The third change concerned his younger brother...
Beta: OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles
Brother
Almost every person who had ever met Mycroft Holmes was one hundred percent sure that this man lived with his work. Nothing was more important for him than creating a web of policies and destroying his enemies' plans – that's what they thought. And those people where right, in their own way. Mycroft himself put work as his top priority, but that did not mean that policy was the only important aspect of his life. Another, also first, priority went to his younger brother – Sherlock Holmes. A constant problem, source of endless worry, the main cause for almost all of Mycroft's frown lines.
Mycroft loved his brother, not as openly and tenderly as social rules predicted an over-protective brother should, but he supposed it could be forgiven since Sherlock's response to his care was far from normal as well. The Holmes brothers were abnormal in their viewing of the world and in the way they saw relationships, Mycroft slightly better than Sherlock but still not entirely the same as most people did. But that was irrelevant because Mycroft and Sherlock did not care to personalize the term 'other people' in their mind, taking it only as a crowd, sometimes standing in their way and sometimes unknowingly working for them, helping to achieve their goals. The fact that the goals were very different for the two brothers did not change the mechanics.
So, contradictory to the common belief, which Sherlock unfortunately shared, Mycroft cared for his brother, worried about him. Why else would he put Sherlock under constant surveillance?
Thankfully, lately Doctor John Watson was around and Mycroft knew he could rely on that man to look after the younger Holmes. That lightened Mycroft's burden considerably and left him a small reassurance that his sibling would not be left alone even where Mycroft's sources couldn't reach him – 221B Baker Street. That was reassuring. They all knew what kind of things happened when Sherlock was bored.
Also, there was DI Lestrade. Of course he wasn't going to play nanny for the insolent consulting detective, but he could keep the man from rushing into danger headfirst. Or at least he tried. This also made the politician's life a little calmer.
Gregory Lestrade was a reliable man, who always kept his word – a quality Mycroft found the most honorable and also very rare in modern world. He, unlike so many others, managed to do what a lot of people wanted: Lestrade had gained Mycroft's respect. That must have been a difficult task if the DI wasn't by nature the type of person the politician valued the most, without thinking of doing so; without any notion to impress, Lestrade had shown Mycroft the side of his character that put him on the top of Mycroft's 'good' list. And that list was actually very short, in comparison with his black list.
"Sir?" His PA called, intruding into Mycroft's thoughts.
The politician looked at her, his mind still on the previous subject.
"Yes?" He asked the dark haired woman, if he remembered correctly, she insisted at being called Penelope that day.
"I was asking if you need any data to get ready for the meeting."
"No, thank you." Mycroft replied, his eyes wandering around.
"Sir, is everything alright?" The PA asked worriedly.
"Yes, I just…spaced out." Mycroft answered and frowned at his own words. Confusion in his tone matched the one in Penelope's eyes. Mycroft Holmes never spaced out. "Call the driver; we are leaving for the meeting."
The woman left and the politician, in the solitude of his office, allowed himself one tired sigh; it was a difficult job – 'occupying a minor position in British government' as he always said, but he would not trade it for anything. This time it was a ringing of the phone that brought him back to reality. He lifted the device to his ear, pushed the green button and waited.
"Hello?" Sounded on the other side. It was Lestrade's voice.
"Good evening, Detective Inspector."
"There is no need to always call me that. It's an unofficial call," Lestrade chuckled.
"Well," Mycroft hesitated for a second before continuing. "Gregory, what is the purpose of your unofficial call?"
"Sherlock," the DI replied, the word turning into one prolonged sigh.
"What happened?" The older Holmes asked, voice becoming serious instantly. Tiredness of the day was catching up with him; he had been hoping he could have some rest after the meeting but it seemed he'd have to deal with his brother's problems as well. And here he was, hoping that John Watson would be enough. Nothing could keep Sherlock from getting himself in yet another mess, Mycroft concluded.
"He was helping me with a murder case and rushed right from the crime scene like he always does. Well, you know…"
"Yes, of course. Do you know where he is right now?" Mycroft interrupted.
"Yes. You have nothing to worry about," Lestrade hastened to reassure him.
"Oh…" Mycroft didn't know how to respond to that. It was hard to believe because Mycroft Holmes always had something to worry about. He supposed it came with the name.
"Sherlock found the criminal, followed the man to his hideout. Case closed."
"Then why are you telling me this?" Mycroft asked with a slight irritation.
"He got shot."
"What?"
"He's fine now," Lestrade added quickly before Mycroft could make any disastrous assumptions. "Doctor Watson was with him so he provided first aid. The wound is not serious. We are at the hospital. So you have nothing to worry about. I just thought I'd inform you. You'd have found out soon anyway."
"Yes. I…" Mycroft sighed. "So everyone is fine?"
"Yes. As I said, nothing to worry about."
Mycroft almost snorted but caught himself in time; with his tiredness it was becoming more difficult to keep himself in check.
"Good then. I'll make a call to the hospital to make sure they treat Sherlock. Even if he'll be kicking and screaming."
"He won't," Lestrade replied with a chuckle. "Doctor Watson is a good influence on him. In some areas of life at least."
"That's very good, I was hoping he would be," Mycroft voiced his thoughts from earlier. As an afterthought he added. "No one else was injured?"
"No, John was not hurt. By the time he got to the hideout Sherlock already had the criminal unconscious."
"And you?" Mycroft asked. His voice sounded cool and uninterested and he was proud of it.
"Don't worry, I'm fine."
"I'm not-"
"Ah, sorry, it seems I have to go," Lestrade interrupted before Mycroft could formulate his denial. "I've got a lot of paperwork, you know. See you on Sunday."
And with that the DI disconnected, leaving a stunned Mycroft staring at his phone. Well, maybe Gregory Lestrade could lighten his burden of looking after Sherlock after all, Mycroft mused. In the next moment his PA entered the room announcing that the car was ready and he had to leave for the meeting. Penelope stared after him as her boss passed her and wondered what could have influenced his mood this much. He seemed almost cheerful.
As he sat through the meeting Mycroft couldn't help but let his mind wander a little. It was Saturday evening after all, he though with a small smile, hiding it behind his clasped hands. As an afterthought he made a mental note to put Lestrade under surveillance as well.