Chapter Text
Pouting like a petulant child, Albert hovered in the doorway, reluctant to let Mycroft leave. ‘I just don’t see why you have to go,’ he complained again for what seemed like the hundredth time. ‘It’s Christmas Eve eve! What could possibly be so urgent that they’re pulling you away from your holidays? Surely it’s not legal.’
The cold nipping at his frozen features, Mycroft shook his head with a small smile. Albert’s silly complaints added some humoured warmth to the icy day, like a dash of pure sunlight falling through clouds and illuminating the grey world below ‘til it’s golden. No matter how annoying or stubborn Albert tried to be, Mycroft couldn’t help but fall a little bit more in love with him each day.
Albert kicked his foot out at Mycroft. ‘I’m not joking,’ he grumbled, ‘you should sue them.’
Frowning in distaste, Mycroft kicked his foot out at Albert in a childish retaliation. ‘Suing is such an American thing. They can’t seem to resolve anything without throwing their green paper around.’
‘Are dollars actually green? I know they are in cartoons and stuff but that doesn’t seem quite logical in my brain.’
Mycroft shrugged. ‘How would I know?’
Rolling his eyes, Albert wrapped his arms tighter around him as he shivered. ‘Don’t you do business with America like all the time?’
‘Yeah, but we don’t deal in actual cash,’ Mycroft responded with a flat, mocking tone. He yelped as Albert kicked at him again, this time his foot hitting Mycroft’s knee squarely. Grimacing in pain, Mycroft spoke through hissed breaths. ‘Christ, my bad, Bertie. And why don’t you know? Don’t you go to America like all the time?’
‘Yeah, but we don’t deal in actual cash,’ Albert said, parroting Mycroft’s statement. ‘Honestly, you can be so condescending sometimes.’
Flinching at the sudden coolness of Albert’s tone, Mycroft wavered, unsure of how to proceed. It had been like this since the previous morning. Regardless of what Mycroft did, there was always something wrong that made Albert snappish and icy. Despite what William had said, Albert’s “bad mood” wasn’t going away and it wasn’t universal; it was directed at Mycroft alone. With each word, Mycroft was misstepping with Albert, tripping and stumbling like a bull in a china shop smashing whatever delicate thing he’d formed with Albert into thousands of piercing shards aimed directly at his heart. All of a sudden, Mycroft was a kid unable to stop his brother from crying again, a country bumpkin in a lecture room full of dignified elites, an inexperienced fool in an office of rich old suits. Uncertain of how to act, uncertain of what to say.
Albert could make him feel so small.
But Mycroft wasn’t going to give up after only five days. What kind of sad love affair would that be? If this wasn’t some passing cloud, if this was Albert being exhausted of Mycroft already, then he was going to have to be honest and say it straight. Mycroft wasn’t running away this time.
With a forced natural smile that had been practiced to perfection, Mycroft bowed his head a little and apologised. ‘I was just messing around,’ he murmured. ‘I wasn’t insinuating anything. I was only-’ Cutting himself off, Mycroft shook his head. ‘I’m just a little worried about today, that’s all.’
Faltering, Albert reached out as if to touch Mycroft but withheld himself. With an attempted smile that portrayed more as a grimace to Mycroft’s sharp eye, Albert looked away. ‘I know you didn’t. I wasn’t angry, I was just-’ Sighing, Albert put his hands in his pockets. ‘I think I’m coming down with something.’
With a hesitancy that surprised him, Mycroft slowly reached out to place his hand against Albert’s forehead. The pale skin beneath his fingers was deathly cold. ‘You don’t seem to have a fever but I think you should go inside and warm up. You’re really cold, Bertie,’ he said softly.
‘I don’t get why I can’t come with you,’ Albert muttered, batting Mycroft’s hand away. ‘This is just stupid.’
Stifling a sigh, Mycroft’s hand fell back to hang limply at his side. ‘I told you, Bertie. This is a work emergency, it’s all confidential. I can’t just bring people with me.’
‘You’re bringing Sherlock.’
‘That’s different.’
Albert glowered at him. ‘How? How is that different? Sherlock doesn’t work for your fucking company.’
‘No, but Sherlock… knows things,’ Mycroft said lamely. ‘He’s worked with the company before as he’s an easy way to make sure everything’s, you know, legal.’
The lie was pitiful and both Mycroft and Albert knew it. A shadow of disappointment flickered across Albert’s face but he masked it with a snooty sneer. ‘You know, if you just wanted time away from me, you could have said. I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together recently. If it’s too much, just say.’
‘Albert, that’s not true at all. I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, you must believe me,’ Mycroft pleaded.
Before Albert could say anything, Sherlock appeared at the door with his hair askew and the buttons on his shirt hastily fastened, a large black briefcase in his hands. He nodded at Mycroft. ‘Ready to go?’
‘Um, yeah, sure, give me a minute,’ Mycroft said, his words tripping over one another as he threw the keys to Sherlock. ‘Wait for me in the car.’
As Sherlock walked over to the car, Albert turned to go back inside the house. Heart pounding in his chest, Mycroft rushed forward and took hold of Albert’s hand, closing the space between them. ‘Wait, Albert.’
Albert looked at him expectantly.
‘Are we… are we ok?’
The cold silence did little to ease Mycroft’s nerves. Standing there in the doorway, Mycroft wanted to fall to his knees and beg Albert to tell him what he did wrong. Mycroft could have cried, pleaded, grovelled at Albert’s feet and yet he felt it would have made no difference to the blank look Albert levelled at him.
However, the stony façade crumbled and Albert’s gaze dropped to his feet, his hands scratching at his wrists. ‘When did you say you’d come back?’
Taking a gentle hold of Albert’s wrist, Mycroft lifted it to his lips in a careful kiss. ‘By one at the latest,’ his promised. ‘I don’t want to be apart from you any longer than necessary.’
Stepping forward, Albert dropped his hand to Mycroft’s shoulder. ‘I know it’s only a morning,’ he whispered, his warm breath ghosting Mycroft’s lips, ‘but I’ll miss you.’
‘I miss you the moment you turn away.’ Mycroft moved in to kiss Albert, but at the last-minute Albert turned his face and Mycroft’s lips met Albert’s cold cheek. Not wanting to show his hurt, Mycroft smiled and stepped away. ‘I should go now.’
Albert nodded. ‘Good luck. Hope everything is resolved quickly.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Mycroft replied but the door was already closed before he’d even finished speaking.
A little shocked, Mycroft stood frozen on the doorstep for a few moments. He didn’t understand. Desperately racking his brain over memories of the past few days, Mycroft tried to find a moment where he’d done something that warranted this rocky treatment but found nothing. Only a couple of days ago he’d thought he had found something stable enough to build a home from, but now he felt he was out in a treacherous ocean on a ship that was sinking.
Taking a deep breath, Mycroft recollected himself enough to walk over to his car and slide into the driver’s seat. Grabbing the keys from Sherlock, Mycroft turned the ignition and started up the car, his eyes fixed ahead of him. They were out of the gates and beyond the grounds of the house before Sherlock dared to say anything.
‘What was that all about?’
Playing coy, Mycroft shrugged as if the conversation wasn’t screeching on repeat over and over in his mind. ‘What was what about?’
Sherlock stared at him, incredulous. ‘What was that conversation about? You two were being all weird.’
‘I wasn’t being weird,’ Mycroft muttered as he accelerated, the car speeding along the empty, winding moor roads. ‘He was being weird.’
‘How so?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mycroft sighed heavily. ‘He’s been off with me since yesterday morning. I tried talking to William about it but that got me nowhere. It’s like nothing I do is right and everything annoys him. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around him and breaking every single one.’
Sherlock’s eyes drifted over to where Mycroft was gripping the steering wheel so tightly to the point his knuckles were turning white. ‘Have you tried asking him what’s going on?’
‘I’ve thought about it, but we’re always so busy and every time we get the briefest moment alone together, all of a sudden he’s in a good mood again and I don’t want to ruin it by bringing it up.’ Mycroft wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. ‘Not that he’s been in a good mood at all this morning.’
‘Well, he’s not stupid. He’s probably figured out that we’re lying about the whole work emergency thing.’
‘No shit, Sherlock.’
‘And he probably doesn’t like that you’re lying to him.’
‘I know that,’ Mycroft groaned as they pulled onto the motorway. ‘But what the hell am I meant to say? Oh yeah, there isn’t a work emergency, Sherly and I are just off to Leeds to threaten your drug-dealing abuser into fucking off even though you explicitly told me to leave it alone and not get involved, but I don’t trust you to fucking stand up for yourself.’ He glared at Sherlock. ‘How do you think that might go down?’
‘I see your point,’ Sherlock conceded with a wry smile. ‘But you’ve got to cut him some slack. People don’t generally lie for good reasons so you can understand why he might be a bit angry that someone he loves doesn’t trust him enough – don’t get angry with me, you said it yourself – to be honest with him.’
‘I just don’t know what to do,’ Mycroft admitted.
‘I guess you can only do what you can, playing nice and keeping him satisfied just enough until you can tell him the truth. That’s what I’m doing with William.’
Mycroft glanced over at the sullen look on Sherlock’s face. ‘He wasn’t too happy with you lying to him either, huh?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Sherlock said with a shake of his head. ‘But he was far more honest in telling me that my terrible lies were pissing him off and if I didn’t tell him the truth soon, he would castrate me. However, I think he trusts me enough to know that I would only lie to him if it were absolutely necessary whereas Albert…’
‘I don’t think Albert even trusts his brothers,’ Mycroft said sadly. ‘So perhaps I’m the fool in thinking I could get him to trust me.’
‘Maybe you just need to give him time.’
‘I feel like time is something I’m rapidly losing.’
‘Hey.’ Prodding at Mycroft’s arm, Sherlock offered him a comforting smile. ‘We’re doing the right thing, okay? It’ll work out in the end.’
Mycroft relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, just slightly. ‘Even if it means losing him in the process?’
‘You’re not going to lose him,’ Sherlock said sternly. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
Humming, Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on the motorway as they carried on driving steadily forward. ‘I’m sorry that my decisions caused you and William to argue.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Sherlock said dismissively. ‘Trust me, in the time we’ve known each other, I’ve done much worse things than lie to him and he hasn’t killed me yet.’
‘Maybe you’re running out of chances.’
‘Oy! Don’t pass your pessimism onto me. Keep your diseases to yourself, thanks,’ Sherlock complained as he pretended to wipe himself down in disgust.
With a small chuckle, Mycroft reached for the radio. Eventually the two fell into a comfortable silence as familiar Christmas tunes flooded the car as they continued the journey down to Leeds.
*******
They pulled into the car park just before the clock struck quarter to. The meeting had been arranged for 10am sharp and Mycroft was eager not to be late. Finding neutral ground had been difficult. Mycroft wanted to be nowhere near Milverton’s lair and absolutely did not want Milverton sniffing and crawling around the Moriarty residence again. It had already taken so long to remove the stench of rotting rat from his last brief visit.
In the end, Mycroft had managed to find an office building in Leeds that had been recently acquired by the Knightley Corp. and was in the process of being renovated so it could be used in the new quarter. Due to the time of the year, it was guaranteed to be empty of workers and Mycroft already had complete access to it, including the smart new office that had been built for Mycroft for when he’d have to visit for routine checks. Although there was a risk with conducting such business in a place associated with his company, Mycroft decided it would be worth it as it may give him the illusion of having the upper hand. Anything that would make Milverton feel just a little less powerful would be extremely beneficial in the conversation about to take place.
Opening the door, Mycroft allowed Sherlock to enter first. Letting out a low whistle, Sherlock looked around the airy lobby, marvelling at the large glass panels and lavish decorations that included a waterfall which fell from the fourth floor and landed in a large pool in the middle of the floor. ‘This is ridiculous,’ Sherlock said. ‘Your company has far too much cash to spare.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Mycroft said as he walked over to the lift and swiped his card. The doors opened instantly, an automated voice greeting him by name. ‘I mean, that’s just slightly creepy,’ he said, shivering as he entered the lift.
Nodding, Sherlock quickly followed. ‘How is Milverton going to get in?’
‘I mailed his assistant a keycard yesterday, along with the date and time for this meeting,’ Mycroft explained. ‘It’ll only allow him full access for this morning so there won’t be any concerns about him breaking in. Not that I suspect he’d stoop to such a lowly thing anyway.’
‘I never put anything as beneath anyone.’
The lift carried them up to the top floor. As they made their way up to their destination, Mycroft wondered what Milverton might be thinking. It hadn’t been him who had answered the phone when Mycroft had called the other day, instead an assistant. However, Milverton had readily agreed to the meeting and had no issue meeting on Mycroft’s terms. Mycroft knew that this was only because Milverton didn’t view him as a threat. In Milverton’s eyes, Mycroft was nothing but a little smudge on a pristine window of a spectacular view. Oh, how Mycroft was going to prove him wrong and burn that view to a blackened desert.
Unlocking the door to what would become his new office, Mycroft stepped inside and was overwhelmed by the strong smell of fresh paint. Barring the headache-inducing smell, the office was pleasant, light and spacious though sparsely decorated as he had expected. He was delighted to find he could open the windows and quickly did so, allowing fresh air to fill the office. Moving some of the chairs around, Mycroft arranged it so that there were two chairs on one side of the desk for him and Sherlock, and another two for Milverton and whoever he may want to bring on the other side. He knew Milverton wouldn’t be so stupid as to come alone.
Opening the briefcase, Sherlock quickly leafed through the papers they’d brought with them. ‘This had better work,’ he said. ‘I ain’t explaining to Lestrade why I’ve abused police resources if this doesn’t work.’
‘Yeah, well if this doesn’t work we’ve both lost our jobs for sure,’ Mycroft said as he sat down. ‘So let’s make sure this does work.’
They didn’t have to wait long before the lift chimed, alerting them to the arrival of Milverton. The clock struck 10am just as Milverton strode out of the sliding silver doors, dressed in a sharp smart ash grey suit with a crisp white shirt and black tie. His grey hair was styled artfully out of his dark eyes framed by his glinting gold glasses. Behind him was a much slighter man with much softer features, brown hair and brown eyes dressed in a dark green suit. For a brief moment, the man’s appearance resembled Albert. Then the mirage faded and he became nothing more than a timid shadow obediently following Milverton like a puppy dog.
‘He’s brought Ruskin with him,’ Sherlock murmured to Mycroft discreetly. ‘He must think this is about Broadshore still.’
‘Good,’ Mycroft said, lifting his chin. ‘Then we have the element of surprise on our side.’
Milverton smiled as he approached the desk, Mycroft and Sherlock standing to greet him. Reaching over, Milverton shook both of their hands with a firm grip. ‘Good to see you again, gentleman. I hope you’ve reconsidered your opinions of me since we last spoke.’
‘Something like that,’ Mycroft said with a cautious smile. He glanced over at Ruskin and offered out his hand. ‘Mr Ruskin, I presume? I am Mycroft Holmes; I don’t think we’ve ever had the chance to become properly acquainted yet despite our business ties.’
Hesitating, Ruskin looked over at Milverton and waited for him to give an approving nod before shaking Mycroft’s hand. ‘A pleasure, Mr Holmes,’ he greeted with a silky smooth but quiet voice. ‘It is lovely to finally meet the person I have been doing business with all this time. I must say, you are quite the apt businessman. Business with Knightley Corp. has been much smoother since you took the helm.’
‘That is enough, Ruskin,’ Milverton said sharply. ‘I don’t believe Mr Holmes has arranged this meeting for you to fill it with foolish flattery.’ Taking a seat, Milverton motioned for Ruskin to do the same. ‘Now that we’re done with propriety, shall we move on to why you actually called me here, Mycroft?’
Settling down in his chair, Mycroft levelled his gaze at Milverton. ‘I think you know why I’ve called you here, Milverton.’
A sinister grin stretched across Milverton’s face. ‘Ah. Albert.’
Mycroft’s fingers itched to slap the grin of the reptile’s face. ‘Yes, Albert.’
Leaning back in his chair, Milverton chuckled and licked his thin lips. ‘As I suspected, Mycroft, you are a stupid man who pretends to be smart. What makes you think I have changed my mind?’
Mycroft said nothing, knowing that his patience would yield results. There was a reason Milverton would have agreed to the meeting, even if he claimed to have not changed his mind. Though it would have no bearing on the action Mycroft was going to take, he wanted to quench his curiosity. So, he waited.
‘I am not going to relinquish my claim on Albert,’ Milverton continued, ‘but I am willing to accept that you are not going to back down without getting something in return. So,’ he pushed over some papers to Mycroft, ‘here’s my offer.’
Scanning the papers, Mycroft frowned. ‘A contract termination?’
Sherlock scoffed. ‘How is that an offer? The Broadshore contract was going to be terminated regardless of your feelings.’
Tutting, Milverton shook his head. ‘Read carefully. I am not only offering to terminate the contract without demanding any compensation, but I am also guaranteeing that I will no longer have any involvement in the Knightley Corp. whatsoever. Barring my friendship with your President, of course.’
Mycroft threw the papers back across the table. ‘Not interested. I am going to terminate the contract regardless and I already know all your little corporations and so can ensure my company remains clean without your assistance, thanks.’
‘That’s not all I am offering, Mycroft,’ Milverton said with a slimy smirk. ‘Why do you think I brought Ruskin with me?’
‘Because he’s the CEO of Broadshore, obviously,’ Sherlock interrupted plainly. ‘It’d be really dumb to not involve him when he runs the bloody thing.’
Milverton laughed. ‘Come now, we all know that Ruskin is nothing more than a pretty face. He doesn’t have the guts nor the smarts to run a school bake sale let alone a million-pound corporation.’
Face flushed in shame, Ruskin looked away, fidgeting with the sleeves of his suit. His hunched over form drew a pitiful figure.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Mycroft looked away from Ruskin and back at Milverton. ‘Why have you brought him then?’
‘To make an offer,’ Milverton said. ‘Let me keep Albert, and Ruskin’s all yours.’
‘Excuse me?!’ Hot blood rushed to Mycroft’s face as he clenched his fists in anger at the idea of Ruskin and Albert being traded as if they were cards in a game rather than people. ‘I hope you are not suggesting what I think you are, Milverton,’ he seethed.
Finding Mycroft’s anger amusing, Milverton patted Ruskin’s cheek as if he were patting a dog. ‘Oh, but I am, Mycroft. You see, I’ve put in all this time and effort into training Ruskin to be the perfect lover, docile, submissive and obedient – you should have met him before, he was an unruly disaster – ’
‘He was 16,’ Sherlock said hoarsely. ‘That’s when you two first met.’
‘And teenagers are so temperamental,’ Milverton said dismissively, ‘but I’ve trained him to become something quite alluring.’
Swallowing down the bile that had risen in his throat, Mycroft tried to compose himself. ‘Then why are you willing to give him away?’
Withdrawing his hand from Ruskin, Milverton let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘Pretty things fade with age, you know? Each time I see him, Ruskin looks a little bit older, a little bit duller. Albert is younger, riper, you see. He’s got a few more years in him before he starts to rot.’
‘You’re vile,’ Sherlock snapped.
Ignoring him, Milverton kept his eyes trained on Mycroft. ‘Also, Ruskin bores me. He’s just a little too good, too eager to please. Albert’s still got a bite to him and I just love to tame them.’
Tears welling in his eyes, Ruskin sat motionless to the side of Milverton as he was discussed as nothing more than a hunk of meat. Mycroft could only imagine how painful it must be to be described so awfully by someone who had groomed him into giving him the better part of his life. However, Mycroft had to pretend not to care. If he showed any signs of pity or sympathy for Ruskin, Milverton would exploit that without a second thought.
Matching Milverton’s callousness, Mycroft raised his eyebrow. ‘And you think I want him because….’
‘Because Ruskin can provide you with easy entertainment and company. Don’t worry, he’s good enough to get the blood pumping down there and you won’t have to worry about satisfying him. He knows he isn’t worth it. Albert on the other hand….’
‘I refuse.’
Milverton blinked at Mycroft’s resolute statement. ‘Excuse me?’
‘As flattering as it is that you’d resort to human trafficking to get me out of your hair,’ Mycroft said sarcastically, ‘I’m going to decline.’
A tense smile settled on Milverton’s face. ‘It is an offer I recommend you take, Mycroft. Don’t be a fool.’
‘Please,’ Sherlock said with a wicked grin. ‘It’s my brother. If there’s an opportunity to be a fool, he’s going to be a fool.’
Resting his arms on the table, Mycroft looked at Milverton with a scrutinising stare. ‘Why do you think I asked you to this meeting, Milverton?’
‘To discuss Albert,’ Milverton said though his voice betrayed a little uncertainty.
‘And you think I’d reopen that discussion without a few bargaining chips?’ Clicking his tongue, Mycroft shook his head like a disappointed teacher. ‘Shame. I thought you were smarter than this.’
‘Please,’ Milverton said with a strained smile. ‘Indulge me.’
Opening the briefcase, Sherlock handed over the papers which detailed Milverton’s direct involvement to the Krokodil epidemic. He watched with a gleeful smile as the smirk on Milverton’s face twisted into a frown as he skimmed the paragraphs.
Slamming the papers down on the desk, Milverton glowered at Mycroft and Sherlock. ‘Well. You’ve been busy boys, haven’t you?’
Mycroft cocked his head. ‘Not really. The information was quite easy to find actually.’
‘Which is concerning given the amount of security firms you run,’ Sherlock added.
‘So here’s our offer,’ Mycroft said with a firm voice as he sat up straight in his chair, emphasising his height and broadness. ‘You leave Albert alone, destroy anything you have in relation to him and never contact him again, or we release this to the police.’
‘And it will be released to the public too. That way it won’t matter how many powerful friends you have in Parliament as they will always listen to their constituents over you. After all, that is where the actual power lies. Not in your chequebook,’ Sherlock finished.
‘So you have two options, Milverton,’ Mycroft said with a calculating smile. ‘Lose Albert and keep your pride and company, or lose everything, your companies, your money, your pride and lose Albert anyway. Your choice.’
Milverton scowled. ‘And if I destroyed these papers now and got rid of all the evidence?’
Shaking his head, Mycroft sighed pityingly. ‘You think these are our only copies? Silly old man.’
Sherlock laughed. ‘Look at that, the king of blackmail being blackmailed. Look at him – I don’t think he likes it.’
Trembling with anger, Milverton rose from his seat and scrunched up the papers in his hand. ‘Congratulations, Mycroft. You are smarter than I gave you credit for.’
Faking a yawn, Mycroft aired an attitude of indifference as if Milverton was unworthy of his time or attentions. ‘So you’ll do the smart thing and leave Albert alone now, hm?’
‘I’ll leave Albert alone,’ Milverton spat out, ‘but don’t relish in your victory, Mycroft. Remember what I warned you when we first met?’
Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘You’ll have to enlighten me.’
‘This world isn’t meant for people like you, Mycroft. You may have me beat, but you broke the rules of the game. Break the rules of the game and the game will break you.’ Milverton yanked on Ruskin’s shoulder and forced him to stand. ‘I told you that whore wasn’t worth losing everything over and yet you ignored me.’
Standing to match Milverton, Mycroft frowned. ‘These threats are meaningless from a beaten man.’
‘You beat me, you didn’t beat the system,’ Milverton corrected. ‘There are many of men like me out there, your President being one of them. You think they’ll let someone like you, who’s foolishly shown their hand so clearly, walk away unscathed? There’s a punishment that awaits us all, Mycroft. My day may have come, but yours follows close behind.’
Turning on his heel, Milverton strode out of the office with Ruskin behind him whose red eyes dared not look up from the floor. Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on him right until the lift doors closed shut.
As soon as they saw Milverton’s car drive away, Mycroft and Sherlock followed suit, gathering their belongings and heading down to the car. Only once they were back on the motorway and driving back to the Moriarty residence did either dare to speak out what had just transpired.
‘So we did it,’ Sherlock said, his voice quiet against the rumbling of the car. ‘It worked.’
‘Yeah.’ Mycroft murmured. ‘We did.’
‘We’re still going to leak the documents right? There’s no way Milverton will actually just back off if we don’t completely shut him down.’
Mycroft nodded. ‘Well Lestrade already has them so the police can begin to shut down the drug trafficking. We’ll release the documents online to the public on Boxing Day. That’ll give Ruskin one last Christmas before he inevitably ends up in jail for being Milverton’s accomplice.’
With a sad sigh, Sherlock looked down at the briefcase in his hands. ‘I feel sorry for him. Ot’s not his fault that he’s been forced into this, groomed into being Milverton’s plaything and then for Milverton to care so little for him that he’d just trade him away like that. It’s not right.’
‘He won’t get bail so there’s not much we can do really,’ Mycroft said, a twinge of annoyance in his tone. ‘Though we know that he’s a victim of Milverton, we don’t have any real evidence that proves it. The judge won’t just take our word for it as technically we didn’t witness anything illegal.’
‘Albert could testify in his defence,’ Sherlock suggested quietly. ‘They likely crossed paths with each other, probably witnessed things that could help each other.’
‘I don’t know how willing Albert would be to talk about those days but, yeah, he probably could and I feel he would.’
‘Have you thought about how you’re going to tell Albert?’
Mycroft shook his head. ‘I won’t tell him until Milverton has been arrested. I need to know everything has worked out. I can’t be giving him false hope.’
‘I understand. I’ll hold back on telling William then.’
Turning on the radio, Sherlock suddenly paused and looked at Mycroft. ‘Wait, if we were always going to release the documents, why did we bother with all that? Surely it made no difference.’
Mycroft chuckled. ‘True. I think I just wanted the power trip.’
Laughing, Sherlock leant back in his seat. ‘God, that’s so stupid. You’re right though. Watching Milverton realise he’d lost was definitely a great feeling.’
*******
The car pulled into the manor’s driveway just before midday. As soon as they stepped through the doorway, Sherlock rushed off to find William and reconcile with him after their argument this morning. Mycroft reckoned he should also go find Albert and see if he could sort the mess he’d left behind that morning. However, despite searching the library, drawing room, kitchen and Albert’s room, Mycroft couldn’t find him anywhere. He eventually resorted to the humiliating ritual of asking one of the staff where his boyfriend was. They told him he was in the study and directed him towards a section of the manor he hadn’t been in before.
Knocking softly on the study door, Mycroft entered and closed it shut behind him. The study was a deep red with mahogany furniture, towering bookshelves and a large desk. A portrait of the Moriarty patriarch and matriarch hung above the desk, casting an imposing shadow over the room. On the floor, in front of the fireplace on a maroon patterned rug, Albert sat surrounded by various devices and address books. Looking up, he saw Mycroft waiting by the door. ‘You’re back.’
‘I said I would be before one. It’s just gone twelve.’
Nodding, Albert went back to his task. However, he eventually paused and looked back at Mycroft again. ‘Why aren’t you coming in?’
Wringing his hands, Mycroft shrugged. ‘I didn’t know if you wanted me to.’
Frowning, Albert set the devices aside, clearing some space. ‘Why wouldn’t I want you to?’
Taking a steady breath, Mycroft took a tentative step forward. ‘You don’t seem to want me an awful lot recently.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘These past couple of days, you seem like you don’t want me around. You don’t seem to know what to do with me and sometimes it feels like you would just rather I wasn’t here at all,’ Mycroft confessed softly. ‘I don’t know what you want from me.’
With wide eyes, Albert moved as if to stand but decided against it, maintaining his distance and staying firmly on the floor. ‘I’m sorry, Mycky,’ he finally said. ‘I did tell you I didn’t think I was feeling well.’
‘Physical illness doesn’t make people act like this.’
Albert’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I want you to be honest with me,’ Mycroft said, the volume of his voice raising by a fraction as he struggled to control his temper. ‘I want you to tell me what I did wrong because I love you, Albert, and I want to fix this. I think I can see a future with you, a better time, if that is what you want. If that’s what you want to try.’
Smiling uncomfortably, Albert bowed his head. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit soon for that kind of talk?’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Mycroft agreed. ‘But if I’m going too fast, I need you to tell me. I know this has probably been a lot; most people who start dating don’t then spend the holidays together immediately. But if you want me to back off, we can go back to being friends. Then, after Christmas, we can try again but slower, more naturally, going on dates and stuff.’
Albert stayed silent, looking away from Mycroft.
‘Or if you’d rather, I can just back off completely,’ Mycroft whispered. ‘If this isn’t what you want anymore, just tell me. I won’t hold it against you.’
‘I don’t want that,’ Albert said sharply. ‘I want you to stay, I want to be with you, I just-’ Stopping short, Albert shook his head. ‘I can’t think about this now. We’ve decided to hold a Christmas Eve party last minute and I’m making a hash of contacting people. Can you help me?’ He looked up at Mycroft with begging eyes. ‘Please?’
Though he knew he should insist they continue the conversation and not allow Albert to dodge the issue, Mycroft relented and knelt down next to Albert. For now, Albert was asking Mycroft to stay and that is what he would do. Whatever broken thing the two of them had, Mycroft was determined to treasure it for as long as possible. Love wasn’t something that was given readily to Mycroft, so who was he to contend what he was given? Just for Albert to look at him, that was enough. That would be enough.
If he repeated it enough, maybe it would come true.
Settling into a routine, Mycroft and Albert worked systematically, inviting guests and arranging transport. The idea of a large party with loud music and strong alcohol made Mycroft feel nauseous, but the look on Albert’s face as he spoke about all the funny things his friends had done at similar parties convinced him that maybe it would be okay. After all, if Albert was happy, then Mycroft would be happy.
If he repeated it enough, maybe it would come true.
The hours trickled by until Mycroft’s limbs grew stiff with disuse. Eventually, Albert closed his laptop and stretched out his arms with an exaggerated yawn. He turned to face Mycroft with a gentle smile. ‘Thank you for helping me, I really appreciate it.’ Leaning forward, Albert kissed Mycroft. ‘I love you.’
As he looked at Albert’s smiling face, Mycroft struggled to find the words. For the first time, what had become natural felt so plastic. However, he managed to force the four words out, each one lead on his tongue. ‘I love you, too.’
If he repeated it enough, maybe it would come true again.