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Sherlock and John was going back to the yard with Greg’s team.
They were going back because they couldn’t find any more evidence they need from the crime scene. The case was about the victims that are killed by a sniper, and there was too little evidence to start with. There already was a third victim, and they don’t have any solid connection between the victims other than they all were politicians.
Sherlock groaned in frustration as he went over the evidences he has for now once again. There’s nothing conclusive. Maybe there could be something he could find from the first crime scene he wasn’t called in…
Sherlock’s internal musings halted at seeing the black cars in front of the yard. John and Greg stopped short as well, since they know what that meant.
“Sir?” Anderson asked in a slightly worried tone as he and Donovan doesn’t know about Mycroft. That kind of cars usually means some kind of government official, and it would be either secret service taking over the case or some politician throwing their weight around.
John and Greg glanced at Sherlock and Sherlock stomped in, letting out an irritated huff. Rest followed.
Indeed, there was Mycroft Holmes sitting primly with his legs crossed and twirling the umbrella, but there also were a few agents in suit and a politician, unconscious, that John was quite sure is a member of Parliament.
But Sherlock’s grumbling about Mycroft butting in everywhere cut short as he saw Mycroft’s expression.
“Hello, Sherlock. Dr. Watson, Inspector.” Mycroft nodded politely to them, but John and Greg never saw that kind of expression on Mycroft before. It was beyond sharp, with simmering wrath hiding just beneath the calm demeanor. It made Greg forgot about his complaint of secret service taking over or the question of why there is an unconscious politician in the yard.
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock said, trying to add usual scorn to his words, but even John could hear that Sherlock is unsettled by Mycroft’s current mood.
John, Greg, and other cops who don’t know who Mycroft is but getting a sense that they should be careful, glanced between the two.
Mycroft raked his gaze over Sherlock from head to toe, confirming once again that his little brother is unharmed. He flexed his hand holding the umbrella slightly before masking his wrath skillfully.
“Of course I’m here to help you with the case, Sherlock.” Mycroft gave Sherlock a tight lipped smile, and Sherlock would have protested loudly if it was a usual situation.
But it was not, so Sherlock just grumbled under his breath before stomping over to the vacant chair and sat down petulantly.
Mycroft gave him a slightly fond smile before turning his attention to Greg. Greg straightened up under the gaze, unconsciously. He met Mycroft quite a few times, usually besides Sherlock’s hospital bed, but he never saw him like this.
“Detective inspector, here’s the evidences,” Anthea handed over a thick stack of files as Mycroft nodded to her, “of him hiring a hitman, killing those three victims to lure out Sherlock and kill him to get to me.” Mycroft’s smile was murderous as he shot a glance to the unconscious man, and Greg took the files reflexively, numbed at the news.
“There are also evidences of embezzlement, blackmail, sexual assault, tax evasion, and other misconducts I found during the search.” Mycroft idly added as an afterthought.
Everyone shot glances at Mycroft, Sherlock, politician, and serene Anthea with gaping mouth, not knowing where they should look or what to think.
“…And the sniper?” Sherlock asked after a several moments of silence.
Mycroft quirked his lip without an ounce of mirth. “He would be here in any minutes if he has any brain cell left.”
Before Sherlock or the rest could ask what that meant, there was a commotion at the entrance and they saw a few agents escorting in a man. Who paled significantly at seeing Mycroft and shot a panicked glance at Sherlock.
He dropped to his knees the next moment. “Shit, fuck, I didn’t know…! He, he only told me who my next target is only after the previous one is done! I wouldn’t have taken the job if I knew…!”
The cops and John was startled at the sudden outburst, and Mycroft only quirked an eyebrow at the apparent sniper. He took everything in from the man in one glance. “I believe you.” He said coldly.
The man sagged in relief.
“Testify the killings, 10 years at prison, and no setting a foot again on Britain. Am I clear?” Mycroft sentenced briskly. Anthea relayed the order through her blackberry promptly.
The man nodded vigorously, and it was clear that he was thankful of it. The cops didn’t know if they should be curious about the alternatives or be indignant at sentencing only 10 years to the killer when he’s not a judge.
Sherlock, on the other hand, thought he might know what’s the alternative if the sniper took the commission knowing the target. The sniper was unconsciously rubbing his slightly trembling hands over his eyes and his wrists.
“And of course, I think it’s obvious, but if you try one more time…” Mycroft tilted his head towards Sherlock with heavy implication.
The man shook his head vehemently. “Of course not, Mr. …Antarctica.” The man fumbled at how to call Mycroft and settled on the only thing he knows about him, and Mycroft slightly winced at his old codename. “As I said, I didn’t know and I definitely would have refused if that man told me the target.”
Mycroft nodded, and Anthea ordered the agents to take the sniper and the still unconscious politician to be locked up.
“You will have no difficulty during the prosecution and imprisonment, detective inspector. No political pressures, I'll assure you. And he won’t be your problem for long after imprisonment. He has a lot of enemies including the sniper you just saw. He won’t last long.” Mycroft told Greg with an icy smile. It held a promise as well. Greg was sure that Mycroft will make sure the politician won’t last long if that man manages to survive.
And John thought he saw the British Government Sherlock told him for the first time. He didn’t necessarily doubt Sherlock’s words as Mycroft obviously has a lot of power, but if you factor in Sherlock’s inclination to dramatics and the things you ever saw of Mycroft is him bantering with Sherlock, it kind of slips from one’s mind. Also, he wasn’t that intimidating even at their first meeting as he bravely told Mycroft just that. Obviously, he was wrong as John felt the chill running down his back at Mycroft’s expression.
Greg nodded numbly, and there was only a silence as Mycroft’s agents took care of locking up the sniper and politician and arranged necessary files. The cops and John were still standing stock still watching the scene, and Sherlock was still sitting petulantly at the chair.
“Antarctica, Mycroft? How childish.” Sherlock scoffed, breaking the silence. The cops who were intimidated by Mycroft shot him an alarmed glance, but Mycroft only sighed.
“It was not my choice, Sherlock, as you already must know. You know we get the codename from our supervisors.” Mycroft said with exasperation, and raised his brow to block Sherlock’s words. “And, you know I had supervisors in the past, Sherlock. I had to start from somewhere.”
“Right. The supervisors you must have despised with their idiocies.” Sherlock accused in a critical tone. Greg thought he might have had a heart attack at Sherlock provoking someone powerful, if he didn’t know who Mycroft is and how the brothers usually interact.
Mycroft gave Sherlock a thin smile. “What can I say? They were goldfishes, Sherlock. And don’t be so petulant. There wasn’t an evidence you missed. You just didn’t know the political situation involving the victims and that man.”
John noticed that Sherlock was looking less petulant at that. He shook his head fondly.
“So he had to kill someone to lure me out into the crime scenes, and he used it to eliminate his enemies?” Sherlock checked.
“Yes. Although, he would have been more successful if he looked for someone who would be stupid enough to take the job from the start. Someone who will take multiple contracts knows enough not to take you.” Mycroft’s smile was once again that of The Iceman.
John and Greg knew Mycroft always has looked out for Sherlock, but they couldn’t fathom what he did to scare off the snipers for the sniper earlier to react like that.
Sherlock just shrugged. He felt slight warmness in his chest, but he and Mycroft don’t do sentiment.
Donovan spoke up for the first time. “Um. Mr. Antarctica?” She wanted to ask about the case, but she couldn’t call him Mycroft since it was obviously his first name.
Mycroft winced again and Sherlock smirked at Mycroft. John and Greg thought it funny as well, even if they didn’t show it.
“Please, sergeant Donovan, call me Mr. Holmes.” Mycroft said with slight grimace.
The cops’ jaws collectively hit the floor. It was Anderson who managed to swivel his head towards Sherlock and shouted in astonishment. “You were married!?”
There was an utter silence for a minute and Sherlock, Greg, and John burst out in hysterical laughter. Mycroft sighed, burying his face on his hand briefly. “You can laugh as well, Anthea.” He mumbled to Anthea who was biting her lip to stop herself from laughing out, and she chuckled out loud at the permission.
The cops watched them in confusion.
Mycroft stood up from his chair gracefully, and inclined his head slightly. “Let me introduce myself properly. Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s brother. My brother is giving you a hard time, I heard.”
The cops noticed their mistake, and blushed heftily. They don’t know why they jumped to that conclusion. Maybe those two are just too different from appearance to attitude.
Sherlock scoffed at Mycroft’s last words. “I’m helping them, Mycroft. They’re too stupid to solve crimes on their own.”
Mycroft only quirked his eyebrow. “Be that as it may, brother mine, that doesn’t mean they are not having a hard time following your impulsiveness and general lack of respect towards protocols.”
“Bo-ring.” Sherlock answered flippantly, and those are making them think they are too different to be related, cops thought.
Mycroft smiled exasperatedly and slightly fondly toward Sherlock – which were vastly different from the British Government, John thought – and turned to the cops again.
“I believe you had a question, sergeant Donovan?” Mycroft gave her his usual fake smile.
“Oh. Mr. Holmes, why did you say 10 years, if you don’t mind me asking?” Donovan said carefully, but without fear. Greg was proud of her.
“Because even if I gave you all the evidences and severed his usual connections, I am only a minor government official,” Sherlock scoffed and the cops agreed with him wholeheartedly, but Mycroft was unfazed. “So the sniper’s testimony would put a final nail on his coffin. He will get life sentence for hiring a sniper for three kills. And I am relatively sure if I wasn’t involved, the sniper would have gotten 7 years with the promise of his cooperation.”
“But didn’t you say he won’t last long in the prison? Does he need to get a life sentence and reduce the sniper’s sentence?” Donovan didn’t want the killer to walk away. He might get 20 to life if there isn’t a deal.
Mycroft’s expression got cold again, even though he was still smiling. “Because, sergeant Donovan, he would be ever so hopeful if he doesn’t get the life sentence. He would try to use it to his advantage, trying to maintain the connection with his acquaintances and promising everything to the inmates to make his time easier in there.”
Mycroft raised his hand slightly to block Donovan’s response. “Of course, I am not saying that it will last even if that’s the case, but he shouldn’t have any hope left. He should be in absolute misery after protesting he doesn’t belong there, trying to make his life easier futilely, and accepting that there’s nothing he could do. Then, sergeant Donovan, then, he will get killed.” Mycroft’s smile was feral.
The cops froze at the malice in Mycroft’s words.
John found himself continuously resuming soldier’s stance and deliberately let the tension go. The most dangerous man he has ever met, indeed. As long as he won’t be bad for Sherlock, though, he will be okay, John was pretty sure.
Sherlock snorted at the frozen and wide-eyed cops. “Mycroft, they are thinking you are going to kill him.” He disliked playing the medium, but it would be irritating watching them walking on eggshell from now on.
“Oh.” Mycroft feigned innocent surprise. “Of course that’s not true. I’m not saying I can’t,” Mycroft added as he sees disbelief in cops’ eyes. “But as I said, he has too many enemies. People close to the three victims, just to start with. You know Sherlock’s deductive skill. Similarly, I am quite good at predicting future events based on the deductions, should I say?’
“Omniscient.” Sherlock quipped.
“Which, I of course am not.” Mycroft didn’t miss a beat and gave them a fake smile.
“Right.” Sherlock scoffed. “So how long will he last?” He asked curiously.
Mycroft hummed for a second in thought. “Seven months after the imprisonment.” He said decisively.
Sherlock shrugged. If Mycroft calculated that, it most likely will be true. “When will the news hit?”
“As soon as I get out of the vicinity of the yard. The traffic will be nightmare if I let them before then.” Mycroft answered casually, once more unconsciously reminding the cops of his power. Or rather, he knows the effect of his words, but he doesn’t care.
“Right. So you are going now, aren’t you?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Mycroft, wanting to throw him out if the answer is no.
Mycroft smirked slightly. “Yes, I am going. I have damage controls to do with the uproar this case will undoubtedly cause. Behave, Sherlock. I will check on you later.” With that, he didn’t wait Sherlock’s answer and turned to leave. Anthea was right behind him as usual.
Sherlock shouted at the retreating back. “I won’t have been the target if it wasn’t for you!”
Mycroft’s only response was swiveling his umbrella slightly more.
Sherlock grumbled for a second and jumped up. “Come on, John. The case is solved by Mycroft’s meddling and we don’t need to be here. We have to get out before reporters rush in.”
John followed Sherlock’s stride without complaint after nodding briefly to Greg. The most dangerous man he has ever meet, indeed. But, John thinks, Mycroft would be his usual self that John always sees the next time he visits 221B.