Sherlock watched Victor's nervous reactions to his questions, choosing to ignore the obvious signs of distress he was showing. Sherlock was still in the process of honing his deductive skills, and such had not noticed the barely noticeable glint in his friends eyes. Sherlock had a sneaking suspicion that Vic's sudden close down of his normally happy personality had something to do with the rather smug personage at the bottom of the stairs.
"Vic, give me just a second, I want to talk to Mycroft."
Victor turned, concerned about what Mycroft would tell Sherlock about their conversation not minutes earlier.
"Why?" Victor tried to employ his rather pathetic attempt at a hurt sounding voice to get Sherlock to follow him into Sherlock's tip of a room.
"None of your business!" Sherlock snapped, quickly becoming tired of Victor's attempts to evoke empathy towards him, and at the same time wondering why his friend was following this incessant line of questioning. With that last thought he sent a quick look of revulsion toward Vic and headed downstairs.
Mycroft Holmes watched the interaction between his younger brother and his "friend" consequently growing even more suspicious of Victors intentions upon Sherlock, and how much they would affect the fragile young man. Mycroft smirked, regarding his brother with a rather haughty expression as he almost barrelled down the stairs, approaching the politician with such haste he almost tripped over himself.
"What the hell have you been saying to MY friend?" The anger in Sherlock Holmes' eyes was palpable.
"Sherlock, there are things I needed to understand about your young comrade, we were simply having a rather pleasant conversation about his intentions in life." Mycroft smiled smugly, believing himself to have gained the upper hand in this childish battle of wills.
"Stay away from my friend, hell, it's not like you've ever let me make any other ones."
Sherlock's eyes betrayed the swirling rage of emotions bubbling under the surface of his cool demeanour, cold hatred for his elder brothers actions swirled amongst the other sad reflections showed there.
Mycroft Holmes simply stared at his younger brother as he once again walked up the staircase. His normally unbreakable persona cracking just a bit from Sherlock's rebuttal; feeling his eyes beginning to water he quickly turned away from the situation, cringing at the sound of Sherlock's happy tones. What had he ever done to cause such a rift between them, he only wanted to protect his younger brother.
Vic waited for Sherlock in his room, allowing his eyes to wander to the various stages of experiments scattered around the place. Various bodies of animals lay about, some already entering the last stages of decomposition. To Vic the smell was appalling, but when his friend entered there was no sign in his impassive eyes that he could even sense the putrid stench.
"Right, I'll explain a bit about the rest of the squid shall I?"
"Sure." Vic answered somewhat noncommittally, still unsure of exactly what Mycroft had told Sherlock, he knew he shouldn't have been worried, but the seeds of terror had been sown.
Sherlock for his part observed his rather uninterested friend, knowing that he should have little doubt about Victor's plans for their friendship. But there was always that little bit of wavering, a niggling annoyance in the back of his great expanse of a mind, that Victor wasn't all that he chalked up to be, after all, who wants to befriend a freak.
Whilst inside the deductions ran rapid-fire within Sherlock's young brain, on the outside, he merely smiled: a nervous smile, defensive and on edge. For his part, Vic smiled back: the smile of a predator, one fit for a wolf. Sherlock turned his back, beginning to explain how iodine will affect the cornea of the squids. Victor felt all the terror dissolve from his body, aware now that the politician had had very little impact upon his younger sibling. Well, what did he expect, their relationship was in tatters at the best of times, if anything Sherlock would probably rebel even more against Mycroft's influence.
Sherlock continued to prattle on about the various stages of eye alteration occurring in the tiny animals before, totally unaware of his contemplating friend behind him, a sketchy smirk etched upon his face.
Mycroft Holmes sat at his desk in his father's old office, watching out the window the birds making a nest in the closest tree. He couldn't help feeling that Victor was up to no good, nothing was going to convince him that the boy had Sherlock's best interests at heart, he was out for something, and Mycroft just had to figure out exactly how bad this was going to affect his brother. For the sake of Victor he hoped that he would stand good with his earlier promise of faithfulness; because if he ever harmed Sherlock he would most definitely have himself to deal with, Mycroft had been told by some people that he had an acidic personality, but none of those goldfish really understood how corrosive that acidic nature could be when protecting something he cared for.
At the Diogenes club there sits a man who controls almost the whole of Britain. He will tell you that he only maintains a minor position within the government; his younger brother will boast scornfully that he IS the British Government. The man can influence most of anything, his powers allowing him to gain full control of his various enemies, disposing of various people that are a threat to the country. But this man does not like legwork, he is rather more inclined to work things through in his immense brain, sorting all the information he finds into files and folders. There is only one exception to this lack of movement, one instance in which Ice Man turned his own immense power against a singular entity, once in which he dealt with an enemy himself. A person who went against his own express instructions, someone; who broke their own promise.