Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Hiring a nanny was becoming the most daunting task John Watson had ever performed in his life.

He and Mary had first decided on a nanny who would live with them but when the people they managed to interview were proving to rob them of any savings they had managed, John had breached the subject of exploring live out nannies.

This one he was visiting seemed good enough. She lived closed by and judging from her previous work, she seemed well qualified for the job.

John knocked on the door and waited patiently. Usually it was Mary who would be doing this but Mrs. Hudson had called earlier that day asking for reinforcements with regards to Sherlock -- and John wouldn’t be bothered especially given the nature of Sherlock’s predicament was drug induced…

“Hello,” came the greeting and John was startled out of his thoughts as a woman who was older than him by a few years had opened the door and was looking at him intently.

“Hello,” replied John in greeting, blushing slightly at being caught daydreaming. “John Watson. I believe my wife got in touch about--”

“Oh yes, yes,” replied the woman, a hint of a German accent lining her words. “Do come in, Dr. Watson. I had expected your wife to--”

“Yes, she was tied up with a patient,” replied John, clearing his throat. Mary had been at 221B since that morning, who knows what was happening with the younger Holmes. “So, Ella was it?”

“Yes,” replied Ella, motioning for John to sit. “Please.”

John sat opposite her and couldn’t stop himself from looking around. Years of association with Sherlock Holmes resulted in him adapting a few of his friend’s habits. “Nice place.”

Most of the items he could see were very expensive and would probably cost John a year of his salary.

“My sister’s a bit picky with regards to interior decorating, being one herself,” replied the woman as she tucked a strand of her greying shoulder length hair behind an ear.

“She’s ok with you taking a job then?” asked John, reviewing what Mary had told him about the woman’s past experience.

“I’ve been growing bored since I retired, Dr. Watson,” replied Ella with a gentle smile. “My sister suggested a part time job-- and of course with my background taking care of children--”

Just then the sound of a car accelerating hard can be heard outside. John turned his head towards the front room and a red car could be seen through the window. It did a dramatic U-turn with a squeal of tyres and stopped outside the house followed by the sound of shattering glass. A black plastic rubbish bin then flew through the air and crashed to the ground. 

John was up and opening the front door in an instant. He could hear the siren drawing closer and above them a helicopter was hovering close by. Oh this was definitely not--

His thoughts were interrupted as the door of the car opened and the sound of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 (Ode to Joy) can be heard from the car’s stereo.

“John.”

John groaned as Mary got out of the passenger side. Mary quickly turned to the other woman. “Hello, Ella? I’m sorry for this -- bit of an emergency. Mary Watson.”

“Hello…” came the hesitant reply. 

“What’s going on?” asked John as Mary walked over to him.

“No idea,” replied Mary. “I was just told to get in the car.”

“Who on earth let Sherlock Holmes own a car?!”

“Oh that’s not Sherlock’s car, darling,” replied Mary as the driver finally got out and John turned only for his mouth to drop in surprise.

“Mrs. Hudson?!”

“And?”

Anthea had been reporting to Mycroft everyday given the status of all their current projects. Rudy Vernet was overseeing many things but at the end of the day, since Mycroft was already up and about, he still had the final say on matters and should be kept informed. Though Rudy vernet made it perfectly clear that Mycroft should not be bothered by trivial things -- let alone anything that might cost him stress.

Anthea gave Mycroft a look but her boss just shrugged. “I doubt he has ears even here and Mr Tyers won’t rat you out.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“You know the lengths I would go to for my brother, Anthea,” began Mycroft. “Either tell me what you know or I try to escape this prison cell that my own home has become and find out for myself.”

He knew that look. Frankly, they both knew each other so well after all these years. Anthea knew when something was bothering Mycroft and which expression to look out for her when it was regarding a particular Holmes. Mycroft, on the other hand, knew when Anthea’s mind was on Sherlock. Normally when she’s debating whether to inform Mycroft of what shenanigans Sherlock had gotten himself into once more.

Anthea sighed in resignation before handing him a tablet. “Culverton Smith.”

“Who?” asked Mycroft in confusion. He usually knew everyone that needed to be known but this current name was escaping him.

“Prominent entrepreneur and philanthropist,” replied Anthea. “He’s been under observation for a few years already. I think you might know him better given his methods.” Mycroft studied the file and frowned. Oh, this pathetic excuse of a human being. More vile than Magnuessen if Mycroft could voice out his opinion. “Your brother brought Smith’s -- activities to light.”

“By endangering himself in the process,” said Mycroft with a resigned sigh. “I’m guessing John wasn’t keen on the idea.”

“He and Sherlock exchanged words, though Mary had stated that she was on the lookout,” relayed Anthea as she summarized what was caught in the surveillance of 221B. “Your brother was a bit too keen in making himself bait for another madman.”

“He always does,” said Mycroft, handing her back the file. “Of course the icing on the cake is he had to do it on the days leading up to his birthday.”

“Getting high on drugs to get Smith’s attention, hallucinating and walking around London to piss off your uncle, bagging a mad serial killer,” said Anthea. “And getting a text from the Woman, who you failed to mention was alive.”

“I’m pretty sure you doubted the reports from the very beginning,” replied Mycroft.

“Still would have preferred to be informed,” said Anthea. “Nevertheless, your uncle’s sweep of 221B gave us an excuse to do some maintenance on surveillance. And to put your mind at ease, there were no drugs. He took whatever he needed to take to get Smith’s attention, nothing more.

“That's good to know.” said Mycroft with resignation.

“I’m sorry--” began Anthea but Mycroft cut her off with a raised hand.

“Nothing to apologize for,” said Mycroft. “Sherlock does value his cases above everything else. Given the nature of this one, I can understand why he hasn’t bothered to annoy his invalid older brother.”

“I think there’s more to it than that,” said Anthea, her voice betraying her own thoughts on the matter and Mycroft raised his head to meet her gaze.

They locked eyes for a moment but nothing else was said. There was no need for words anyway. 

“Hmmm,” began Mycroft, placing his two hands together in front of his face and leaning his head forward, his lips grazing the tips of his Index fingers. “Anything noteworthy?”

“None...yet.” replied Anthea as she tidied up the folders and reports. “But I will let you know of any further development.” She stood and eyed him. “Anything else, Mr. Holmes?”

“That will be all, thank you Anthea.” replied Mycroft, nodding her way. Anthea left without another word and Mycroft resumed his position, deep in thought.

So, his uncle was keeping Sherlock away. For what reason? Uncle Rudy had always made his displeasure of Sherlock known. As Mycroft was overbearing towards Sherlock, his uncle was the same towards him and his mother.

Rudy had always been wary of Sherlock. There were times that Mycroft had to interfere lest Sherlock find himself in some holding facility orchestrated by their own uncle. Since the day of the fire, Rudy had always looked at Sherlock as though he too was a ticking time bomb.

Or maybe…

Mycroft’s eyes widened.

Could it be? Blast his mind for not remembering everything that had transpired in that aquarium. What are the chances that he, Mycroft Holmes, at the mere thought of dying, would give one last case for his brother to solve?

But if Sherlock had figured it out already then he wouldn’t waste his time on a case of the likes of Culverton Smith--unless he was still digging and the reason why Uncle Rudy was barring Sherlock from seeing him was because…

“Mycroft! You should be in bed!” came the voice and Mycroft jumped in surprise as his uncle walked into the room. “See? Normally you would have heard my approach a mile away. You are overtaxing yourself.”

“Uncle I--”

“No buts,” said Rudy with a glare. “Don’t tell me you’re fine because we both know you are not and the mere movement is still causing you pain.”

Mycroft sighed. This was probably what Sherlock felt whenever his older brother came calling. Regardless, he needed to get back on his feet if he wanted to discuss a few things with his brother, without the presence of their uncle anywhere near.

Wait, a moment.

“Are you going somewhere?” asked Mycroft, eyeing his uncle’s appearance. “Another dinner with our dear PM?”

“Alicia offered to have drinks since she’ll be on leave for a while,” Rudy replied with a shrug as he fixed his bowtie.

“Oh did she?” asked Mycroft with a raised eyebrow. “Making it up to her like old times, are we uncle?”

Rudy glared. “Stop being cheeky and get back to bed, ye who has a bullet wound in his abdomen.”

“Things are wrapped up, I take it?” asked Ella as she handed Mary a cup of tea.

“Yes, sorry you had to witness that,” replied Mary, nodding her head in thanks for the tea. “But with you coming in as Rosie’s nanny, you’ll probably get used to all the craziness that is our lives.”

“Yours and Sherlock Holmes’?” asked Ella with a smile that concerned Mary. She had to school her features to not make it look like warning signals were ringing in her head.

“Well he is Rosie’s godfather,” replied Mary as she set the cup down. John said she was ok. She seemed ok when Mary talked to her on the phone but why was her instincts going into overdrive right this moment.

“How is Sherlock Holmes?” asked Ella, eyeing her intensely and Mary forced herself to meet the other woman’s eye.

“Back to normal,” replied Mary with a shrug. “He and John are currently meeting with a client. Something about being possessed by the devil or something.”

“What about his sibling?”

Mary paused but quickly schooled her features. So, the end goal, getting to the British Government. Maybe Mycroft would let them have a bit of fun this time. It’s not everyday someone foil’s a plan to overthrow the British Government.

“Mycroft? Fine, from what I know.” replied Mary. “I mean, obviously ‘normal’ and ‘fine’ are both relative terms when it comes to the Holmes’ family.”

“Obviously,” replied Ella with a chuckle. “But I wasn’t talking about Mycroft. I meant the other one.”

Mary’s blood ran cold. Oh, this certainly was not good. “Wh-which other one?”

“Oh don’t play dumb,” began Ella, or whatever this woman was. Bloody marvelous time to not bring anything with you to use as a weapon, Mary. 

“I never mentioned another sibling.”

“Oh,” replied the woman thoughtfully. “Well, maybe Sherlock told me. I met him before, you see. We spent a night together. It was rather lovely. We had chips.”

“Smith’s daughter,” whispered Mary in realization. 

“Culverton gave me Faith’s original note.” replied the woman with a smile as she stood. “A mutual friend put us in touch.”

She walked across to the French windows and turned the key in the lock of the door, removing the key afterwards before turning back to smile at Mary. 

“Did Sherlock ever tell you about the note?” asked the woman who had promptly dropped her previous accent to one which Mary noted as completely English. She tossed Mary the key and tossed the glasses she wore on the floor. “I added some deductions for Sherlock. He was ... quite good but as always, didn’t get the big one.”

“What do you want?” asked Mary, ready to spring up from her position if the need arose. There was something dangerous about this woman and she clearly had her eyes on Sherlock and Mycroft.

“A bit of reconnaissance work, if you will,” said the woman with a smile. “You know all about that don’t you?”

Mary made to move but the second she tried the woman raised a gun and aimed her way. 

“Oh, please don’t go anywhere. I’m sure the person who actually lives here wouldn’t want blood on the carpet.” the woman dropped her smile and thought for a moment before looking back at Mary. “Oh, hang on, it’s fine. She’s in a sack in the airing cupboard.”

“Who are you?” asked Mary calmly. Even with the gun aimed her way, by the looks of it, a bullet isn’t the one inside it. More like a dart of some kind. Even if it were poisoned, she could get away and find a phone--

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked the woman as she dropped the gun to her side and walked forward a few steps. “Haven’t you guessed? I’m Eurus.”

“Eurus?” That’s a weird name--

“Silly name, isn’t it? Greek. Means the East Wind.” explained the woman, Eurus. “My parents loved silly names, like Eurus ... or Sherlock... or Mycroft.”

Mary’s eyes widened in realization. A sister. So this was the person Rudy Vernet was talking about. But why did she appear now? What was happening?

“What do you want?”

“Pass a message for me.” replied Eurus with a smile as she raised the gun and fired.