Mycroft ignored his brother's snide comments; Sherlock was as much to blame for the situation.
"John wishes a word. Stop being a coward and go in. "
"I am not acting a coward brother. As you can see I have quite the mess to clean up."
"Oh don't act as if you don't like it. You've always been one to be in control. What's a few more blood stains to wash off the pavement."
Mycroft took a deep breath reciting the line of Monarchs to himself in his head before turning to face his brother. The two were standing in the near empty hospital corridor just six doors away from John's room.
"No thanks to you and your antics that blood isn't of any one important."
Sherlock shrugged, "Really Sherlock have these years away taught you nothing?" Mycroft hissed. "You could have been killed, you could have had Lestrade and John killed. What were you thinking heading to that museum to meet Moran?"
"Oh, please Moran is an idiot, he is no Moriarty. I nearly had him."
"No, no. He had you." Mycroft snapped, his grey eyes sharp and accusing.
"I didn't have a choice. Anyway it turned out." Sherlock shrugged.
"By chance!"
Sherlock hated when his brother was right, and Mycroft was in fact very much correct in this instance. What were the chances that of all people Mathew Kelly happened to recognize one of his kidnappers. The boy wasn't at all disappointing and truly Sherlock barely recognized the young man.
He would have to thank Mathew for his quick thinking, perhaps Mycroft could pull some strings and have the boy awarded some medal for his public service. Mathew was obviously involved in the ACF, Sherlock scoffed at this, the army cadet force indeed. What a waste of such a talented young man he would be joining the army continuing that route. He glanced at his brother, it would only take one word from the honorable Mycroft Holmes and Mathew Kelly would be accepted into Sandhurst. Knowing Mycroft he was already considering the boy as a government employee.
This caused Sherlock to scowl, although it would be of some use to have at least one intelligent young man working for the Government. Unlike the idiots his brother usually employed, useless halfwits.
As much as Sherlock viewed it a waste of brain power he knew that the boy's father and John would see joining the Military as something to be proud of.
"I take it those who managed to survive that little would be house invasion were brought in for questioning."
"Yes, one man did manage to be taken into custody. And I supervised his questioning myself."
Sherlock's eyebrow arched, he studied his brother's face "Did he have anything of importance?"
"Between the screaming yes. And before you ask, no you cannot question him." Mycroft picked at a piece of imaginary lint on his expensive gray suit.
"And why is that?"
"Unfortunately he had a bit of an accident after the interview process. Unlucky really." Mycroft sighed his face all but mournful. "He managed to fall out a window."
"How many times?"
"I lost count."
"You mean you had him executed."
"He was one of my employees, someone I fired for lack of attention. He knew full well what would have happened to him if he were captured. I do not take the safety of my family lightly. Especially that of the most vulnerable members. So, like I said he fell out of the window. It was all too easy Sherlock. But the reports read it as an accident. Clever me." There was a familiar gleam in his brother's gray eyes. Mycroft's words were so much like father's that the younger Holmes winced.
Mycroft received a text from Royce that Hamish had spoken to his father already and would be settling down for bed. Mycroft had thought of calling the boy again but decided against it, he wasn't the boy's father and John would have put the child at ease.
"Yes clever you." Sherlock mumbled observing his brother through narrowed eyes, before he could say anything else Mycroft's attention was drawn to his mobile.
Sherlock didn't recognize the number but judging by Mycroft's face his brother was familiar with it.
Sherlock caught the tight grin and hesitation in his brother's expression. "Oh, don't be an idiot Mycroft answer it. The poor boy most likely wishes to say goodnight to his dear dear uncle Myc."
He could see his brother was about to ignore the call for some stubborn reason or another so on impulse or just by way of annoying the older Holmes Sherlock snatched the phone from his brother's hands and answered.
"Hamish my boy." He greeted. "No it's Sherlock. Yes, he is right here. No he's not busy at all. " Sherlock turned to his brother with a grin "Here you go brother dear it's young Hamish wishing to bid you goodnight."
Mycroft glared at his younger brother before snatching his phone from him.
Sherlock could see his brother's color rise and it was odd seeing his brother's expression change from aggravated to relaxed. His brother managed to even sound pleasant. Even now as he turned his back so his brother could get the hint that the conversation was private, Sherlock could read so much.
He felt a bit of bitterness that his workaholic brother was so much like father and would must likely never find a woman suitable to make a family. Mycroft Holmes was entirely too busy running the world and keeping his brother out of trouble to try and make his own family. Or perhaps he was like Sherlock and thought himself incapable of being a worthy provider. Sherlock loathed the idea of a wife and child, but the ease, in which Mycroft took up the role as Uncle, he wasn't so sure that Mycroft felt the same.
"Yes everything is fine. I'm glad you are enjoying the beach house. It is a bit late you should be in bed." There was a pause "Well it's perfectly normal to feel nervous Hamish, after today's events, but I want you to know I've personally made sure those bad men will never return. Yes, uncle Locke can be a brilliant. Well your father is right." Sherlock wondered what the conversation was about Mycroft's expression became pinched. "Goodnight then young man. I don't know if I will be joining you on vacation. But your father will be there when you wake up. Yes, we will definitely have to reschedule the museum. I do think the human exhibit will be there. Now remember no sword play in the house." Mycroft's exhaustion began to show and he tried to keep his voice low "I love you as well."
"How touching." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I had no idea how affectionate you were."
"He's just a child. Unlike some children he was actually born with a heart."
Sherlock scoffed, "Sentiment brother it'll make you soft." Mycroft didn't reply he only ran a hand over his face, the exhaustion starting to show through.
"What did John say to you?"
"Oh I'm not divulging. It's your turn to face the firing squad." Sherlock glared "Just remember you brought it on yourself."
Mycroft shook his head and started towards John's room, like a man going to his death.
The British Government wondered over the words he could say that would sway the good doctor. He knew it to be futile, John had every right to be angry and this time he and Sherlock had crossed a line. No matter the reason, forgiveness would not be in their future.
Mycroft's only regret was he wouldn't be able to see Hamish grow up from the curious outgoing boy to a strong, honest man he was well on his way to becoming.
~0~
John leaned back into the pillows of his hospital cot, his head wasn't drumming so bad but his side did ache. He would definitely need to lounge about for a week or two. Well he'd give it a week and then just move through the pain of it. The ex soldier smiled to himself, perhaps things wouldn't return to normal immediately. However he couldn't help but look forward to taking up his role as blogger and assistant once more.
Oh, sure he was still a bit annoyed, alright, truthfully he was furious, but how often did someone return from the dead? That and John Hamish Watson had seen so many of his friends die, too many good people, men and women. And just this once, just this once it wasn't true. And John would take it, he could embrace the wonderful fact that Sherlock Holmes wasn't dead.
Ok, so Mycroft , Sherlock and god knows who else lied to him. That was frustrating but he could understand the reasoning behind it. Especially now that he had Hamish, having his son widened John's perspective. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the people he loved. What would he have done in Sherlock's place?
A polite cough interrupted these thoughts, and John schooled his expression. Mycroft wasn't looking at him, instead he was gripping his umbrella, standing shoulders stiff, and his eyes were on the monitors around the doctor.
"Mycroft."
"John. Perhaps it's best to let you rest-"
"Nice try. Sit." John gestured slowly towards the chair his friend had occupied earlier. The ex soldier could see the hesitation in Mycroft's movements; it was entertaining to see the British Government at a disadvantage for once.
"I heard there was trouble at the estate." John kept his voice even, he knew Hamish was safe. Especially after the display of anger from Moran over the lost chance at getting his hands on Hamish.
"Yes. Hamish is uninjured, as I'm sure my brother informed you. He is now at Portschapel."
"So, I don't suppose your brother has informed you of my non-negotiable terms." Again no reply and the good doctor could only imagine how the brains of these Holmes' worked. Mycroft was most likely visualizing how this discussion would end.
"Will you be joining us?" Mycroft's head snapped up again John was rewarded with the look of confusion. These rare moments should be savored but his ribs were aching and head started drumming. "I've already told Sherlock he doesn't have a say. He has a lot of explaining to do and from the looks of him he needs the rest. That I'd feel better if I could take a look at the wound on his side. It's not that I don't trust your physicians, it's I don't trust he followed any after care directions given to him by said physician. As for you, I do expect you will be filling in the gaps between what your brother tells me. And when was the last time you ate? Or had a proper eight hours of sleep? Really Mycroft you're not twenty anymore."
"John-" Mycroft frowned.
"Not done talking yet." The ex soldier cut the older Holmes off. "I know why you did it, I just don't have to like that you did it. You Holmes I swear always treating me like I'm too slow to keep up. And dammit this time I was. I can't believe I fell for it. It was a pretty convincing magic trick yeah. I don't plan on letting him out of my sight for a while now. Lestrade mentioned a tracking chip."
Mycroft still looked confused John almost reached out to pat his friends shoulder.
"Do you mean to keep him around?" Mycroft leaned back schooling his face into his usual bored politeness.
"Well I can't let him go off on his own, did you see his hair?"
"Yes, it was rather disturbing. I don't know why he didn't try red. Mummy was partial to red hair."
This had John coughing when he had tried to hold back the laughter, Sherlock as a red head indeed.
"Perhaps I should call a nurse-"
"No. I'm fine. Just sore." Then John decided to ask the older Holmes something that was nagging him, since Moran had threatened to end him.
"Mycroft. What would you have told Hamish if Moran succeeded in killing me tonight?"
The look of concern was replaced again by something close to concern.
"I would have told him what was appropriate for his age. Then perhaps when he was a bit older and he wished to know, then I would have let him know the rest. Fortunately this was not the case."
John continued to observe the older man, always the responsible one, Mycroft was truly under appreciated by his brother. John knew exactly what the older Holmes would have said to the young boy.
He would have told Hamish his father died a hero trying to protect those he loved. Then later he would only repeat the same story, forever untarnished, John would be carried around in Hamish's thoughts just like that.
"And what would have happened after? I don't have a will Mycroft. You did have your solicitor come around and drop a mention of it after Mary passed, and I've just foolishly put it off."
"Hamish's needs would have been met." Mycroft gripped his umbrella and leaned back in his uncomfortable chair crossing his long legs.
"Meaning he would be awarded to his aunt, the only living relative." John could curse his idiocy for not making certain his son would be provided for. Harry was sober now but her sobriety was so shaky even after a year. She couldn't handle a growing boy, especially one like Hamish. Hamish had such a soft heart, and open curiosity. He had an innocence that John and Harry had been robbed of at a young age. She would be lost, and John loved his sister but knew she was unable to provide any kind of emotional support.
"No." Mycroft shook his head. "I would have to apologize John I know you care for your sister." Mycroft seemed to try and find the right words to continue. "But I think we would both agree she is incapable to care for a house plant let alone a child. I would have given her incentive to not fight my guardianship. "
"Meaning, you would have first offered her money then blackmail."
"John, blackmail? No. You see. Upon your death there would have been all appropriate paperwork surfacing declaring in your will that I was to be awarded guardianship of my nephew. I would not make my father's mistakes John. I would have brought him under my care immediately without hesitation."
"Leave it to the British Government to always find a way."
"Come now John. It hurts me that you would think I would allow a future employee of the governments to be raised by a real estate agent. The scandal."
John nodded, "I'm sure you would have him go to a nice school."
"The best." Mycroft corrected.
"I had some good times with Sherlock being away at school."
"Well I think after Sherlock that school stopped boarding. So Hamish would be home every day from school."
John took a deep breath holding back the laugh, he remembered Sherlock's shenanigans and failed experiments.
"You've put thought into it." John managed exhaling slowly and rather uncomfortably.
Mycroft was about to answer but Sherlock cut his brother off "Most likely he's been plotting this the second he heard that you were to become a father. I told you John he cant be trusted, the government hardly ever is to be. Now, I've procured your release. We should get going, our car is ready."
Mycroft stood up "I'll join you there shortly I do have a days worth of paperwork to tie up and-"
"And, you'll be joining us Mycroft. I don't expect you to ride in the car with your brother already in a petulant mood but I do expect you'll be behind us."
"Don't argue Mycroft. I've learned from experience it only makes him more stubborn."
Mycroft nodded and left the two behind, the British Government didn't allow himself to grin until he was outside of the hospital room. Glancing back he could see a dark haired young boy in Sherlock's place leaning over a younger version of John with a cast on his arm. Sherlock with a look of concern and John a tight expression of exasperation.
Mycroft had meant what he said about John's son. He would never have left the boy to that wreck of a girl Harriette. He would always see her as the uncaring harpy in a miniskirt and tank top.
The first time that Hamish Siggerson Watson had teetered over to Mycroft the boy had been wearing a blue birthday crown looking vulnerable and rubbing his eyes.
Mycroft recalled how easily he lifted the boy onto his lap. And without hesitation the toddler had leaned into his uncle and to Mycroft's wonderment the child had fallen asleep instantly.
It was that moment when the child had fallen asleep that Mycroft had realized just how vulnerable John's son trully was. He knew John would always do his best, (and was doing a wonderful job to raise the boy) but if John were in an accident or fell ill, what would become of the child? Sherlock had become despondent due to lack of parental guidance and care. Would that be Hamish's fate?
Mycroft knew himself incapable of sentiment and was never one to show much affection or any at all. He did however know his position allowed him an advantage when it came to security. He might have his father's distorted lack of emotion but he was capable of keeping those close to him safe. Hamish with his trusting blue eyes and reaching hands would be protected and his innocence preserved. That's what family did, they were in theory supposed to protect each other.
That's why he hadn't felt particularly guilty about the treatment and handling of those responsible for invading his home. For daring to manhandle his nephew, sure Hamish had been fine and reassured Mycroft he was unhurt, but the brute's had in fact left a bruise on the boys arms.
That was enough for Mycroft to consent to murder, a message had to be sent and he believed it had been. The older Holmes understood his father a little more these days, of course he would never truly forgive the man but he could understand him.