Prompt: An unusual thief, from mrspencil
"We shall need an operative in America," Mycroft said, the first time he had spoken up in the meetings unofficially termed war councils.
It was common knowledge among the government that war was indeed on the horizon, and so the name was a dark joke, but as of yet the war was still a year or two in the future, and so still just a joke.
"What has America to do with anything?" one of the pompous Cabinet officials asked, puffing on his cigar like a great chimney. The Foreign Secretary, in place because the Prime Minister was married to his sister. "They won't have anything to do with the matter. Bloody isolationists. Happy to watch us all burn as long as they don't have to be involved."
Mycroft sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Because of Ireland. The Germans have already seized on this as a weakness they seek to exploit. It will give them a roadmap to follow in India, South Africa-"
"You think our Empire is weakness?" another cabinet secretary asked incredulously. "Why, we alone can call upon more men right now than Germany could in decades of war! Mr. Holmes, I understand your reputation but I really must protest."
"You may protest all you like," Mycroft said. "I deal in facts, and the fact is that depending upon colonies to provide men is folly. As in most colonies, you'll find they have little reason to love their colonizers and many to fight against us. The enemy of their enemy is their friend, is that not how it goes?"
A few of the men shifted uncomfortably, knowing that he was right but without wanting to admit it. "You still have not explained what that has to do with America," the Foreigns Secretary said irritably.
"As I said, Ireland is the immediate concern," Mycroft said. "You are aware of the great numbers of Americans of Irish descent, I am sure, all of whom have a great sense of injustice about the wrongs done to the mother country." Most of these Irish-Americans were descended from those who had fled Ireland during the Famine, creating a population more than willing to help Britain's enemies from a safe vantage point.
Mycroft supposed he could not fault the people in power then for not having the foresight to realize engineering a famine would hardly be beneficial to them in the end, nor could he fault himself for being one year old at the time and therefore unable to make sure the idiots in power did not make decisions bound to cause problems later on, to say nothing of the human suffering, but it still rankled.
"The Germans already have men in place working with Irish-American organizations, and in Ireland itself, working to distract us with unrest, protests, calls for independence," Mycroft went on. "It is a distraction we cannot afford." They would end up fighting a war on two fronts, if not more, the way the war seemed to be shaping up.
"What do you suggest?" The Prime Minister asked.
"Infiltration, of course," Mycroft said. "Send an operative into these groups in America, have him report on their plans and progress, and feed him misinformation to pass on to the Germans once he has gained their trust. Such a man could tie up German strategy for two years, by my calculations."
"A spy?" the Defense Secretary said. "Hardly seems sporting, does it?"
Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes, barely. "War is not sporting, Minister. If we insist on following the rules of good conduct, we shall find ourselves at the mercy of the German onslaught. We must use every tool at our disposal."
Politics and war were ruthless games, though often the men playing them did not realize how much. It was the job of politicians and generals to couch their views in lofty terms and convince the people of the rightness of their plans. It was Mycroft's job to ensure the work was done and the prices paid, unnoticed.
"Where would we find such a person?" the Prime Minister asked, and Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief that they were listening. As he knew they would, eventually. They always did. "A soldier can hardly work like that, in the shadows."
That the entire British government seemed unable to find even one spy they might make use of was one of many trials of dealing with them. Fortunately, Mycroft was prepared. "I have someone in mind already."
People thought he was indispensable because of his ability to connect disparate facts and figures to form a whole picture, but while that was important, Mycroft often thought he was indispensable because no one ever knew how to find out anything unless he provided them with the answer they were looking for as they asked the question.
"You need a thief, more than a soldier, I would think," the Defense Secretary said.
"A spy is merely a professional thief," Mycroft said. "Considerably more skilled than the average thief, and working for a government." He passed around dossiers on his brother as he spoke.
"Hold on, Mr. Holmes, you cannot mean your brother? The detective?" the Defense Secretary said.
"Why not?" Mycroft asked. "He is perfectly suited to the job. A detective's skills are exactly the same as a spy. Where once he sought clues to determine the cause of a crime, now he will piece together the clues to achieve the desired outcome. Besides, Sherlock has already acted as a foreign agent on my behalf."
"Yes, yes, during that time everyone believed him dead. I read the Doctor's stories too, you know," the Foreign Secretary said. "You know they're calling it The Great Hiatus now?"
"But he is well-known the world over!" the Prime Minister said. "There isn't a house that doesn't know his name, or his likeness!"
"Should we not choose someone who is, at least, American?" someone else brought up.
"My brother is a skilled actor," Mycroft said. "I can assure you that if he were in the room at this very moment, even I would not recognize him. Nor understand him, as he is capable of reproducing the most accurate American accent." Appreciative chuckles followed this statement, until the Defense Secretary cleared his throat.
"But he is, well, excuse me, Mr. Holmes, but it's the truth - not young."
"That is precisely why no one will suspect him," Mycroft said. "Who would suspect a sixty-year-old man of spying? He will seem to be exactly what he is pretending to be - an Irish-American who has devoted his life to the cause of independence for the mother country."
"If spycraft is theft, I don't see how we get anywhere by sending a detective," the Police Commissioner said. "Like sending a fox to collect eggs, isn't it?"
Mycroft smiled, in the way he had been told had a chilling effect and was not disappointed. "Spy or thief, call it what you will, but, gentlemen, had my brother turned to crime I can assure you he should never have been caught." He paused, then added, "I am insistent." He shuddered inwardly at the thought of someone other than Sherlock attempting to carry out a task of such delicacy. He would entrust it to no one else.
The Prime Minister nodded. "He is uniquely suited. Will he agree?"
"I hardly think he has a choice in the matter," Mycroft said. "In the end, when we see what is coming, none of us will."