Chap7: Mission Impossible
Rosaline stood alone, sobbing quietly, her face buried in her hands, her thin shoulders shook softly, desperate and fragile. She startled as a hand touched her hair. Rosa looked up with tearful glassy eyes and redden cheek.
“Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?” The man greeted her, speaking with a quite strong accent.
“Oh, …i’m fine”, Rosaline dropped her gaze, stumbling for words, “i’m sorry. I’m…”. She struggled to wipe the tears from her face, “i’m sorry if i’ve disturbed your time here. I- i’ll leave right away.”, she said in a shaky voice, turning on her heals.
“Oh no, no, no.” The man stepped to block her way, smiling charmingly at her. “I’m sorry he treated you badly like that. Don’t leave, i’m delighted you’ve come tonight.”
He chuckled, realizing that he’s forgotten some importants things. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Nik-“, something, “the host of tonight’s party. It’s a pleasure to have met you here.” He smirked when i gasped in surprise.
I looked at him, and all i could think of was the days they kept Mycroft down at that awful place and the possible terrible things they might’ve done to him. I wanted to punch him right on the spot. Nobody touched my Mycroft!
I gave him a small smile, a bit shy, a bit uncertain.
“I’m Rosaline. But you can call me Rosa. Pleasure’s all mine.”
“How about i invite you a drink? It’s my party after all.” He grinned a bit too eagerly, but young Rosa was too at loss to notice. She looked small, confused and alone, a perfect prey for the hunter. His smirk grew wider, and darker.
My eyes widened at him as i bit my lower lip.
“But i-“, i blushed and dropped my gaze down my trembling hands, “i’m-“.
“Oh, kitty cat, i wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” He grabbed my hands and pressed a light kiss on the back of my palm.
I gave him a tiny nod and hesitantly took his arm as the guy leaded me back inside.
Nik took me to a big private room with two giant guards at the door. He nodded at them, then walked me inside, gesturing me to sit down by the beautiful coffee table. The man poured me a glass of champagne, which i accepted with a grateful smile.
I took a sip, and a bit more.
After a while, i felt extremely dizzy. The glass fell of my hand and shattered on the floor. The room became blurry and hazy. “…what-“
Nik’s face broke into a sickly evil grin as he watched me fell unconscious.
.
I fluttered open my eyes, taking in the general surrounding, hearing Nik’s low murmurs from the outer room through the ajar door. I was lying on a metal table, hands and feet surprisingly untied.
“Don’t disturb me. I’m having some fun tonight.” He told the guards.
Nik’s dragged me into his inner chamber, the one he used for his special female guests. It’s fully equipped with various torturing devices. Apparently, the guy also had a thing for knives.
The room would be carefully soundproof, once the door is fully locked. How convenient.
I grabbed the nearest heavy object, then returned lying on the table, and waited.
I heard the door clicked twice, then came his footsteps and ugly laugh.
Right before Nik could touch me, i swung the object at the side of his head and knocked him out. I tided the man up tightly on a chaire, taped his mouth shut, then slapped him a few times to wake him back up.
He’s got a very funny expression on his face.
“Here’s the deal, you tell me where you keep the documents, and i’ll save us some times by knocking you unconscious ’till your minions notice, yeah?”
Nik glared at me, surely throwing foul words if his mouth’s not already taped.
I pouted lamely at him. “I’m afraid this isn’t negotiable. I wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” I picked up a small paring knife from the shinny set on the tray, and drew the tip from his nose to his throat, down his chess and abdomen. I stared into his panicking eyes and stabbed the knife in his left thigh. The guy let out a pained muffled cry, squirming vigorously to no avail. His face twisted in a mix of agony and anger, and disbelief.
No wonder some liked torturing people. Violence made you feel good. Dominance, great. But the screams, the screams were even better than great. It teared through the air and vibrated through every fiber in your body. It felt bloody fantastic.
I didn’t see Nik anymore. All i saw was red, livid and destructive red. I wanted to rip him apart limb by limb. I wanted to beat him all bloody and hear him cry for mercy. He didn’t deserve such thing. Nobody who hurt Mycroft deserved mercy.
I licked my lips and fluttered my lashes at him, “how about now?”, as i thrust the blade further into the wound.
He nodded in fear, ugly tears rolling down his swollen cheek.
“The documents?”
Nik was surprisingly cooperative after that.
Turned out some hidden forces were trying to developpe and produce a new kind of chemical weapon. This was their first complete-sample batch. Nik’s organization run much deeper than expected, and this guy was unlikely the real boss, being this stupid.
I clicked my tongue as i flipped through the research papers and examine the small test tubes. The toxicity and health damages it could cause appalled me. This explained why Mycroft had to collect it himself.
Shite, this is much worse than i thought.
I packed everything neatly back in its’ case and turned toward the man.
“You’re not the best host, but thanks for your generosity.” I ruffled his head, then hit him again, hard enough to put him out cold and muddle his memories of the last few hours. I also injected him with the liquide compound Athena gave me for good measure.
I fixed the the scene, making it seemed like he accidentally cut himself, erased any traces of my existence, then grabbed the case and followed the secret path directly down the basement.
We’ve got a team taking care of the video surveillance of all our apparences at the party, so i didn’t have to worry about that. One trouble crossed, the fewer the better.
I rejoined Logan’s team, finding Alain supporting a barely conscious (but still responding) Mycroft on his shoulder. Mycroft was obviously starved and dehydrated, but otherwise had no visible injuries. (Luckily for Nik, or i’ll come back i gut him myself.)
The four of us fled the party as quiet as possible. We switched vehicles twice, and sped to the designated private airport.
Now i knew action movies often made rescuing mission ended in intense shooting battles and ridiculous explosions, but really, this type of operations could only be considered successful when it didn’t cause a sound, let alone a scene.
As the plane took off and back to England soil, i could finally let out a breath in relief.
Mycroft was here sleeping soundly in my arms.
Mission accomplished.
.
Mycroft hated hospitals. It’s clear like the only ray of sunlight on a gloomy day of London.
As soon as he opened his eyes and registered the space around him, there was unconcealed repulsion on his face.
“It’s just one night Mycroft.” I said casually, helping him sit up and poured him a cup of warm tea from the thermos, the tea i knew he actually liked. “Either here or Sherlock’s calling your parents.”
Mycroft drank his tea slowly, his scowl returned the moment he heard me mentioning his parents.
“The situation was completely under control. Nothing major.” He grunted. “And what does this have to do with my little brother?”
“To put it simply”, i hummed, “he saved you out”.
Mycroft brows shoot up in surprise. Both operations were in fact directed by Sherlock. All the planning and plotting, arranging medical support, and then examining the samples we brought back.
“What did you bribe him with?” He asked, voice skeptical.
“Oh don’t be silly, brother dear.” Sherlock strolled in, pouting at the question. “I’d be delighted to see they kick your arse. Which they actually managed to do.”
He regarded the older up and down, then huffed in disappointment.
“Really brother dear, you couldn’t have talked your way out of it? Has the years of boring office work rendered you round and dull?” Sherlock cocked a brow at the older.
“Not as much as domestic life did you, i suppose.”, Mycroft responded cooly, “you’ve gained five pounds in the pass four months, brother mine. Quite impressive i believed.”
Sherlock made a face. “Four and a half.”
“John and i agreed it’s five.”
The detective turned to his partner with a betrayed look on his face. The doctor returned a shrug. Sherlock opened his mouth to retort, but a nurse came in and cut him short.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, ma’am, visiting time is over. Our patient need a good rest. You can come back tomorrow.”
Both Holmes let out a loud grown, Sherlock at being interrupted, Mycroft at the fact that he had to spend the night at the hospital. (He avoid it like the plague.)
The nurse ushered us out the door, then closed it gently, smiling apologetically at Mycroft. “Good night, Mr.Holmes. Please ring us if you’re needing anything.” Mycroft must’ve given her a nod, cause the young woman let out a sigh of relief when the room’s finally behind her.
It might be a tad wicked but i found it quite entertaining watching people shook like willow tree just for the sole presence of Mycroft. No wonder the man considered someone who wasn’t intimidated by him “interesting”.
The thought made me sniffed a laugh. Sherlock gave me a judging glance (in a manner that was very similar to his brother), i just waved him off. As Doctor Watson negotiated a late diner with Sherlock, i bid them good bye and returned home.
The office’s waiting for me tomorrow.
.
The next day, i beamed at a tall figured as he passed by my desk.
“Good morning, Mr.Holmes.”
Mycroft was in his fine suit again, umbrella in hands, calm and collected and simply perfect (and also extra busy). He nodded at me and went to his office.
I sighed happily, sinking into my chair and humming a little.
Mycroft’s back.
It felt great. It felt right.
.
On our first date after the rescue mission, Mycroft took me to a lovely indian restaurant, booked a private room just for the two of us. Maybe make it four, since Sherlock freely marched through the door with a worried John tailing him, and settled in the spot next to his brother.
Mycroft looked thoroughly annoyed and John looked like he’d strangle the detective again if the tension escalated.
“To what do i owe the pleasure of you disturbing our peaceful evening, brother mine?” The older asked coldly.
“Don’t be so self-centered brother mine. Not everything is about you.” Sherlock scrunched his nose, then clicked his tongue and turned toward me. “Actually, it is i who owe Julie here another story about my dear brother.”
Mycroft’s brows knitted together as he eyed me questioningly. I gave him my most innocent grin and shrugged lightly.
“And Doctor Watson?” Mycroft drummed his fingers on the table impatiently.
“My date, obviously.” The younger rolled his eyes.
Mycroft pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “As you wish.”
Diner proceeded as normal, in much more harmony than i’ve expected. John was clearly the easygoing one and the peacekeeper for this couple of siblings whenever he was around. He was also very caring and witty. No wonder women adored him, the men too, Sherlock’s jealousy must’ve gone off the roof sometimes. I mentally giggled at the image.
“Now, to our main part.” Sherlock smacked his lips when the deserts arrived.
“Do pray tell, little brother.” Mycroft put on his most politician half-smile that might’ve scared the soul out off a dozen diplomats at the same time, and said slowly.
“When i was seven, Mycroft used to yank me up at the middle of the night, pushed me down the wine cellar and locked me their for hours.” Sherlock said, after a spoonful of crème brûlée.
“He did What?” John asked in complete horror.
Mycroft’s body tensed visibly.
“Don’t worry John, it wasn’t all that bad, expect it was fucking freezing and i only had a night gown.”, the detective continued.
“And you stayed there?” John glanced at him in disbelief.
“Of course not.” Sherlock scoffed. “I picked the lock after the third time. I went to find Mycroft, he was sitting with some of our distant relatives, discussing grown up business. More like he tolerated their complains and existence. They’ve got some rather colorful remarks on me, not very positive i’m afraid. Anyway, their vocabulary and creativity were shockingly poor. And they were loud. I’d have heard them from my bedroom right above.”
“Afterward, i came back down the wine cellar and stayed there like i should.”
“Don’t worry too much, Mycroft made sure they wouldn’t inherit one single penny from our great-great-grandmother. And since he became the British Government, they haven’t had one easy day in their life. Served them right.”
The room fell into absolute silence.
“So”, John started hesitantly, “you’re saying Mycroft’s done that to protect you?”.
“Debatable. He might just enjoy making my life difficult and watching me suffer. Can’t really tell the difference though.”
The doctor hummed for a long moment.
“Why do we hate Mycroft again?” John asked. Sherlock refused to answer, Mycroft had an amused smirk on his face, and i burst out laughing.
Of course the Holmes brothers were as different as they were alike, but there was still another detail i just came to realized.
Sherlock was hated by most people he met, that’s not hard to see or point out why. Those who loved him however, spoiled him rotten, would definitely turn the world upside down for him (Mycroft obviously had, more than once). Even Sherlock knew this. He acted like he didn’t need anyone, but really, one can only be so reckless when he knew exactly what he had to fall back onto.
Mycroft on the other hand, i doubted he’s ever believed he had someone to rely on.
He might walk like he owned the world, (and he probably could), but it also gave the impression that the man himself was his only support, (maybe plus Athena). Every step he took was result of careful calculations. There was no place for mistakes or regrets, and eventually, no place for poor judgement made by the effect of sentiments. It’s one of his gifted skill-set, mastered and polished to perfection over the years, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t tiring using that skill.
Now though, i hoped he could see that the care was mutual. That his efforts and good intentions weren’t in vain or unrecognized (although slightly unwanted most of the time). That he could have a rest if he felt like needing one, and lean on his dear little brother Sherlock.
As i was sitting here, watching his posture relaxed and his lips secretly curled into a small mild smile, i thought Mycroft must’ve noticed that too.
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