Mycroft walked into his house, loosening his tie as he removed his coat and umbrella and kept them on the stand.

"Rayleigh?" Mycroft called eager to hear his daughter's delight filled yell after his tiring day.

Instead he heard a pained sob, "papa!"

Instantly worried, Mycroft bounded towards the staircase, heart pounding as he imagined what could have made his daughter cry out like that. Halfway there he froze. Rayleigh was lying face down on the landing between the first and second floor. Immediately, he realised the she must have fallen down the stairs.

Heart pounding, he raced to his daughter and picked her up gently.

"Papa, hurts." His one and a half year old daughter moaned, tears running down her beautiful face.

"Shhh, I know it does princess, I'm so sorry I wasn't here to catch you." Mycroft said softly, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

Surveying his daughter quickly, Mycroft sighed in relief when he saw that they were no broken bones. In fact, Rayleigh only had a scraped knee and a cut on her forehead. Looking into his daughter's pain-filled eyes, Mycroft felt his heart clench. Taking her to his bedroom, Mycroft set her down on his large bed and got the first aid kit out.

Kissing her forehead softly, he set to work and applied the antiseptic on her cuts. Her pained yelps made him feel awful, and it was only the knowledge that the antiseptic would help her, that allowed him to continue with the god-awful task.

Once he was done cleaning the wounds, he put a band-aid on each of her wounds and kissed them both.

"Is that better darling?" Mycroft asked her softly as he stroked her hair.

She nodded, her big blue eyes filled with tears before she threw her arms around him and cried into his shirt. Every time she sobbed Mycroft felt like she was stabbing him, and he held her close to his chest, wishing he could keep her safe.

"Shhh, I'm here my love. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, princess, so sorry." Mycroft murmured repeatedly, rocking Rayleigh softly.

Eventually, Rayleigh fell asleep. Looking at his sleeping daughter Mycroft suddenly felt fear grip him. What if she had been hurt seriously? How would he keep her safe once she grew up if he couldn't keep her safe here, in their home? Mycroft knew his current living arrangements with Rayleigh weren't ideal. Eventually she would grow up, and have to go to school, how would he protect her then?

These thoughts plagued Mycroft as he paced around the bedroom with Rayleigh sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. When Mycroft had first heard her pained call, he had feared the worst. He had been terrified that he would find Rayleigh being held by some madman who wanted revenge on Mycroft. Mycroft's very being shuddered; the thought of Rayleigh in even the slightest of danger was abhorrent. Rayleigh's pain filled cry of 'papa!' echoed in his ears and he knew it would haunt him forever.

He would have to revise his will. It was a good thing he had introduced Sherlock to Rayleigh. Sherlock would provide for her should anything happen to Mycroft. Mycroft wasn't a fool, he knew that his job made him a target, and he would be damned if he left Rayleigh in the lurch should such an event occur.

Gently laying her down on his bed, Mycroft shut the door behind him as he walked to the study. Entering it, he took out his old will and burnt it.

Sighing he sat down to write a new one.

Thirty minutes later he was done. Custody of Rayleigh had gone to Sherlock and John (without their permission but he hoped John would forgive him). All his estates had gone into Sherlock's temporary hold, only until Rayleigh turned eighteen, at which age she would automatically get complete ownership of all his estates except a small cottage in Tuscany where Sherlock kept his bees. At sixteen she would be allowed to manage her bank account that would give her a steady allowance of fifty thousand pounds every month, until she became eighteen and got full control over all the accounts. After slight contemplation, Mycroft decided that should anything happen to Rayleigh, all his estates and accounts would be dissolved and donated to various charities (a measure he took to prevent Sherlock from becoming too attached to them and murdering Rayleigh to keep control over Mycroft's assets).

A few items from their childhood he left solely to Sherlock along with a lifelong allowance of seventy five thousand pounds per month. All other sentimental items, he left to mummy and father. To John he left his Glock, in the hopes that John would use the gun to protect himself, Sherlock and Rayleigh. To DI Lestrade he left his pocket watch. He had often seen the policeman stare at it enviously, and so thought it would be best treasured by him. Anthea got his umbrella (a private joke between them) and a flat in Paris while Arthur got Mycroft's old Aston martin.

His will complete, Mycroft sealed it and kept it in his top right drawer and locked it. There were exactly two copies of the key to this drawer. One was with Mycroft, obviously, the other would be sent to Sherlock by sources Mycroft had arranged after Mycroft's death.

Standing, Mycroft walked back to his room. Seeing Rayleigh sleeping peacefully on his bed, Mycroft smiled. Moving to the bed he carefully repositioned them so that Mycroft was lying down on the bed, face up and Rayleigh was sleeping comfortably on his chest. Staring into his little angel's face Mycroft understood why people said children changed your life. It was because they truly did. Seeing Rayleigh sleep peacefully almost made him forget about the troubles of the day.

Almost

Mycroft frowned slightly as he recalled the file he had read about the German involvement in certain covert operations. He would have to do something about it. Soon, or the situation would worsen immensely. But that could wait; all that mattered right now was the angel sleeping on his chest. Kissing Rayleigh's forehead softly, Mycroft closed his eyes, ignoring the wave of uneasiness that had come over him when he remembered the situation with the German ambassador.

It could wait.

Ooh, bad omens. Those of you who have read Family Trial realise what the "German ambassador" brings. At this point I would like to say, I have nothing against Germans and that I'm just trying to stick with the original story line of 'Family Trial'. One of my best friends is part German, and so I have nothing against them.