CHAPTER 12. A VISIT

Mycroft hated legwork, he would have sent one of the house staff but this was a delicate matter, something he would deal with face to face. It was noon, he noted the car in the drive, an older car and from the look of the oil stained drive it was on its last legs. John's father was employed so Mycroft wondered at the car in the drive, during the middle of the day, perhaps Mr. Watson had today off. This might make things interesting; he could then kill two birds with one stone.

Mycroft sighed reaching the door to the small two story house, he took in the well kept yard, the grass was cut and the yard clean but the neglected flower beds seemed so out of place. And John's father a retired military man no doubt expected no less than a neat yard. Perhaps it was John's mother who had kept the flower beds alive, and without her presence the veteran soldier had no patience or skill for gardening.

Mycroft had done a background check on John and his family, well he had their solicitor do it. It turned up nothing of real interest. John's father was a widower, a veteran, two citations for drunk and disorderly, child services had come to the home several times over the last five years, but always found the complaints unfounded. That had been the only thing that raised an eyebrow, Mycroft was intelligent enough to read through the generic term, as the department was overworked and seeing how John's father was a war veteran, and provided a home and food that's all that mattered. Mycroft could also see that John received excellent grades in school, played sports actively. Although the school nurse and an A&E Doctor had sent reports to child services over suspicious bruises and a few broken bones. This had given the older Holmes brother pause, but as far as he could tell there hadn't been a trip to the A&E or report made to child services in the past year. So perhaps things weren't entirely so dire.

John's sister Harriett Watson's file was another subject all together, seemed the older Watson was in and out of trouble with the police. Mycroft turned his nose up on her less than lady like activities at the local clubs. How was John so, ordinary?

"If you're looking for my Dad he's gone away on business." A young girl with a nose ring, opened the door before Mycroft could knock. She looked him over as if it were him that offended her with his presence. She reeked of alcohol, and looking down he realized she was holding a can of beer, not even close to legal age. "Shove off."

"I was hoping to speak to John Watson." Her eyes went wide and she took a step back placing the can in her hand behind her back hoping to hide it from view.

"You with child services?"

"No miss I'm not with the child services." Warning bells started to go off in Mycroft's head, John's sister narrowed her eyes, she didn't believe him.

"What do you want with Johnny then?"

"Well I heard he was under the weather. My younger brother wanted me to relay a message to him."

"Under the weather?" Harriett or Harry as she liked to be called snorted." Oh, the little curly haired twerp was yours? A bit of a know it all if you ask me. And here I thought I had a pest for a brother. Well come in then before the neighbors start talking."

"People do little else." Mycroft replied in his normal bored tone, the girl only shrugged taking a swig of her beer.

"Oi! Johnny! You've got a visitor." She turned around "What you say your name was?"

"Mycroft."

"Really?"

"Yes, Harriett, really." She rolled her eyes again. Mycroft noted the cleanliness of the house, except where Harry had been watching tele several cans were opened and laying on the floor. Something was off, and Mycroft glanced around taking in the salon and from where he stood the small kitchen. Nothing suspicious there, everything was clean, that's what hit him everything was too clean. He caught it, a small minor detail, there had been a table to the right of the door, he could tell by the edge had rubbed into the wall over the years and he could see small shards of glass were missed when someone had swept up a broken vase?

"You said your father is out?"

"Yeah wont be seeing him for a bit. Good thing this place is paid up, worthless bastard. JOHNATHAN HAMISH WATSON! You have a visitor!" She didn't wait at the bottom of the stairs, Mycroft's keen eye took in the details around him and the story started to unfold. Scuff marks on the stairs, a boys small feet, and that of a mans. The dark marks where someone had tumbled down the stairs, perhaps a harsh push. Small hands had tried to catch themselves on the wall. Landing at the bottom of the stairs, Mycroft could see where someone had missed a few smears of blood on the small rectangular carpet, he followed the path of the scuff marks, a crack in the wall where a small figure had been pushed hard enough that their head would have caused a picture to fall and shatter. Mycroft knew from the discoloration of the paint in a perfect square, that a picture had once hung where this crack was. Finally the missing table near the door, with the shattered vase, all of this made Mycroft regret coming here, he debated on leaving when a small voice caught his attention.

"Mycroft?" John didn't come down the stairs he staid at the top, his face was shaded and Mycroft cringed, it was painfully obvious by his subdued tone, the slow shuffle towards the stairs. "Is everything ok? Is Sherlock alright?" once again this boy caught Mycroft off guard; his concern confused the older boy.

"Oh, yes. He's as petulant as ever. How are you feeling? Sherlock said you were under the weather. Summer colds are ghastly if you ask me."

"Oh, Right. Yeah, summer cold."

"He's been a bit of a handful. I think he's worried you aren't friends anymore. You know how dramatic he can be." Mycroft heard the boy start to laugh in agreement then winced. "John please come down it would be easier to speak with you face to face so I wouldn't have to yell up to you, and I think your sister would like to watch the tele without adjusting the sound over us."

"Cheers" she yelled irritably from the living room.

John slowly descended. He passed Mycroft moving towards the door, keeping his head down, this wasn't lost on the older Holmes brother he silently took in the boys movements, deducing John wasn't difficult.

"John I don't think the house staff will last long at this rate. If my brother doesn't have his assistant back soon. When might we expect you to make an appearance?" this situation Mycroft Holmes had to admit wasn't one he could easily handle. This child was not his business, nor was the boy's life. He could also see that it would easily embarrass them both if he stated the obvious. Mycroft wasn't one with feelings, he wouldn't know how to manage if John suddenly broke down. And everything in the older boy wanted to flee the situation put this house behind him. Something kept him firmly planted behind the younger boy.

There was no response from his brothers only friend. Mycroft felt something in him start to boil to the surface, a feeling he usually reserved for his younger brother, something in him wanted to pull the young boy out the door and into the car waiting just outside, a sudden protectiveness and it irritated the older Holmes, sentiment was not an advantage.

"John why don't you get in the car. We are having your favorite tonight, Risotto- "

"I cant leave right now." John glanced over in his sisters direction. Mycroft finally stepped in front of the young boy, his quick movement caused the younger boy to flinch. The teenager pretended not to notice, but he couldn't pretend he didn't notice the swelling in the blond boy's left eye, deducing it to be about three days old, already the skin was turning a nice shade of purple, the 17 year old Holmes having never experienced violence in his life was taken back by it. He kept his own expression even, "Get in the car John. I'll have a word with your sister."

"Huh?"

"I'll make the necessary arrangements. Mummy has invited you along with her and Sherlock to Portsmouth in Cornwall. Sherlock would be bored by himself and I would rather not be in the sun. You know how I do loath tedious exercise." John laughed despite himself, wincing again he put a hand to his newly split lip.

"Don't worry John we'll take care of it, get in the car." Mycroft handed the younger boy his silk handkerchief.

"Right. No it's ok. I'll talk to her-"

"Well your sister Harry has expressed your father has gone away on business. I'm sure she wont mind if you yourself went on holiday it would allow her more freedom, I should think."

"Yeah." John put a hand to rub the back of his head Mycroft could see more bruises, finger prints. John was fidgeting; he didn't like the direction the conversation was going in.

"I'm sure I can arrange it with your sister then."

"Ok." The younger boy didn't have the fight in him to argue with Mycroft's orders.

"This wont take but a minute John."

John didn't stay to hear what Sherlock's older brother had said to Harry, but he guessed it wasn't something she cared to hear. Seeing how she slammed the door behind the older Holmes brother without so much as a goodbye to John. Mycroft did have John's hoodie and he was grateful to put the brown hoodie on to cover his embarrassment.