
Sirius Apparated with Harry right inside 221B. John jumped up from his chair near the fireplace. Sherlock didn't even turn around.
"Oh, it's you," John said, visibly relieved. He took in Harry's expression. "What's wrong, Harry?"
Sherlock looked up anxiously.
"Can I go to Scotland?" Harry asked.
John raised an eyebrow at Sirius.
"Harry was worrying about everyone," Sirius said. "He called Mycroft – his assistant said he's in a medical facility in Scotland."
John looked at the child incredulously. "You're worried about Mycroft?"
"Sherlock has you, Emrys has Arthur and his parents," Harry said quietly. He turned to his guardian. "Anthea wouldn't give any details. Please, can we visit him? She said it might be beneficial for him to see a friendly face."
Sherlock finally looked up from his seat. His face had gone ashen. He quickly dialled a number. The three Gryffindors waited silently as Sherlock bullied whoever was on the line to give up information about his brother.
"Idiot," Sherlock hissed when he finally got off the phone.
"Anthea said he wasn't in danger," Harry said anxiously.
Sherlock's furious eyes softened as they turned to Harry. "Mycroft is quite tough, Harry," he said gently. "He's not dying anytime soon. He's just being treated for the after-effects of the Killing Curse."
Sirius and John gasped.
"How'd he survive that?" John asked.
Sherlock blinked. "You can cast it aside with only minor damage to yourself if your magic is stronger than the caster. Did you not know this?"
At the blank look on everyone's face, Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "Really, John, you're always berating me about not knowing whether the sun goes around the moon or who the Prime Minister is – how can you not know such basic magical facts?"
John smiled fondly.
"Mycroft's mind, however, also seems to be exhibit symptoms similar to an attack by a Dementor – he's got the symptoms, but they can't find any trace of a Dementor attack."
"You're prone to depression," John told the detective. "It's quite possible that your brother is, too. He's been through a lot lately."
Sherlock's silence was answer enough.
"Then we have to cheer him up," Harry said firmly. "If Uncle Mycroft can't come here for Christmas, we will take Christmas to him."
The three adults stared at him.
"You don't visit Uncle Mycroft when he's sick, do you?" Harry asked Sherlock, narrowing his eyes. "No wonder Anthea was so miffed." He turned to his godfather. "Sirius, John – get everyone ready." He turned back to his guardian. "You and I are going to fetch Emrys."
"How are we going?" John asked. "It'll be tough to Apparate so many people."
"Anthea offered to prepare an aircraft for us," Harry replied. He pulled out his phone and called Mycroft's mobile again.
"Mycroft Holmes' office," Anthea's cool voice sounded in his ear. It may as well have been a recording.
"Hi, Anthea – it's Harry again. Umm, could you get that aircraft for us? We're bringing everyone. It'd be great if you could join, too."
There was a long silence at the other end. Finally, Anthea whispered, "Everyone?"
"Er…we were going to have a Christmas party, but since Uncle Mycroft can't come here, we'll take the party to him!" Harry hesitated. "Is that all right? Will his doctors allow that?"
There was a choked sound suspiciously similar to a sob.
"Er, Anthea? Are you ok?"
"I will make the arrangements. Where should I send the vehicles?" she asked.
"I'll coordinate with her," John volunteered and Harry relayed it to Mycroft's ultra-efficient assistant.
"Thanks!" Harry said finally, before hanging up. "I hope you can join us for a little while at least."
Sherlock and Harry made their way to Mycroft's townhouse. Mrs Holmes greeted them at the door. She hugged her son and grandson warmly.
Blushing at the blatant display of affection and yet craving more, Harry asked softly, "How is Uncle Emrys?"
"Oh, he's fine, dear," Mrs Holmes said cheerfully. "He's just cross with Mycroft and Sherlock."
"They were only trying to save his life," Harry said in a small voice.
Mrs Holmes regarded him fondly. "Oh, I know that, dear. He'll come around, don't worry."
"I…er…we actually wanted to take everyone to Scotland for the evening," Harry said.
Mrs Holmes raised an eyebrow, exactly as Mycroft did.
"Er…Uncle Mycroft is in a hospital, so I thought…er…I thought we'd cheer him up a bit."
Mr Holmes had come up by then. "What happened to Mycroft?" he asked loudly. "Why is he in a hospital? Is it even safe for him to be in a hospital?"
Harry shot Sherlock a beseeching look.
"He'll be fine," Sherlock told his father. "He's just a bit down."
The Holmes parents exchanged an anxious look.
"Is he depressed again?" Mrs Holmes asked quietly.
"Possibly," Sherlock said. "We know he was involved in a fight; he could have been injured."
Mrs Holmes drew her wand. "Expecto patronum," she chanted. A silvery eagle burst forth from her wand. "Go to Mycroft," she said. "Keep watch. We'll be there soon."
She turned to Harry. "Come with Grandma, Harry dear. We're going to drag Emrys to Scotland if we have to carry him ourselves!" She took Harry's arm and marched in.
Sherlock and his father followed her meekly.
"We are going to Scotland," she announced. Arthur and Emrys looked up at her quizzically. Emrys' face hardened as he caught sight of Sherlock.
"No," he said. "I'm not going anywhere with them."
"But Uncle Mycroft is ill!" Harry cried.
"And it's Harry's first Christmas with the family," Mrs Holmes said sternly. "Don't be such a child, Emrys."
Emrys looked away.
"What happened to Mycroft?" Arthur asked. "He seemed fine when we saw him."
"Nothing life-threatening," Sherlock snapped, glaring at Emrys.
"Can't you put away your anger for just one day?" Harry asked, pulling his best puppy-eyed look at Emrys. "Uncle Mycroft's miserable and alone, and no one should be – not on Christmas evening. Besides, we've already gotten him gifts!"
"Emrys," Sherlock called softly. "Mycroft didn't look into your head; I did. He only did what he could to save you…and me. If you must hate one of us for what was done, it should be me."
Everyone in the room stared at Sherlock in shock.
"Get out, all of you," Sherlock ordered. "Emrys and I will join you in five minutes."
As promised, Sherlock and Emrys emerged in a few minutes. Both had slightly reddened eyes but appeared otherwise unharmed. They piled into the waiting cars in silence.
Harry tugged at Sherlock's sleeve nervously. Sherlock smirked, putting Harry's anxiety at rest.
John, Emma, Greg, Molly, Wiggins, Mrs Hudson, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Remus and even Snape were waiting for them at the airport. Within seconds of their arrival, Anthea rushed in and hugged Harry.
"The Holmes family is incredibly lucky to have you now," she whispered in his ear, causing him to blush furiously.
Mrs Holmes, however, had ears even sharper than Sherlock. "Indeed," she said, winking at both Anthea and Harry.
"Does he know we are coming?" Mrs Holmes asked Anthea quietly.
She smiled enigmatically. "A surprise visit is better appreciated, isn't it?"
Mr Holmes chuckled.
The arrangements were perfect. All gifts – and even the painstakingly decorated Christmas tree from Baker Street had been transported to a cozy penthouse of Mycroft's favourite hotel in the area. Anthea dropped off everyone at the hotel.
"I'll get him here," she said.
"Take Harry with you," Mrs Holmes told her. "He wouldn't want to leave the hospital otherwise."
Anthea wavered.
"Harry is more than capable of keeping secrets," Sherlock declared. "You need not worry. Besides, he adores Mycroft." He made a face.
That drew a smile from everyone.
Mycroft was awake and glaring at his mother's eagle patronus when Harry and Anthea arrived at the small hospital hidden inside a labyrinthine government complex.
"Go home," Mycroft muttered, trying to get the eagle to move from the foot of his bed. "I'm fine; she doesn't need to worry."
The eagle stared back at him, unimpressed.
Anthea knocked smartly and walked in. "You have a visitor," she told her employer cheerfully.
"I don't want to see anyone," Mycroft grumbled. "I'll be back at work tomorrow, can't you postpone this meeting?"
Anthea shook her head. "Sorry, Sir, needs to be done today or not at all."
Mycroft groaned. "I hate Christmas," he complained.
Anthea smirked. "Well, perhaps you won't mind this one so much." She held the door open. "Come on in," she told Harry.
Harry stepped in hesitantly as Anthea slipped out.
Mycroft's shocked face caused Harry to smile. He ran to the bed and hugged his uncle.
"How are you feeling, Uncle Mycroft?" he asked.
Mycroft smiled at the boy. "I will be fine, nephew mine. This is just a minor inconvenience. I should be able to leave shortly."
"What happened to you? We were so worried!"
Mycroft arched an eyebrow. "We?"
"Everyone is here. Since you couldn't come home for Christmas, we brought the party to you!" Harry beamed at his uncle. "Even Snape came."
"Professor Snape, my dear nephew," Mycroft corrected automatically, then froze. "Everyone? Sherlock and Emrys as well?"
"Of course," Harry confirmed happily, relieved that his uncle was all right. "Sherlock bullied people to learn what's wrong with you. He got Emrys to come, too."
The British Government stared at the Boy-Who-Lived incredulously. After several moments of silence, he finally whispered, "What a wondrous child you are, nephew mine."
Harry flushed, and clutched Mycroft's large hand with both of his own. Mycroft patted his hair gently, reminded of his younger days when he had done the same to his younger brothers.
"You don't look particularly ill to me," came Sherlock's voice, followed by the man himself.
Mycroft patted Harry one last time and smirked at his brother. "I am touched at your concern for my safety, little brother," he said.
Sherlock huffed. "You are being released into John's custody. How long do you intend to stay in Scotland?"
"We can return to London immediately, if you prefer," Mycroft said, getting up.
John stepped in. "Jesus, Mycroft," he swore. "Please tell me you're not as difficult a patient as your brother!"
The identical scowls on the faces of Mycroft and Sherlock drew a smile from both Harry and John.
Emrys hugged Mycroft as soon as they returned. He proceeded to weep and wail his apology on Mycroft's shoulder.
"I'll get the food sorted," John mumbled. "Who wants to help me?"
Molly, Greg, Sirius, Remus, Ron and Hermione jumped up and followed John into the kitchenette area.
Mrs Holmes caught Harry before he could move away. "You're family. Stay," she whispered in his ear.
Mrs Hudson stood up slowly, thrust Emma Rose into the arms of the unsuspecting Severus Snape and went after them. Arthur, Anthea and Snape exchanged a look and slipped out quietly.
"How considerate," Mr Holmes said, smiling.
Emrys was still sobbing. Mycroft patted him awkwardly, while the other Holmes didn't bother to hide their smiles.
When Emrys finally calmed down, everyone was relieved.
"Don't do that again," Emrys said tearfully. "I can't bear it if something happened to you or Sherlock because of me."
"It is the prerogative of a big brother to look out for his younger siblings, Emrys," Mycroft replied quietly.
"You interfere too much," Sherlock grumbled.
Mycroft sighed.
Mrs Holmes stepped forward and boxed the ears of each of her children. "Idiots," she said, equally fond and exasperated. "Really, making mountains of molehills and what not. What will your guests think? If you don't behave properly, Harry will think he's stuck with a family of lunatics!"
Mr Holmes chuckled and put an arm around Harry's shoulders. "I'm afraid it's a little too late for that, dear. Harry has already realised what a bunch of crazies we are. Isn't that right, grandson?"
Harry could only laugh in response.
"Shall we join the others, then? I believe a feast and gifts are waiting," Sherlock suggested, sweeping an arm in a grand gesture.
"Really, brother, do you practice these 'cool' poses in front of the mirror?" Emrys asked.
"Mycroft does it, too," Sherlock muttered, flushing.
"Of course," Mycroft said, imperturbable as ever. "You should try it out sometime, too, Emrys."
Harry couldn't hold in his laughter. Sherlock patted his hair fondly.
"You, too, Harry. You will need to make public appearances soon enough," Mycroft told his nephew.
"Er…what?!"
Fortunately, John came to the boy's rescue at that moment. "Come on, guys, let's finish Christmas celebrations while it's still Christmas, yeah?"
A loud cheer greeted the Holmes family as they joined their friends for dinner. Soon enough, everyone was too full to be able to move properly.
"That's what you call a real banquet," Ron muttered, rubbing his belly. "I can't believe how much I ate."
Next to him, Hermione sighed. "I can't believe how much you ate, either."
Ron glared at her and Harry laughed.
"Time for gifts!" Sirius announced.
An hour later, everyone, especially Harry, was buried under a mountain of gifts.
"Have you guys ever heard of moderation?" John asked, shaking his head. Emma Rose happily chewed on the ear of her new plush unicorn in his lap.
Sherlock frowned at his friend. "Are you unhappy with yours?"
John stared at him, disbelieving. "How can I possibly be unhappy with this?" He pointed at the two full sets of combat gear, one muggle and one magic. They contained equipment he could only dream of. "I'm just saying it's too much."
"Don't worry about it," Emrys said cheerfully.
Harry, meanwhile, stared blankly at some documents in his hands. Some were muggle legal papers, and some were official looking parchment.
Hermione nudged him. "Harry? Are you all right?"
Harry's eyes found Sherlock's and filled with tears.
"It's just an option, a right granted to you in case you want to exercise it," Sherlock said quickly. "It is in no way a condition for our – my – affection."
Harry stared at his guardian speechlessly. Then he flung himself at Sherlock.
Sherlock held the child as he cried. "I'm sorry," the detective murmured gently. "I…I thought it might please you."
"What did he do?" John asked Emrys, who sat next to him. Emrys smiled.
Hermione peered at the papers and gasped.
"Do not be distressed, Harry," Sherlock was saying softly. "We can burn the documents right away. I apologise; it was presumptuous of me to imagine you would want…"
"Shut up, little brother," Mycroft said cheerfully. "Your child is not sad."
Sherlock glared at him.
Harry finally stopped crying. "Thank you," he said hoarsely. "Thank you. It means more to me than I can tell you. I'd be honoured to add the Holmes name to mine."
Sherlock beamed.
"Excellent," Mycroft said.
