A/N Time for another chapter. Thanks to everyone reading and following, welcome new followers. And of course, a very warm thank you to AngryHobbit and Raeya.
Mycroft groaned loudly, of course, Carys was not sitting behind the secret door. How could she even discover the door? A brief smile flickered across Mycroft's face, a true Holmes. He envied his brother just immensely to be so fortunate to have a child. Sherlock was not the fatherly type, not at all. But Carys put things in his brother to light that Mycroft would have never thought possible. The relationship with John Watson was one of those things. Mycroft had always made a joke of it, pulling John and Sherlock´s leg, but obviously it was serious, for both of them.
He shook his head, Mummy would not like that. But, she wouldn´t get this information from him, Mycroft decided. He wouldn´t put the fragile peace with Sherlock's on game by divulged internals again. At the moment, however, he had other priorities. Mycroft was about trying to kick his butt. How could Carys just disappear?
"Carys, love? Where are you? Answer Uncle My, honey."
oOo
'Honey' wasn´t thinking about answering at all. What was probably due to the fact, she was sitting, in all serenity, in the club´s kitchen with the cook Mrs. Bridges. Having some cocoa and a very delicious piece of still warm apple pie.
"I wonder, to whom you belong, sweetie?" The cook asked loudly, caressing Cary's dark curls. The little girl suddenly appeared in the middle of the kitchen, expressing loud and clear that she was hungry.
"Is your father here in the club?"
Carys shook her head, "Papa and John work, My Carys watches."
"So that´s your name? Carys is such a pretty name, my dear. Unfortunately I have no idea who 'My' is. However, the guy has to pay a lot more attention to you, little dwarf." Mrs. Bridges chuckled. "You want some more cocoa, Carys?" Carys nodded, her curls were bobbing, "Carys can also have more cake?"
oOo
Mycroft meanwhile wandered through the maze of secret passages that seem to lead everywhere and nowhere. He was wiping with disgust over his shoulder, he just ran into a huge spider web. His dark suit had turned a dirty gray color, Mycroft hated it when his clothes got dirty. He opened one of the hidden doors and took a look into the library now. And, at the moment the library was misused by Sir Arthur Tremaine and the housemaid, Clara. If Mycroft was not mistaken, he only caught a glimpse of Clara's um ... butt. And he did not know her butt personally. Well...not yet. Note to myself, Mycroft thought. Clara is willing. He closed the hidden door again.
oOo
Carys brought a lot of fun and laughter into the otherwise quiet and serious kitchen of the Diogenes Club and that was not unnoticed by Mr. Porter, the administrator of the Diogenes Club.
"Ladies, please. One can hear your laughter in the study and some of the gentlemen have already expressed their displeasure."
Mrs. Bridges stifled a giggle, how was that supposed to work, said 'Gentlemen' were silent as goldfish when they were staying in the study.
"You know what I mean," said Porter, who interpreted the facial expression of the cook properly. "So if you have the kindness to enlighten me?"
"Certainly, Sir. We have a small guest here, Mr. Porter. Carys," she pointed at the little girl, "has shown up out of the blue. She was hungry, but we do not know where she belongs."
"This is Miss Holmes, Mr. Mycroft Holmes niece. He signed in with her, today. I will bring her back to Mr. Mycroft, pass me the child, please."
Carys immediately began to cry, she didn´t like Mr. Porter.
"Oh Lord, sweetie. You don´t wanna go with Mr. Porter? You don´t have to, love." Mrs. Bridges hugged Carys tight. "Mr. Mycroft won´t get hurt, if he´s picking up the little cutie himself." The cook said resolutely. "You see, she likes to stay with me."
oOo
Mycroft, however, was still looking frantically for his niece. Most of the doors did not open, as Mycroft realized. He swore loudly and promptly hit his head at a protruding beam. He came into a tailspin and plunged down a staircase before he was swallowed by the darkness...
Mr. Porter was knocking at Mycroft's door. Alone. Carys still refused to come with him. What a naughty brat, Porter thought. It had it´s reasons why there were no kids allowed, at this club. An exception was made only for very special members. Members like Mycroft Holmes.
"Um, Mr. Holmes? Sir? May I come in?" Porter waited a while, but received no response. "I'm coming in now, Sir." Porter decided and opened the door.
The sight could not be more disappointing. Mycroft Holmes private chamber was empty. Porter sighed. How easy would it be, if this was Harrod's. 'Little Carys is looking for her Uncle' An announcement and everything would be back on track.
oOo
Just then Sherlock and John reached the club. Sherlock afloat as always, John left with the dubious honor of paying. "John? All the time I have to wait for you."
John grinned, "that's not entirely true, Sherlock. This morning we both came at the same time." John saw Sherlock's shoulders shaking and he heard his silent chuckle. Then Sherlock pulled the door knocker.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson for Mr. Mycroft Holmes." Sherlock informed the butler with due seriousness.
"Very good, sir." Havvock wanted to go ahead, Sherlock overran him formally. "We know the way, thank you." Would Seamus Havvock not been previously employed in the royal household, he would probably not have been able to suppress the pulse to slap Sherlock. Instead, there was a subtle, "at your service, Sir."
John had Trouble, following Sherlock. He was on Carys withdrawal and wanted his child back, as quickly as possible.
"Carys? Papa is back!" Sherlock ripped the door to enthusiastically, crashed into Mr. Porter, who was about to leave the room and toppled on the floor with him.
John snorted, Sherlock was a tall guy and his 'opponent' a small, round hockey puck. He was enjoying himself just deliciously. Finally, he handed his friend a hand and helped him up.
"Who are you? Where is my daughter? Where is Mycroft?" Sherlock stared at Porter, who was still lying on the floor and slowly managed to get in a vertical position again.
"My name is Angus Porter, I am the manager of this club. Your daughter is safe. Our cook, Mrs. Bridges is taking care of her. But Mr. Mycroft ... I'm afraid we have... um, well. "
"What´s the matter with Mycroft?" John asked with interest.
"I'm afraid we've lost him, Sir."
"Pah! Better him than my daughter. Where is the kitchen, Mr. Putter?"
"The name is Porter, Sir."
"Anyway, the kitchen?" Sherlock was apparently tired of waiting and sniffed. "I guess, we´ll find out ourself. John? You´re coming?"
They left behind a completely stunned Mr. Porter.
oOo
Carys was having fun with Mrs. Bridges, then she suddenly heard her father talking. "Papa is coming!" She slid from Mrs. Bridges lap and as fast as she could she wiggled towards the door. Carys beamed when Sherlock came through the door.
"Papa taking Carys home?" She asked. Sherlock laughed and lifted her up. He was kissing her cheek and held her tight.
"Of course I'll pick you up, sweetheart. I promised you. But you have to tell me, where Uncle My is, love."
Carys nodded, "My hello and Carys hungry." She cocked her head and blinked at her father.
"My Hello?" John repeated, "what she means, Sherlock?"
Carys pointed at Sherlock's coat pocket. "Hello," she said firmly. Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. His face lit up. "Mycroft was on the phone and Carys got hungry, so she did a runner."
"She was really hungry, Sir." The cook intervened. "She had two pieces of fresh apple pie."
The girl nodded, "pie good, Papa."
John smiled, how fast the Sherlock Papa was gone from the scene after Sherlock explained to his little one this morning, he was her real Papa. Carys understood this immediately, what didn´t surprise John at all, after all she was a Holmes breed.
"Then we have to take a look and see, where My is gone. Um, Mrs. Bridges? Thank you for taking care of my daughter."
The cook smiled, "you don´t have to, the little girl is so sweet."
John didn´t believe his own ears. "Did you really thank Mrs. Bridges, Sherlock?"
"Dear John." Sherlock said in an indulgent tone. "You´re preaching me everyday, I shall not be so harshly? Your good influence is about to bear fruit, John. Now let us look for Mycroft, before I change my mind."