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Chapter Text

The scalpel blade dissects skin under the right collarbone heading to the middle of the chest, then goes up to the left one doing the same, when a loud door slam makes the young woman accidently drop the knife.

– Damn it!

Her potential work day with a man dead in his middle thirties in long awaited silence is collapsing before her eyes. Is it a bit too loud and crowded for a morgue?

She doesn't even need to turn from the table to see her intruder, it is only one person who always breakes in her day like this.

– Sherlock, I'm in the middle of the autopsy with the man more interesting for me, than you.

– He's a bit pale, check on his blood pressure. Did you get my text? - straight to the point as always.

– I don't keep my phone all the time. Your late calls can accidently wake up my patients.

Holmes passes her chair, and the woman hears his coat is thrown in there somewhere. She hardly holds back the urge to roll her eyes; for how many dozens of times Sherlock has been told not to come in the autopsy room in outer clothing.

The girl is taking the liver out of the body when jumps from the descreet 'ahem' behind her back.

A tall man in his three-piece suit and a coat, that looks exactly like Sherlock's one, stands at the entrance holding a black umbrella. Well, not exactly holding, but squeezing it till his knuckles turn white. His face is a perfect mask, but he's standing there clinging on his place, keeping eyes on the dissection table. He's the one here, who would definitely not enjoy the silence.

– Oh, it's my brother, Mycroft, - the man doesn't even seem to hear Sherlock. He only nods slowly feeling himself quite uncomfortable among the dead.

– Carol Legrand, chief medical examiner, - she raises the liver a bit up to show the proofs making Sherlock to smirk.

– He's not very enthusiastic, don't bother, - Mycroft tries to save his face exspression as long as it can be done, that doesn't even surprises her. Working for the police she's met a lot of live people who got no stomach for dead ones. She just gives Sherlock a knowing smile.

– Yes, I can see that. Anyway, we can do this, - she puts liver back for the literally unbearable relief on the elder brother, and cover the body with white sheet. – And continue in my office.

– Tea would be lovely, but how about him? - detective points to the body in the table, reading an already prepared toe tag on the desk, murmuring silently, – John Smith, such a cliche.

– He doesn't mind. The poison in his body saved him some time to rest, - Carol waves a hand behind her. – I have a pie from that bakery on the corner.

– New barista?

– Exactly, but Sherlock, - he doesn't need to see her to know how exactly she look at him. – Don't you dare ruining it once more.

– He was not your type.

– My types are none of your business.

He casts a glance towards the door, observing like his brother is still trying to look confident.

– Then no pie, Mycroft is on a diet.

– Sherlock!

Well, if their family dinners go like this, she definitely wants to be there once. The girl starts to like brother interaction. And not only interaction.

– No need in diet, Mycroft, kissing burns 7.4 calories in a minute. It's all about workout.

Sherlock rolls his eyes as Carol winks playfully to his brother.

– Stop flirting over the dead body.

– When else I am going to do it?

– Not with my brother, - Mycroft's look slips again to a dead man now covered with a white sheet, making elder Holmes exactly the same color. Carol gives Sherlock a glance.

– Agree.

She takes off the gloves, heading to sink.

– So what do you need now?

– Your autopsy room and silence,

– I am surprised, you are looking for silence in my lab, given that you're the one who usually breaks it.

He winces, heading to the body the examiner leaves.

– You're overreacting.

–Why are you just not go to Molly's? I'm sure she's always silent.

– Yours are closer.

– And busier.

– A dead person isn't gonna be any less dead if you wait for just a little bit.

The young woman turns to him, watching Sherlock already uncovers the head leaning close to see. Rushing to him, she slaps his hands, making him put them away immediately.

– Don't. Touch.

Looking the most innocent way, Sherlock leads her to the entrance. She can sware she heard Mycroft's sigh of relief.

– So what do you really want there, Sherlock? Don't tell me about silence, it's the middle of the day, police department, you usually come in the evenings. And not with you brother who's sick of dead bodies, an autopsy room is not a place to hang out for you two.

– My fault, darling, - Mycroft almost winces from Sherlock's sweet smile. The main problem is that it's a sincere one.

– What a pathetic showing off! It's not even a deduction.

All eyes are on Mycroft, who can't just be silent the moment his name is mentioned. His imperious silence vanishes once they leave the autopsy room.

– Excuse me? - Carol slows down, amused by the insult. She looks up to Mycroft, who is almost a foot taller, with her brow arched, – Seems you're in your comfort zone again and have an unexpected bravery outburst.

– Bravery is a synonym for stupidity, and I-

– As you say.

Choking on his laughter Sherlock comes in her office.

– So? - He takes the chair immediately, leaving Mycroft to just stand near the doorway again. On his part the elder Holmes starts walking across the office, stops in front of the bookcase, briefly observing shelves.

Carol was right, he's in his comfort zone now, and it starts to feel like she's being interrogated.

– The problem we came here to you, Dr. Legrand, is-

— Closer to the point, brother.

– Stop interrupting me, Sherlock, - that one gives an eyeroll, but Carol only smiles at those two.

– It's the problem of the British government, and-

– "The British Government". Does it mean you or actually the British government?

– It goes together.

They stop, looking at each other, while Sherlock proceeds staring at them both. The strange attraction in his brother's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, one thing that he once can use against him. As a joke, of course.

– We need John Doe.

– Thank you, Sherlock, finally to the point, - Carol heads to the large file cabinet in the corner, giving Mycroft a mischievous smirk. – I have five of them, who exactly?

– The last one, I guess. Two or three days ago. Maybe, you have still not dissected him.

Mycroft goes on with his own investigation, targeting one of the photos on the doctor's desk.

– Got it! Male, middle sixties, no documents, no fingerprints, two bullets in the head. Such a pity, I'm sure, he had nice brains, - Legrand raises her head from papers, when she notices 'Mr. British government' gazing at her desk items.

Somewhere in the future she will used to the fact that they always stick their noses in things that don't concern them.

– Mr. Holmes! Mind your own business, - she hands Sherlock the file that already catches his attention. His, but not Mycroft's.

– You forget who you're speaking with, miss Legrand, - she likes him more standing with his mouth shut in her autopsy room.

– Doctor Legrand, if I may.

– Oh, you stick to your status. That's is your weak spot?

– And what do you stick to? Hiding your emotions under a commanding tone?

– You miss. No emotions.

– Right, no emotions, - Carol comes up closer, now she's barely an inch away from the man. – Take it as an advantage?

Tense silence hangs between them, with no one willing to tear their eyes of each other, until the loud clap split them apart.

– I've got it! Come, Mycroft, we're running late, - two seconds later detective is nowhere to be seen.

The man seems confused realising how actually close they stand for now. The young woman just cracks the smile.

– Until we meet again, Mr. Holmes.

– We'll see, Ms. Legrand.

Cool air crawls under floors of the coat, and Mycroft inhales slowly, but deeply, willing to refresh his mind and throw stuff off.

– So what that special about her? - Sherlock looks like being torn from something inside his head.

– Mm?

– I haven't known about her existence till this day, and now it turns out she's nearly your best friend.

– Know nothing about her, Mycroft? - Sherlock's mocking grin starts to annoy the man, but he holds back. – Your sourses have failed, huh?

– My sourses have never failed.

– Of course they have, - he halts in the track, turning to face Mycroft. – But there's a point. Ask her.

– What do you mean 'ask her'?

– People say, questions helps to know a person. Care to try?

Sherlock winkes making another Holmes to roll his eyes.

– Stop it, Sherlock, I'm not interested in her. I have the only concern, and it's your safety.

They stop next to the Mycroft's car with the door already half-open.

– Carol is smart, and she's kind to people. I met her the year before John. The rest you can learn yourself, - he waves his hand, leaving his brother to stand alone.

– She must be someone extraordinary for you to say such things, brother mine.

– See yourself, Mycroft.

Now he's left alone on a cold street with the driver still holding the door for him. The man likes comfort he surrounded himself with, but he really wants all these people to disappear sometimes.

He has this power, but actually there is no freedom behind it. Constant tension and strict rules is all that is around him every minute of his life. Mycroft just need his calm time where he don't need to rush somewhere to save someone.

For a moment, but just for a moment, he gets envy one young woman who really has her time and freedom both to dissect dead bodies in silence and have sassy arguments with the British government.

Chapter Text

The front door slams with a loud bang, Carol heads to the second floor with Mrs. Hudson behind, whose words hardly can reach the girl's sanity.

– How many times you've been told, young lady, not to slam this door. You and Sherlock once will make it come off its hinges. And so early in the morning for God's sake!

Legrand turns around to kiss the woman quickly in a cheek, in a way, to keep her silent.

– Another time, Mrs. Hudson. I'm busy with one of your impossible neighbours.

– What has he done again, naughty boy, I was telling him...

Storming the room, she almost bumps into her future victim, who is rushing across the place extremely impatient. The man grabs her shoulders to prevent from falling, turning around to get in John's chair.

– Finally, you're here. I have a question to you, - she wants to stand up, but he presses her firmly back.

– Me too. And you won't like it.

– Do you like?

– Like what?

– My brother.

– Your what?!

Watson comes out of the kitchen smilling sleepily with a steaming tea cup, tries to stop yawning.

– Morning. What with you two again?

– Morning, John. Find something interesting in your fridge?

– What? - he stares at her while the girl already rushes to the kitchen table and starts to take everything out of the fridge. The doctor shoots a glance towards the detective.

– Sherlock, what's going on? - but the man just turns out to the window locking his hands together in front of his chin, paying absolutely no attention.

Holmes keeps staring through the glass waiting for something only he knows. When a black car stops across the street, he winces, but it's hardly unexpected for him.

A minute passes and he hears a door click, then after a moment Mycroft appears in the doorway with his perfect laid-back posture.

– Hello, brother mine. How's-

– Found! - he nearly jumps from the sudden loud shout from the kitchen, not quite sure if he is frightened by the scream or by its owner who is not expected to be here. – You're dead, Sherlock! Get ready, it will be your final dissection.

– Oh..., - detective casts a quick glance towards the kitchen, where Carol shouts from. Now he's sure it can't be a good sign at all.

– Oh? Do not tell me, you've done it again? - John turns to the kitchen doorway to see her holding a plastic bag with something looking like kidneys.

Mycroft only grins and muses quietly from the sofa he takes his place in, gazing at the young woman with an unhidden interest. Seems even the bag with human organs doesn't confuse him this time.

– Seems I should make myself comfortable. It looks like a good movie scene.

Carol stands still, but it looks like she's going to explode right now.

– What is this?

– You know what?

– Wrong fridge, Sherlock. It should be in mine.

– It's an experiment.

– Try again. It's Mr. Smith's kindneys from my autopsy room. What the hell they are doing in your flat?!

– I am telling you, it's an experiment.

– What's an experiment makes you steal things from my work? - she sighs heavily like after running a maraphon. – Come on, it's a police department, not Barts. You can't just come and take what you want.

– They should improve the alarm system.

– I don't want to see you around my work place anymore, Sherlock.

He switches his attention instantly from papers on his desk.

– Kidding me?

– You tell. I'm quite serious, deduce me, - Carol shrugs her shoulders, looking on Sherlock directly. She doesn't notice elder Holmes gazing at her.

It's always sursprises him, how people can switch their emotions so easily. This woman was furious only a second ago, and now she's perfectly calm and collected.

An awkward silence hangs between all of them, only John and Mycroft feel more comfortable with that, enjoying the show.

It is like that until Carol hears a voice from her right.

– Let me try, Ms. Legrand.

The look Mycroft gives her makes her feel strange, but it is her natural curiosity that pushes it further.

Sherlock takes his usual place sticking to his phone.

– You're not a smart one, Mycroft.

– Come one, Sherlock. Let's have some fun, - Carol sits next to Mycroft, that causes him to turn to her side. He glances briefly at her from head to toe, but Legrand is sure it's not necessary. All this morning she's in front of him.

– Well...not swimming, - she wants to ask, but quickly catches the direction he leads.

– Swimming? - John moves closer still in his pyjamas, with now cold tea in his cup.

– Wait, John. You're messing my brother's showing off.

– Show some respect, Sherlock, - he is definitely not ready, Carol will defend this arrogant fool. – So, what about swimming?

– I saw your handwriting on the document you gave Sherlock some days ago. You're right-handed, but use your left hand more often, - her knowing smirk makes him pause. It's so long ago when a person doesn't insult him back on his deduction. – I thought it should be some kind of sport that could develop your both hands equally. But your lungs are fine according to your shouting at my brother, so it's not swimming.

She wants to say her words, but doesn't dare interrupt his thoughts. Legrand mentally takes her notes about how handsome he looks like in this very moment.

The girl must add at least ten points for his confidence that mesmerises her completely, that is not her usuall emotional state.

– Secondly, the way of behaving. You're not afraid to talk to me like you did, which means your grew up amongst men, father and brothers, I guess. You had to fight back and take a stand, so you learnt to do it with words, not in fistfights, - the elder Holmes points to another one. – Paying attention that you corrects my brother's behaviour, you're not the youngest. You had someone to defend.

– Enough!

Sherlock peers at him with such an intence, Carol is afraid fistfight mention has its reason.

– Sherlock, it's fine.

– And now you're defending him?

– The third thing, - she turns back to the man, - An accent.

– I didn't notice you had one, - John comes up to his chair with a new cup. Mycroft only gives him an eyeroll.

– Of course, you didn't. It would be a bona fide miracle.

– Boys, - the girl smiles, but as Sherlock admits, it is nothing of previous light in this smile. Carol is a bit nervous, and that exactly what he's afraid of. – An accent?

– An italian one. Hardly noticed, but you have it. Besides, you're not looking like you has identical roots. I must confess, it puzzles me.

Mycroft is shining like he's won a lottery, and he truly has the right for this.

– Well, I'm impressed.

– Would you explain..., - John's sheepish grin always makes the doctor smile back. – For me?

Mycroft just waves her to go on.

– Ok, the first is no swimming. It's archery.

– Archery? Who would teach their child archery in the twenty first century? - Watson throws up his hands in frustration. Sherlock points him on his cup, where tea becomes cold again. – Fine.

Carol doesn't know John for a long time, but she really adores their friendship with Holmes. She's happy, Sherlock has finally found a relible friend, and relieved that he will not be alone ever again.

– My father is quite...old-fashioned. He gave me a choice between fencing and archery. Not much to choose, right?

Sherlock smirks knowingly and shoots a glance towards Mycroft.

– Brothers?

– Two of them. I'm the middle.

– Tell me about the accent, - Mycroft clasps his hands together. – It's the only thing I can't solve right now.

– You can't solve, - detective murmurs from his place. – I should remember this, who knows where you will say it again.

– My mother had italian roots, but I'm looking like my dad, unlike my brothers.

– Had?

– She died, I was 14, - Carol stares directly in his eyes, but can't catch his. Mycroft, who she heard of as arrogant and emotionless, looks away from her now. – She had this lovely accent and I was obsessed with it after she'd passed away. Maybe I just wanted a part of her to stay with me.

– Carol, - a warning from Sherlock doesn't change her mind. He remembers how he was listening all of it, and doesn't want her to hurt herself, just because his brother couldn't shut up in the right moment.

But this time the girl is calm.

– It was such a stupid idea, I've focused on this accent, but it's quite hard when you live in England, right? So it's just old habits, not really an Italian.

A sudden sound of a phone interrupts her, and Mycroft takes his one from the inner pocket checking messages.

– Work, - he stands up straightening some invisible wrinkles on his suit in complete silence. The man almost comes out, but turns around in a last moment. – Want a lift, Dr. Legrand?

– Thank you, Mycroft, I'll get a cab, - she stands up too taking her things. She beams at him gently. – You can walk me to the front door.

– Kindneys! - Sherlock walks past her straight to the kitchen table. The girl sees a plastic bag still on its place, where she left it. Mrs. Hudson will have a heart attack, when she see it.

– Mr. Smith doesn't need them anymore. But you get it, Sherlock. No more stealing.

– I'll consider it.

Mycroft hands her the coat, observing the room for the last time for today.

She turns to say him goodbye, when the black car arrives, and Carol sees the driver opens the door. It was not much of their interaction, but she truly likes all this time she spent on Baker Street today's morning.

– See you later, Mr. Holmes.

– It's Mycroft, - the girl is sure he looks ashamed, almost guilty. – And it's not stupid.

– Stupid?

– The accent thing.

Legrand smiles at him, looking how rude and arrogant man from some days ago is disappearing in front of her eyes, giving up to calm and quite friendly one.

– So you don't think overreacting is silly?

– It's a family matter, overreacting can't be avoided when it comes to this.

– Sherlock is lucky to have such a caring brother, - the man's ears turn slightly red, like Mycroft is not used to hear compliments.

– He would not agree with you.

– He is not agree with me in a lot of ways.

– But he still listens to you, - a faint hint of bitterness in his words makes the girl furrow her brows.

Sherlock is always precise about people, as it was with Carol. She's kind, Mycroft remembers his brother has told him.

But when her fingers briefly touch his elbow, Holmes, who are not used to any kind of physical contact, almost pulls it away. It is the coat fabric she touched, but it feels like it was his bare skin.

– He's not a little boy anymore, Mycroft. Don't pretend him behaving like one.

She still holds his arm, and to his own surprise the man feels he's slowly getting used to it.

– I just want-

– Him to be safe, it's normal for you. Just don't push him too hard, ok? - her fingers trace a line down his elbow to the back of his hand. – He cares about you a lot as well.

Low chuckle interrupts her words.

– That's hardly, - soft warm slowly surrounds his palm.

– It is, trust me, Mycroft.

Unusual gentle smirk touches his lips.

– Trust doesn't usually paid off.

– Oh, I'm going to imress you, Mr. Holmes.

With a playfull smirk she leaves him standing there, heading to a cab, that's just arrived. His gaze folllows her going away.

Mycroft is sure, Sherlock still stands by his window looking down at them with his mocking grin, but for the first time he doesn't give a damn.

Chapter Text

– So, what about the celebration this year?

Carol takes her cup smelling the faint hint of cinnamon in her hot chocolate. They really put chocolate into hot chocolate. The new bakery proofs her best at this point.

– You know I can't celebrate with you, and father as well. Some kind of business negotiations in Rome again.

She presses her lips firmly together. Seems she will celebrate Christmas alone. At least she has that Baker Street squad as plan B.

The young man sitting opposite her waves a hand to a waitress.

– How much time do I have till you run away again? - he smiles gently and takes her wrist squeezing it slightly.

– Anything may happen, you know. So what about-

Legrand suddenly switches her attention to a small TV in the corner. It looks quite odd in a place like this, but now she's content it is here.

'...Back now to our main story. There’s been a massive explosion in central London. As yet, there are no reports of any casualties, and the police are unable to say if there is any suspicion of terrorist involvement...'

– Carol?

She doesn't need to hear details, the one look on the screen, and she knows her next destination point.

– I'm sorry, Mark. I see you later, need to go now.

It takes her an internity to reach the place, Carol rushes throught the crowd of frightened people on Baker street, trying to get to the entrance.

– Mrs. Hudson!

After dead silence in response she heads to the second floor where Sherlock should be. Opening the door the girl halts on her way.

– Here you are! Nice, Mycroft needs help.

She stares in shock while calm Sherlock sits in his chair opposite equally calm Mycroft. The violin in hands of the first one makes some strange odd sounds, getting in the nerves of the elder Holmes, so he winces from time to time.

Watson breaths hard as he was running here by his own, but looks as offended as the girl does.

– Good morning, Ms. Legrand. Maybe you could convince him. John's failed, - Mycroft raises his head to smile at her, but this time more formally then he used to when his brother doesn't see it.

– Really, Sherlock?

– What?

– What?!

He gives her a knowing look, but she just keeps batting her eyes on him.

– Overreacting again, - the violin string sings up, making her flinch.

– Shut up!

He'll drive her completely insane one day. And it's closer with every minute. That's only hope this day comes as soon as possible.

– I rushed in here getting myself ready to examinate your dead body, Holmes. And look at yourself, not a single scratch.

They both stay calm, but with Mycroft who stares at her without even a hint of a shame.

– A date?

John's looking at her from head to toe, well, actually from head to high heel.

Well, his game's on.

– You don't observe again, John, - Sherlock stands up abruptly starting to walking around her in circles.

– High heels, but as I know, it's a usual height for her. Wears them not to impress.

Does he really do this again?

– Black tight dress. Not red as can be for a date, but she's planned this meeting so some time, and taking it as a chance to spend free time outdoors, due to her usual busy agenda.

– Sherlock!

– Not so much makeup and jewerly-

– Stop showing off finally, you knew about a meeting. Or are you really so bored?

He heads to his chair sitting down as it was before.

– So, how's your brother...Mark, if I'm not mistaken?

– I don't know, had no time to ask, - snapping at him usually makes her feel better, but not today.

Carol hears Mrs. Hudson going upstair with her tea set clinking with her every step.

– Oh, darling, you're here. Want a cup?

John gently pats the girl's shoulder while coming up to take the tea away from Mrs. Hudson. He knows better how your own plans can go, when you're a Sherlock's friend.

Carol takes her place on a sofa, or what is left of it, rubbing her eyes. It was her only day off that she's planned to spend with her brother, but everything seems ruined now.

At least she still has one reason to smile a bit. A very handsome and silent reason, which she didn't even say hello in the beginning.

– Good to see you, Mycroft. I'm sorry, busy morning.

– I guess, not the best one.

– Definitely not. You?

– The same.

– Oh, stop you two! - the first few second they think Sherlock will hit somebody with his violin.

– I want to get angry on you too, Sherlock, but something tells me you will not appreciate this.

Carol stands from her place to head straight to the entrance when Mycroft does the same.

– As far as I'm done here, - he points to the stairs. – My driver can take you home.

Legrand just nods weakly.

– Lead the way then.

From tiredness on her face he must have understood there is no other way she can get out of here. Carol will burst in angry tears or punch his brother in the face and then burst in tears.

But stepping out of the flat he suddenly stops.

– Actually I have another option for you.

She looks at him with a part of surprise never guessing what an idea he has.

– Want to overdo your brother? - he doesn't pay attention on her words preferring to take his stand no matter what.

– How about a little compensation for your ruined day? I still have some time before the meeting.

– Do you really? - Holmes doesn't look as he's in hurry. Nevertheless, Legrand doesn't want to tear him from any of the government things. He shoots a look on his watch.

– Maybe a little, but Koreans can wait.

– You don't have to, Mycroft.

– But by a happy coincidence, I want to do it, - Carol has never seen him smiling like this. Openly and with the kind of charm belonging to the Holmes only. – Besides, the less this dress of yours just hangs in your wardrobe the better. It's a least a crime of fashion.

– Are you complimenting?

— Am I really?

She gives him a long serious glance noticing the exact color of his eyes. But can't hold back a smile in the end when the man stretches out a hand for her to hold.

– Ok, then. But I choose.

The door closes and the car starts driving smoothly down the street.

This time another car, that was obviously not noticed by anyone, leaves the opposite side of the road.

– It's..., - Mycroft looks around slowly taking mental notes about this cafe. – Not what I've expected.

They got there in complete silence, but it was a comfortable one, at least for the girl.

– So you have expected some posh and enormously expensive place where you would feel youself uncomfortable but suitable for the size of your income?

Mycroft doesn't look sursprised, he only leans a little back crossing his arms on the chest. Carol smirks observing this gesture.

– I appreciate the comfort, Miss Legrand. If I can afford some little things, I do it.

– Little things, right, - she lowers her head gazing at his hands, this man has perfectly manicured nails. Every detail of him literally shouts about his wealth, but the girl knows what usually hides behind such things.

Unfortunately, she has a perfect example of it in her family.

– You think you can deduce on me, don't you?

– I can't, but I can be observant, Mr. Holmes.

He doesn't let himself tear his eyes away from her. Something in this young woman terribly mesmerises him, he can't understand what exactly.

– Let's make a deal, - this time, he must admit, she surprises him, in a pleasant way. It is always him who offers such things. – Information for information.

His brow arches in a suspicion, that makes Carol giggle.

– I know nothing about you, and I want to fix it.

– Why would you want?

– You're a smart man, Mycroft. I like being amongst ones. Besides, Sherlock is my friend, I want to know the difference between you two, - she keeps her silent second to think. Carol is sure, he'll never agree, – Let's consider it as a scientific experiment.

– I'm in.

– Great!

The sudden noise of incoming message interrupts her. Mycroft sees her face expression changes within a couple of seconds and already can predict the sender of the text.

– According to your reaction, my brother's getting under your skin, isn't he?

Blocking the phone with the message containing coordinates of a new crime scene, she just exhales slowly.

– Seems we have to reschedule, I'm sorry.

– Crime solving's perfect pair, I guess, - she can never confess it even to herself, his grin is so contagious for her. Seems every time he does this, she can't hold her own back. – And John, of course.

– You'd better not underestimate him. He's really good, - she stands ready to leave. – So, till we meet again, Mr. Holmes. The pleasure is mine-

– I'll take you to the place.

– No need, Mycroft.

It is becoming a pattern. She leaves, he drives her home or elsewhere she needs. Not that she doesn't like it, but does she really need to get used to it?

– And I insist, Miss, - his broad warm palm lays between her shoulder blades, starting the pleasant rush down her back.

The whole road to Sherlock they don't drop a single word again, but the girl notices one exact detail that makes her smile.

This time Mycroft sits closer to her and seems more relaxed. His shoulders are a bit down, but it's surely because of the tiredness than of the state of his mood. The man just gets his guard down. The sudden burst to take his hand in hers is something that she fights all this time they happen this close. But Carol always finds a will to take her hands off, besides, the man will hardly appreciate the gesture.

Finally, they're here and the driver opens her door. Legrand is almost ready to say her goodbye, when her wrist is unexpectedly encircled by Mycroft's strong grip. The following second his lips are on the back of her hand, pressing soflty, that takes her completely aback.

– Untill we meet again, Carol, - he frees her hand sliding his fingers down her palm. – And be carefull. My brother can't calculate the risk sometimes.

She can only nod and leave him alone, not expecting such a gesture from him, usually too respectfull of his own personal boundaries and so of the others'. But not expecting doesn't sound like not longing, really?

She supresses the smile on her way to the river bank, recognizing Greg and Sherlock with John walking around the dead body.

She already hears this irritated voice of the younger Holmes. As usual she jumps into new case with both feet.

– Have you ever heard of the Golem?

– Golem? - Greg seems to be far from the literature, that always freakens her out. Even this time she can't keep her mouth shut.

– You have never? Have you ever read books?! - Sherlock quirks a smirk looking at Carol, who is already here rolling her eyes in some kind of displeasure. – Something except romance novels?

– It's a horror story, - John looks at them awaiting, till they start talking non-stop one after another.

– Jewish folk story. A gigantic man made of a clay.

– He's described as a representative of a Jewish ghetto's spirit. Their folks thought of Golem as the idea of an intense fighting against the evil, that often overstepped church laws.

Greg casts her a glance like every time she starts playing smart.

– What? Gustav Meyrink.

– It's also the name of an assassin – real name Oskar Dzundza – one of the deadliest assassins in the world.

Lestrade tries to stop them.

– Fine, enough! We got it.

The couple of them just exchanges strange looks, and Carol shrugs her shoulders, while John's getting more and more furious.

– We have a walking dead on the other end of the phone. You two, for God's sake, stop your smart games and get busy!

Holmes leads her out of the bank, finishing his part of investigation, heading only he know where.

– What's going on, Sherlock, - with all her morning troubles she is out of this life today. – I was in the middle of my day off.

– Moriarty. A new game of us, - Sherlock is in his rush, Carol is happy for him, until it doesn't include other people dying. – But how about you? Does my brother abandon his work to drive you aroung the city?

– He's only being nice, Sherlock.

– He is never nice when he doesn't need something from people. And sometimes even then.

Legrand just realises, that her help didn't really need there.

– Do you need me to examinate that body?

– Only if you find something specific, but I catch the main idea, - he must be kidding her?

– Does it mean, you called just to interrupt us?

– I hope, Mycroft didn't have a time to spoil his diet, - he shoots a wink to her, leaving her to just stand.

– Fair play, as always, Holmes.

Cold gusty wind crawls inside her coat making her remember how warm it was in Mycroft's car.
The cab moves slowly to the girl, as if there is no reason to hurry. She gets in quickly ready to say the adress to a cabbie, when someone's hands encircle her from behind.

The last thing she remembers is a strong smell of chloroform, then everything gets blank.

Chapter Text

Clear steps are heard in the empty dark hallway, bouncing like dozens of balls from its walls. He can hardly find someone there in this time of the day. Well, someone alive actually.

The heavy door of Barts's morgue opens giving up under Mycroft's strong push. It is only Sherlock who takes his usual place in front of a microscope. He doesn't tear his eyes from lenses, just waits for his brother to speak.

– Something is going wrong or you just comes to keep quiet with me, Mycroft?

– Have you seen her?

Younger Holmes takes the sample away changing it to another one.

– Seen who?

Irritation in Mycroft's eyes is clearly visible and he can merely hold himself back not to snap at him.

– Carol. I haven't seen her from your last message exchange two days ago.

– Did you get bored from riding alone, brother?

– It's not funny, Sherlock!

Sherlock finally abandons his research and rises his head to glance at his brother.

– I haven't.

Mycroft's worry grows up.

– She didn't show up for work during these days. Lestrade said Carol didn't warn him about her absence.

If Mycroft didn't know his brother better than he already did, he would say, Sherlock's surprised.

– Oh, Mycroft, do you...care?

Does he, really? His brother is right, his desire of total controlling is nothing similar with that one. It's strange, but Mycroft prefers not to think about it right now.

– Stop it, Sherlock, just-

– Oh, something has really happened, something serious and you can't find her. And now you're angry...or, no. You're worried and guilty, - he turns back to the microscope. – Interesting. Go on.

Mycroft stares at him willing to say something hard, but refuses. After all, he's his younger brother. The man rids from all of the useless thoughts in his head going straight to the topic.

– I have problems, Sherlock, too serious for your stupid jokes. And I'm afraid Ms. Legrand can be involved into the...conflict.

– Conflict? - all the experiments are abandoned this very minute. Plain displeasure and worry are written clearly across elder Holmes's face. He's not often to be seen like this and it draws Sherlock's attention immediately.

– A month ago the court had sentenced a man to a several years' imprisonment for the bombing of a building. As it turned out, it was done only for drawing the attention of the authorities.

– Where is he now?

– Broke out from prison, unfortunately.

The heavy silence puts pressure on Mycroft's nerves, but he doesn't even tell the main information yet.

– His phone calls have been started about a week ago, he wanted to share some kind of information he found useful in exchange for the particular conditions for him and his people.

– You ingnored him and he kidnapped her, you guess?

– I guess.

– Didn't you just get a bug for her to track or...you know, things that you do every time, - Sherlock waves him off, but Mycroft notices his fingers nervously shaking a bit.

Not hearing a response the younger Holmes raises his head from papers again. The wrinkle between his brows becomes more visible.

– Oh, you did not.

– Sherlock-

– You didn't spy on her, did you? You know, it's not your usual way of dealing with people, - Mycroft's confused looking somewhere above his brother's head. – Do you know anything about her at all?

– I don't think she would like it. The spying.

Sherlock stands up from the work chair taking his coat. Tapping Mycroft's shoulder he heads to the entrance.

– Then you should know, Mycroft. This woman is not the kind of person who'd let anyone hurt her, - detective turns in the doorway giving his brother one last look.

– For God's sake Carol wears 5.5 inch high heels almost every day. She is tough. But you'd better hurry up.

The door closes behind him and Mycroft flinches from that sound. The moment after he hears his phone beeping in the pocket.

It takes him a few seconds after blocking the screen to reach his car parked next to the emergency exit.

'Old sewing factory. Alone'.

Eyes shut tightly the moment some of the lamps above her head are switched on. Carol winces from the straight luminescent light coming on.

Two men walk in the small room with suspiciously laid-back stride. But the girl doesn't care anymore.

She's stopped analysing her state from the second day of being here. Strapped down to the chair tightly the young woman has stopped feeling her wrists after two or three hours of unconsciousness. She's definitely dehydrated now, one of her wrist's sprained and got swollen because of not so caring grip of one of her kidnappers. Legrand tries to fix it herself, but who's she really kidding.

Her brain of a doctor in the head stopped acting as such. She's sure her face is pale like the death itself, dark circles under eyes become visible.

The only thing she doesn't think about is wearing high heels. Her feet don't even feel like two days of constant pressure. It is definitely a true blessing that she must have inherited from her mother.

There's no strong fear in Carol, after two days of imprisonment the last drops of sanity just gone. The only thought is still pounding inside; she hopes Mycroft's people will come to take her out of here. There's no way he will come himself; for some reason this gang has decided another way.

– Well-well, seems your friend doesn't really hurry, huh?

Ache in her head doesn't give her any strength even for raising it up. Legrand looks directly in front of her, while one of the men comes up closer.

Lifting her chin is not the right idea; the tension from her neck spreads down her spine causing such irritating ache in the lower back.

– You hardly know Mycroft Holmes, guys. He won't come.

– Oh, he definitely will, honey, - she winces from the adressing. – Or I will send you to him piece by piece. Like a Christmas present.

She's had enough of this. For two days she's hanging out with these morons and nothing happens. It would be stupid of her to think like she could escape by herself.

– Don't forget a ribbon.

But it is wrong to think she'll not do another stupid things.

Legrand feels blood rushes to her cheek from a nasty slap, after a couple of seconds of stinging she realises this spot must be skinned off.

A metal ring on the man's finger doesn't feel like someting soft. Carol curses soundlessly under her breath; this bruise will turn to a shiner after a half an hour.

But there all of them turns to some noise coming from the main room. Men exchange glances and the one, who slapped her, starts loosing the ropes.

Those who took her away now hope for a kind of negotiations. Little do they know, Mycroft negotiates only behind his office closed doors.

When her eyes used to the daylight after the gloomy something she was held in, and this dork stops dragging her, Carol can finally stay straight on her feet.

The moment the woman sees Mycroft she still tries to persuade herself, that's all is only dopamine burst. It lasts until she feels the gun touches her temple. There isn't a way they'll just let her be.

Holmes' familiar cold mask cracks just for a second when he sees the young woman like this. The sudden hint of worry disappears in a blink of an eye, but it is enough for Carol to make sure everything will be alright.

She looks him straight in the eyes nodding just for him to notice, then slowly closes her eyes letting him know she's ok.

The third man who Legrand saw only once in the beginning stands up slowly walking in Mycroft's direction.

Holmes is alone, but a bit of hope, that some of his people somewhere not far from them, is still safe inside of her.

– Mr. Holmes, we're glad you've finally agreed to meet us.

– Not that I was forced into it, completely not.

The tension occupies her whole body, but the young woman supresses the urge to roll her eyes. If it's Mycroft's usual way of negotiations, then she's not surprised so many people on his work don't like him.

– Your requiremеnts, gentlemen. I'm ready to meet them, - he points at Carol with his umbrella. His always calm demeanor returns on its place. – In exchange, of course.

The man with a gun squeezes her throat and presses the weapon harder. She closes her eyes on a second begging that Holmes will finaly finish here with his showing off.

Blood is pounding in her ears rapidly, her blood pressure must be on its high level. Carol doesn't hear anything they're talking about; this panic reaction that should have appeared at the very first day starts only now.

But suddenly she notices a merely audible whistle, the window glass rings broken and the next second the man behind her back looses his grip and drops dead.

A couple of moments passes when the rest of them do the same, but she doesn't see it already. The girl takes several steps forward when a crowd of armed people breaks into the building.

She sighs with relief and can only rush to Mycroft who stands giving orders to his people.

The same feeling she sees on his face, when finally reaches him. Wrapping arms around his neck Carol moves closer, doesn't giving a damn about how uncomfortable the man may feel.

He keeps standing still holding his umbrella, but in the end, to her own surprise, his arm encircles her shyly, and she feels this pleasant warm from his palm.

They split when both of them hear the quiet 'ahem' from their right. Holmes slightly pushes her to the side of a young man in a perfect ironed suit. He looks odd inside of the half-ruined building.

The woman takes a closer look and recognizes the driver that usually serves Mycroft.

– Phillip will take you to the car. I will join later.

She decides not to ask him what he's going to do, but just follows the man into calm and warm place.

It's only ten minutes pass, but for Carol it feels deathly slow, making her to fight with the crawling sleep. Seems all this stress reaction works like this.

Suddenly Mycroft storms in the car slamming the door in pure anger. If Carol isn't so tired, she will flinch from the sound, but the girl just closes her eyes in exhaustion and turns to the man. The driver starts the engine immediately; he's in no need to be told twice what he should do.

Her long awaited sleep rushes away, Carol feels this tense radiating from Holmes sitting next to her. He looks like is going to explode right now. The girl doesn't need deduction to know what he is thinking about.

She watches him patiently, this silence doesn't feel anymore like a comfortable one, and Legrand wants to fix it by all means.

– Mycroft, - he keeps looking through the window stubbornly, there is still some countryside area without a hint of the city influence. Holmes pays no attention to the girl.

She touches his elbow carefully, but he suddenly flinches like from the hit. Raising his eyes for a short moment before turning away again, Mycroft crosses his glance with hers.

It is the same look he gave her for some time ago when the gun was aimed at her head, and Mycroft himself was caught completely out of guard.

That unbearable urge to take his hand in her palm like when he's driven her to the river bank before she was kidnapped, wins out now.

Carol squeezes his fingers and when he wants to pull the hand off, she does this more forcefully. He literally has no escape and after a second he relaxes a bit sighing tiredly. For some minutes they sit in silence.

– It was my fault.

Sherlock always says his brother likes everything to be in his control. But now Carol only sees the man who pushes himself too hard.

– Myc-

– They wanted me! I just...

She cups his hand between her warm palms, her hands are still trembling a little.

These people wanted him, wanted escape that he could provide for all of them. She's only a bait in this deal.

Since they've met she admires his ability to be cold and emotionless in situations that requires such manner. But this time even he can't cope with all troubles that he should usually deal with.

– Do not blame yourself for the mistakes of others, Mycroft, - his hand still in hers, and the man suddenly wants to know how it looks like. But this time the bruise on Carol's cheekbone draws his attention

He gently pulls out from her grip only to touch her skin, gently brushing the spot that soon will be of purple color. It is almost no blood on it, but it's going to hurt for a couple of days.

A wave of shame and anger in his eyes is so visible now, the girl finds herself thinking she'll drown in them. It would be foolish of her to hope he becomes attached to her, but now she sees exactly what she sees.

Carol Legrand is a confident young woman, who will never show her weak spots in front of others. That's the main reason why she catches Mycroft's broad palm, when he wants to shut himself down again, and presses it carefully back against her cheek.

Her throat is a little sore from two days of silence. And her voice sounds like a whisper.

– I was waiting for you.

The man swallows this lump in his throat. For the first time in his life he doesn't know is that a reaction on such overwhelming care in her eyes or the distance between him and the woman who sits beside. Or should he say the absence of this distance.

Holmes only knows that he has not felt that way for a long long time. His voice is barely audible, but Carol still smiles weakly.

– Why?

She should hate him. It is he who is responsible for the two days imprisonment among cold cement blocks and dozens of hungry rats. She must be freezing there without any outer clothing, terrified looking into eyes of these bastards.

Her wrist was sprained and more than once, as he can see. Mycroft is sure, the bruise on her cheek is not the only one on her body. Carol should shout at him to let her pain and rage out.

At least Legrand should be disappointed in him, but when that mischievous grin of hers touches her lips, Holmes forgets how many holes in the body of that men he's made, when she left. He can't stand even a sight of blood. But this time doesn't feel sick to his own surprise.

– You still owe me a day off, remember?

Mycroft cracks a smile before returning his usually calm expression. His hand now lays on a seat between them, but she's still holding it. He glances at her, pale and exhausted, and furrows his brows in concern.

– When we arrive, Anthea will take you to the doctor.

– I am a doctor, Mycroft, - he gives her a sceptical look. Arching his brow, he glances at her like she's insane.

– You work with the dead.

– And none of them have laid a complaint yet.

Ok, now he definitely may think, she's stupid.

– This is not a negotiation, Carol. And since everything is fine with your sense of humor, I guess you're quite alright.

She makes herself comfortable moving slightly to the man with a hint of smile on her lips.

– Apart from the fact, that I'm in terrible sleep deprivation, yes, I'm alright.

– Then I will call Greg, he gives you some days off, - since she's save again, Mycroft lets himself relax and smile to her. – You need a good rest.

– I will not argue with you in this regard.

– But only after the doctor.

– Hey!

– Do not even try.

– Mycroft!

– Don't know who's this man, you're calling for. Stop arguing.

He turns to the window to prevent possible talk. When out of blue he feels the touch on the center of his palm, the man realises he completely forgot about her hand on his.

Turning his head to the right slowly to see her face, Mycroft finds Carol looking after the road behind the glass absentmindedly stroking his fingers with hers.

He can't hold back a grin and just continues to watch over the same scenery.

Chapter Text

Some time has passed since her kidnapping, when Carol finds herself at the next crime scene with a dead man lying on a wet pavement waiting for her only.

She is not yet officially permitted to work, from an easy hand of the eldest Holmes, but at 2 am, when Greg called her to help she found it diffucult to refuse, despite the fact Legrand could barely open her eyes from the deep sleep.

The only priviledge of being chief medical examiner is that you can leave all the main work on assistants and do nothing. If Sherlock can do the same all the time, she may used to it as well. At least the girl still has access to data and bodies no matter how long Anderson's insisted on her dismissal.

Needless to say, no one allowed her to do an autopsy after visiting a doctor, even with now fixed and bandaged wrist. These days were also a time when she found her new unexpected silent visitor.

Anthea, Mycroft's assistant, once came to her office stating that Carol would have to stand her forced presence during unofficial working hours. Now she visits her almost every day just sitting silently or tagging alone when the medical examiner tries to escape.

She wanted to argue with that woman, but she, with that omnipresent phone tapping, didn't even listen to her words. Emotionless 'Mr. Holmes insisted' kind of response was a phrase that caused the girl's fits of temper.

After Mycroft's driver, Phillip, dropped her home that day and came back with two large bags of food, because 'Mr. Holmes insised', Legrand stopped any of her previous attempts to prevent this unnecessary waste of money and time.

Carol, in turn, hasn't heard from Mycroft in these days at all. He didn't answer his phone or messages, but he saw all of it for sure. They stayed in touch only through Anthea's visits.

Legrand is mindful of the fact, that Holmes' assistant spends plenty of time in the police department with her. The question is if she is expected to be flattered? Holmes literally tears a part of him off and handles it to Carol.

At one of mornings, when she's still alone in the mortuary, her usual "examination" is interrupted by a text from Sherlock.

Pack your things.1 hour. Don't ask.

SH

They didn't see each other much since that day, but his acting wasn't really different from his brother's one.

Carol supresses an urge to roll her eyes, one day they'll be left there not to waste her energy. At least the detective stops calling her in the middle of the night and asks to find him some useless body parts for his experiments.

She is almost ready to take her leave as Sherlock said, when Anthea appears at the doorway.

Legrand wants to explain her, she's in hurry, but realises that for the first time the woman is looking at her directly, not starring down at her phone.

She doesn't need to be extra smart to put two and two.

– No. Don't tell it's Mycroft.

Anthea gives her a weak apologetic grin and shruggs her shoulders. Carol hopes at least Holmes' assistant realises how absurd is her boss' desire to control her.

– I hope one hour is enough, Ms. Legrand, - Carol curses under her nose taking her bag from the work table and walks out.

Getting into the car, she catches a brief smirk from Phillip in the rearview mirror. He's nice, and she's got to know him a bit when the man came instead of Anthea one day.

– Did anything serious happen? - it must be something wrong, when Sherlock texts her upon his brother request.

– You'll see, - Anthea just smiles, letting her know, she can't tell this now. – But nothing you should worry about.

– You do realise, it doesn't make me worry less, - when the woman nods, Carol turns back to the window silently observing the scenery behind.

It takes her about half an hour to collect her things that probably will be needed and another half to reach a large mansion, where Mycroft lives. Does he really need so much private space or it's just his 'comfort things'?

The faint smell of leather and old wood is the first thing Legrand senses when comes inside. It is dark in the hallway, but she catches the nearest room with its huge windows and morning light coming through them. The whole place seems lonely and a bit abandoned, but the one thing she must admit to herself is that she's definitely going to like it.

Anthea leads her the way to the kitchen, where Carol finally sees the constant reason why she's always disturbed from her work.

– What do you think you're doing, Mycroft?

The man puts a newspaper aside looking above it straight to the woman and his assistant standing behing her back like a bodyguard. His cup stands next to him steaming with what the girl can assume as freshly brewed coffee according to a wonderful smell of it.

– Sherlock and I have decided you would be safer here, in my house.

– Safer? I'm not in danger. For now at least.

– I've received some new information about your former kidnapper. Seems he still has some of his people alive and very angry, - Mycroft crosses one of his glances with her. – So, please, be reasonable.

He feels irritation radiating from her and raises his eyebrow. The man usually doesn't have such long discussions with someone so stubborn. But here she is, standing in his kitchen with the morning light carefully drifting through the windows. Is she not worth his time?

He gives Anthea a nod and she leaves them without a word heading to the entrace. When Mycroft pulls the chair out for Carol, she realises this talk will be nothing but both serious and useless.

– Are you angry with me?

– I've been there for two days at four walls, Mycroft, without a hint of possible breaking out. It's not your fault, but you could hurry.

He crosses his arms sensing this unwanted scandal brewing between them.

– You live here since now, this is not a negotiation. Besides, this is a temporary measure, don't you worry. Give me some time, I will solve these problems, and you'll be on your own.

– Let me guess. I'm not allowed to go out, - Holmes just smirks, he doesn't need to answer it for her to know she's right. – I have a job, you know?

– Sherlock said, you don't usually guess, - she rolls her eyes, close to start swearing. She was sure her once said words about not guessing because she had scientific accuracy could backfire.

– Straight to the point, Mr. Holmes.

– I've arranged it. It's time for taking a paid leave for you. But if you want it so much, you still can consult them...from a distance, of course. I'm sure Lestrade has your phone number.

– It's forensic, Mycroft. You have to work with your hands not only your mouth.

– Stop it, Carol, - she greets her teeth stubbornly crossing arms as he cocks his head at her words. She's not one of his people to let him speak with her like he used to with his employees. – You're acting like a little girl.

– I am a girl!

He stands up abruptly not having an intend to go on with this talk. Seems all he does for her own good is in vain. Holmes heads back to the hallway, he's already lost enough of his spare time.

– All you need is just sit here, Carol. My people will do the rest.

– Does anyone near you have a choice? - he opens the door halting on last steps. Carol can't read his face expression and feels odd because of it. A hint of embarrasment crawls inside. – Stupid question, don't mind.

His smirk eases this pulled string.

– Enjoy your time, Ms Legrand. Your bedroom is on the second floor, to the right of the library. I'll be late.

The sound of a key in the door lock stops all her possible attempts to negotiate. The woman turns to inspect the empty space, that will be in her hands only till the very night.

– Enjoy your time...unbelivable.

–  Stop here. Give me the full picture.

It is already dark outside, when Carol finds herself pretty busy finally with Lestrade on the opposide side of the video call.

The dead man body lying on grass doesn't satisfied her from such distance. She'd prefer walking around it and arguing with the forensic specialist. Alas, Mycroft doesn't offer her that option.

– Is Anderson that bad, you can't ask him even on this question?

– He called in sick. We have-

– Shine a light.

Greg gives her an eyeroll, that the woman definitely doesn't notice, too enthusiastic with what she sees. Demanding as always. On a moment he thinks about her and Mycroft being a perfect match in this aspect.

– So, murder weapon?

The ligature mark is very visible, the cause of death is pretty obvious, but Legrand still has her variants.

– Might be a fishing line, or, if he's a music lover, a guitar string.

Even sound interferes can't spoil the picture and Carol sees inspector's smile.

– I thought you're not a guesser.

– You're lucky, Inspector. It's international guessing day, - she hears the key unlocking the main door. Is it that late, or Mycroft just comes back earlier?

– Are you celebrating?

– How funny, - the man's steps almost reach the living room, and a second later she sees his tall figure in the doorway. –  Send me the lab results, I will be more accurate then.

Holmes makes himself comfortable in the large chair near the fireplace stretching his legs towards it. Carol can still feel the cold of the outside radiating from him.

– So? Have found yourself usefull.

– Thanks to the department's lack of competent personnel, yes, I have.

He doesn't respond her back, just keeps starring into the fire absentmindedly. Mycroft is tired, but he always is, while Carol sees him like this for the first time. She wants to start talking just to avoid this odd silence.

– How was the day?

– Eventful.

She presses lips firmly together, not sure if she's allowed to see Mycroft in this state of him and should leave him alone or try to reassure.

Legrand isn't a person who knows proper ways of comforting people, but like every average woman she can at least try it with her own methods.

– Will you go to sleep? - the man raises his head to cast a brief glance on his laptop on a coffee table.

– No, have work to do.

Her own awkward methods.

– Sleep deprivation is as much of an impairment as inebriation. I don't want you to make mistakes.

– Excuse me?

All this day is filled with the irritating buzzling in his head. Usually people around him make this noise saying nonsense and useless advice about his busy agenda. But this very line finally catches his attention.

– You know, statistics-

– Does statistics helps you, or it's just rubbish you used to save in your memory? - he gives her a close mouth smile.

She doesn't even looks offended, seems her brother's friendship affects her now strong nerves. Or these idiots she works with.

– I find comfort in numbers, Mycroft, - she can't hold back a little snap.

– Mine is silence.

– Fine then.

He watches her leaving the room heading to the stairs. Mycroft was never good in emotions. Is she offended, or really decides to leave him be?

But if she ended the discussion, he did not. His voice reaches her on the top of the stairs.

– What about you, Dr. Legrand? - she furrows her brows in confusion. – Your sleep deprivation. What is it a reason for?

Carol smiles knowingly, she must admit he catches her out of guard, asking the topic she'd prefer not to discuss. And he's extremely observant, she can't hide dark begs under her eyes from him.

– The same as your, Mr. Holmes. I love my job, but it requires a lot of my time and effort.

– But you work with living as well. How about Lestrade?

She leans over the railing looking straight down at him. Is it the right time for them for this kind of revelation? Something deep inside tells,this man can truly understand her, despite all his outward apparent difficulties with other people. Besides, does she really need to retire in her shell when he sees right through it?

– It's really hard trying to fit it with living, Mycroft. That's the part of the reason that I spend my day with dead people, - now the man notices how tired she is.

The true reason of it somewhere she doesn't allow others to look in. The one, that haunts Holmes brothers during their lives.

– You know, people. They may require from you to be sociable.

– I haven't noticed you had such problems, Carol, - the girl keeps silent, then tears her eyes from him. – Being different isn't the same as being wrong.

Does he try to comfort her?

– Good night, Mycroft. It's been a long day.

He lets himself a sly grin, looking back at the fireplace. It is something new in coming back home that it's not abandoned anymore, maybe he'll used to it. But apparently, he shouldn't.

He chuckles when a not so long talk with Sherlock comes back to his mind. Stopping at Baker Street on his way he found Lestrade quarreling with the detective. The Inspector wasn't there for long, he excused himself quite after Mycroft's arrival.

That day was short after he met Carol and found his brother being extra talkative about his newly revealed friend.

Sherlock's first meeting with this medical examiner was faint in Mycroft's mind that time; he didn't take his words as someting worth remembering.

This evening all details become too bright dancing in front of his eyes like flames. He's could never thought he could imagine things so vividly.

The faint smile touches his lips, he feels the warm from the fireplace wraps his body like a blanket. Faces are passing by at the back of his mind like paintings in gallery.

The man closes his tired eyes only for a second.

A cab stops next to a police car, Sherlock comes out to cross the marking tape. Lestrade immediately finds him explaining details of a new case.

– Who's on forensics? - Inspector seems embarrassed, but quickly finds right words.

– You will not-

– Work with Anderson, thanks for your mercy. So what?

Both of them pass by police officers getting closer to the crime scene. Sherlock hardly has time to get through the crowd of staff.

– Dr. Carol Legrand, 28, our new medical examiner. It's her first week here, but gives high hopes. You'll like her.

– Hardly, if she'll-

– She punched Anderson in the face, when he...well, crossed the line.

– The line?

– The doorway to her autopsy room. He came with a sandwich, - Holmes supresses a grin, but furrows his brows to returning his previous face expression.

– Hmm...no food in mortuary then. Anderson needs somebody to teach him rules. But a punch for a sandwich?

– Seems he can't talk politely with ladies.

– She hurt his self-esteem, this idiot couldn't just be silent. Great, I already like her just for this point!

They finally reach the place and Lestrade just points to the group of two and a corpse. A young woman is standing over the dead body while Anderson's looking at her wandering without a purpose.

Sherlock hears muffled talking between them, but giving their intonation it is not the pleasant conversation. The closer he gets, the broader detective's grin becomes. Holmes just stands aside silently observing.

– Stop arguing and start working, Anderson.

– Want me to start, - she waves him off letting him do whatever he wants. – Well, let's start from what we see here?

– A reddish brown stain.

– Blood?

– No, a reddish brown stain. The crime lab will determine what is it. No signs of lacerations or abrasions on the victim.

Anderson raises an eyebrow glancing down like she's insane.

– So it's not his? Maybe me have might gotten lucky and the killer was bleeding.

Legrand stays silent, just makes a face, when Phillip goes on.

– Or smearing reddish brown stain.

She rolls her eyes.

– Don't make an idiot of yourself. It doesn't even smell like blood.

– Would you like me to smell it?

– Afraid, Anderson?

Sherlock comes out from the back, he just can't stay in a shadow when a talk like this happen right under his nose.

– She's right.

– About?

The detective is so unexpected for the forensic scientist, he even forgets about his usual insults.

– Give me a second, - he sits down next to the body smelling the red substance. – Both! You, Anderson, is an idiot, and that's not the blood. I'd bet it a construction paint.

– Isn't it interesting? - Carol looks up at Greg who comes up to this squad that seems suspisiously quiet. Leaving these three of them just be will not end without a fight.

Lestrade cocks his head exchanging glances with Sherlock, who looks like a cat who ate a canary, then back to the examiner, who's already busy with the body.

– It's a murder down here, Carol. Be respectful.

– Then sad...and interesting, isn't it?

She extends her hand to the detective gazing directly in his eyes.

– Dr. Carol Legrand. Will we work together?

– It hasn't decided-, - Inspector just barely opens his mouth, when is cut off by Holmes.

– I hope we will. I'm Sherlock Holmes, - the man shakes hands with her, then stands up abruptly to head inside the building to investigate further leaving the couple behind.

Voices in Mycroft's head get calmer, he raises his head fogged like from the heavy sleep. The fire in the fireplace burns out letting the night chill crawl inside the room slowly.

Holmes stands up smoothing the suit. It is already too late for any kind of work, and he leaves his chair taking the laptop.

The faint smile's still playing on his lips when his head touches the soft pillow making dreams come back again.

Chapter Text

Despite her concerns, living with Mycroft is not so awful and terrifying as Carol's thought earlier.

He was rarely at home before the midnight or so, and the girl tried to find any amusement in this house not to be bored to death. Legrand even started to text with Anthea from time to time.

Holmes and she didn't discuss matters related with their social interracting anymore and Carol was grateful for this. But occasionaly she found herself secretly desiring for such 'homey' smart talks with him as they had that night.

She liked his calm deep voice filling the room while he's speaking his mind freely. From the very start Legrand tried to give him know, they could touch every subject without him being afraid of any mocking as it could possibly be with Sherlock.

Mycroft is incredibly intelligent and pleasant to spend time with, she would like to spend all days long like this, if she could. Unfortunately for her, Carol doesn't know if he sees her like she does him.

They had million talks with nothing too private discussed. But this concrete day seems to be like one of awkward topics for both of them.

Her morning starts with almost empty fridge, what is strange giving that Mycroft's maid visits them twice a week for refilling all that's needed. Muffled steps from behind let the young woman voice her concerns.

– What's with food, Mycroft?

– You have two brothers.

Simultanious phrases cut the morning silence making Holmes chuckle a bit. The more Carol lives in his house, the more both of them act like this.

– Ladies first, - he waves her to go on. – What's wrong with food?

– Nothing is wrong. There's just none of it.

She opens the door wider for him to see, but the man just shrugs shoulders. More than a half of fridge shelves are empty, but the rest are full of vegetables and other low-calorie foods.

– But there's it.

– It's not the proper food, Mycroft.

– What do you think is proper food? Empty callories?

She tries not to roll her eyes. When it comes to nutrition, Mycroft is impossible to speak to.

– Right. I'll give you the number of my nutritionist. He's really good, you should visit him. But, - Carol turns to him. – Why my brothers?

His steaming cup of coffee is already on the kitchen table with her big one now standing right next to.

– I remember you've told about them and Sherlock mentioned about one of them once. I'm just wondering why you don't.

– We don't see each other so often. And there's not much to talk about, - the girl catches an apologetic glance, admitting it's rather strange seeing any kind of sympathy from him. This causes a little smile curving in corners of her lips.

– I feel like I shouldn't have mentioned the topic. I'm sorry.

– No need, we are quite close with each other. Besides, - Legrand puts a vase of buiscuits in front of him earning a strange look from the man. – I would be entirely alone without them.

– You would not. People like you are usually never alone even if they want to.

Carol freezes on the spot, quite amused by the man's words and more with this quite and soft tone of his, but then sees Mycroft scrunching up his face gazing at the table.

– I'm not going to eat that.

– You are. Just a cup coffee for the breakfast, Mycroft. It's not enough, you should eat something.

– You're talking like my mother-

– Then she's a wise woman and you'd better listen to her.

Holmes' response is interrupted by the phone call making him freeze. Carol takes the phone looking suspiciously at the screen and answers the call

– Mrs. Hudson?

Loud complaint from the other side of the line is flowing like a river making the girl wince. She wonders if the woman has practiced this speech or she's just naturally gifted with that.

Some moment later she drops the call.

– What's that?

– Mrs. Hudson is begging me to come, she's done with Sherlock experiments. She calls while he's out.

The man doesn't even reply, but Carol suddenly realizes it's her chance to get out of here, even for the short period of time.

Mycroft flinches from the rapid move when the girl appears nose to nose to him. Legrand looks like a mad one. Holmes leans on the back of the chair.

– Mycroft!

– What?

– You have to let me go!

– Wh-

– Let me or I'll go crazy.

– You should be in a safe place, Carol.

– I will be in a safe place, it's Baker street. What can possibly happen?

– But I-

– Think of Mrs. Hudson. She must be scared to death.

– You're manipulating.

– And you're not thinking about Mrs. Hudson.

She keeps starring at him awaiting for a miracle to happen. His confussion reaches the high point when she shifts an inch closer to his face. Finally jumping up from the seat he makes himself out of the girl's reach.

– Fine, fine, - he raises arms in defending gesture. – But I'll pick you on my way back.

– Gosh, thank you!

Legrand doesn't even listen to his next words. Sparkling with pure joy looking like a happy child she reaches him in one step kissing his cheek, rushes upstair immediately leaving the man in a kind of shock.

When about a couple of minutes passes he still finds himself on the same place. Mycroft hardly can imagine how Carol's preparations can possibly look like, but decides not to meddle in for his own sake.

Leaving his coffee on the table he comes outside where Phillip is already awating for him. For the last time before returning to his work problems Holmes makes a mental note to buy someting...with empty callories.

And for the first time this day he finds himself hardly suppressing his smile.

Slamming the flat's door on Baker Street Carol hopes poor Mrs. Hudson is already taken by Sherlock experiment's consequences to think about her spectacular appearance.

The old woman is not the only one for today. Legrand has already frightened Lestrade to death suddenly appearing from the nowhere in the department.

After brief tea chit-chatting Legrand is led to the kitchen to show all this mess the younger Holmes has created.

It is not so long when the door slams one more time and the girl hears the clomping of two pair of feet from the entrance.

– Isn't it interesting, Sherlock, your fridge is so full, but at the same time there's no food inside? Is it your family issue?

– What do you think are you doing here?

Carol turns from the kitchen fridge holding a plastic bag with somebody's thumbs that gave Mrs. Hudson a small heart attack about an hour ago.
She herself is in her room now swearing under her breath trying to find her soothing herbs.

John waves to her weakly, when Shelrock comes in the kitchen grabbing all his things to prevent them from being thrown away.

– Really, Sherlock? Do something with your experiments. I can't come to you every time when Mrs. Hudson calls me asking to throw body parts out of your fridge.

– Don't pick up the phone.

– And one day she will just pass away surrounded by a dozen of human eyes in a bag.

He siddenly stops and pays attention on her.

– You said you couldn't come, but you're here. Did my brother stop playing the old dragon guarding the princess in a tower and freed you?

She ignores the snap with the eyeroll and nods to a box on the table passing it to Watson.

– I brought you a pie. Found a new bakery on the way to the department.

John extends his arms to take it, but refuses the last moment, glancing suspeciously.

– Wait, is this from the good fridge or the dead people fridge?

– Cold air is cold air, - she shoves the box back to John, pressing the kettle button.

– Why don't you two, - he points at Sherlock and the girl. – Just move in together. Would be a perfect match.

With the sly grin Holmes takes the box leaving them together, when he hears the young woman's low moan from behind.

– Stop it, Sherlock. You've got this face again.

– What face?

– I-know-it-all face.

He smirks glancing towards Watson.

– Sorry to dissappoint you, John. Dr. Legrand has a perfect match already.

Carol halts in her place opening and closing her mouth without any sound feeling the slowly brewing quarrel.

– What the hell are you- ... Sherlock!

– Why are you angry? I'm trying to be a good friend of yours paying attention to your life. Aren't you supposed to be happy?

– Do I look pleased?

– You didn't answer. Does my brother still act like a mother hen?

– Your brother just tries to be nice. And living with him is only a matter of safety, you know that. But I'm glad I have some spare time now.

Mrs. Hudson gathers all her courage to come in the room again overhearing the end of their conversation.

– Don't want to move out here?

– Mrs. Hudson, I'm not going to look after your flat, I'm not a housekeeper.

– Me too, I've told them, - she looks around at the mess these two left, then turns to leave. – Anyway, young lady, I have one more bedroom for you.

Sherlock takes the kettle from the girl, pouring the water into his cup.

– You should agree. At least here Mycroft will not get you with his...'safety matters'.

– Oh, stop it, Sherlock.

Actually they both are interrupted by a kind of a mad man, who Mrs. Hudson lets in after a couple of loud door bangs. He falls down unconscious right at their feet mumbling nonsense about helping him.

Mrs. Hudson, having troubles with nerves for this day, leaves that band of them alone with the client. His fainting doesn't last long, but he seems to feel no better after this short recovering.

Carol shares a glance with John while Sherlock's listening carefully to strange exclaimations about a dead man on a clearing. Legrand is familiar with cases when living people suddenly become not, but in this story everything happened too fast even to her.

Soon after the man leaves, the girl starts to shine like a diamond content with a long-awaited change of spending time.

– So, we have a case.

– We don't have, I do, - the detective's still in his thoughts, not looking at her.

– Come on, Holmes, I'm in.

– Who told you that?

Dismissing the client Sherlock switches his attention to her.

– By the way, why are you still here? Does my brother let you go that long? - he flinches from her shoving his shoulder.

– Are you my mum to control me?

– You always act like mine, why can't I do this?

John just shrugs his shoulder on that to himself. In any case he is glad Carol's here, there was too quiet without their quarrels. Now he feels like finally going back to normal life.

The entrance door opens downstairs and Sherlock immediately jumps to reach his violin, right to get on everybody's nerves. There's only one person who makes him do this, Carol still doesn't know, how the detective understands it's him.

Mycroft leans on the door frame not willing to come in further. He gives his brother such a critical glance, the medical examiner feels the rising tension.

– Good afternoon, Sherlock, - the man then looks to the doctor and nods. – John.

As much as she hates to admit but Carol misses him after all this day. She is happy to go back to her usual life even on one day, but a thought that both of them will have a quiet evening so soon, full of lazy smart talks, makes her fingers tingle.

Mycroft nods to her as well, and Legrand starts to pack her things. Mrs. Hudson, who usually doesn't miss a chance to mock on elder Holmes, appears in the room carrying a small paperbag with something that smells like muffins.

Carol shoots a playfull wink to Mycroft remembering their morning debate about empty callories, and gets his knowing smirk back. The young woman hugs goodbye both John and Mrs. Hudson, going straight to Sherlock, who doesn't even make an attempt to raise from the chair, deep in his mind.

Only when Mycroft lets her first in to the stairs something inevitable starts to happen.

– When are you going to tell her, Mycroft?

Both of them turn back to the room with Carol looking from one brother to another.

– Care to explain, Sherlock, - this stern voice is something that the girl hasn't heard long until today.

Usually that demanding tone of his could be heard only here, on Baker Street, something of brothers issues. But this time it is another case.

– I am explaining, brother. When are you going to tell Carol, you've been holding her in your house for no reason?

She steps into the room again standing between two of them.

– There was a reason, Sherlock, - the girl turns back to search her proof in other Holmes' eyes, but sees not what she's expecting, losing her thought for a bit. – Or not?

– When will she know, that you're hiding her for yourself only?

– Mycroft?

She can't believe her ears as well as her eyes. Holmes is angry, his jaw is clenced tightly, stubborn look almost makes her take a step back. But she is angry too. With both of them.

– When will she know-

– Enough! - Mycroft steps forward halting in front of Legrand, but doesn't look at her. The tension in the room can be cut with a knife with the men not tearing gazes from each other. – Carol, the car. Now.

His words take her aback, she is not one who can be manipulated that easily and neither she is going to listen to him nor obey his orders.

– We're not at work, Mycroft. And I'm not one of your subordinates! I...I just-

– Carol-, - she notices his eyes is twinkling with a hint of regret, not that he used to this feeling. The only thing Legrand knows he should try hard to explain her all of this.

– Stop, Mycroft, just stop, - another circumstances and she will be willing to forgive him, at least understand his own selfish reasons. – I should expect you would be like that.

– And you, - she switches back to Sherlock not able to hold back upcoming tears. – Why do you need to ruin things all the time? The family, honestly.

She rushes past Mycroft to the entrance, trying not to touch him. Her long-awaited cozy evening is falling apart before her eyes, but the meanest thing is another one.

Leaving her family behind Carol had the strong desire for independence and freedom. Not only finacial, but a moral one.
Now with Mycroft's attempts to provide himself with pleasant company, he went too far. Her gold cage doesn't suit her anymore.

A quite voice on the back of her mind keeps telling her, he can't behave another way. That desire to control is motivated by his work's nature and strong will to care about his family.

But she is not Sherlock whose reckless actions can lead him and others wherever he knows only. Carol is a grown up woman who can take care of herself. That's exactly why she's sitting in the back seat on the Holmes' car alone shedding silent tears on Mrs. Hudson's muffins.

– Ms. Legrand.

The young woman flinches from the sudden voice from the driver seat. Once she sees Phillip, whose presence Carol forgets about, in the rearview mirror, she cracks an apologetic grin to the man. He, in turn, stays serious and collected.

– He'll never change. Nothing will make him.

She doesn't expect such involvement from the driver, but only nods, there's no need to clarify the person he's talking about. The one who's heading straight to the car.

Legrand turns to the window prefering not to look at him while he gets to his seat. A new wave of resentment covers her again with the thought that she'll probably spend the rest of her time alone in her bedroom. Not giving that a small hint of betrayal may be the case too.

For the whole time they sit in silence, only Holmes shifts uncomfortably on his seat from time to time. He feels...not right, but not guilty. It is not him who told Carol about all of this. But also Mycroft is still too stubborn to admit it was his fault as well.

He could let her go in the first day, his people have solved the problem faster then he could have imagined. But something didn't allow him to do it that evening. Something he can't identify even now.

The feeling that he's not only one who lives in this house. The man realised it the day he came back and found Carol chatting with Lestrade online. The inspector got lots of her attention even from the distance, and his long forgotten feeling of unexplained jealousy appeared once again.

He didn't have an intention to hold her in four walls for infinity, but every day he was going to say it he stumbled on his own words.

Two weeks and a half have passed since her first day there , and Holmes found himself accustomed to the girl's presence in his chaotic life. Carol brought in the sence of stability and something that he could assume as coziness.

Mycroft is not a kind of people who let others in easily, and the young woman's still far from his own definition of a friend. But she's still in his house.

She's still in with her early mornings, when she wakes up with him just out of habit. The time he comes downstairs for the breakfast, there is a vase with cookies next to his cup and a handfull of crumbs from the other side of the table.

The man finally remembers his maid's name, because Carol, as he found out, spends her whole day cooking with her. His coffee table in the living room is not perfect clean as it was before, but filled with a dozen of medical journals. Not that he's against all of it.

One morning he finds a paperbag with croissants and it makes him grin slightly. That at least means Legrand got along with Anthea to finally ask her to bring some not healthy food here.

Two weeks and a half Mycroft stopped mentally calling his place 'house' and started calling it 'home'.

When they reach their destination point, the sky is already dark. Carol climbs out of the car still hugging the bag with Mrs. Hudson's muffins, heading to the door. When Holmes opens it, she comes in immediately too tired to argue or just tell anything.

– Carol.

His voice reaches her in the living room. She turns weakly to watch him being as exhausted as she is. The guilty expression now doesn't dissapear from his features.

– You can leave whenever you want, - she turns with her back. Of course now she can. – Sherlock was right, it's my fault not to tell you the truth.

The girl halts on her first step still not looking at the elder Holmes. What could probably happen in his head to finally admit he was wrong.

Mycroft doesn't look miserable. He's never looked. But watching him standing in front of her like this, wide open, makes her forgetting all her troubles and just hug the man. She can hardly supress to urge to rush towards him.

Back in his car, she felt his anger was burning inside, anger at himself. Now Carol can just say, it's okay, but it isn't. He should understand and accept the consequences of his own actions, otherwise, it's all in vain.

– Good night, Mycroft. You'd better have a rest.

She continues her way up to the room. It's been a long day, too long for them to find any right words for each other in the end.

Carol knows, there will be no dreams today's night.

Chapter Text

The first day after the quarrel is uncharacteristically quiet. Nobody is in the deserted kitchen with Mycroft, no dishes shattering, no mumbling about food in the fridge. No one.

The man thought things would be easier for him in the morning, but he still couldn't throw what happened last evening out of the head. But he can't allow himself to waste his time like this. He has his duties to attend, and at least one matter of national importance for today.

He will have to come to Shelock for help again and that makes him thrill. Mycroft leaves his coffee cup in the sink and goes out of the house with a heavy heart grabbing the work file from the table.

Maybe it's a lucky day, and he will find Carol here when he comes back to explain everything to her.

The phone call ringing next to Carol's pillow wakes her up with the click of fingers. Her head's still a bit heavy from the late sleep giving a feeling of a possible party. Except her party was not the funniest one.

The girl throws a quick glance on the screen before answering it. Something tells her an interesting day is coming.

– Is it a murder? Otherwise I hang up.

Lestrade's name amongst a dozen of missed calls brings in a hint of excitement to some of the yesterday memories.

– It is. Someone's found a man...well, arms of a man.

– Arms? The rest? - Greg's growing impatient with every question. This case has already made him nervous enough, and they haven't even started working on.

– I don't know, Legrand. Consider the case as a Christmas present, if we solve it.

She barely holds the giggle bubbling in her throat from the sudden idea.

– Wait, Greg...

– I don't like this tone of yours, but what?

– May I piece it together like Frankenstein.

The heavy sigh on the opposite line makes her finally wake up and start collecting things. Legrand can almost imagine him rubbing the bridge of his nose in irritating gesture.

Should she consider this as 'yes'? Definitely, she should.

– Yay! I'm in, send me the adress.

The crime scene looks like never before. Carol catches a cab to be taken to the outskirts of the city to her own surprise. They don't usually have such cases so far from the center. She always thinks body parts can be hidden in the crowd more successfully.

Greg meets her near the huge field now excavated length and breadth. At least half of a dozen police dogs are snooping around the place, sniffing the every inch of the ground.

Lestrade leads the medical examiner to a hole where a black plastic bag lays. Carol sees a human arm, that she identifies as a man one, the other is placed next to the first. Several blood spots cover it in a chaotic maner. He girl narrows her eyes putting on the gloves.

– There is a farm down there, - the inspector points to the other side of the field. – Some of the farmer's dogs brought this arm home after the morning walk. The owner took it back here, where the dog led him to.

She sits down observing the body part, when a familiar figure comes closer slowly to them from a distance. A wave of irritation covers her, and Carol tries to tell as more as she can before she's interrupted.

– A man, mid-forties, an office worker or worked from home. Right-handed, shooting skills, iron deficiency-

– Stop, stop. I'm asking about the victim, not his diagnosis.

The young woman shrugs her shoulder in confusion. Greg mirrors her gesture.

– And?

– His nails are perfectly manicured, so no hard work, or he just hd to look so. Then an indentation on his middle finger, it's from the constant pen writting, and a bruise between the thumb and the index finger. It's usual for gun recoil, it's faint, but it is.

The inspector listens carefully with his eyes wide open, eyebrow arched.

– Iron deficiency?

– Most of his nails are concaved. It's usually one of the symptoms. Giving iron is not digestible without vitamin D, he might not go outside that often. So I suppose work from home also.

The man nods shortly, decides not to ask her further in order not to get more possible symptoms. He is happy to see her bright gaze again, after her captivity in Mycroft's hoise. This work always keeps the girl on her toes.

The medical examiner leans closer to examinate the evidence one more time. Greg can swear he sees her mind's working. It usually leads to her crazy medical theories and to no good for him.

– By the way, it's a fan fact that-

– You know what else is a fun fact? Something that helps me catch the killer.

– I'm not a detective, Greg. It's not my part of investigation.

– I hoped you'll at least help me. Seems there's no use expecting it from the others.

Finally, some steps sounds appear right behind Carol's back, and she hears the voice. The one the young woman hopes not to hear every time she arrives on a case.

Legrand shrugs her shoulders turning to see Sergeant Donovan whose smirk she doesn't like so terribly much.

– I like your beige boots, doctor. But you should choose your clothes more properly, it's a crime scene, not a social event.

Carol just raises a brow at this snap. Seems friendship and frequent interaction with Sherlock made her cold-blooded in a way of communicating  with such people.

Sally still waits for only she knows what looking down at the girl. Well, Legrand is not a type of person who keeps others waiting.

– At least I have the opportunity to choose the clothes, Sergeant, - Donovan is ready to snark again, while Carol's examining her from head to toe, not letting her open her mouth again.

– And I would describe it as more of a taupe or a sand color, perhaps even a muted coral with a hint of abalone shell, - she catches Lesrade's surprised gaze looking at this small cat fight. – But thank you. I like them too.

As soon as she finishes, one of police officers comes up to the inspector, pointing to the side of the road. Legrand follows the direction with her gaze only to make a sound of dissapointment.

A black posh car stands on the curb, the woman takes a closer look, but nobody comes out of it. Greg returns gesturing her to leave.

– Just promise me, you'll find other parts for me to sew it together, - with a final wink she heads to the road.

The atmosphere inside the salon is warmer and more comfortable, she dives into the leather seat leaning onto the back of it immediately.

Seems the constant clicking of the phone soon becomes an integral part of her live. She isn't even surprised with this visit. Carol is sure she spends more time with Holmes' assistants than he himself.

– Does Mycroft know that not only his work exists?

Anthea gives a weak apologetic smile, and Carol admits to herself, now there's a missing piece of the puzzle finally takes its place with these two constantly picking her out. Phillip smiles to her from the driver seat as always.

– Well, where are we going this time?

The young man starts the engine grinning broadly.

– You have no idea, Mr. Legrand.

About an hour passes when Carol starts to think, it would be better for her to stay there on the field. When they approaches the Buckingham Palace her heart starts beating in panic. When Anthea literally kicks her out of the car with a sadistically sweet smile that everyone calls a polite one, she's almost ready to rush back.

Two men in black suits with blank faces come after her to lead inside, she just makes her peace and follows them. She will talk with Mycroft later.

Passing through the enormous hall she is led to the well lit room, where out of blue she finds both Sherlock and John giggling on the couch like teenagers.

She opens her mouth to ask about the sheet the detective's wearing but decides that's actually not her business. The young woman definitely doesn't want to know these details.

They drops some words of welcome before the awkward silence falls between them. Carol is still a bit angry at her friend, and Watson decides not to meddle in.

When Mycroft suddenly comes inside, her whole body tenses, the wave of usual joy of seeing him is mixed with the one of displeasure.

– Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups? - the man tells them off, casting a quick silent glance at the young woman, but says nothing.

Mycroft bends down, picks up the clothes and shoes from the table, turning to offer them to Sherlock. His brother gazes at them uninterestedly.

Legrand must admit looking at their interaction is quite interesting. Never before she's seen Mycroft during his works and now he's nervous. She likes the picture she sees.

–  We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on!

During their the most embarrasing scene with Sherlock's sheet she can hardly stop herself from laughing, catching Watson's serious quick glances.

But when the elder Holmes mentions his client who is awaiting his brother's help, the girl finds herself abandoned in this small world of big politics. Is there any point for her to stay?

– For God's sake, I was on a crime scene, Mycroft.

He finally pays his attention to her with annoying face expression.

– It's a case of importance-

– I don't think you need a medical examiner here.

– I really don't, but your presence usually helps Sherlock thinking, - he waves at his younger brother. – And he listens to you.

She stares at him in complete silence making the whole scene more awkward and intense.

– And who will help me to find body parts scattered around the field? Will you send me Anthea with her phone to find them by geolocation?

– Dr. Legrand, don't start-

–  I don't start. How did you manage to handle with your brother before, Mycroft? Got a babysitter?

John exchanges glances with Sherlock, then looks at Mycroft and Carol in front of them. The more time passes the more the three of them begin to behave the same. The very same.

– Don't they remind you of an old quarreling couple?

– They do indeed.

– I want you to know about this case too, Carol. So sit, - Mycroft points her to the sofa the moment his client walks in. The man's glance is begging for obedience. – Please.

It's too hard sometimes to just shut her mouth up, so this time she makes tremendous efforts to do this.

In the end of the meeting she can only sympathize with the elder Holmes. Neither his brother nor she makes it easier, but John definitely has some fun observing all of this.

Finally finishing all this boring stuff, heading to the entrance with Watson and Sherlock, Legrand hears her phone ringing with the incoming message.

Phillip will take you to your flat. I'll have your things taken to your flat later.

MH

She is glad to see Mycroft almost every day, but last days he, controlling her every step, makes her completely sick of it. She shoves the phone to the bottom of her bag, coming out of the building.

When both of her friends go away to the cab, she finally gets her comfort on the backseat of the Holmes' one with Anthea is nowhere to be seen to her huge relief.

Phillip starts the engine immediately, not waiting for the request. But when they drive further from the Palace Carol suddenly changes her desicion.

– Can you take me to Mr. Holmes' home?

He just gives her a nod and a smirk, which meaning she doesn't understand fully. The girl actually has one exact idea, but not sure if she has enough time to do this.

The late evening came when Mycroft finally crosses his house's doorway. The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and smell of something tasty from his kitchen hits him from the first step.

His maid doesn't usually stay this late and has strict hours for attending her duties. The only person who can do this is the one particular medical examiner, who now is expected to be in completely another place rather than there.

He smiles, but supresses it, leaving his coat on a hanger, and walks in the right direction. Noises coming from the kitchen become closer to him, and he recognises now the smell of sweet pastry.

– This doesn't happen often, but right now I'm very confused.

It's quite interesting scene that is shown in front of his eyes.

– Oh, you're here, - Carol stands in a white apron finishing dishwashing. – Everything is ready in a minute.

This unexpected caring makes him smile involuntarily. The thought of her being angry with him only yesterday completely vanishes from his head.

– You know, I has a maid.

– I am a woman, Mycroft. There is nothing on the kitchen that I can't do myself.

He cracks a weak exhausted smile before opening the fridge door. Not that he's complaining, but all this food was not definitely here in the morning.

– Were you cooking all this time?

– I am. And I hope your diet is not a problem for eating it, - he moves his glance from the fridge to the girl then back again. She raises a brow catching it.

– What?

– Nothing.

– I've think I should do something usefull before leaving.

The pang of a dull guilt hits something inside him. Is it the proper time to speak with her and explain his decisions, or he'll only spoil the nice evening?

She opens the oven taking out something that Mycroft identifies as a cherry pie. This evening will be one of the best in his life, he swears.

– I'm...glad you're still here, - his grin is awkward and tired, and Carol think about staying at one more night. She really doesn't lose anything, besides it's already dark outside for her to go out.

She nods slightly not knowing what to answer. Mycroft takes the jacket off and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt. Legrand hasn't seen him relaxed like this before, but something tells her to take a closer look.

– Aren't you tired from your suits?

– I'm not asking about your high heels.

– Touché.

Carol clicks the kettle button keeping the heavy silence between them. The man just stands up heading to the dining room, and Legrand starts to prepare plates for dinner.

John's told her about the case they have discussed earlier that day. She learned about files and documents on the phone of Irene Adler. Watson also mentioned how stressful this day was for all of them including elder Holmes who tried to stay in control.

Carol, with her strong desire to help Sherlock with some of challenging cases, now keeps herself away from any of those with a hint of politics. She knows too well it's can end up not as they expect.

The dining room sinks in complete silence, and when Legrand comes in with a plate and a dessert for Mycroft, she hears his sigh on the brink of breaking. Her heart is too.

The man sits at the head of the table with elbows on its surface, his face's covered in his hands. He doesn't usually show any signs of weakness, but today is a whole other thing.

The click of dishes with the wooden table doesn't distruct him, as Holmes stays in this position while Carol's still watching him.

Mycroft is about to raise his head when suddenly he feels two warm hands on his shoulders squeezing them gently, bringing in a sense of comfort to this day. This kind of attention finally takes his last pieces of self control and the man lets himself to lean on the chair's back and not think about anything.

– You should eat, Mycroft. At least a little bit of soup.

– I will, promise, - no matter how he looks of feels, she will not leave untill he eats some of it.

– Yes, when it gets cold, you will.

Her hands slip down his shoulders, but the man catches one of them squeezing in response. He rolls his eyes, but the curve of his lips hides a little smile and Carol just sits next to him watching the reaction.

He eats a bit and takes a pause to taste it properly.

– Well... you're really good at it. Maybe I should change something in my diet.

– Hmm, told you.

– Oh, stop it, - she stands up straightening her clothes' wrinkles, a mischievous grin doesn't vanish from her face.

– I will 'I told you so' you as long as I am right, mister.

Carol hasn't left yet, but feels like she already misses this place.

Now during long winter evenings she will be occupied with medical reports only, or in attempts to help Molly buy tons of Christmas presents, that her friend used to give to all of them.

It's time to admit she's going to miss this house and their witty small talks, she misses it even now, at the moment, giving Legrand and Mycroft are sharing a comfortable silence.

The cab's horn honks outside, and this takes the girl back from her mind. She can't hold the urge to touch Holmes again and finally her palm ghosts over his shoulder one more time in a kind of soothing gesture.

– You could spend the night, you know?

– I have my own apartments, you know?

She mirrors the man's grin back and leaves the room. Just like this, without any goodbyes. She knows he can find her everywhere every time, if he wants to.

The cabbie doesn't even look at her driving the young woman away from the large mansion in complete silence. Carol catches herself on the thought she misses Phillip, who can always chat with her when she wants to.

Mycroft hides his face in broad palms again, he is so much tired and the day's events don't make any sense, he doesn't even find the strength to lead Carol to the entrance. This day completely takes it out of him.

But the one problem now is hanging over the man. Isn't he supposed to keep the face or this girl makes him a complete mess just after a couple of weeks?

Earlier that day he ordered to check everything is prepared for her arrival to her flat, he did even think about installing cameras inside, but then refused. He has already interfered her freedom and didn't want to tempt this woman again.

His gaze falls on the small dessert plate with a piece of the cherry pie on it. His lips are graced with a ghost of smile when he gets it closer.

In the end, she spent the rest of the day cooking for him, then who he is not to grant her wishes.

Chapter Text

Christmas holidays come up so unexpectedly, that Carol fails even to remember about buying gifts. That's why exactly she finds herself in the mall with Molly trying to not to be trampled by the crowd of mad people who wasn't smart enough to buy presents earlier.

– Will you have anything?

Molly who's already covered with her gift bags from head to toe, still hopes to buy more of them.

– Not really.

– Don't you want to give presents? - seems that news surprise her so much, the woman almost drops all that she carries.

Carol tries to lead them out of this hell of a place, dragging Hooper by her arm. She's never liked so much people in one place at the time.

– I always have what to present, Molls.

– Are you talking about that gifts your colleague always give you?

– I would never! What do you take me for?

– For you, actually.

She opens her mouth to protest, but her friend is right as usual. Molly almost laughs at Carol's grumpy face.

– They're useless anyway.

– Some of them are not.

– Well, next time I'll give them all to you.

Legrand supresses the smirk heading to the entrance. If she wants to spend all the next evening on Baker Street with Mrs. Hudson, she should have one calm night today.

– So, Mycroft?

She loves Molly, really. But sometimes being with Carol requires silence, and and Hooper always blatantly ignores the point. Molly and Sherlock always feel themselves special in that way. Lack of silence and love for intrusion on her personal life are their strong points.

– What's 'Mycroft'?

– What do you mean 'what'? Your feelings, of course!

– What feelings? Don't you know the Holmes' attitude towards the 'feelings' thing?

Molly's face is darkened by a painful shadow, Legrand hates these moments, but sometimes can't hold herself back. Molly just needs more courage to talk Sherlock off. It would definitely does him good.

– That's exactly what I am talking about.

– But Mycroft seems different towards you. You're more like...

– Friends?

– More or less.

– Then I'm content with 'more or less'.

They're already on the street picking the cab to get them home where Carol finally can enjoy her long-awaited silence and finish with reports Greg always asks her about. Giving that she has a strict time limit for working with bodies, the medical examiner always neglects paper work in the favour of dissecting someone.

As soon as she's sure Molly is safe at her flat and not burried under her presents, Carol crosses her own one holding back the loud tired grown. Of course, she liked living with Mycroft at this posh manor, but it felt so lonely, it surely sucked up all the energy from the young woman.

Her own apartments look cozier in many ways and she must admit she missed it.

The darkness in the hallway is broken by her phone screen light. The incoming message from Sherlock. Should she already be worried or he's just overreacting again?

Mrs. Hudson makes me decorate.

SH

Carol rolls her eyes. It is definitely a disaster, but this is for the flat and Mrs. Hudson, not Holmes. She wonders, how long the old woman needs to realise it's useless to ask him about anything he doesn't want to do?

It's Christmas Eve, Sherlock. Have a mercy on her.

CL

Lights on my window!

SH

The girl doesn't get to text him back, when the phone rings. Who's the real drama queen here?

– Ask John to help you, Holmes.

– He's on a date. Mrs. Hudson told it's my turn to help, and I didn't even know we have turns!

Yes, he's definitely the youngest. The sudden urge to text Mycroft and explain him the situation makes Legrand halt in some kind of surprise. Some time passed from their usual joint evenings, when they discussed Sherlock, only in a good way, and Carol misses it too.

Only that time she saw what a caring brother Mycroft Holmed is. Not like one he used to show in front of others.

Maybe Molly is right and they became friends, or maybe she's not. Does he trust her? Otherwise the elder Holmes wouldn't allow her close around him.

Sherlock calls her name one more time, and the girl realises she's silent for quite a time.

– If you're not thinking about rescuing me, I don't want to know your thoughts.

– I will rescue you tomorrow, I promise, my friend.

She clicks the kettle button putting her cup on the counter.

– I don't need tomorrow or you'll have to save me from my brother as well.

Will Mycroft be there? He hates family holidays, honestly.

– I don't think your brother is a problem.

– Learnt to deal with him, huh? - the seductive tone of the man makes her choke on the air in her throat.

– I don't want to discuss my life with you, Holmes.

– Oh, I'm sure he's looking forward-

– Stop it!

Her embarrased laughter rings from the other line of the phone, while Sherlock's grinning from ear to ear.

– Okay, got it...I'll ask Mycroft instead.

– Sherlock!

– Yes, that's my name.

He instantly hangs up causing one more eyeroll. Carol doesn't know about the nature of her relationships with elder brother, but if this is a friendship, there will be three of them in it. Mycroft, herself, and Sherlock for mocking them both.

Anyway, all of this bacchanalia will be only tomorrow, so now she can has a little rest.

– Hello, everyone!

Molly breaks into the small room with a dozen of bags like it's nothing.

Sherlock is pacing around like awaiting something or someone looking nervous. She knows that he can't stand parties like this. Also, Carol is only here for two seconds, but the whole atmosphere already annoys her as well.

But she's glad Greg's at the party, his presence always brings in some sense of piece. She nods to him and comes up to chat.

– Should it be Christmas to drag you out of home, doctor, - Greg gives her a nice polite smile as he used to.

– You know I'm probably one of those people who's sitting home at Eve night reading Medical Journals, - the inspector hands her a glass of wine then passes one to Molly. – And instead, I'm heading out for the evening surrounded by friends.

John jumps in the conversation and draws their attention interrupting.

– Oh, please, you love those Medical Journals.

– True! But you all keep me so busy, I never run out of new ones!

Laughing at Carol's genuine outrage Watson instroduces a woman who seems to be John's date. She acts nervous in the new environment and Sherlock's pacing doesn't make things better. Mrs. Hudson is already a bit tipsy trying to invite her to in their chit-chatting with Molly.

Well, it's gonna be fun.

Carol catches Lestrade's glance on Hooper. Yes, she's worked on this girl's appearance today. But the thought that her friend wants to impress Sherlock only makes her a bit disappointed.

No matter what kind of best friends she and Holmes are, Legrand knows that he'll never change his attitude and opinion about some people. He would have to change himself first.

When Holmes' flashing before her eyes makes Carol sick, she makes an attempt to shush the man. Though he isn't happy much.

– Oh, everybody’s saying hullo to each other. How wonderful!

– Don't you dare ruining the evening, Sherlock.

– Do you really like that? All these fake smiles and useless greetings.

Legrand touches his elbow for him to lower his vocal pitch.

– You know, fake smiles are only at my father's dinner parties. So be nice, Sherlock, please.

What is the day, everyone is freakened out and it's not the New Year yet. – And now you're talking like Mycroft, - the man casts a quick offended glance on Carol turning away. – I don't like it.

When Holmes steps aside to the laptop the girl takes her place in the corner just to observe the rest of them.

While she hopes for Greg to start paying more attention to Hooper, the pathologist makes her talk with Mrs. Hudson.

– How is the hip?

– Ooh, it’s atrocious, but thanks for asking.

– I’ve seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems.

Legrand sighs. Well, it's Molly. Before the awkward silence hangs around Carol tries to save the situation leaning closer to the old woman.

– My favourite body was put together, you know, piece by piece.

– Oh, stop you two! - Mrs. Hudson instantly becomes a little bit sober.

The secong thing Legrand hates Sherlock for is humilating Greg with his comments no one asks for. Well, it's not actually humilating for Holmes himself, but saying things about his wife is not that the man should has done.

Unfortunately, Greg is not Holmes's only victim for today.

– I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him.

Oh, no, no, no. No way. Not today.

– Sorry, what?

– Shut up and have a drink.

Lestrade is becoming angrier with Sherlock's every word. Carol likes them all, but if it comes to fighting today, she will not hold the inspector back.

The next seconds pass like in the mist for her, while Holmes goes on with his grandstanding about Molly's possible lover.

– That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she’s seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing.

– Enough, Sherlock!

Carol's mother always said that having more than one friend is a difficult and ungratefull thing. You always should find time for all of them or action like a mediator between ones.

She comes out of her corner standing between Molly and Sherlock, what is already complicated giving how close those two are. The man narrows his eye not ready to give up yet.

– Or what?

Legrand hears Hooper sobbing behind her, and the wave of anger rises inside. Why he is always so annoying? Why just saying a compliment is never enough? And Carol is the one who protects the weak and makes enemies because of it.

– You don't want to argue with me, Holmes, believe me.

But seems he's just started. Sherlock is not the man who's often seen in a rage, but this angry sparkle is visible too well for the girl now. Means Legrand can get his any possible reaction.

– Just look at yourself. Always acting as if you're better then anyone else. But truly are not.

– Sherlock-, - Watson tries to protest, but the detective only waves him off 

– Give me a second, Ms. I-know-it-all. Let's deal with you. The man starts walking in circles around Carol, as he used to act with some of his clients. – A posh flat in the center of London, no pets, no partners. All this life is just for yourself. Wear no other jewelry, but just gold. Good taste in clothes made of good natural materials only. Chief medical examiner and you're only thirty. Knowing you I would say right connections, but you're naturally gifted.

Carol stands here like a mute not able to say a word. The young woman doesn't open up to people that often, that's why Sherlock's behaviour now looks like a betrayal. She's asked him once not telling it aloud if he someday decided to deduce her.

– Next, your work place. I know, it's perfectly clean, and there's never a blood spot on you, means you're used to order in everything from the early age. The only daughter of rich, but strict parents.
You don't see your brother often, so he doesn't pay you much of his attention. Since you doesn't speak about the rest of your family, they're too.

– Mrs. Hudson told John about your presence on Christmas here two weeks ago, so you celebrate alone, means some family problems. Father, I would suppose. Giving you're listening to me so patiently you got used to such way of talking. So, had your mother's death affected your father so much or he's always so terribly autocratic?

When his friend stops talking Jonh expects to hear the loud slap at least. He would definitely not allow such behaviour with himself.

All of them are freezing not believing their ears. Everyone used to see younger Holmes mocking Greg or even Mycroft. But Carol seems to be a bit special in that way. For all this time of their friendship, they didn't hear a rude word from him towards the girl.

Finally Carol takes a step back, taking her bag with her. Her face is calm and she's collected as usual. He'd even say, she learned that from Mycroft so their face expressions are quite similar.

– I hope you feel better now, Sherlock.

The man expects shouting as well and now just stands still with his hands in pockets not daring to move.

Molly is fighting back her emotions, but this time not about herself, but Legrand. Her shaking voice builds up tears in the young woman's eyes, that she's trying not to shed.

– You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always.

The detective's gaze wanders from Molly to Carol. Maybe this time he is out of line. What's really gotten into him?

– I'm sorry, Molly. And you-

– Don't finish the sentence, Holmes. Otherwise I feel guilty again. And now I don't want to, - Carol turns to leave smiling apologeticaly to everyone. – I'd better go. Merry Chritsmas.

When she goes downstairs the girl already hears Mrs. Hudson quarreling with Sherlock and John who actually helps her.

Leaving the flat behind feels like a huge relief, but when Molly appears next to her, she really feels guilty.

– You should not leave if I have to, Molls.

– Don't. They realy don't need me there. I will only make things more awkward.

Before Carol gets to answer the entrance door opens one more time revealing Lestrade who's holding his coat. Well, now she has an idea.

– Here you are, Greg. Don't you want to take Ms. Hooper home? - Molly tries to shush her, but it's no way to do it now. Especially with the inspector who already catches her way of thinking.

– Sure, I'll get a cab.

– What are you doing? - her friend seems embarrased and lost.

– Saving your Christmas obviously.

They have to shut up when Greg comes up to say goodbye and take his newly found companion with him leaving the medical examiner stand alone under the cold wind gust.

She's smiling absent-mindedly not paying attention on her unzipped coat and coldness that crawls inside.

– As long as you are drop-dead gorgeous in this dress, Ms. Legrand, do you want to catch a cold?

The woman turns back immediately to see Mycroft who seems to lift her mood up only by showing up here. He comes up closer to her and Carol finally notices his car not far from the curb.

– Mycroft! - she sees corners of his lips slightly going up and just can't hide her own sheepish smile.

– Did I succeed in surprising or frighteting you?

– Surprising is better, I guess. Don't you want to come in?

She points to the second floor on the flat.

– He will surely kick me out, so I don't want to spoil the party.

His words make her frown reminding about these stupid arguing with Sherlock.

– I'm afraid I've already spoiled it.

– I know, - his soft sympathetic smile reflects the same expression of his eyes. But Legrand doesn't even surprised; not having a single bug in his brother's place would be a great loss to the British Government.

– Did you have a mercy on Anthea and gave her a day off?

He almost laughs at her words.

– You seem very concerned about her, - the man waves towards his car. – Would you like to join me for dinner?

Carol keeps glaring at him, wondering about the sudden change of the topic.

She can easily imagine him spending Christmas all alone in front of the fireplace with a glass of whiskey and a slight pang of guilt and dull pain for him clenches her from inside.

Will her refusal offend him? Because it is what she is going to do.

– It's been a long day, Mycroft, so maybe another time?

– Sure, as you wish.

He lowers his glance only for a second, his eyes contain the hint of disappointment. But is he really sad or only playing coy with her?

She is trully exhausted and if she accepts his offer, Carol will only be a tired mess in a posh restaurant, that she is sure he will take her to.

– Mycroft, - she sees his tiredness too and now is more than convinced that all they need is a rest. – I do want to have a dinner with you, but it's already too late and I have plans for tomorrow's morning.

– Celebration plans?

Is it a matter of politeness or he really wants no know?

– Actually, I want to work, hmm...for a couple of hours. You know, without other staff and Sherlock, who always breaks in my office.

Mycroft chuckles softly and Carol can swear, he's the most handsome man right in the moment. In all that time she sees him smiling, not smirking, but smiling, it happens so rarely that becomes a kind of a miracle for her.

– Let me drive you home then.

– With pleasure.

Even busy crowded streets don't make the girl more energetic; inside the warm quiet car she feels herself like in another world.

Carol finally notices the gift bag in her hands. The one, that she's wanted to present Mycroft for the whole day expecting him to come to Baker street.

– I have something for you actually.

The man flinches from her sudden words switching his attention from the car window. In a second a black paper bag appears in his hand and he almost holds himself back from opening it immediately.

There is only the same of black color box inside, that catches his eyes.

– You can open it, if you want.

In this moment Carol reminds him of a child, who wants to see his reaction so much that even her own eyes sparkle with excitement.

The first thing he sees is two big golden letters on top of the box, capital "R" and "L" intervined between itself. The sudden realization hits him.

– Is it- wait?

After one of his work trip in France Mycroft discovered one of the many french clothing brands that specialises on sewing cashmere clothing. The first thing he bought that time was a really good brown coat, that completely satisfied his love of quality clothing made from natural materials.

As he learnt, Rolan Legrand was the owner of the brand and several sewing factories in France and some other contries.

Mycroft opens the box to see three cashmere scarfs in black, grey, and navy-blue colors. Not that he can't afford such things to buy himself, but his last trip was about three years ago and he also thought about buying some new items.

– Legrand...how could I not realise it from the very beginning, - Carol can give all her money away to see this puzzled look of his one more time. – Is he your-?

– Father, yes, he is. I've thought a Christmas gift would be a good idea to take advantage of my family connections.

She's watching him touching the soft fabric of scarfs along with a smile of pure content slowly appearing on his face.

– They're perfect, - the young woman catches his glance. – I owe you at least a dozen of dinners.

– It's a gift. You owe me nothing, - her low laughter fills the car. – I've got the same pleasure picking them out.

– It seems my amount of questions to you is rising.

– Really, Mycroft? You're the British government, doesn't it mean you know every single detail about me?

She does definitely win the lottery or it's just a true Christmas miracle. He doesn't reply her, keeps observing her face features with a strange focused glare.

– Wait, you really don't know. How is that possible? Don't you get the information about me as did with John?

– I don't think you'd appreciate my intervention in your private life. I've already paid the price for that.

Not thinking for too long Legrand's hand touches his fingers intervining them together. She doesn't give a damn about Holmes' reaction, giving the man is not keen on any physical affection.

Carol is content with the thought the elder Holmes is not alone at least at this part of Christmas.

Frankly, she feels wrong about her hursh words that day on Baker street. Sherlock's warned her about his brother's control freakiness, she should has been ready for something like this.

But right here she wants to reassure him, to show she can be his friend, the one he really needs according to her own judgement.

– You push yourself too hard, Mycroft. And you can inquire about some thing, I don't mind. Or...

– Or?

– Or we can discuss everything you want during the dinner. Choose your side then.

He chuckles slightly on her words. It becomes a tradition to plan their dinners and not attend them because something has happened. There is always something strange when all their dinners are failed by the unfortunate set of circumstances.

– It looks like a difficult choice, let me-

His phone captures his attention on a second before the familiar expression appears on his face.

– Did my brother insult you that bad? - his carefull glance makes her think only about one possible thing.

– What do I need to do?

– Irene Adler, - Carol immediately thinks about Sherlock's last case. – I am informed her body is at Bart's mortuary, I need you to lead us there. I'm texting Sherlock to catch up with us.

– I'm not working at Bart's, they'll hardly let me in.

– You're the chief medical examiner of Scotland Yard, of course they will.

Seeing Sherlock again this evening feels like a bad twisted deja vu. None of them drops a word and Mycroft is the one who feel comfortable with the situation. Although, he doesn't say a word, Carol know he's on her side.

Legrand pulls the sheet down the woman's body.

– That's her, isn't it? - Sherlock frowns and nods to the girl.

– Show me the rest of her, - as soon as it's done, he turns to leave. – That's her.

She and Mycroft both share a worried look and follow one of the Holmes to the hallway.

They find him standing in the corridor outside, looking out of the window. Walking up behind him, his brother holds a cigarette over his shoulder.

– Just the one, - Carol watches it silently. Seems she's a bit out of place. Touching Mycroft's elbow she draws his attention.

– I'll wait in the car, - he nods smiling to her as polite as he can for now.

– Carol!

The girl turns on Sherlock's voice, Legrand would say he looks guilty, if didn't know him that well.

– I'm really sorry for... the earlier.

– Forget, Sherlock. I know you talk a lot and, it happens, very silly.

She turns her back to go outside, leaving Mycroft choking on the laughter and his annoyed brother behind.

– What have you done to freak her out like this, brother mine?

– You know what, don't ask stupid question.

– Right, stupid talks are your prerogative.

Sherlock inhales deeply and then blows the smoke out again. The elder Holmes stands by his side without a word said.

– You care for her.

Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock, - he will not hide, that this silence makes him nervous.

– Is that true for you?

– I can hardly tell you now.

– She's dear for me as John is, - Sherlock takes a pause to exhale the smoke. – Even if I say terrible things to her.

– I'm sure she took it as your twisted way of expressing it.

Heavy silence drops between them while Sherlock takes his time.

– I'll give you an advice, Mycroft, care to follow it, please, - does his brother give him a brother talk? Or Irene's death affects him so much.

– If you don't care, then end it all. Carol's attracted to you, be carefull with it.

– Is she really?

He doesn't expect such a gesture from his younger brother, giving that he's always the one who mocks him about that topic.

– She always defends you when I tell something like...well, you know.

Mycroft goes on with keeping silent, seems for the first time he has nothing to respond. Besides he finds something nice in listening about Carol. Even from his brother.

– She gave you a Christmas present, didn't she? - seeing his brother's face expression Sherlock just smirks. – Look, Mycroft. She's kind, but she's not Molly who brings presents for everyone every holiday. Carol will not spend her time and money on things like politeness.

– I've got it, Sherlock.

It is not expected by Mycroft, but he doesn't feel any tension talking about Carol with Sherlock anymore. No envy as it was before, when the man didn't like their interactions with his brother and their witty irritating jokes. This conversation only leaves a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Sherlock is going to leave, as Legrand did before, only to turn back one last time.

– Just decide for yourself. How much do you care, Mycroft?

Chapter Text

Carol's week begins with at least a dozen of messages from John with Sherlock's photos in this funny little hat Lestrade gave him. She sends them to Mycroft with a mischievous grin already knowing what reaction it'll cause.

Newspapers are full of the latest events younger Holmes is involved in and even If she doesn't see him much these days due to solving cases and attending presconferences, Carol still sees the man's photos every morning.

Little does she know, this day is the last calm one before the living hell becomes true.

That day Lestrade runs into her office taking the young woman with him. The whole department is raised in alarm with staff running back and forth. They haven't heard from Moriarty for quite a time, until today.

When the inspector gets the call about missing children, it becomes obvious Greg needs as more people as it can be involved. Including medical examiners.

– Legrand, you're in, hurry up!

Well, since she's never worked in the field, it's time to start. She hears the inspector's talking with Sherlock on the phone who is already sent for. The worry takes over her and the whole mess around doesn't makes it easier.

When she arrives at the place, the crowd of passersby is there next to the huge mansion where kids were kidnapped from. Carol has to catch John and Sherlock in the distance searching above heads. She parks the car and quickly pulls out.

– I didn't think you had a car, - John comes up to meet her.

The black car is so big inside, that Legrand can easily get lost there, is right behind her back. While the girl acts like nothing wrong, the man is pretty surprised.

He himself will need more that one life to buy a car like this.

– I had not, borrowed for a day, - Carol gives him a wink, when Sherlock meddles in.

– It's not the question time, John.

Watson turns to shush him when accidentally catches Sherlock's intense look that the man gives to Carol.

– What does he mean? - the girl pats the doctor's shoulder.

– Drop it. Come inside with Sherlock, and I'll take a look around.

Whatever Watson sees they don't have time for small talks when two kids are waiting for the rescuing. In the end these two have always been a bit spaced out. He can manage this after case is solved.

Later, a couple a days after, Carol finds herself on Baker street again with nervous John pacing around in pure anger and Mrs. Hudson practically hysterical.

Searching for two children was much easier than trying to persuade the Scotland Yard not to arrest Sherlock.

– Stop, John! It's flashing in my eyes because of you.

Carol knows, if Lestrade is given the order, he has no way of not obeying it.

– And you, I see, do not care.

She and Holmes share a glance, then the man instead of trying to calm his friend down just follows him with his gaze. Usually peaceful, now John Watson frightens him.

– John-

– Don't John me! She's working there, she can talk with them about you!

– He's not a little boy anymore for me to look after him, Watson.

– Of course, you don't want to do this, it's not your reputation to uphold.

– I don't give a damn about my reputation! Otherwise I would befriend Sally Donovan.

They fall quiet, each of them thinking about their own. When finally the girl breaks the silence, John, in the beginning, doesn't pay much attention on their strange interaction.

– We can help you, Sherlock.

– I don't need that kind of help. Does Mycroft know?

– It's none of his business.

– He would not agree with it. And If I need your help, I'll let you know about it.

– Well, - John who silently observes them both now crosses his arms on the chest. – What the hell is going on right now?

– Ms. Legrand can take care of my situation pretty well, can't she? - the man looks directly at her, but she doesn't make a move or look at him back.

– What? What is he talking about?

– Yes, Carol, tell him.

– Stop, Sherlock!

– Tell. John. Now. Or I will tell him himself, and you'll now like it.

Carol takes a minute to sum it all up. Not that she likes telling things like this, but Holmes leaves her no other choice. She lowers her gaze watching at the carpet with such interested look.

– My mother was Italian, and...I assume, you know, how some things in that country work. Some illegal things.

Watson can be slow, as Sherlock used to tell him, but he's definitely not stupid. He can't mistake her unreadable glare. Memories flash in front of his eyes like movie scenes, when the realisation hits him.

– It's arschery.

–  Archery? Who would teach their child archery in the twenty first century?

– My father is quite...old-fashioned.

– My mother had italian roots...

– Why do you need to ruin things all the time? The family, honestly.

– ...means you're used to order in everything from the early age.

– The only daughter of rich, but strict parents.

– I didn't think you had a car.

– I had not. Borrowed for a day.

– I don't give a damn about my reputation.

– Some illegal things.

– God, no, - he rubs his face hiding it in his palms. – Your family is a part of an Italian mafia?

– Was. My grandfather was the head of one of the families who run the country from within. But these years are long gone. My parents didn't want his legacy, but me and my brothers still keep in touch with others families.

– Are your brothers involved?

– No, it's just business...sort of.

– Anything else I should know, before someone kills me?

– They don't kill, just help me...sometimes.

– Help? - she waves him off.

– Nothing serious.

– Why do you always need to be so...honest?

Sherlock keeps staring at the cell's ceiling, not answering obvious things his friend will fail to understand. Why does he need to suffer for someone's stupidity.

Now John can only predict how much time they will spend there, before Mycroft decides to drag them out.

To his own surprise after half and hour the police officer comes to get them.

– You can go now.

Sherlock appears in front of the young man so fast, he even flinches.

– Is my brother the reason the police lets us go?

– Your brother? - the look on his face is so confused, that Watson is taken aback too. But it can not be told about Sherlock whose broad smirk grows even bigger.

– Sherlock?

– Come, John, - he takes John's elbow to come finally out. – Lestrade's already waiting for us.

– It was you! There a month ago, - frankly, the last thing Carol wants is explaining something, so she just nods in approval.

– But how you could do this?

– Can't tell you, otherwise...you know, - Carol shrugs her shoulders, and Watson gives up a heavy sigh.

– Could I just rent a flat once? One bloody time, for God sake!

Sherlock grins, but it's a bad timing as usual, and Carol doesn't reply to him.

– Mycroft will know about it, - is he manipulating?

– He will not, if you don't tell him.

– So, you'd better tell him before me.

Why does Sherlock need to meddle in her business, when she hasn't asked him? She's the one who still asks his question.

– Are you still that little tattletale who reveals everyone's secrets? /

Or it is just her, who is afraid to lose Mycroft's trust?

– It just will be better, if he learns it from you, not third parties.

When police sirens become heard in the distance, Holmes waves Carol to go.

– You'd better go home, Car. They will be here soon and I don't want you to ruin your relationships with Lestrade.

The medical examiner nods to her friend and goes out of the room, but the girl doesn't really want to leave them all alone. She also can't call Mycroft. The last time the man didn't want to see his brother at all.

She doesn't have even a slightest idea about how it may end up, so the one thing that Legrand has is waiting at home for any news.

The sudden knock makes Carol set the documents aside. She hasn't seen Sherlock or John since their arrest, and the girl can assume that it can possibly be them at her door.

When she opens the door her first urge is to close it back, but Mycroft puts his hand on the doorframe, preventing it from being closed. Sherlock, who stands right behind his brother's back, comes inside.

Carol wants at least to ask them what the matter is, but their face expressions don't let her open her mouth. Sherlock's grinning politely as always when he has something on his mind, but sadness and anger are still playing on the undercover. Carol can only guess what is the reason for that.

Mycroft, in turn, is too composed and strict, giving that Legrand knows him a bit, she often sees him like that, when it comes to his business or someone's safety.

She plops down at the couch following Sherlock.

– Now we do need your help. You can be happy.

– Oh, I am. And let's finish with this funny game of yours.

– He knows.

Her rapid look meets Mycroft's icy one, and it definitely means nothing good for her. Something inside clenches in hope that it can possibly end up well for her. If they just talk.

– Fine, what help?

– Your people need to participate in covering Sherlock's death. In the moment and some time later.

She is aware of her friend's idea to fake his own death and deal with the whole 'Moriarty problem', and is ready to play her part in it. But the defense mechanism shows itself when elder Holmes starts pushing her harder.

– Don't you have enough people for this, Mycroft?

– As soon as you've decided to accept the rules, make sure you're capable of bringing the game to its conclusion, Ms. Legrand.

– Enlighted me, then.

She rolls her eyes, ready to listen for conditions, and when the three of them finally come up with the plan, her head is ready to explode.

Leading her guests to the entrance, Carol feels everything goes not the way she would like to. They shouldn't end up like this, she doesn't even know where she'll see her friend again.

– Sherlock, wait! A word.

He halts immediately almost bumping into his brother's back. She nods aside and they leave Mycroft stand in the corridor.

– What? - it is completely another Sherlock than was before. His eyes are darker and face features become sharper.

– I'm sorry you have to do this.

Despite her natural talent to witty comments, the girl has been spared by the ability to talk with people properly.

– You don't need to be sorry, - he draggs her closer in embrace, and Carol feels right like in her childhood, when her elder brother hugged her after a long separation.

– I hope evething will go smoothly. And...I will miss you. Truly.

– Thank you and the same is for your help, - she raises her glance on him half still not believing he's telling this. – How would I survive without my friend?

– We'll always be friends, Sherlock, because you know too much. And use it all the time against me.

He chuckles, but the last events finaly take over him, and the man becomes more composed.

– Can I ask you about a favor?

– Sure. Why? - his voice is quieter and lower and he almost whispers.

– Look after Mycroft, okay? My brother needs emotional support even if he doesn't admit it. I'm glad he has you.

– I will try.

She doesn't dare to continue, but after a second her curiosity takes over her.

– How did he take all of this...you know, when you told him?

– He wanted to talk with you, but seemed more or less fine, - hugging her shoulder Holmes leads her back to his brother. – Unfortunately, my brother used to be the one who rules foreign mafia groups.

When they reach the hallway Sherlock waves them off.

– I'm leaving you two. Don't kill each other, one death is more than enough, - the detective comes out shutting the door behind him like cutting Carol's freedom out, leaving her one to one with Mycroft.

Well, nothing scary will happen, if they try.

– Care to explain all of this to me.

All her shyness vanishes, and the girl raises her brows in surprise.

– What should I explain? My family's choice?

– It's not only your family's choice, but your own as well. Like your parents refused to be a part of it, you could do the same.

They surely can't discuss that question peacefully, or he doesn't want to understand her. Back to the day they met, Carol can tell they were more civil than now. Seems they really have different paths. And now they are fully parted.

– I've made my choice. You can not change it.

– To be with a bunch of killers, such a good choice for you, Ms. Carol.

– They don't kill, Mycroft. But the British govenment does that pretty well.

– The British government is the law-

– I'd prefer to be the victim of a bunch of killers rather than die with the law's hands arond my neck.

Carol tries to stop herself, but things seem to hit her nerves.

– They're my friends, I've known them for ages and I trust them.

– You don't trust me, then?

– You tell me. Are you sure I can trust you?

Mycroft is furious, but he deserves this. She will stand tall till can protect her people. Watson told her about their final meeting in the Diogenes club, and how he asked him about telling Sherlock he's sorry. But it doesn't change his earlier actions.

– Who will be the next to die, Mr. Holmes? John or me?

– Moriarty will never touch you.

– Oh, and who will you sell to him to gain my integrity?

– I didn't sell Sherlock, it has been settled between us both.

It can be a bit out of line when the young woman sees Mycroft's hurt look. She's never seen him that angry before, but she's also hasn't seen the man this vulnerable.

And she makes him like that.

Now when her rage finally vanishes, Carol does regret some of her words. Things get more serious, but she cherishes her relation with elder Holmes. Even if they both appear on the opposite sides and so-called friendship won't last long.

– I'm sorry, Mycroft, - Legrand swallows the lump in her throat, seeing that his expression still doesn't change. But the next moment he comes back to his previous self. The one that was before they both met. And watching it hurts her.

The man flinches and takes a step back, when Carol unexpectedly hugs him hiding her face on his shoulder. Her arms encircle his waist not letting to free himself.

He doesn't know what to do, all these news hit him out of blue. Mycroft couldn't let a thought about missing even the one of the gungsters, and now he learns the whole group was right under his nose for several years.

The constant worry for his brother's life and guilt feeling about dragging Sherlock into all of this don't let him have a rest.

After learning Carol is behind this Italian bunch, that really didn't do anything wrong yet, he realises he can't trust anyone around. The feeling that he has experienced from his early age now came back again.

And one of those people who shook his authority now is boldly hugging him, apologizing. But does she really have to apologize?

His arms press her closer to his chest and the man finaly relaxes placing his chin on her shoulder. His opinion on her doesn't change, but for the brief moment he allows himself not to think about possible consequences of his decisions.

– Promise me, you won't looking for them, - Legrand's voice sounds like from the mist.

– I can't promise you such thing. You forget, who are you speaking with.

– They're just children of my grandfather's companions; the same as I am. Nothing more.

He tears himself from her, still not sure how it is better to react. Carol heads to the counter setting a whiskey bottle from the kitchen cupboard. She pours them two fingers of it and hands the one glass to Mycroft.

– I couldn't suggest it could be you. You're just...I don't know, just you. I didn't believe Sherlock when he told me.

Mycroft possibly had that kind of look being a little boy. When you try hard to understand people intentions failing time after time.

– It can't be a secret group, if outsiders know your secrets. You know how it works and I don't want to explain more.

He drinks in silence, while the girl looks somewhere through the man. All-day events spun her head too. But much remains to be done.

– Ms. Hooper has kindly offered her help, so I hope you both will do a good job. You and your...companions.

– I hope so, - she muzes half-silently realising that her previous situation is in danger now, when Mycroft knows everything.

Damn her to remind Sherlock about all of this, when he can't keep his mouth shut.

– How many of you-

– You should meet my elder brother, Mark, one day. I'm sure you'll like him.

– Don't do this, Carol, - he comes close to her looking down at the girl. The way she changes the topic irrtates him, – Don't make youself my enemy.

– And what are you doing, you tell me? I will never tell a word to you about this, Mycroft, - she turns her head to see him, and the man meets that gaze of her, that makes her completely another woman. Not the one he knows before.

– I don't sell my friends, and I wish you knew all of this before, but seems it's better to let Sherlock tell everything. He's good at revealling others' secrets.

Holmes keeps standing, it's hard even to make a move to him. He keeps talking, but seems all to himself.

– For God's sake, I've let you in my house, in my-

– Stop this sentimental rubbish, Holmes! I thought you're not like this, - she renews the drink to him and herself. – Besides, your brother knows everything about me, and I'm still has his trust.

The silence drives her mad, but if the man wants to drag something from her, she won't tell him anyway.

– I'm not Moriarty, and not Irene Adler, Mycroft. I don't manipulate people or make him do things that they don't want to do. Nor I blackmail them, - she comes around him heading to the chair. – My friends have their jobs and families, but if I need a favor, they'll do it.

Mycroft nods to himself.

– Is this all that I need to know?

– This is all that I'll tell you.

– Fine.

Holmes's watching this woman stands with her perfect straight back to him, looking through the window.

– Your friends are lucky to have such talented and loyal leader, - she scoffs at this, turning back, and Mycroft notices a hint of cunning in her eyes.

– I'm not a leader. Just the kind of person men are usually afraid of.

– Afraid of?

– Indeed. Just imagine all their fears at once - an educated woman with a scalpel.

Mycroft gives up a short laughter and puts the empty glass on the coffee table.

Leaving that flat Holmes stands next to his car for at least twenty minutes, rethinking everything all over. Carol can be still close to him, but since this day he will keep a watchful eye on her.

Chapter Text

The whole morning Carol spends on pins and needles. The Holmes' plan should be perfomed today, but she still doesn't know how long it will take, and will it be as successful as they assumed.

When John starts messaging her with questions about Sherlock's whereabouts Legrand thinks of throwing her phone out of the window. The first promise she gave Mycroft that night, she would not tell Watson a word about it. The man is a part of the plan too, and his role must be done flawlessly, even if he's unaware of that.

Now she admits how hard it's for her.

She texts Watson to check at Bart's, if it's urgent, when she sees the incoming call from Sherlock.

She's not ready yet, and her hands are trembling when the girl picks up the phone.

– Carol, I don't have much time, so listen, - even if she had things to say she would not.

– Look after him...after both of them, it's important for me, - his voice shakes a bit. – And Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. Well, you'll be great at babysitting as usual.

The girl laughs nervously. At the death's door, even fake one, this man keeps cheering her. But surely he's not okay.

– I will, Sherlock, I promise.

He instantly ends the call. Now it's her time for action, and she has to be quick.

She unlocks her phone once again and with quiet clicking texts a message. Legrand is one of those who packs her things quickly, so after five minutes she's out of her office.

The black car approaches the entrance of the department, and the young woman sneaks inside the salon before it starts moving again.

– Bart's?

– Stop on the other side of the road.

– Yes, ma'am.

The tall man with dark, almost black, hair salutes her in a funny way. He leans on the seat in a laid-back manner.

– How's Holmes?

– Nervous. Both.

– You?

– Stop asking questions, Mark. Just...keep driving!

Her brother always makes her feel calmer with his jokes and mocking tone, but today is hardly the proper day.

They arrive at the hospital building, and Carol tries to catch John out in the crowd, who already must be there.

When the man's figure appeares somewhere near the Bart's she signals Mark to come out.

– There, come.

Watson's looking up, at the roof, where Legrands recognizes Sherlock, balancing on the very edge. They have at the least five minutes before the main action begins.

The girl drags her brother closer to the hospital for a better access, from the side where John can't see them. They are waiting for a couple of seconds, then Mark sends a message, and everything begins to move. She watches Watson still talking on the phone. The only thing she wants to do is turns away, knowing what will be the next.

Carol sees the crowd of people running towards the hospital the moment Mark drags her behind his back and turns to go further. Two minutes later he should be by John's side. The plan is running like clockwork.

She knows this moment minute by minute as it is replayed in her head like the previous evening with both brothers in her flat developing the plan.

The girl sees Watson sitting on the ground on his knees near Sherlock's body, almost fainting, her brother using the state of John now is holding his shoulders trying to lead him out of here. When she learnt Mycroft wants to involve her brother personally, she wanted to protest, but who was asking her.

Mycroft gave her clear instructions about not letting Sherlock's friend follow his brother, but giving John's stubbornness, they would need someone more persuasive to drag the man out of there.

When Mark appears in front of her again she almost flinches, realising she is standing on the one place without moving for the whole time.

– He's shocked. Someone will take him home, - Carol herself is still in a kind of shock, and the man touches her shoulder to shake her gently. – It's all over, you can breathe easier now.

– Your people have done well, - Mark instantly changes his glance behind her back drawing his sister's attention to the one who stands behind. – I should admit, I'm quite impressed.

Mycroft in his flawless three-piece suit, looking as arrogant as he could ever be, is coming up to them with his perfect posture. Her brother straightens and steps forward shielding his sister.

– They have, - knowing Mark for her whole life Carol is sure he can be as irritating in his fake politeness as the elder Holmes. Her brother is the second no none, when it comes to freakening someone out.

Two men keep gazing at each other intensely, Legrand is afraid it may end up a lot worse than a murder.

– I hope, you've had enough for today, Mr. Holmes, - Mark turns to the girl touching her elbow. – I'll wait at the car.

When her brother finally leaves, Mycroft comes closer, and the need to speak to the man becomes inevitable. No, she likes him the same, but from the last evening something has changed between them both.

– Tell me, Sherlock will be okay. That you'll take care of him.

– Of course, I will. He's my brother.

– Sometimes it doesn't change the beastliness of you.

Carol knows she shouldn't talk like this, but the fact that Mycroft actually judges her for who she is, makes her behave like this.

Mycroft's still silent and if he's finished, she has other work to do.

– I need to go, Mycroft. And I'm sure you too.

– I'm not done yet! - Legrand only gets to turn with her back. Is he going to leave her once without any guidance. – I will not disturb your people again...

– There should be 'if', - she sings quietly, and the man surely catches it.

– If you, in turn, promise me not to see any of them again.

Legrand raises her brow, taken aback.

– You do realise, what the hell are you asking for, Mycroft? - she shuts him up before the man gets to answer. – They are my family, what's left of it. I think I don't need to explain to you these family matters.

– Then my offer is irrelevant?

– Oh, really, how would you know? - he rolls his eyes at her snapping hoping she's finally done.

– Carol-

– I thought we were friends, Mycroft, but friends don't do that to one another. Sherlock would never do.

His face expression sharpens. Carol definitely knows how to get under his skin only with mentioning his younger brother's name. Holmes keeps staring at her while she's heading to the car until his phone rings with incoming message.

He has duties to attend and dealing with the histerical snobish girl is not a part of his plan. In the end he wishes she'd only be the Scotland Yard's chief medical examiner for him. The man doesn't like when things become too complicated, and Legrand only makes it harder for him, being so stubborn.

The evening is slowly coming to its end, and the young woman enjoys the quiet wood cracking in the fireplace. Seems, it was not a bad idea to set one in her brother's house. He has so too much free space to keep it unoccupied.

She doesn't feel relaxed in her apartment anymore after she's come back from Baker Street some days after the funeral as Watson's apathy switches to her. John is already thinking about moving to another place, and Mrs. Hudson makes it even worse with her never-ending sobbing.

– It's not fair, it will break him.

Mark sits by her side handling her a glass.

– He's a soldier, Carol. One of their most usefull habits is supressing emotions.

When things become so complicated, she can't even think about the past. She would take human body parts out of Sherlock's fridge again with pleasure. Even knowing that he's alive doesn't make her feel any better. He's still in danger throwing himself in the war with Moriarty's web.

– It doesn't make any good to him, though. I saw John there on the cemetery, he was devastated.

She takes a small sip and closes her eyes.

– Mm, single malt.

– It's easier to run the business along with good alcohol, - he leans on the back of the sofa, looking directly at her. – Does not Mycroft know it?

– Prefer not to talk about my private life. You don't share - I don't share.

– My private life is no secret to you. Only me and my work. But that can't be said about you anymore, - he points at his sister and winks.

– Disappointed?

– Happy. Our mother would want you to live normal life. At least you of the three of us.

Carol stands up from the sofa noticing the aquarium in the corner of the room.

– You didn't say, you have this.

Mark shrugs the shoulder seeing how one big fish swims towards the glass where his sister stands.

– This one likes me, - she leans down to watch it properly.

– He's probably swimming towards his reflection.

– Can't he just like me?

The man turns back to her smirking, heading to the table with glass bottles.

– How much does Mycroft know?

Carol takes a pause getting her act together.

– I've offered him my help with the Moriarty case, that's it. But he still thinks, I'm the leader.

He grins touching his sister's shoulder.

– Then I will not spoil the impression. And you need a break. Think about a vacation.

– I promised Sherlock to look after Watson, I can't just leave.

– You're not alone, if you still remember. Someone can do this for you.

She shrugs refusing to even think. They share a quick look.

– Or you can ask your boyfriend, for example.

– Oh, I know this tone of yours, Mr. Matchmaker. Mycroft is not my boyfriend. Now I hate him and he hates me, end of a story.

– You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite, - he says tauntingly.

– Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. I know a bit about Mycroft Holmes too, Carol. And when he accepts someone's help-

The girl rolls her eyes.

– Look at you two! You are becoming the second Holmes and Moriarty couple. One's spying before another one sees. Should I be worried?

When the man tries to say, she just cuts him off.

– I need to go. Save your..., you know, - Carol waves her hands in circles, while her brother holding back the laughter. – Matchmaking things for another time.

– Think about my offer!

He's still laughing, tries shouting her to the entrance.

11 p.m. and Carol expects literally anyone at her door, but Mycroft Holmes himself. Since they parted on bad terms, the girl she would not see him in the nearest future.

They share a long glance before the girl steps aside to invite him in. Lestrade swamped her with paper work while himself still tried to fight off some of journalists. Seems, Sherlock's death became the event of the season.

Mycroft is uncharacteristically quiet, he doesn't stop roaming arong the living room while Carol opens the bottle of wine for them.

– Not that I was preparing for guests, - she handles him one glass and takes her seat on the sofa. – And I have a lot work to do. So, please, be fast.

It hurts her to talk with the man like this, but it's the best decision she has for now. He opens his mouth, but says nothing, only watching down the liquid inside the glass. His hair is a bit messy and first two shirt buttons are open with no tie.

– Where is Sherlock? - her voise rings in the dead silence making Mycroft raise his head.

– I sent him...away from here. I can't tell you.

John doesn't answer her calls, and Mrs. Hudson always in tears, when Carol sometimes goes in. The woman said, she didn't touch a thing in their former room, and now there is a thick curtain of dust in the air.

Since Legrand gets more of her assistants, she spends her spare time with Molly, who has this sad knowing look on her face. Mycroft is tired, but all of that is quite depressing for Carol too.

– I'm leaving.

His face is as tired as her, and there is not a hint of surprise or displeasure while he's waiting for her to continue, just indifference.

– To?

– Germany. They offer me a place in the Max Planck Research Institute. It'll be better for me to change the environment.

– You promised my brother to look after John, - he is angry now or dissapointed. She can never know it by his face.

– My people will do this. If you don't disturb them.

– I could never imagine, you will be so irresponsible-

She slams the glass on the table surface, making it ring.

– If you want me to stay, then say it. Stop beating around the bush or appealing to my conscience! - Carol has enough of it. She used to think she means something to him, but she also not used to play the lead role in any kind of relations. – Just say it, Mycroft.

The man is staring at her with eyes wide open, she's doing the same back. Oh, she's so jealous of his stubborness even now, when she says it straight to his face. She, in turn, has nothing left of it. The second strong feeling is his cowardness.

– It's already late, Ms. Legrand. Both of us need a rest, otherwise we can say thing we'll regret later. Something is collapsing inside the girl, when Holmes uses her usual words in these situations against her.

He stands up without a word in response leaving the full glass on the table next to her one.

Carol feels disgusting. She remembers about the opportunity to leave the country, and now, when Mark's told about a vacation, decides to combine business with pleasure. But it looks like she's escaping her problems.

She stands to walk him to the entrance.

Holmes turns back in the hallway just in front of the door, almost bumping at the girl, who barely gets to move aside a bit.

She knows why he's here. That's the same reason why Carol not so long ago visited Baker Street just to sit there in silence. To get her act together before going on with the lie to tell. To be amongst the atmosphere they both are comfortable at.

Mycroft outstreches his hand to cup the girl's face gently. She almost leans in the gesture unable to hold herself back. When he brushes her cheek with the thumb she closes her eyes trying to prolong this moment.

...when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite

– How much do you care, Mycroft?.

– Mycroft...

The man leans closer to place a soft kiss on her cheek, that feels like a pure fire in a second.

– Have a safe trip, Ms. Legrand.

When her door closes after him with a quiet click, she still feels goosebumps crawling down her arms.

No matter how it hurts, this very moment she forbids herself to think about it before her plane arrives at Frankfurt airport.

Chapter Text

The fresh air sneaks through the open windows making Carol shiver. Her whole London flat is cold as the Arctic ice itself, but she really needs something usefull to finally wake up.

Legrand doesn't even have a proper reason for her failure to sleep and wake up like normal people do. She has no time difference with Heidelberg, it's only one hour, so it doesn't count. But every day of these two weeks as she came back to London she's practically a walking dead.

A quiet knock makes her rise from the couch, but the girl refuses to leave her coffee cup.

Molly, who's already at her door, comes in, dragging Carol in a bear hug that is surprisingly tight for this fragile woman.

– Easy, tiger! I'm still sleeping.

– Two years, and not a word from you! What were they doing with you there, that you didn't have time to text?

They come inside and Legrand tries to take a box with a pie from Hopper, who is literally buried under begs.

– Omg, it's freezing, - Molly runs to close the window. – But really, they did pay you quite well in that place. Why coming back?

The young woman finally takes all the bags from her friend and throws it on the couch.

– I prefer murders rather than scientific researches.

– Science's good.

– It is, but I like dissecting dead people, sorry. And I'm sure Greg is happy I'm back.

– He is, and not only he.

Carol pushes the kettle button and turns around facing smiling Molly.

– Really? How's he?

There is no need to refine who are they talking about.

– You know. You have a dozen of spies at every corner in the city.

– I do, but I'm asking you, Molls.

Legrand starts to unzip the garent bags, Hopper brought with her. She keeps looking through setting aside some of them.

– Well, Mycroft came by at Bart's for a couple of times to check some bodies.

– And?

– Looked tired, but happier than before. And posh as always. Have you two talked? - Molly sets the tea cup on the coffee table.

– Two 'Happy birthday' messages and two back from me, maybe a couple of calls from time to time...Maybe more, who knows, - she takes her phone starting tapping a message.

– Okay, keep your secrets, Legrand. Seems, I'm the only one who you didn't communicate with.

– He only kept me informed. And, I guess, your future date is a good reason to see him.

– Wait, what? - Molly shuts her eyes open in pure horror. – Are you texting Mycroft?

– I need an expert, and Holmes is good at it. I just need a fresh glance.

– When has you started consulting with him? Does he know, you're here at all?

Carol sends her a smirk close to smile.

– Sure, he sent Anthea to meet me at the airport. He still thinks I'm helpless.

When Molly's cup is empty, Legrand starts pack her things.

– Shower, now. Then try this, - she handles her a dress, coming back to her phone, when the woman leaves her alone.

My apartment. Urgent.
CL.

If it's urgent, I would know.
MH

Molly's date with Lestrade. I need your advice.
CL

Come on, I know, you have a day off. And I haven't seen you for ages.
CL

Fine
MH

Carol doesn't need to see Mycroft to know he's rolling his eyes. It was out of blue, but they have built a sort of a good friendship while she's abroad. In the end, Sherlock asked her a favor to look after his brother, and she should have done it even from a distance.

Not that the elder Holmes wants to spend his spare time with Molly, but that's Carol. The woman, that he now finds himself hard to resist.

When thirty minutes after the man is at her door, the girl's beaming like a ray of sunshine. Rushing to invite him in, she doesn't give him time to say hello, when Holmes finds himself dragged in a tight hug.

– Care to let me in? - his onesided grin grows to a smile, while Carol can't see it squeezing him harder.

– Shut up, I missed you.

– But you know I have work to do even during a day off.

– I have a cherry pie.

She lets him go and the man finally comes inside.

– Did you manipulate Sherlock the same way when you have become friends?

– Yes, I've always told him I had a fresh body to work on.

When they sit in the living room, Molly appears just the same time, dressed in a black knee-length dress that Legrand handles her before.

The man looks at her from head to toe with his critical glance, then switches his attention to Carol.

– First of all, she's dressed like a librarian. Is that you who picked this? - he is right, it's definitely not the right thing for this woman.

– You are the same size with Ms. Hooper. And I remember that beige pantsuit of yours.

– Sure, it may work. You're great Mycroft.

While Carol is searchimg through her large wardrobe, Molly leans to her whispering.

– Should I worry about Mycroft remembering your clothes?

– Really not, - the girl gives her friend a knowing look and handles her a suit. – Try it. I'll be there.

When she finally comes out of the room, both of them admits it to be the final decision.

– Now, the heels, - Molly gives a suffering look and touches Carol's elbow. – No, don't look at me like this. Mycroft, tell her!

While Legrand tries to take the woman back to the shoe closet, Holmes joins them.

– I'm afraid, Ms. Hooper, in that case you only have to obey.

– You know, - Legrand leads them to the shoes stand. – There's a trick to wearing high heels.

– Yes, I know. Don't wear them.

– Come on, Molly, it's your date, you can't go there like this.

Hooper turns to look at Mycroft as at her last hope in the world, but he only shakes his head with condescending smile.

Molly comes closer to pick something out, but Carol gives up a protesting sound while Mycroft's trying to shush her.

– What?

– Not those, - Holmes stands behing Legrand trying not to smile too much. He remembers their constant phone arguing about clothes, when the young woman was in Germany. Molly shrugs her shoulders in confusion.

– Not those? You have six identical pairs.

– They're not identical. That's black patent, black suede, kitten heel-

– Okay, stop, stop. I got it.

Mycroft looks at Carol who is already sorting her shoes, trying to choose the best pair. The sudden message draws his attention. He still has news to share with Carol, the one that he's not sure how she will react to.

– Sherlock is coming back.

– Excuse me?

Molly is already gone to meet Greg, and there only two of them in her apartment, finally one to one. Carol almost chokes on her tea, when hears this.

– I've told Ms. Hooper not to tell you before me.

She rubs her face tiredly.

– He's gonna kill me. Instead of watching John, I moved to Germany to chit chat with you and do stupid scientific researches.

– Your brother did well, - Mycroft does look offended, and she touches his hand.

– Sorry, not that I didn't enjoy our chatting, - she waves off. – Well, everything except researches.

Holmes grins and stands to leave.

– Anyway, he will need his time with Watson. But I'm sure Sherlock will let you know.

– Did he ask about me? - he presses his lips firmly.

– He did, but he really didn't need to. Your message tells him more.

Mycroft's office. Earlier that day.

– And Carol?

– What 'Carol'? - Sherlock gives up a sigh looking through John's file.

– I know that you know about her whereabouts, Mycroft. You two were 'the loveliest couple' according to Mrs. Hudson. And she's never wrong.

– We're nothing of a couple, - his younger brother keeps staring at him, waiting for a suitable answer. – She's been in Germany for two years, left practically after you're gone. Came back two weeks ago.

– Did you see her?

– Not yet.

– But this message that you keeps ignoring is from her, - Mycroft gives him an eyeroll. – Wait a bit, I'm already leaving. You can go on with not being the loveliest couple.

– Hmm, I'm not going to apologize.

– I must be a fool to expect this from you.

They stand in the doorway, like two years ago before she left the country, and Carol remembers that day in every tiny detail.

– See you, Mycroft.

– Try not to go anywhere further than the City of London.

– No promises!

He touches her shoulder in a goodbye gesture, and only now, when he's gone, Legrand realises how much she missed him. Messages that they exchanged during these two years were her truly blessing.

Every day she came from the Institute to finally check her phone and email. Her colleague were nice, but she missed London even if it was not her motherland. And she missed Mycroft a lot.

At first his attempts to tick her off grew into complaints against people he was working with along with small compliments to her. Carol, in turn, stopped arguing with him, and tried being nice. Finally they ended up texting in the evenings exchanging some advice from time to time.

The girl truly admired Holmes' life experience and was grateful, when he helped her with just a word from the distance.

But she has her 'missing' time with Sherlock as well, and despite everything, she's looking forward to see him.

– It's all very interesting, Sherlock. But the terror alert has been raised to critical-

– Oh, here you are!

Sherlock raises his head to meet Carol standing in the doorway of his room watching two brothers are stuck with some kind of a strange game. She comes up to the younger one from behind to drag him into a long hug.

She looks at Mycroft who's peering at his brother in displeasure and some kind of jealousy and gives him a smile.

– We have solid information, an attack is coming.

Carol heads to kitchen, clicking the kettle button. She still has her hope that if she opens the fridge there will be no fingers, eyes and so on. Even Sherlock can't mess the place so quickly.

– That's what secret terrorist organisations do, isn't it. It's their version of golf.

Legrand takes her place behind Mycroft's back, leaning on the wall to listen their conversation.

– An agent gave his life to tell us that, - the man sounds sad, and Carol notices it not for the first time. He appreciates that sacrifice and cherishes every life in his responsibility, and the young woman respects him endlessly for this.

– Oh, well, perhaps, he shouldn't have done-

– Sherlock! - he looks at the girl surprisingly, who's taken aback with his cynical attitude.

– What? Don't Sherlock me! I'm only two years gone, and, look, you've changed the side.

Mycroft seems angry at once, this tone usually means nothing good.

– Sherlock, mind your own business! - she comes closer to elder Holmes, and Sherlock instantly changes the spot of his attention.

– For the last five minutes he looks at you more often than before and now you're touching his back, when I'm raising my voice at him, - the man rises his hands up in irritation. – What happened to you two while I was gone?

– What do you have against your brother having a friend?

– He hates this words. That's all.

– Well, - she walks into the kitchen. – I consider your brother as a friend of mine. The rest is only his business.

– He's jealous, - Sherlock, who is believed to be lacks emotions, now is acting like a little insulted boy, when Mycroft starts speaking his mind. – John is going to marry, and we got along, so it's just jealousy.

– Shut up, Mycroft-

– Shut up you two! It's only two days, and you're ready to kill each other.

Legrand rubs her eyes and plops down at the couch near the wall. This day sucked all the energy from her. Lestrade was happy to see her again, but her assistants messed things around, that's the reason, she spent her whole day peering into the papers and talking to her no-good colleague.

– I'm not going to pull you apart, guys, okay. It has been a hard time for all of us. So we just need to move on, - she cuts Sherlock off, when he opens his mouth. – I said, calm down and move on!

Mrs. Hudson comes in with a vase of biscuits, shining like a sun, but noticing three grumpy faces changes her mood.

– Good Lord! It's not even twenty minutes pass, and you three already have a fight, - she slams the vase on the table and comes out to the kitchen. – The old times, honestly, and I should babysit again.

– Let's play something different, - Sherlock stands up abraptly heading to the table.

– Why are we playing games?

– Let's do deduction.

– My Gosh, you must be kidding me! - Carol goes to kitchen, that seems like her safe heaven place, but even there she can hear their witty comments on the hat they exchange.

It was always interesting to watch the two of them, something that you can do all day, rethinking your life and sometimes the lack of intelligence. Last two years made her change her opinion on many things in her life.
Someone too smart in one room with her makes the young woman feel miserable. And now two of them are here, and it feels like never going to end.

Mrs. Hudson shares a quick glance with the girl, silently begging her to stop this. But Legrand is all in observing the brothers' conversation.

– ...maybe he just doesn't mind being different. He doesn't necesserily need to be isolated.

– Exactly, - Sherlock stands with his back to Mycroft, and Carol can see their faces pretty well. Mycroft frowns in confusion.

– I'm sorry?

– He's different, so what? Why would he mind?

It is a split second, but the girl catches Mycroft's quick look before he comes back to his brother.

– I'm not lonely, Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson gives up a muffled sigh instantly turning from them, but Sherlock can see her secretly suppressed smile.

Of course, his brother is not lonely anymore, he's not blind. And, so be it, he agrees for Carol to be his brother's friend too.

– As you wish. How's you day, by the way?

He switches to Legrand who is a personification of a tired mess sitting on his couch, almost asleep.

– Thank you for asking, but I'm done speaking for today. First working day, - she stands up stretching her back. – Which is strange giving I'm working with silent people.

– Well, Ms. Hooper will be here any minute to assist, - Mycroft looks at his brother knowingly. – Let's drive you, young lady, home then.

When he comes up to the girl touching her shoulder, Sherlock's voice rings up again.

– What have you done with a 'Want a lift, Dr. Legrand?'

– Goodbye, Sherlock.

Carol smirks from that tone and leads the way to the entrance, waving her friend goodbye.

– You secretly admire them together, - Mrs. Hudson winks to the younger Holmes and leaves too. – Don't even deny it, young man.

The familiar interior of Mycroft's car is like a place of peace to the girl. With Phillip and Anthea silently sitting on front seats it's really a true blessing after this brotherly skirmish.

But the one thing still haunts her mind.

If, according to her own opinion, Mycroft becomes softer with her, then she starts feeling insecure in her own sort of way.

Being constantly around Sherlock was fine, he complemented her intelligence with his own. But after she's met his brother, the level of intelligence around her has risen up and the girl feels like she didn't fit it anymore.

When Holmes finally joins them in the car, she asks him immediately.

– Do you think, I'm smart enough?

He doesn't seem surprised, as is ready for a question like this.

– Enough for what?

Carol keeps silent not knowing what to say. Anthea turns to her from her seat to say something, but meets Mycroft's intense glance, and clears her throat awkwardly.

– I'm sorry.

– No, Anthea, it's fine, - Holmes turns to the medical examiner looking almost outraged. – What? Does not your assistants have a right to ask?

– Since you've been with them, they always ask something, - he leans to look at Phillip. – Both.

She laughs softly catching their attention.

– They're your people, Mycroft. Not machines for compliance with your orders. Besides, I don't think they do it any worse.

The man turns from her, stubbornly looking through the window. Now he seems like a little boy, who doesn't want to be explained the obvious.

– It's a sabotage, - he's mumbling. – And it's your fault.

Carol touches his hand and squeezes it slightly on his quiet grumbling.

– Hey, don't be so grumpy. They just participate in our lives more than before, that's it. 

– Then, you, please don't ask stupid questions. Of course, you're smart, everybody knows it.

He takes his hand from her grip, crossing arms on his chest, still irritated.

Legrand just smirks and catches Anthea's laughing gaze.

– Then let's keep it this way.

Phillip drives them out of traffic jam without a word, already knowing that he's lost his bet to Anthea. Who would know his boss' heart was not made of stone?

Chapter Text

1. Frankfurt airport. Two years ago.

The phone screen lights up with the incoming call.

"Molly"

Carol swears under her breath and sets the phone aside. It is so stupid of her to ignore Hooper, because of her resentment on Mycroft. Who didn't say those words she expected to hear from him, and it freakens her out so much.

Ms. Hooper's worried. You'd better answer the call.
MH

She rolls her eyes reading the message from Holmes. The girl keeps her eyes on the screen aware that he will text again, if she doesn't reply.

There's nothing usefull in ignoring me, Ms. Legrand
MH

You'd better have been so talkative yesterday.
CL

Mr. Holmes!
CL

Mycroft doesn't answer. It's better to wait when the girl gets over her anger. If Carol needs more space, she will get it, even if it's another country.

But something inside him protests at his own decision.

It's not my fault, you expected something from me, that I couldn't give you.
MH

I hope that teaches me not to expect anything from you in future.
CL

Legrand shoves the phone at the bottom of the bag, when her boarding is finally announced. At least on the plane's board he can't reach her with his ubiquitous messages.

2. Carol's apartment. Heidelberg. Two years ago.

This flat is nothing in comparison with her own one in London. The Institute doesn't think much about the comfort, and this place looks more like her dorm room twelve years ago.

They could give you a more spacious one.
MH

I don't think about the fancy side only. Stop spying on me!
CL

Don't want to talk to me ‐ don't answer. No big deal.
MH

Is he kidding? Why on the earth he's texting her? He made his position very clear the day before her departue, why talking to her now?

But she's going to use his advice. After one brief moment.

How's John?
CL

Ask your brother.
MH

Well, one problem is solved. But did her brother notice he's being watched? Or he used his connections to follow Mycroft's people back. She knows the right answer and her brother pretty well, and decides she can allow herself a harmless advice back.

This man needs to understand, he is not only one who can sneak in everyone's life.

Be careful, then, Mr. Holmes. Big brother is watching you ;)
CL

3. Heidelberg. Two years ago.

Picking which pair of shoes to wear is always her favourite part of dressing. But usually it ends after first twenty minutes of rethinking. After finally choosing one of the many, Carol hears this infamous sound.

This one doesn't match
MH

A slight smirk appears on her face, but she doesn't reply.

You're running late, miss.
MH

It does match. Otherwise I would not take them.
CL

And I have thirty more minutes.
CL

As you wish.
MH

After five minutes of silence, Carol decides he's not going to text again. But the phone rings with the incoming message one more time when she's finally ready to leave.

I've always liked the way you’re dressed
MH

Compliments, honestly. The woman rolls her eyes, but smiles at it anyway.

4. Heidelberg. Two years ago.

Your brother's the head of your group.
MH

One of her last calm hours before the new working day is interrupted by one particular man, and Carol can't decide if she misses him since his last message or not.

Now when he is in this topic again, Legrand can not deny this fact.

You're smart indeed. But very slow.
CL

He doesn't reply back, and Carol decides it's strange, cause Mycroft does never miss a chance to tell someone off.

Maybe, he's busy? But he probably wouldn't have started the conversation without ability to go on.

But at least one of two of them should stop snapping at each other and try to make peace. Because they propably stick together for quite a time with Sherlock being the center point for both of them.

Mycroft, I don't want to be on opposite sides with you.
CL

Mostly because of nonsence like this.
CL

When the man doesn't text her back again, she abandones her phone finally and comes back to the file one of her colleagues has sent her.

She's almost done with reading one of the articles, and is streching her back that aches terribly from long sitting on this awful couch. The sound of a message interrupts her.

Her lips are open in a content smile, and the girl finally heads to the kitchen, leaving the phone on its place.

It's mutual
MH

And throw this couch away. One day it will kill your spine.
MH

5. Heidelberg. One and a half years ago.

The loud door slamming breaks the silence of the small living room, and Carol sighs heavily leaning on its surface.

You're angry
MH

Really?! How did you know?
CL

Mycroft rolls his eyes deciding not to push the young woman further. He knows his pattern. Holmes needs just to wait and she will tell him everything.

One of these assistants called me a stupid whore. I heard it when was about to walk in the office.
CL

I don't think we should discuss your intellectual capacity. You have two degrees, 15 scientific articles and 3 published books on forensic sciences and criminalistics.
MH

Carol scoffs and leads her steps to the kitchen. A friend and a piece of cake is something that can lift her mood up.

You're the man can outsmart the Wikipedia, so I guess you must be right.
CL

I'm always right
MH

And always so modest.

How much time did she need to consider Mycroft Holmes as a friend of her? Half a year? Does it mean Carol succeed on her way?

Mycroft.
CL

?
MH

Thank you ;)
CL

With that she sets her phone aside aware of the fact, that Mycroft won't text her back.

He didn't. But little does she know, the final decision not to message Legrand back takes the man at least six attempts to text the proper answer.

6. Germany/France. Half a year ago.

For all this time she's been living in London no one from Carol's distant relatives was on her way. But when one day among the rest of the mail she finds an envelope with a small paper card inside, too familiar card, the heavy shiver of unidentified feeling rushes down the girl's spine.

– Oh, no. No, no, no.

She keeps mumbling under her nose, until finally the horror grows into anger. Starting pacing in circles around her living room, she sends a message to one of the scientists, who's running the project with her, to tell she's taking a week of.

You will blow a hole in the floor, Ms. Legrand.
MH

She's fine, when Mycroft calls her by her name. But when he starts all his 'Ms. Legrand' things, she can easily identify his mood that suits some of the sutuations.

There are three of them Holmes usually has.

The first one is when she calls him out of his behaviour and does something he has not wanted or expected to.

The secong is a long gone one. He called her like that some time after they first met, but before they both got to the first name basis.

And the third is her favourite one. When the man wants to cheer her up with his own ways, since he's not used to any kind of supporting people with words.

Another time she knows it by the tone of his voice. But with the messages Carol has learnt to guess.

It's an invitation card to my father's annual dinner party.
CL

He usually has an enormous amount of rich arrogant people in his mansion for one night. And Legrand hates being there even for a couple of hours.

Don't want to attend?
MH

Do you like being amongst smarmy, self-righteous, posh morons listening what a good person you are, while everyone knows it's not true?
CL

That's what I do every day. But fair enough.
MH

Why don't your brothers fill in for you?
MH

They don't talk with him. Long story, don't mind. One day I will tell you.
CL

Hope so.
MH

Carol smiles sadly. Moving to France to her father only for a week literally hurts her. Too much awful memories at once in one place. Leaving Germany with its dull introverted scientists, small flat and Mycroft, who somehow has time to watch over her even being in another country, feels almost like leaving home.

Anyway, she has no choice. Carol gets her tickets and starts packing some of the thing she will need there. No matter how much she wants to delay the moment, she has to be at this party.

Familiar streets hit her with a new part of childhood memories, pleasant and not, but Carol finds a kind of nostalgia, while a taxi is taking her to hotel.

There is no way that she will stay at her father's place, so hotel seems more or less accaptable.

After the girl finally takes a shower and decides to order some meal in her room, somebody knocks at the door making her jump on the bed. Can she just be left alone for ten minutes?

When she comes out ready to tell somebody off there is none to be seen. It's only a box with a dark green ribbon on it at her door in the middle of a deserted hallway.

Something inside her screams not to open it, because secretly Legrand knows where this box came from. Sighing heavily the girl lifts the top of it up revealing the black smooth full skirt dress.

Carol is sure it suits her perfectly, so she decided not try it on. The same small card lays inside, there with the calligraphic handwriting of her father time of the begining is written on its surface.

She's being in the city only for several hours, and is already being watched. If things go further like this, her father will overdo Mycroft himself.

This thought make her smirk. Holmes was silent from her very departure when he wished her a safe flight, and that's it. Nothing more. Of course, he must not text her every five minutes, but Carol used to it so much and now feels a bit abandoned.

But everything the girl should do now is take her time and try to relax before she will get cramp in her face from constant fake smiling.

With every second Legrand feels herself more and more disgusting. All these people are looking at her from head to toe, and it makes her feel naked and defenceless.

Every year her father sets a dinner party to invite the richest people of the city to talk business and show off with his achievements. The only bloody reason she's here is the promise given to her mother.

The woman that loved her father so blindly made her sware Carol would never abandon him. Unfortunately, now she regrets about it, but the promise is the promise. And Rolan Legrand keeps reminding her of it every year manipulating the girl's love for her long gone mother.

Carol knows her own pattern of attending events like this. And when her victory lap is done, she finds herself stuck to her champagne tall glass sitting in the corner of the hall.

There is nothing that can possibly grag her out of here. Nothing except her own father with two middle-aged ladies who are surely wearing too much makeup even for the evening party.

– Carol, darling, - the man gestures her to come up from his spot, and Legrand barely holds herself back from rolling her eyes. All this people make her sick along with the sparkling and shining atmosphere around, and it's not even the end of the day yet.

With a fake sweet smile she appears in front of him ready for another number of stupid questions about her well being.

– I was telling these two ladies about your job, honey.

No, no way. Her father always finds a reason to humilate her love for her job in front of others. And not only because he wanted her to become a lawyer, when she was younger.

She takes a deep sigh and make herself ready to the same reaction she meets every year. The girl is sure these people don't even know her name.

– I'm a chief medical examiner, - seeing their eyes go wider pleases her so much. – You know, working with people. Dead ones.

These two share a terrified glance, while her father becomes angrier with her every word.

– But that's is so...not ladylike!

She needs to get out of here, the sooner the better.

– Indeed, - she turns to see her dad and back. – I think you've had enough of my company for today. Because now I have business with that ladylike glass of wine.

Legrand heads to the waiter getting to her final destination point, when the firm grip makes her halt and wince from the sudden dull pain.

– What the hell are you doing?

Rolan is furious and only now she recognizes some of her typical features in him. But this time she will be hard to shut up.

– I'm doing what I want to do. And you! What are you playing at?

– All of them are respected people, and you're making a fool of me, Carol!

– Because no matter how hard you try, they will only see a man who married a killer, - she turns to leave him, but it seems like a hard case. – And they're respected? By whom? The same morons you've invited here?

– Watch your language-

– Don't make friends with rats. They bite.

The next moment her father intends to respond someone meddles in, definitely saving the day. Before Carol hears this voice, she sees his father putting a smile on his face as he used to, looking behind her back.

– Can I steal your daughter away for a second, Mr. Legrand?

She can't believe her own ears, when the girl turns to face Mycroft himself standing right in front of her, flawless as usual.

Holding her happiness back Carol is watching the man drags her out of here, somewhere to be lost in a crowd.

When they are far enough from someone who can disturb them, she throws her hand around his neck as tight as she can.

– What on the earth are you doing here? - Holmes stands still not daring to move.

– Saving the princess from the old mean dragon, I guess.

– You've done well, then, - Legrand tears away looking in his eyes now.

It definitely worth cancelling all his meetings and arriving in another country to see her shining like a ray of sun.

– You look gorgeous, - his soft tone is so not like him, but the girl likes this tiny change, and the man's charm makes her blush intensely.

For God's sake, she's thirty one and now is acting like a teen girl. But why not? She's sick being amongst boring adults, and since today is ruined anyway, the girl can do what she's wanted for so long.

– So, - Carol takes a look around. – How about sneaking out?

– And damage your relationships with your father?

– We can't damage what has already been damaged years ago, believe me.

Mycroft notices that mischievous sparkle in the girl's eyes and he will lie if says he doesn't like it. In the end, he has only one unscheduled day off, so the man will use it fully.

When they come out of the building, it's already dark outside, and the girl decides to walk them around, just to show some childhood places.

– Wait!

Carol takes her high heels of and touches the ground with her bare feets. – Remember the day, I will unlikely do this again.

The man next to her scoffs and continues walking down the street. This late evening is warm and surprisingly quiet, and Mycroft feels himself like in his younger days, when spring breeze passes through trees voliage and his head is perpectly epmty.

He was never be sentimental, but it's seems like this situation allows him to be. Even if no one needs to know about this.

– You promised to tell about your brothers.

Carol shrugs her shoulders looking further.

– They refused to be a part of my father business, so he banned both of them. End of the story.

– Sounds too easy.

– For my dad?

– For your family.

She knows what he is talking about, but somehow guesses he's changed his mind about that issue for the better.

– My brothers were always on the side of my mother's family. You know, with the family business, - Legrand still can't voice it to the man, but he understands, – And my father wanted to be known as an upstanding citizen. We just didn't fit in.

– He has his twisted way of 'upstanding', I'm afraid, - the smirk on his lips draws her attention.

Both of them take a turn to a narrow dark street.

– Are you sure, this is the right way?

– Pfft! It's me, of course I'm sure.

They don't talk while walking until Holmes catches Carol staring at him directly.

– Interesting?

– I just...It's so strange, I feel like I've known you for my whole life.

– Like it? - they both are grown up people and are supposed to behave the certain way, but Legrand sees this uncharacteristicaly sheepish grin of the man, and can't miss the wave of adoration.

– A lot.

Mycroft smiles sadly, but doesn't respond. He doesn't like feeling grateful towards someone very much, but with this woman and her kind words he is getting used to it. At least no one said it to him before.

– This way! - she points on a bakery house, which is lit up with a hundred of electric warm lights. But when Carol wants to go inside, she notices that Holmes is still standing on his place.

– Don't you want to come in?

She can't stand here more with the baking smell radiating from behind the closed doors.

– I'll be waiting outside.

She nods awkwardly and leaves him. The girl doesn't know exactly, but seems to have an idea about such a decision of his. So she puts on a polite smile and comes up to the storefront.

After a dozen of minutes she finally shows up in front of him with two paper cups and a small paper bag.

– What's this? - Mycroft tries to peer inside, but Carol handles him his cup, and gets him under the elbow to drag further.

– Come, I have something to show you.

His hand is warm and skin on palms is colloused, and Legrand squeezes the man's fingers and leads them toward the nearest park. Despite the late hour there are some people on the benches, the girl comes somewhere deep in the park where no one can interfere.

– Here, - she comes towards the trees and Mycroft sees a small gazebo hidden in the bush. – I've found it some years ago and I know it's abandoned all the time.

He humms and comes inside searching for a proper place to sit.

– So, tell me something, - Carol sits beside him handing a glazed doughnut to the man.

– I'm telling you, that I will unlikely eat this.

– Why?

The girl looks at it as if it is something wrong with the pastries and takes a bite of her own.

– This, - he points on the doughnut with a hint of both disgust and secret desire. – Is not appropriate for my diet.

– Mycroft, you don't need such strict diet! You've already had physical training, and that's pretty enough for you.

– I am predisposed to gain weight, and don't argue with me!

– But don't you think that skipping both breakfast and lunch will help you to lose some. Just one doughnut won't hurt you at all.

He furrows his brows and crosses arms on his chest looking like a hurt little boy. Carol smiles warmly putting her hand on his arms. It has never been hard for her to be patient and persuasive with this kind of people.

– Mycroft, you are not fat, - she catches his outraged look. – Or chubby. You're tall and well-built, and I don't see anything wrong with you.

Mycroft Holmes is taught to never let his guard down, life itself has taught him. But these subtle attempts of this girl to sneak around his boundaries sometimes make the man laugh and be terrified at the same time.

Cause no matter how hard he tries to stay alert and focused, Legrand will definitely win over him.

He is a personification of power, but something inside him switches off, when this young woman appears somewhere near his surroundings. He way it has never been before.

– Just the opposite, I find you quite handsome.

And here she is, doing it again.

– Am I suppored to be flattered?

– You'd better be, Mr. Holmes, - Carol looks as innocent as she can with her onesided grin, still holding his doughnut to him, when he finally takes it from her hands.

They both share a comfortable silence sitting there all alone. The whole night is still in front of this couple, and apart from their multiple conversations they have a million reasons to keep quiet together.

– Really! My mother is used to some weird short forms of my name.

A half an hour passes and Mycroft finds himself in the heated conversation with the Carol. Her laughter is ringing around the gazebo, but the man for the first time has nothing against person being so loud.

– I'm looking forward to the day she runs out of them.

– I can never understand the nickname thing. My name is quite short, it's hard to shorten it more.

– I have also never noticed you using nicknames on someone. Including me. It's just a common practice to anyone I communicate with, except my subordinates.

– You have a beautiful name, Mycroft. Why should I use a nickname instead of it?

– Beautiful name, - he echoes on her words, but the girl isn't sure if he's irritated or content.

– It is indeed.

– And 'Carol', - Holmes turns to catch her eyes out of the darkness. – Is it short for Caroline?

– No, it's just Carol.

He casts a suspicious glance at her, smirking, making her throw her hands in a surrendering motion.

– Fine, fine, - the sly smirk grows on her lips. – Carol is for Charline. It's a french name, not that it's hard to guess, right. But I've changed it after my age out.

– You shouldn't have to. It's lovely.

His last words are so quiet, Mycroft almost murmurs.

– I'm content with what I have now.

Legrand turns to face the man smiling to him openly. She can't explain why, but getting the same smile back now is a matter of great importance.

Holmes, in turn, is not quite sure if she's talking about her name or some other things.

– Are you?

Legrand nods and leans to lay her head on his shoulder, no matter how bold it's of her. The night light wind showers her bare skin with goosebumps and when Carol feels the broad palm on her shoulder pressing her closer to his heat, she almost melts into the gesture. For the first time during this day she feels secured.

Charles de Gaulle Airport. Half a year ago.

– Don't you think about coming back?

As soon as they both enter the airport building, Carol feels a tight knot in her chest. Mycroft has duties to attend and she needs to come back to Germany the next day.

He didn't sleep last night, they separated at 4 a.m. and the man started packing, while Carol took a shower and checked her phone with a million missed calls from her father and messages from Mark about how he's proud of her for escaping.

Legrand had no idea her dad has called her brother, but surely it was funny and awkward.

– I can't just leave now.

– Yes, you've told the same to your brother before leaving London.

The girl elbows him and laughs. His spying habit and teasing are something she is going to miss badly.

– The project hasn't finished yet, - they stop at the seats row. – But if I had this opportunity, I would come back, Mycroft.

This is the moment when she should leave him.

– Then, till we meet again, Ms. Legrand.

His warm smile encourages her, and Carol throws her hands arond his neck.

She's going to miss him. Damn, she really is. Is this kind of missing withing the limits of friendship? Or she's already taken the next step?

Which she wants so very much by the way.

– Do you want me to miss the flight?

These words sound like a confession, and Carol wants to lean back, but is abrubtly drugged in a quick tight embrace by the man, where she melts immediately.

– It would be lovely.

What the hell are you doing, Legrand. Trying to push his private boundaries for youself?

But the girl needs to wait only half of a year to finish her business and finally come back home.

– Six months and Anthea and Phillip will meet you at the airport, I promise.

– Have a safe flight, Mycroft.

She tears herself from his welcome hug and takes a step back. Carol has to do it now, or Mycroft will miss his plane for sure.

– I'm looking forward to have you back.

The man turns away leaving her stand there on the edge of crying. Legrand has never liked long goodbyes, but every time one and the same thing happens.

Maybe, they both are right and she only needs to endure this. In the end she will be home so soon.

Chapter Text

The sun radiates heavily for this time of the year, while Carol is heading to Baker street. The door clicks and she's counting the stairs till reaches Sherlock's living room. The whole place smells with Mrs. Hudson's tea herbs.

– Oh, here you are, darling!

They occupies chairs opposite each other, and the girl's appearance looks like interrupting their chatting. But casting a quick glance at Sherlock she can say, that he's glad she's here.

– Good morning, Mrs. Hudson, - she puts her bag on a couch taking one of the cups from the tray. – You're sad, Sherlock.

The detective stands up starting pacing abruptly.

– Are you running out of bodies to cut up, that you're already here, - he glances at his phone screen. – At 1 p.m!

Mrs. Hudson nods her to the man and makes herself out giving these two a little of spare time.

– John called me to help you with preparations.

– He didn't.

Carol halts on her way to the kitchen sink turning slowly back.

– He knows I'm capable of that kind of things. But Mycroft, in turn, always needs to control.

– Fine, Mycroft asked me. You happy now?

Instead of the answer she gets only silence. Legrand puts the cup into the sink heading to Sherlock's table to clean it up a little.

– Mycroft is your brother. It's okay for him to worry.

Noticing that the girl is sorting his books into small groups on his table, he rushes to stop her.

– He's a bad influence. Now you both mess my things around, - she takes a step back in a playful manner giving Holmes more space. – Oh, don't look at me like this!

She knows her friend pretty well not to see this obvious panic in his eyes. And Carol admits, it's charming. Funny and charming.

– Like what?

– Like I'm already dying.

– Sherlock, marriage is not the end of the world. You will have just one more official relative.

– I have you and Mycroft. You two are quite enough, believe me, - he takes the last book away from her. – Speaking of the devil, how does it feel being a traitor?

Carol tries to elbow him, but he dodges.

– Sherlock, I haven't betrayed you.

– Two years and my brother had you as a friend. What's next? Will he marry?

Carol halts in front of him making the man stop. The grip on his shoulders is firm in order to prevent his next movements.

– Look. No matter what will happen or who will marry, Sherlock. You won't be left alone, got it?

Holmes swallows hard trying to pretend he doesn't care.

– We are family, no matter what.

– I don't need all of you to baby-sit me, Car.

She makes the face remembering her own words, as Legrand gives him a slight shove.

– Oh, you do so! Now, let's take a look at your suit.

o0o

She hasn't seen so much people since her father's parties, and Carol found herself hiding from a photographer for the whole day. While Sherlock is trying to escape the bride's relatives, the girl finds her safe place next to Lestrade.

– Don't be so grumpy, detective.

Carol plops down Greg whose mood is getting down with every second attending this wedding. He casts grim glances at Molly and Tom from time to time who can't stop kissing right in the middle of the hall.

– Disgusting, huh?

Legrand doesn't like the boy, and had a talk once with Molly about this Sherlock's twisted copy. She likes Lestrade a whole lot better.

– I thought, you're happy for her.

– Hooper is my friend, yes, but look at him, Greg! -  the girl is sure the inspector gets to know his every detail. – And he hasn't opened his mouth yet. Although I don't think it would be smart of him.

Lestrade chuckles and Carol is glad she can lift his mood up even on a short period of time.

– How was you date with Molly though?

– Pathetic.

– Oh, sorry to hear it, - she keeps peering around. Everybody wanders waiting the party to start.  – Maybe you two can try again later?

– I don’t think it’s gonna work.

Legrand shrugs her shoulder.

– We'll see, - noticing Sherlock in the distance now clinging to his phone, she leaves Greg, tapping his shoulder sympathetically.

Holmes is the first to give a best man's speech. But for now, giving his face expression, he's talking with Mycroft.

– No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the “night do,” as you so poetically put it.

Carol comes up touching Sherlock's shoulder, he doesn't need to turn around to recognize it's her. She knows he's panicking otherwise he would not call his brother just to fill the time.

– What a shame. Mary and John will be extremely d...

– delighted not to have me hanging around.

He looks at the girl, who is already near him, but far enough not to break his private talk.

– But someone particular will not.

The silence on the other side of the line tells him, that now he learns one more weak spot of his big brother.

Mycroft sighs heavily.

– I have nothing to tell you, Sherlock.

– Hmm, I think, you have.

– What do you mean? - he keeps silent, but then this message hits him. – We are not dating, Sherlock!

– Are you sure? Because she shines like a Christmas tree when hears even a word about you. Carol thinks she hides it well, but I know her better.

Seems silence is the best answer when Mycroft is confused, but he really sees no reason to persuade his brother. It will only make things worse.

– I don't discuss her with you.

– Don't, - a small smile ghosts his lips. – Just be as caring as you can. Because I know, you can.

– Enjoy your party, brother.

The next moment Myrcoft hangs up, but Sherlock's still smiling. When Legrand comes up to him, he flinches a bit lost in his thoughts.

– Something happened?

He looks at the girl with a faint smile and shrugs his shoulders.

– Gross! Mycroft's just being himself.

– Have a mercy on him, he's your brother.

– Is that the same thing you used to tell him about me? - she clings to his shoulder.

– Drop it. Don't you want to talk about traitors?

– What?

– Mary Morstan, - Carol points at the woman chatting with someone. – You two seem to become good friends.

– Oh! Come on!

He growls making himself free from her tight grip.

– No, I respect your choice, she's smart and funny. Why not?

– Stop it, woman. Make yourself busy!

– Hey! - he slaps her hands slightly, and she does it back. – Sherlock, stop.

When her laughter and their romping draw too much attention, both of them have to go to their corners.

– So happy it isn't awkward.

– You think?!

flashback

The sudden phone ringing makes Mycroft look away from the set of documents on his work table.

Setting a quick glance on the screen he picks it up immediately. Carol never calls if this is not important.

– John asked Sherlock to be his best man! - he winces from the loud voice in his ear.

Yes, important indeed.

– Wasn't it predictable from the very beginning?

– He will need to write a speech. Molly and Mary called me ten minutes ago.

– And which part are you struggling with?

– Both. Hooper asked me to help him, and then Mary told he's started folding napkins.

– It's just his own method of calming down. Don't take it too hard.

She sighs heavily.

– I'm just worried about him, Mycroft.

– Then take a break, go cut open a body. Besides, - he sets the papers aside. – He's good in speeches. It's always his showing off time.

– I don't doubt it. I just think that he'll tell everything that comes to his mind instead of what he needs to say.

– It might be interesting. In its own way.

– Yes, and you will not witness it, but I.

Her sarcastic tone makes this rare smile appear on his face. But it’s good that no one sees it.

– Then try to remember all the details. I'll ask you later.

The other side of the line is dead silent and Holmes is not the man who miss such things.

– What?

– Don't you want to come? - he shakes his head slightly on his thoughts about positive answer.

– I don't attend weddings, Carol. I'm sorry.

Is he apologizing to her? The girl supresses a smile and gives up a fake disappointed sigh.

– Such a pity. I've hoped you'd dance with me.

– Carol-

– I'm sure you dance perfectly. Like everything you do.

Legrand definitely needs someone to shut her up in such cases. And how on the earth her self-control is any better than Molly's one when Sherlock is around.

Mycroft furrows his brows and squeezes his phone tighter.

– I'm not perfect, Carol. Nor I want you to think of  me that way.

– I know, but anyway, - she rubs her eyes tiredly before hanging up. – I wish you good evening..., and till the next time.

Short beeps sound like an echo in his ear making his usual headache appear again. What he's supposed to do now?

end of a flashback

o0o

– Don't catch a cold.

Carol turns to see Sherlock who takes his place right next to her on the porch. Seems, the girl is not the only one who's decided to sneak away from the wedding party in its full swing.

Dancing is not that funny, when you're alone in a crowd. The last thing that made her smile was Molly dancing with Lestrade, finally abandoning her dull boyfriend.

– Since when do you care?

– Since my brother's asked me to look after you.

Her eyes widen in suspicious surprise.

– Has he? - the man shrugs the shoulders hiding the smirk.

– Why shouldn't he?

– Maybe, because he doesn't care about such things.

Legrand feels him piercing her profile with his sharp gaze.

– Yes, and neither do you.

– Excuse me?

She turns to meet Holmes' eyes shining with childish mischief. He's not blind and can see things, that Carol doesn't want to admit even to herself.

– You love Mycroft.

– None of your business! - she crosses arms on her chest.

– It is!

Loud music still bangs from inside of the hall, while both of them fall in a dead silence. The girl just keeps breathing chilly night air hoping Sherlock drops the topic.

– He will turn your life in a fairy tale or in the worst nightmare and you won't be able to do anything. He is a possesive man. Think twice, Carol.

There is no way she can deny her feelings now, when younger Holmes's already known this.

– No need to tell me this, Sherlock. I know what I want for myself, - the sad small smile appears on her face. She could never know, she would give up to feelings this easy. – I will not leave him.

Holmes scoffs shaking his head in confusion.

– You do love him really.

– Love is a strong feeling, Sherlock. Mycroft will never admit he's in need of it. But actually it doesn't change anything for me.

– Want to be his new goldfish?

The girl doesn't answer, and he feels this tense silence with his skin.

– Disappointed, Sherlock?

– In the end, you're no better than John and Mary. Way too predictable.

– I'm afraid I've always been like this.

An unexpected wave of anger covers Holmes as he squezzes his hands in tight fists till the knuckles turn white.

– You're right. I am disappointed.

He passes her and while his slim figure disappears in the distance, Carol closes her eyes in exhaustion.

No matter how she likes John and Mary as a couple, spending the whole day with such amount of people is too hard from her.

The sudden gravel rustling breaks in her thoughts, and the black car appears not far from the building when she opens her eyes.

The wave of joy covers her from head to toe, and when elder Holmes steps out of it Carol walks to him halting in front of the man. Onesided embarrased grin hides in the crook of her lips.

– I was told, you didn't attend weddings.

– As far as I can see you're not at the wedding now, - he smirks half-heartedly, and Legrand shoves his shoulder slightly.

– Don't be so grumpy, Mycroft. It was nice...and a bit sad.

He casts a glance aside saving the same expression.

– What? It's a wedding, what do you suppose me to say?

– Sherlock would tell, you've become sentimental.

– I'm a girl, I'm supposed to be sentimental.

The latest talk with his brother and a hint of displeasure vanish ones she sees Mycroft.
He leads her to the other side of the car opening the door for Carol, then takes his seat next to her.

– When we first met, you was a cinical snapping know-it-all with a scalpel, - she gives him a look, he would even say the look. – Not much has changed, by the way. But you've become...softer.

– As have you. By the way!

Mycroft glances away suppressing the smile.

– Don't tell Sherlock, he'll mock me for the rest of my life.

– You too.

She squeezes his palm with her cold one.

– Settled.

– Settled.

Carol's phone rings with a message and she swears, she will throw it away oneday. Giving Mycroft's expression he fully supports her.

– Duty calls?

– Greg has a day off, so we'll meet with someone stubborn and cinical, - she shoves the phone back to her hand bag.

– We?

– Indeed, - Carol winks and moves forward to tell the driver the adress. – Your car is a way more comfortable than a taxi.

o0o

– A young woman, middle twenties, was found here about a half an hour ago.

Dimmock points on the body spread across the pavement. Carol finds him and other officers in slums on the outskirts of the city, where the inspector called her to arrive.

Mycroft follows the medical examiner like a shadow.

– Since when do you bring outsiders to crime scenes? - the detective is staring on the man, who looks odd in the abandoned place like this.

– Since I'm a chief medical examiner, - Dimmock is staring at her intensely. – Can I get started?

– I can ask Anderson to examinate instead of you? - the man looks exhausted himself and these night time murderers don't help him, but he keeps standing on his own. – He's a forensic and has a more cooperative mood.

– I think I still can distinguish strangulation from gunshot wound, inspector. Unlike Anderson.

When they reach the body, the girl lowers near it, trying to see something in the pitch darkness. Mycroft tries not to look at the body, but his curiosity wins over disgust. He hasn't seen Legrand working on a crime scene yet.

She doesn't need much time to start talking.

– Two stab wounds to the chest. One's under her collarbone, another one's made directly to the heart, - Carol raises her head looking at the detective. – She died within twenty minutes from the blood loss.

– The weapon?

– You are looking for something with a sharp tip. Although the wound is not incised laterally.

Dimmock looks confused, but it seems to be his usual state.

– So a knife with a pointy tip and dull sides?

– I didn't say a knife.

Anderson who comes up to their group crosses his arms on the chest. The inspector stops writing down something, and shares an emabarrased glance with Mycroft who is grinning like a cat seeing all of this.

– Do I need a tatoo on my forehead that says, 'What does it mean, Legrand?'

– We are looking for an SPT, - Anderson takes the gloves on speaking knowingly. – A sharp pointy thing.

– I'm comfortable with that, yes, - she raises up, lifting her bag from the ground. – I'm done here. Deliver it to the mortuary, Lucy will see it in the morning.

– Leaving the dirty work to your assistants, Legrand, don't you?

She halts at her place turning to Anderson.

– To you, Phillip. You are a tech, go through the trash, find me some evidence.

He's smirking until the detective points to trash bins.

– It's an order, Anderson. Hurry up, we don't have the whole night.

The inspector walks them to the car leaving the embarrased forensic behind. Mycroft is still silent, observing all of this unfamiliar scene with an interest.

– So, what about that thieves group you've been talking about on Monday?

– Does Lestrade tell you everything? - Carol casts a glance on him. They are not used working together, but this small talk hopefully will break the ice piece by piece. – Well, we know their next spot, will put our efforts on their arrest.

The three of them stops not far from Holmes's car.

– Do you need some help? - the man smiles to her, but doesn't answer. – What? Everything could happen, at least you'll have me.

– You don't carry a gun, doctor.

– No, but I'm fantastic with a scalpel, - the man gives up a short laughter.

– Pretty true! - the detective nods to Mycroft leaving them alone, heading back to the scene.

– He likes you.

Carol flinches from this sudden phrase from Holmes.

– What? No.

– He is acting indifferent, but he's just sheepish around you.

Carol arches her brows and turns to the man with a smile. If it's not for Mycroft, she'd think he's jealous.

– Sheepish? Am I not that friendly?

– Well, I don't think, you realize what an impression you make showing off at a crime scene every time.

– Every time! You've seen me for the first. And I'm not showing off!

– And what was that, you assume?

– I am smart, and they're not.

Holmes chuckles giving her a glance. Legrand gives up throwing her arms in a defensive gesture.

– Fine. You don't think I'm friendly with police officers. Or just friendly at all?

– You are plenty friendly...

– Thank you!

– ...most of the time.

– Okay, - she shakes her head in embarasment.

–  You're like Sherlock.

– What?

– You are arrogant.

– Confident! - she corrects him.

– See? Told you.

She holds back any other arguments and finally gives up a laughter. Carol does definetely not expect such reprimanding from the man next to her. But surprisingly his words don't offend.

When the car stops near the building where her apartment is located, Legrand catches herself regretting this evening ends.

For the whole road she was thinking about Sherlock's words and her true feelings towards Mycroft. Even after spending the day with Mycroft back in France she knew, that she's already crossed the line of just friendship with him.

But unfortunately to her, this man tries to avoid any kind of relations that can possibly leave him vulnerable. And if Carol somehow would voice her feeling to elder Holmes, he would never let himself his emotions be spoken freely.

Her thought are like a vicious cycle of rethinking possible scenarios and Legrand feels her head starts aching soon enough.

The car halts and Mycroft makes a move to go out and then open another passenger door. When the girl's hand covers his fingers he turns towards her.

– I can walk home by myself from here, - the man nods quietly and closes the door. – Thank you for coming along.

Her sincere yet a bit sad smile makes Mycroft suspicious, but he smiles her back anyway.

– Don't you think about working at your full capacity? - she frowns not completely understanding his intention. – Let your assistants do the paper work and come back to the autopsy only.

– Are you worried about my work, Mycroft?

His concern makes her laugh, it is something she could never predict in him.

– You looked happier when we met, before...all these things with Moriarty started happening.

– I thought I was 'a cinical snapping know-it-all with a scalpel' when we met? - Carol is sure the man can recognize her real emotions behind her cheering attitude.

She was thinking about his words too, but refused changing something, as Sherlock would always bother her while she's working. The more she learns about Mycroft Holmes the less spare time she has. Spare time and safe living.

– Think about it, Carol, - he takes her hand in his slowly brushing her knuckles with the thumb. – Things get way more serious. For all of us.

– Good night, Mycroft.

The young woman leans closer placing the small kiss on his cheek, and Mycroft instantly feels blood rushes to this spot.

There she's right. He worries too much about things that are none of his business. But at the same time if Carol is a woman who had cracked a bit of his facade he's created, he will worry about her as much as he wants.

Chapter Text

Carol hears her assistants start whispering as the door to their ground floor bangs loudly and the next moment Sherlock along with John appears at the mortuary entrance.

She still hasn't talked to Holmes since the wedding night, to be exact it's Sherlock who hasn't. Seems his dissapointment is something hard to deal with.

During this week their only way of communicating is messages when the detective texts her about murders and Carol keeps ignoring it.

– I have a body for you.

– I've already have one.

The man goes further into the room starting to pack her bag, that Legrand usually takes to crime scenes, with necessary equipment.

John stands awkwardly at the door awaiting the right moment when he has to meddle in, if something goes wrong.

– Sherlock-

– What? - he turns to Watson then to the medical examiner when John nods to the girl.

– I said 'no'. I'm not going with you.

He examines Carol and the girl expects nothing, but a number of deductive comments from the man.

– A bun, - Legrand supresses the urge to touch her hair. – I don't like it.

– Do you think Mr. Murray likes my hair in his lungs? I doubt that.

– I think he wouldn't mind. Besides, Mycroft likes you hair-

– Come on, Sherlock! Stop bringing your brother in every conversation.

John is ready to interrupt them, but then they see Lestrade in the doorway holding his coat.

– The murder, Legrand! - he looks at Holmes with outrage. – Didn't you tell her?

As the inspector goes out leaving the girl batting her eyes at Sherlock, Holmes smirks to the medical examiner.

– Told you, I have a body.

– Shut up!

She grabs her handbag from his hands heading to the exit. Watson winces from the loud sound of her angrily clicking heels and follows her silently, while Sherlock continues mumbling behind his back.

– I'm not going with her in the same car.

– Shut up you two and get busy, for God's sake! Acting like giant babies.

When they finally arrive to the scene police officers have already occupied the place where Carol notices a van with its open back doors. Donovan and Anderson are wandering around the car waiting for the boss.

– What do we have here? - Greg turns to the sergeant.

A male body's sprawled on the bottom, his dirty shirt is coloured with different stains, which Legrand finds not easy to identify from the first glance. She takes a closer look while Sally starts describing her version of events.

– Blood spatter indicates he was shot inside the van.

– Carol? - the young woman takes on a glove raising the side of the victim's shirt.

– Ketchup stains and blood. Three entry wounds, two exit. Search for the bullets.

Anderson is taking some blood samples from the walls. To her surprise the forensic is out of his usual temper and Sherlock is silent too standing aside, but close enough to participate in the conversation. Frankly, she still doesn't understand, why he's here. Here is nothing that the department can't solve itself now.

– This is strange looking blood.

– Because it's not blood, Anderson, - Sherlock's comment makes the girl smile to herself remembering running the similar case when she first met Holmes.

– What is it then, Freak?

– Paint, - Carol reaches the body's arm raising it up, – The same as on his hands. Must have painted something when he was shot. The blood is only on his clothes.

She stands up looking around the van.

– Yeah, paint. I see flecks of avocado green, Tiffany Blue-

– Enough, Picasso.

Greg smirks to her aware of the fact she can lead them astray if he doesn't stop her.

Sherlock gives his hand on the way back to the ground that she ignores. There is nothing that she can't do in 5.5 inches heels.

– Do you need me to search around?

Lestrade shakes his head weaving to other officers to deal with the rest.

– Sherlock will take you back to the department, - she wants to argue, but notices the inspector rubbing his back.

– Lower-back pain, Lestrade, - she flinches away from Holmes jumping from behind her back.

– Ah, too much of desk work.

– You know back pain is the second most common ailment in Great Britain.

Lestrade sighs heavily. Here both of them are, being the iconic duo for two more minutes. His only fear is that Sherlock and Carol will fight right in front of his eyes giving their latest change in the relationships.

– What the most common ailment? - Holmes leans closer to her violating her private space. – Your fun facts?

– Headaches!

She turns to the man speaking through greeting teeth wondering why she's answering him at all.

Greg stands next to the couple ready to break them up if it needs to be done. Someday he will regret his attempts for reasoning them.

– Easy, easy, guys. I don't need another corpse here, - Holmes and Carol keeps staring at each other intensely, and the inspector finally gives up when Sherlock opens his mouth again.

– Does your brain ever get tired, Legrand?

– No, why?

– With all the useless information...

– Useless! Is that you who are telling me this?!

John comes up as fast as he can dragging his friend with him to prevent something that all of them will regret later.

– I'll take him on Baker Street, - he nods to the inspector receiving the same gesture back.

– Did you see it?

– You just need to dissect someone and then you'll be okay.

Greg embraces her shoulders and get the girl out of here. He will not leave her back in her office knowing her head is busy with other stuff now.

As much as Legrand likes going to crime scenes, the long-desired silence feels much better to her brain. It's one of the reasons why she has such an amazing relation with her siblings. Each of them has the opportunity to be alone and at the same time doesn't suffer from this.

And that's why this is ironic she can never stay in silence in the room full of dead people.

– What do you think? Did she kill herself?

Carol rolls her eyes on Sherlock's words who seems to appear out of nowhere. Will he still be there if she puts a big barn lock?

Legrand also recognizes two more different kinds of steps, but doesn't want to turn around.

– Stay out of my business, Holmes, - she starts leading the line from one collarbone to the solar plexus with the scalpel. Yes, she definitely misses this part of her work.

Suddenly she realizes who another two people are and straightens her back.

– Both of you actually.

Hearing a low chuckle from behind she sees Watson's taking his usual place in the corner of the room. She turns around completely to face Mycroft who is standing at the entrance not dare moving further to the table.

– Really, Mycroft? You sent your brother to mess my day from the very beginning.

– I hoped he would drag you back to your previous life.

– Oh, he did. A lot!

When Carol comes back to the body Sherlock already stands by her side.

– So what's with her? - the man nods down to the body.

– I'm done talking to you, you had enough time to see yourself.

– And yet...

This is always a challenge. He who asks her about a case and the girl who keeps talking her ideas aloud. Sherlock asks her leading questions aware that it's a better exercise for her brains.

– The bruising and deep-tissue injury around the ligature exceeds the circumference of the noose.

– Fifteen words when one would do.

– Not a suicide. She was strangled by the rope and posed in the chair.

– In the chair? - John clicks the kettle button on her desk. She was against it, it was mortuary primarily, but with Sherlock snooping around she had to agree on a kettle at least.

– That's how she was found.

It takes her about a minute to actually realize that they still stand with her.

– What are you all doing here?

– You know, the stress hormone cortisol supresses your immune cells ability to activate telomerase. You need plenty of rest.

– You are keeping me stressful, Sherlock. So why?

The man casts a quick glance on his brother.

– Mycroft has a stupid habit of asking me questions that I don't want to answer. Since these questions goes for you-

– You're invading the only place I can work alone, - the girl gives up a struggling smile. – How wonderful of you both. No offence to you, John.

Watson salutes her with a mug of tea.

– Look, guys. I understand that I cling to you, if I want it or not, for the rest of my life, - Sherlock gets to hide his smile till Legrand notices it. – But let's respect the space. I don't spend my day on Baker Street nor I wander across your office, Mycroft. Got it?

Elder Holmes nods silently more to his own thoughts, than to Carol's words.

– Otherwise, I'll move to John and Mary. Sorry, John.

– What?! It's not fair.

– You think?

Mycroft finally tears himself from the wall and heads to another chair, where Legrand usually sits during her work.

– Keeping your brain busy aids recovery. Everything is connected, - the man glares at her with his silky gaze as he used to look at Sherlock. – Mind. Body.

– Mind. Business.

– You are my business.

Everyone stares at him instantly and it makes the man uncomfortable as he realizes his mistake too late.

Carol has never seen him in the state like this. He, who's always so strict and collected, now blushes like a teenage boy.

– I'll wait you outside.

He nods to Legrand finally getting his act together and heads the way out of the mortuary with his posture too straight even for him.

– My brother for some time has a tendency to melt in your presence.

– And you brazenly use it.

Sherlock shrugs his shoulders heading to the entrance as well, but turns in the doorway.

– By the way, Mrs. Hudson is looking forward to see you. I believe for another useless chit-chatting.

John waves goodbye at her.

– Don't make Mycroft wait too long, Carol.

She only shakes her head returning to the body.

– Nonsense! And now I'm stick with them.

As soon as she plops down Mycroft in his car she starts feeling her hands aching of constant holding her medical instruments. She tries to massage them, but seems her every bone is screaming from inside.

– What did you want to ask Sherlock?

Carol just wants to finish this day and that's all.

– You two.

– What do you mean?

She looks down at the man's hands as he's cradling her own slowly massaging her fingers. It feels so good to your aching muscles, she almost moans.

– Your quarrel. He doesn't tell me, so I hope you will.

– It's okay. Sherlock's just acting like usual him.

– Was this about me?

She raises her eyes on him immediately not quite sure what she should tell him. Of course he knows. He won't be Holmes otherwise.

– I...erm-

– Is there something that I need to know, Carol?

His warm fingers are brushing hers and this is quite distracting for her wandering mind after a busy working day.

– It's okay, really. No need to worry.

– Are you sure? - his glance is piercing her eyes with such intensity that she almost gives up.

– Mycroft, look, - Legrand squeezes his fingers. – Some things are left better unsaid. Especially if these things are between me and Sherlock.

– Well...if you say so.

And now he's upset. Obviously after time spent together he expects nothing but frankness from the young woman, at least as from his friend. Seems Carol decides otherwise.

She herself is tired to death longing for nothing more than a good rest. She hates not telling Mycroft the truth, at least because he deserves it. But how on the earth she can share their conversation with the man.

The girl leans closer laying her head on the man's shoulder. She just needs a minute of piece and now finds it in him.

– You haven't told me how did you like the wedding?

– I've told it was nice.

– But not if you liked it.

He doesn't show any reaction to Carol's pose, and she decides he's okay with that. Chilly wind blowing outside makes her melt from Mycroft's body warmness. With every second she feels sleepy.

– Well, Sherlock solved the case and made quite an impression with his speech. So yeah, I liked it. Also, - she leans back to see his eyes. – He assumed Mary's pregnant. Doesn't it sound nice?

– Not sure. I don't like children.

– I am talking not about children, but about Mary.

Mycroft's confused gaze makes her go on with her thoughts.

– I don't like them too, Mycroft. But I think it will make Mary happy.

He scoffs and looks at the window.

– And what will make you happy? - Carol takes a second to decide.

– A dog. I've always wanted one, but my father didn't like its fur everywhere on his clothes.

– So few to become happy, isn't it?

– Yeah. Mark has promised me a puppy since I was twenty. But now I have no spare time and he's busy.

– Indeed. Busy being the head of the Italian mafia group. No time for puppies.

She shoves him slightly to his side.

– Hey! It's not funny. I would like you to know him properly. Sometimes you remind me of him.

– How old is your brother?

– Thirty five. And the youngest is twenty one.

The car passes by millions of night lights and the way they're shining mesmerizes the girl. She obviously doesn't notice this tender look Mycroft gives her while she can't see.

– You've never told me about your second brother.

– I don't like to talk about family much. Something should stay in secret. But one day I will tell you.

Her cheering smile lights a tiny fire in the man's chest and he feels his heart swelling, but Holmes tries his best not to show it.

– Will it be the day when you finally tell me about your talk with Sherlock?

Legrand rolls her eyes laying her head back at his shoulder.

– We'll see.

– Did you bring my case with you?

Carol handles a thin file to the detective sitting down on the couch. John gets her a mug of hot tea that she accepts with a friendly smile.

– Thank you.

– So what is it?

– What do you mean? - Holmes tears his gaze from the laptop looking embarrased.

– Your message. You've texted me it's something important to tell.

– I haven't texted you, - the man checks his pockets and freezes. – I don't even know where my phone is.

John puts the vase with cookies on the coffee table.

– How couldn't you notice-

– Sherlock, - Mrs. Hudson calls him from the door nodding him to Mycroft standing behind the woman. – And this is yours.

She takes his phone from her apron pocket putting it on the table in front of Carol and John who instantly turn towards her.

– Wait, did you text me? - Legrand is staring on the woman and then back to Holmes. – From Sherlock's phone!

The old woman checks them out pointing at Mycroft.

– Your brother shows up here third day in a row. I've decided if this young lady would be there, he would finally get what he wanted and finish with all of this nonsense.

– You could just call me and not steal Sherlock's phone.

– You're hard to drag here, besides I had grown tired of you two waltzing around each other seems like forever.

The woman turns to leave but stops near elder Holmes talking with him in a loud whisper.

– By the way, Izzy-

– Don't call me that, Mrs. Hudson.

Carol corrects her by interjecting. Watson switches his attention immediately to the girl.

– Izzy?

– It's for Isabelle, her middle name, - the old woman grins widely feeling quite good about herself.

– Mrs. Hudson!

– It's for your own good, girl.

– Oh, thanks for nothing!

Legrand turns with her back crossing arms on the chest. When Mrs. Hudson is out, John finally speaks his mind.

– Was it just me or she tried to matchmake both of you?

– Shut up, John.

Mycroft takes his seat in Watson's chair while he's sitting in the sofa with the girl.

– At least now we know your middle name, - the doctor takes her cup from her. – Not that I know a lot about you.

– I'm not that interesting as you may think.

– Mycroft doesn't think it's not-

– Sherlock! - several voices interrupts him and John nods him to the entrance signaling to go out.

The man frowns looking at his friend and Watson rolls his eyes.

– I think Mrs. Hudson needs our help downstairs, Sherlock, - noticing how nervous Mycroft is, the doctor stands up to drag the detective out of the room.

He jumps from his seat dodging from such persistent John.

– Ok, if I say I agree with you can we move on?!

– We are moving on, Holmes!

Carol almost laughs at the scene, but gets serious the moment she sees Mycroft's confused exterior.

– Did something happen?

He gets his act together sitting straight in the chair.

– I-hmm-wanted to ask...erm-

– I assume we passed the point when you choose your words with me this properly.

The man supresses the urge to smile and takes a deep sigh.

– Just spit it out.

– My parents wants to meet you at the family Christmas holiday.

Carol thinks she misheard. She didn't know them and neither they did her, only see each other once.

Straight to the point, but not unpleasant.

– Are they sure? - she wants to slap herself at the face for this stupid question.

– They pretty are. Mother doesn't say anything without rethinking.

– But you know, that we have at least three month until Christmas?

He hesitates for a second, but then Legrand admits him relaxing a bit. The girl hates the fact she can't see the real Mycroft Holmes while others are in the room with him.

– I was afraid your already had holiday plans, - he twirls the umbrella still nervously. – But then I contacted your brother-

– You called Mark?! You could ask me.

– For how many times you've told that I should have met with him? What happened now?

The girl sighs leaning back rubbing her face tiredly.

– I just...didn't expect both of you to cooperate so quickly. How did it go?

– Actually, he was talking as if he'd known me for ages, - Holmes looks at her from head to toe. – You look stressed.

– I just don't want what hit me more.

– Don't bother yourself, mother will like you.

– I hope so about you and Mark.

When all issues are solved Carol thinks of what John said some time ago. Does Mrs. Hudson really matchmake them?

She is used to it from her usual talks with her brother who acts the same. But it was never before brought on public. Obviously even Watson wasn't ready for this.

The silence becomes awkward, the kind they didn't have earlier. It is when Mycroft finally raises from the chair to say his goodbyes and leave her in the same silence.

Fortunately, Sherlock and John appears the next moment with the last of them trying to cover the embarrassment.

Chapter Text

The door shuts behind John and Sherlock's blurred gaze meets Mycroft sitting in the stairs. Now he just wants a rest and to wipe this smirk off his brother's face.

– Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?

– What are you doing here?

– I phoned him, - Watson looks less angry now, but still shows his displeasure very clearly.

Holmes rushes to the living room when hears strange sounds coming from upstairs. Anderson who seems as abashed as yonger Holmes immediately closes one of the doors to one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

– For God's sake! - pacing around the room he starts fixing his things around after this fun club of his messes them.

He doesn't pay attention on everyone here. Voices of John and Mycroft grow into a terrible headache pounding hard in his head. Sherlock curls up in a chair with a hood on his head longing everyone to just shut up on a second.

– You can't afford the drug habit, Sherlock.

– I don't have a drug habit, - he peers at his brother irritatedly.

Mycroft is looking around trying to catch a slightest idea of what he's searching for. When he is a half way to the kitchen he casts a glance towards Sherlock's bedroom door.

– Your bedroom door is shut.

He starts slowly walking to his destination point with his brother starts pacing behind him again in beginning agony. When the elder almost touches the knob Sherlock shouts.

– Okay, stop. Just stop!

Mycroft halts by the door then just turns around heading back to the living room.

He is only a few steps away, when low man's voice rings behind him with a hint of mocking.

– Can't stomach the thought of invading your private space, Holmes?

They all turns towards Mark entering the room along with Carol who is surely not dressed for any kind of work today. Holmes thinks of her usual breakfasts with the brother at Saturday's mornings.

His eyes are roaming up and down her navy blue dress which sits just perfectly. Shelrock only furrows more and takes his previous place on the chair.

Mark nods to Mycroft and the tension in the room goes up again. Despite their first meeting after fakening one of the Holmes' death and one phone call, Legrand still doesn't trust the man fully.

– God, Anderson, what are you doing here? Get out.

Carol comes up to Sherlock when finally notices her colleague.

– We are not at work. Since when are you in charge?

– Since now. Out! - the forensic flinches on the place ushers the unknown woman out of the kitchen with him. Carol turns to Mycroft. – Did you bring them here?

– It would be faster to search.

– Only you can deliver people to places where they don't want to be.

– Why do you two always boss around here? - Sherlock points at the girl and his brother. He switches his outrage to John. – Did you call them too? Am I on the family meeting?

– You'd better be worried about yourself now, mister.

While Carol is examinating Sherlock's state with Watson her brother turns to elder Holmes holding the hand out for a handshake.

– We have not propely met, Mr. Holmes, - he gets the same gesture back. – Despite not all sister's friends are mine we still can try, right?

Something in the eyes in front of him doesn't let Mycroft let his guard completely down as it was with Carol. But if he met Mark at the street he would never think he was who he really was.

When Carol returns to them Holmes looks at her questioningly.

– I would give him two or three hours to get back to normal, - Mycroft comes around the girl to see his brother again.

– I have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma, Sherlock.

– This is not what you think. This is for a case.

– What case could possibly justify this?

– Magnussen, - Mycroft’s slight smile drops. – Charles Augustus Magnussen.

Mark crosses glances with Carol furrowing his brows.

– I would not advice you-

– I'm not asking for your advice! - Holmes snaps at the man.

Legrand turns to his sister tapping her shoulder and smirking.

– He's growing nervous. One hour and a half until recovery. Told you, - she rolls her eyes shaking off his hand. – See you later, darling.

– Better sneak past Mrs. Hudson or she'll try to give you her muffins again.

The young man salutes her and leaves them alone.

– Mark is right, Sherlock, - Carol comes further into the room. – Quit it.

– I'll let you know. Both of you.

With that he opens the door and points the way out for two of them. John shakes his head looking at the scene.

Mycroft walks round his brother, then turns to face him.

– Unwise, brother mine.

Immediately he twists Mycrofts arm up behind the back making him crying out of pain.

– Brother mine, don’t appal me when I’m high, - Sherlock says with venom in his voice. When he finally lets him go, Carol stands in between.

– Enough, guys! Talk, not argue.

Solving the arguments never was her strong side, but she definitely doesn't want to witness a fight down here.

Mycroft massages his injured arm in pain, but turns to his brother anyway when Sherlock goes away.

– Don't speak now, - the girl's hand on his chest prevents the man from further movements. She takes the umbrella he dropped earlier and handles it back to Holmes. – Let's leave. He will be all right.

She nods to Watson in goodbye, observing Sherlock who already curls up in a tight ball on his chair.

When they go outside Legrand exhales heavily. Mycroft still stretches him arm.

– Can I take a look?

– It's fine.

– Yes, as every time your hand is being twisted, - she gives him a challenging glance and then finally holds it towards her.

The man slightly winces from the tense in his elbow when her fingers press firmly into his skin.

– Here? - when her hand covers his shoulder the dull pain appears right in the spot she holds.

– Yes.

– Your ligaments are sprained. Nothing serious, - Carol gives him a small reasuring smile. – I'll text Anthea names of medicines you'll need for a while.

– I hope it will be before my hot-headed brother does something stupid.

– Sherlock will be watched, - she winks at him, but Holmes acts as nothing happened, as every time she talks about her people.

– Want a lift?

The black car shows up next to them and the girl comes around Mycroft ready to head the way.

When a tall dark-haired man steps out of the car she waves him from her spot.

– I've already have my lift, Mycroft. Thank you.

With that she leaves him stand and watch his own car coming closer to pick the him.

The phone rings out in the night silence waking Carol up. The name on the screen makes her take it instantly.

– Your friend should better have listened to me, - Mark's voice is deadly angered.

– What's happened?

Legrand starts searching for her clothes.

–  A single gunshot wound to the chest. He was at Magnussen's office. Ambulance is taking him to the hospital.

– I'll be right there.

– Don't. He needs an operation, probably will awake in the morning. Mario will pick you up then.

When her brother hangs up the girl heads to the kitchen. Surely she can't forget about her night sleep for now.

Sitting in the quiet car with the paper coffee cup Carol feels her long-awaited sleep wins over her alertness. The drink is still pretty hot and small seeps make her relax a bit. She know she'll be always taken care of.

When the car stops near the hospital entrance, Carol shortly nods to her Mark's driver.

– Wait here, I won't be long.

Next to the entrance door she notices Mycroft whose pacing tells he's waiting for her for quite a time.

– I would expect you to call me in such cases, - he turns to her heels clicking.

– As I can see your brother was faster, - circles under his eyes give up that he has been there since the operation started. – Still you didn't deign to arrive earlier.

– Saw no point. He was in safe hands.

– How could you know?

– I always know.

Some days have passed since they saw each other for the last time and she would not tell their relation with Mycroft becomes stronger. It's pretty opposite.

The whole way to the hospital room they keep silent and when finally enter the room Sherlock catches their mood instantly, but doesn't say a word.

– Did you cut open all the bodies to break in to me like this?

– It's not you bedroom, Sherlock, and I'm not your mother. How are you feeling?

She comes to the bed while Mycroft takes the chair in the corner.

– You was in my head when I was shot, - Carol supresses a surprised smirk.

– Was I?

– You was telling me the exact way of you dissecting me, if I did not focus.

– I'm glad it's all over, - Sherlock switches his glance to his brother. – I guess you won't do such reckless thing again.

Legrand rolls her eyes.

– Then he will be in the hands of professionals, Mycroft. Doctor Rinaldo Pazzi is the best surgeon I know.

– Then what is he doing in the hospital like this? Oh! - Sherlock shows a knowing grin. – Working for you. How could I miss it.

– I have the best people, Holmes.

– Now, if you are done with a small talk, - Mycroft stands up coming to them. Carol realizes he's not going to leave yet and intends to go on with the conversation. – I'm sure Ms. Legrand has her duties to attend.

He showers her with the cold glance, the one she saw him looking with at his subordinates.

– I do, - the girl shoots a wink to Sherlock before taking her leave. – See you around.

Sherlock's hoarse voice meets her in the doorway.

– You did know Mary shot me.

– What? - Mycroft turns to the girl with disbelief on his face when understands that the phrase isn't for him. There is none of his previous cold demeanor left.

Legrand steps back to the room.

– We always keep an eye on such people-

– You could at least tell me, - her stern gaze peers in elder Holmes with his commanding tone freakening her out.

– It is bad enough that we are dealing with your part of work, Mycroft. Do you want me to advice what you should do or what not?

– Don't tell me I'm not doing my work.

– I told you, Mycroft, Magnussen was dangerous. But it seems you don't give a damn if it doesn't disturb your work.

She sees his jaw clenches at her words.

– Magnussen is a businessman-

– He blackmails people right under your nose! And you see nothing until it's too late and you can't deal with consequences. In these cases you usually run to Sherlock.

– You are on the very edge, Legrand. Don't make me-

– Don't make you what? I can't make you do anything, because you only think about yourself not people suffering around you!

After some silence she makes her way out not looking at Holmes again.

– I bet you should take it as 'no', - Mycroft looks at his brother half blindly without any inner strength to argue.

With every day he understands more, that he doesn't know this woman completely. Though won't it be a mistake to get to know her better? And if so, where will it take him?

Carol slowly drives to her destination point and a nice countryside cottage appears in her view. She still hetitates if she needs to come to this family holiday giving their current relationships with Mycroft.

Watsons have a hard time and she will only make it worse.

The girl parks her car when Mary opens the door to meet her. Somewhere behind she recognizes Sherlock's curly head.

– It's only 2 p.m., you should save me, - he's wandering behind women while Legrand hugs Watson.

– If I am here with your parents, you should be too, - he almost makes a loud irritated groan when the girl pats his shoulder. — Don't worry. I am a new person here, I'll take over.

– I'll hold you on that.

– Come on, Sherlock. You have lovely parents. I even wonder how they ended up with you being their sons.

– See how you feel when mother will give you a dozen of nicknames.

She turns to face Mycroft whose face expression is hardly readable for her. When others leave them alone he holds his hand out to her. Carol furrows her brows in confusion.

– I offer you a Christmas truce.

– Back to 1914, aren't we?

– I can only hope our one will last longer.

They both suppress smiles, though Mycroft's one is still nervous. Legrand shakes his hand squeezing his fingers slightly.

– Mike, don't hold our guest up! - Mrs. Holmes' voice rings behind his back and the young woman sees him making the face. – Oh, darling, don't just stand there. Mycroft's clearly forgot about hospitality rules.

The older woman gives him a look and he hardly supresses the urge to roll his eyes.

While his mother leads the girl to the living room where all of them come to the lunch, he runs into Sherlock who starts messing with him again. His brother's boredom is something to die from.

They make their way to come along with others where Mrs. Holmes starts grumbling again.

– You two, stop quarreling! Carol, darling, tell me everything, - the old woman sits by her side taking the girl's hand in her. – They have never tell me a word about you.

Step by step a small talk grows to the family gathering and Legrand sees everyone is awaiting for her to talk only.

– Erm...I'm not sure 'everything' will be that interesting-

– My sons bring a lovely woman home for Christmas, for once. I should remember this day if this is not going to happen again.

The eldest Holmes takes his seat in the chair and Carol immediately recognizes Sherlock's characteristical movements in this man. These two are more alike than the father and Mycroft.

– Are you the only child?

It is an odd question to start from, as for the girl, but she smiles at the old woman's words anyway.

– The middle one. Two brothers, - she notices Sherlock's observing his brother intensely casting glances on his watch. Mycroft stands near the window hesitating to take the only seat left by Carol's side.

– How lovely! Are they in London with you?

– The elder one, Mark, he works here.

Mycroft finally sits with her on the couch leaning back. One more question from his mother and his interrogation about her family starts.

– Will I learn where he works?

– Mycroft! - Mrs. Holmes throws a strict glare towards him. These warning sparks in her eyes remind one in Mycroft's.

– Mark runs a small Italian restaurant near the Leicester Square, - she feels uncomfortable, Holmes will shower her with questions later giving that he knows nothing about her brother.

– So, he has his own business?

– Yes, sort of.

– Wait, I know this place, - John puts his cup aside. – It's near the Charing Cross Road?

– Yeah, - she looks awkwardly around meeting Mary's mischievous grin. – Is something wrong?

– I was there once and I'd tell it's not that small as you say. And not that's cheap.

– This is Italian cuisine, what has you expected?

– What about your second brother? - Mycroft draws her attention back.

Carol turns to the man whose question takes her aback. Till this day she has not told him anything about her youngest brother as well, and now he is more than interested.

But the way he's interested in this doesn't suit her.

His father muses almost silently.

– Mycroft doesn't know something. Seems like a true Christmas miracle.

– Lucian. He is obsessed with clinical psychology.

– Is he? - Sherlock moves his chair closer to the table becoming truly involved in this topic.

– He's thinking about moving to London from home in Milan. Wants to work with psychopathic patients.

– For God's sake, - Mrs. Holmes throws up her arms. – When will young men choose something more ordinary to work with?

– Does he work already?

– Not yet. You know, studying a little bit of everything here and there.

– Sounds exactly like Sherlock, - John chokes on his tea, and younger Holmes rolls his eyes on his mother's rumbling.

While the woman's witty comments break the tension Carol is content. Now she doesn't feel comfortable being with Mycroft one-on-one and intends to avoid this contact as along as she can.

The day slowly grows to the early evening and Mrs. Holmes is busy in the kitchen with Mary trying to help her decorating.

Everyone minds their own business while Mycroft is roaming around searching for nothing.

Suddenly he realizes he hasn't seen Carol from the lunch time. He tries the kitchen, but finds only his mother there. His mother who instantly notices him sneaking around.

– Mycroft, are you looking for something?

– Someone. Yes-

– Oh, she's outside in the garden, - this woman always knows what everyone of them needs. That's the fact that surprises Mycroft every time. – Take this.

She places a tray with two mugs of punch and a plate with pie pieces.

– Go, go. Don't make the lady wait.

The man only grins and takes everything from the table.

He finds Legrand sitting on the bench which his father cleared from last fallen leaves today in the morning. She looks so peaceful Mycroft even hesitates to interrupt her.

– Here you are, - Holmes places the tray next to her on the bench and sits from the opposite side of it. – Finally found a silent place, huh?

– Mm-hmm.

Yet something is bothering the girl and Mycroft can surely say nothing of it was in the morning. Yes, they don't get along last time, but it's not about him.

– Did my mother's questions bore you? - Carol shakes her head taking one of the cups.

– No, she's a nice woman. Just...

– You don't like to talk about your family?

– Indeed, - the sad grin touches her lips turning one corner slightly up. – Sometimes such talks brings up things that I don't want to think about.

He takes his cup and sets the tray aside to free some space in between and sit closer to the young woman.

– Something about your younger brother? - he notised how she winced just before started telling about him back in a living room.

It is the atmospere of this place or it's the girl who affects him like this, but the man wants her to share her worries with him despite their quarrels. Something that Holmes has never wanted from another person.

He can see her battling with herself deep inside about if she should say a word. This suddenly makes Mycroft put his arm around her shoulders and lean Carol to his side.

A slight shiver runs through her when familiar warmness wraps around her body like a blanket.  She tries not to flinch back from the gesture and relaxes instead instinctively moving closer feeling safe and protected.

– Lucian just..., - Holmes squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

– He has never had a proper parental figure around him as example. When our mother died he was six and father had never loved us as much as mother. She was always in the first place for him.

While she's talking snow starts falling silently and Mycroft takes his jacket off to cover Carol's back.

– Our uncle and his wife raised Luc, and I know they tried their best, but an uncle is an uncle. My brother was always by himself and for himself. When Mark moved to London for work and I for university he stayed with them. No one could take Lucian with us, we were not financially independent.

– Do you think he blaimed you for leaving him behind?

– He's never said that, but I know Mark still blames himself for not being a good brother for him. Sometimes I do.

Holmes gives her a knowing look. He himself is well aware of that nasty feeling he's experienced since Sherlock grew older.

– You shouldn't, Carol. I'm sure he's a smart young man and undestands your motives quite well.

– I'm afraid it will affects him in the future. As I know he's still distrustful for elder men in any kind of relationships.

– Worry not. You're a good sister and Mark is a nice man too, both of you will make good for him.

Legrand feels a warm glow fills her chest and a shy smile settles in the curve of her lips. She realizes she can stay like this forever.

– Better? - she literally feels his voice when Mycroft lays his chin on top of hers.

– I don't like how I feel. It lacks integrity.

– I didn't tell before, but I like this about you. When you can be both funny or weirdly serious with all your scientific stuff. It's like dealing with two different people.

– Then why are you telling now?

He has nothing to answer and the man just falls mute. Carol, in turn, has her own thoughts to voice.

Growing familiar to him it's kind of painful to tear herself from the man now, when she finally admits she more than just cares about Holmes.

– I'm afraid we'll never be on the same side, Mycroft.

– Different value systems don't define us.

– But it's enough to separate, - his grip on her forearm hardens, his whole body stiffens. – You know where my loyalty lies and it will always be like this.

– I don't want to involve you.

– I've been involved long before I met you, Mycroft.

The heavy tense silence hangs above them, but the man still holds her in his arms.

When he stands up gathering the tray with him she automatically follows him.

– Let's come inside, it's getting colder.

Carol nods to Holmes feeling a bit sleepy, the feeling that she blames according to her early morning start.

When Mycroft comes back to the living room after dropping the tray in the kitchen, she finds the girl already asleep on the couch. Taking the blanket to cover her he himself gets the place in the chair.

The next second as his head touches the back of the seat everything goes blank.

Chapter Text

– Carol, - she feels someone slightly tapping her cheek. – Carol?

Her head rings with throbbing pain and she feels a bit dizzy and constant shaking doesn't make the head's spinning better. When she finaly opens her eyes Mycroft's arms rise her up to sit on the couch.

– What's happened?

Mary sits next to her with a blanket on her shoulders.

– Sherlock and John are gone and I probably know where they are...with my laptop.

Carol nods to Mrs. Holmes who gets her a glass with water. There was surely something in punch she was drinking earlier.

– I sent my car to deliver Mark here, he will drive you and Mary home.

– I love that passive aggression between you. You both secretly detest each other, but you call him anyway if something is wrong.

– You've just described the way my sons deal with each other.

Mrs. Holmes slowly seeps her tea that time without any additives.

– What about you? - the man is fully dressed in his coat ready to leave every minute.

– I need to stop that idiot of a brother untill he does something in his usual way.

The sound of a car engine comes closer to the house and then her brother appears in a doorway. Nodding barely noticable to him Holmes goes out.

But knowing Sherlock this case can have any possible outcome including the most unpredictable and dangerous one.

Suddenly realising this fact Legrand storms out of the cottage until Holmes doesn't get to his car.

– Mycroft!

He turns back to her voice almost lost in his thought about further actions. The girl is sure he's already given necessary instruction to his people.

– Do you need something?

– No, I just..., - her heart's pounding inside her chest like after running a maraphon. – Be careful, okay?

She stands on her tip toes, without high heels she is a bit higher than his chin. The next moment the man feels a long chaste kiss pressed at the corner of his lips and Carol's hand on his shoulder to keep her balance.

Does it depend on surprise or not, but Mycroft places his hand between her shoulder blades and drags closer to his chest.

– I'm begging you, be careful, Mycroft!

Her arms encircle his neck along with hot breathing is felt on his cheek. Something in her words, in her tone keeps him alert. Bad feeling starts spreading down his body and he reminds himself to hurry.

With the short 'I will' he releases her and gets in the car.

Look after him
CL

The response from Anthea with a thumbs up emoji in her text makes the girl smile. There is still one person in the world who she can rely on.

When she comes inside her bag is already at the door with Mary dressed for a ride home. They say their goodbies to the old couple and Carol even gives her promise to visit them at least once again.

For the whole way back none of them says a word, but the girl sees Mary in a rear-view mirror smiling from time to time, almost beaming from inside. The woman is a bit worried about the place Sherlock dragged John to, although it can't spoil the effect of their reconciliation with her husband.

Carol can hardly tear herself from the phone waiting for Mycroft's messages during this month. It is hard to imagine what Mary's gone through not talking to John.

When they finally arrive Mark follows the woman to the doorway and comes back to the car.

flashback

Door bell rings hardly audible because of playing music. Carol lowers the sound heading to the hall.

– Didn't disturb your meeting?

Sherlock stands leaning at her door still a bit pale after his hasty discharge. He can see a couple of men and women behind her helping at kitchen and the living room and gives back the gesture when Mark waves him with a knife standing at the counter.

– Family dinner, yeah. Come in, - the girl steps aside letting him in. – Business?

He only nods and Legrand leads him to the small quiet room where they can talk without any disturbing.

– How are the Watsons doing?

– Rough patch, but could be worse, - he sits down feeling a bit odd. – Well, straight to the point.

– Are you nervous?

– Shut up, - she smirks to the man trying to look more serious. – It's about Magnussen.

Carol doesn't need to listen further to know why he's here.

– Do you offer me a side job, Sherlock?

– I offer you an opportunity to help.

– Is that what you call this? - Mark leans on the doorway crossing his arms on the chest. – But you're right, Holmes. Magnussen is one of those people who will be more usefull being dead.

– So? - the detective still looks at the girl.

– We will consider this.

end of flashback

– How much do we have?

– Thirty minutes to get there, - Carol checks her watch. – Mycroft will kill me.

– Will not, if he doesn't know about it. We must go now, others will catch up later.

He starts the engine and turns away from her.

The car stops in the field far away from Magnussen's house.

– From this point we'll go on foot.

– Why did you agree with him?

Mentioning the detective always brings him headache. Some day he will be the death of all of them. Mark checks his coat and heads forward. For some time he doesn't answer her question.

– This man is out of Sherlock's league. Even I understand it.

– He didn't listen for you, but still you are here.

– Because no matter how much your friend likes showing off, I need Magnussen dead, - his dreadful look doesn't satisfy Carol at all. – Too much good people fell from his hand. And his head.

Something clicks in her mind and Legrand halts.

– There will be no exchange between them, right?

– Holmes assumes the Appledore has its vaults, but Magnussen is not that stupid, Carol. People like him don't hide things in places where it can be put out from.

flashback

– Your plan is a failure, Holmes, - they come back to the living room to discuss matters with the whole group. Mark goes in circles around the detective wearing his sly grin.

– It's a perfect plan.

– It's a failure, because you think you're the one smart man in London.

– I stil don't see you proposing yours.

– Hey, boys! Not now, - they are opposite each other and Carol thinks about standing in between just in case.

– If you think, I will let down all of you you are wrong.

Mark narrows his eyes coming up to the window.

– Life, Holmes. Sometimes it happens.

– So? - Carol stands up to put one more plate on the table. – The plan.

Sherlock glares at her wondering how calm and cold-blooded the girl is.

– I will give him my brother's laptop in exchange on seeing the vaults of the Appledore.

– What is there that you want to see that much?

– The information. On Mary.

– Mary Morstan? Really! - her brother lowers his tone coming up to the detective. On a brief moment Carol thinks he'll burst in anger. – You do realise that we can all be dead, if anything goes wrong?

– I need this information he's got. This woman is in priority for me.

– You've got your priorities in the wrong place, Holmes.

– You just need to cover us.

– To cover?

– Just save me a car not far from the place. Maybe with some of your people. Two is enough.

Mark looks around his people who are listening for them without meddling.

– It's only you who works alone. We always work as a team, Sherlock.

end of the flashback

– His plan is a failure indeed.

– That's why I have my own.

– Let me explain how leverage works, Doctor Watson.

Magnussen comes up to the wall sliding the footage with his finger, then turns back to others in the room.

– For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Mycroft’s pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock. And Sherlock’s pressure point is his best friend, John Watson. John Watson’s pressure point is his wife. I own John Watson’s wife, - he looks round to Sherlock. – I own Mycroft.

The man waves his hand and one of his guards brings a young woman into the large room.

– Also, - Holmes can't believe his eyes. – I own one more thing that belongs to Mycroft.

Carol flinches from the iron grip of the man who still holds her arms behind the back.

– Ms. Legrand, what a surprise! How's your brother? - she greets her teeth and Magnussen makes the move to dismiss his man.

– Lovely. Not seeing you is definitely a gift from life itself.

– How foolish of clever you, Charline. Messing with me is not your best,  - the girl winces from the mentioning her real name. – Your luck I'm not going to kill anyone there.

– Indeed. A true blessing.

The man turns abruptly from her heading back to the sofa picking up the laptop.

– Also, your friendship sacrifiсe isn't paid off.

– And why? - John takes one step towards him.

– Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves and everything he holds dear.

When Carol and John cross glances the man leads his way to the large wooden doors. They slowly come up to him.

– The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all.

Everything they can see is an empty room with the only leather chair in the middle. The light radiates so intensely the girl's eyes start to ache.

In the end her brother was right, this house holds no vaults. It means they're in deep shit and all this thanks to Sherlock and his never-dying boldness.

– The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, don’t you, Sherlock?

The detective just swallows, but keeps silent. Words Magnussen keeps telling all of them pass by his mind as it's happening with the others.

John is one if them who still has hope. And he holds this to the man who looses his own.

– Let’s go outside. Your brother will be here shortly.

The man walks out of the room and heads towards the glass doors. John follows him with his glance then steps closer to Sherlock.

– Do you two have a plan?

Holmes is freezed in place and Carol shakes her head slightly not daring raise her eyes on Watson.

– Sherlock.

Sherlock still doesn’t move and John turns and walks away, Legrand follows him. Sherlock shuts his eyes screwing them closed with a look of despair.

When they reach the patio Carol stands aside from John, just next to Magnussen. The sky is clouded, it's already dark, and it's better to have him in front of her eyes.

Holmes joins them the minute later gazing at Legrand with his stern glare. The guilt flashes inside her and she just turns her glance away looking at the corner of the building before her.

The sound of an approaching helicopter can be heard just next to them. It soars over the roof and at the same time, armed police marksmen run towards the house.

– Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

When Mycroft’s voice blares out over a speaker on the helicopter, everything seems to halt for Carol. He will definitely kill her. She isn't even offended he doesn't call her name this time.

– Stand away from that man.

– Target is not armed. I repeat, target is not armed, - police officer's voice is heard behind her over the radio.

Magnussen keeps grinning at Sherlock.

– Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr Holmes.

– Oh, do your research. I'm not a hero. I am high-functioning sociopath.

Sherlock steps closer to John, reaches round behind him and into John’s coat pocket.

He raises John’s gun, aims it at Magnussen’s chest and is going to fire.

The next second Carol almost feels the bullet whistle just right next to her shoulder, and then Magnussen hits the ground.

Holmes looks behind her with eyes wide open and drops the gun he has no time to use. She can barely holds herself from turning around already aware of who she'll see there. Mark is on time as always.

–  Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!

The helicopter grounds on the field and Mycroft gets out of there heading their way.

When he comes close enough to see her, one of Magnussen's guard members comes from the corner she kept her eye on before, aiming his gun at her.

It definitely is not a part of the plan and she jerks slightly back. The next minutes seem like long hours for her as everything is going on in a slow motion.

Mark comes out from behind her pulling the trigger and the man falls dead on the spot he stands. Mycroft turns at sounds and freezes on his place not ready to give further orders.

The next moment sharp pain hits her brother's shoulder and he takes a step back. One of the police officers can't understand instructions well enough.

But when she sees elder Holmes waving his hand off slightly she hears two simultanious shots and turns towards Mark to see him laying on the ground with another hole in his abdomen.

With the corner of her eye the girl notices one of the snipers falls on the knee.

– Mark!

She rushes to him lowering herself by his figure with Mycroft following her from behind. He takes his pulse on the neck.

– Don't you dare, - Legrand tries to push his hands away examinating the young man herself. – No, I mean it. Don't you dare touch him!

While his people lead Sherlock and John to the police car another Holmes tries to help.

– I'm not going to argue with you. Now he needs to be transported.

– My people will take care about it, not you.

Her fingers quickly tap a message and after a couple a minutes three men run out from the corner of the building. Lifting Mark is not that hard and she hopes they will be in the hospital in time.

–  I hope you do understand you two acted like complete idiots.

– Mind your own business, Mr. Holmes. Or, I swear, you'll get more of this.

She meets him with her stern gaze and leaves towards two barely visible black cars.

Monotonous beeping of the hospital equipment makes Carol slowly going mad. Seems everywhere she goes she hears it. Coffee from the coffee machine in the hall tastes like plastic cup itself.

After fourteen hours surgery operation her brother is held under sleeping peel to help him recover faster.

Mario, one of their closest people, takes turns with the girl, and gives her time to eat and rest. But everything that Legrand is still doing is pacing around Mark's hospital room and hanging up calls from Mary.

She lets Mario go home and sits next to the bed, when hears familiar steps approaching the room.

Mycroft appears in the doorway and nods to the hall.

– A word.

Carol leads him to the staff room where the nurse gave her a place to sleep just in case. They enter and the door closes loudly behind her back. The man's cold face expression means no good.

– I need names.

– Excuse me? - the girl understands pretty well what he indends to get from her. But who says she will play his game.

– Names. Of everyone who works on you. Everyone who's somehow connected with your group.

– Don't you think it's too easy for you, Holmes? - his jaws clench in the irritation.

– Seems you forget who you are speaking with, Carol. Give me names of your people and your brother won't get hurt.

– Oh, blackmail? How dirty of you-

– I'd be careful with what I said.

Now she sees the same man she met several years ago. Everything that was once a possession of the cold-blooded indifferent man returns.

– I'm your friend, Mycroft.

– Then learn to respect my decisions!

– The respect goes both ways!

She turns the door knob and goes out. The young woman hardly has time to get to her brother's door when the man encircles her wrist with the firm grip.

– I had to do this, Carol. Your brother showed up and shot Magnussen and one of his guards.

– He shot the guy who aimed at me. And he did it to Magnussen instead of Sherlock.

Legrand tries to free herself, but Mycroft only squeezes his fingers tightly.

– Look, we had a handle on it until Mark crushed our operation.

– Oh, you mean one of your snipers had a handle on it. Thanks for showing me your people don't understand the orders.

– I didn't know one of them would do this.

With every word the conversation becomes more heated, but none of them both is going to give up.

– What'd you expect Mark to do?

– That man is a police officer! Your brother shot him!

– In the leg! If Mark wanted your man dead, he'd be dead.

– What are you saying? You think your brother had good intentions only?

– He did this only to protect me and those who's dear for him.

Mycroft pulls his hand away from the girl. Until this moment she hasn't felt they're deadly cold.

– If that's what you think, you are naive. Or ignorant. Or I don't know what.

– Well, at least I don't play judge and jury and kill people.

They fall silent staring at each other intensely.

– Can't a man die in peace? - the hoarse voice muses from the bed's side and Carol instantly rushes to Mark.

– Consider my demand, Ms. Legrand, - Holmes turns to the entrance with a sly grin on his lips.

– Get. Out.

The anger wins over her patient attitude towards the man. Partially she feels terrible about the whole situation, about Sherlock who wasn't aware about the new plan. And Mycroft whose trust she seems to lose this time.

When the nurse checks her brother state and goes out, Legrand takes her usual place beside his bed.
She immediately feels the warm hand covering hers.

– Don't worry about him. You guys will make up, - she nods shortly and gives up a sad smile.

– Yeah. That's what they said about the Beatles.

The black car stops in the distance from the plane, and Mary and John come out of there heading right to the Holmes brothers.

Just the same time another car, looking almost the same, arrives halting next to the first one.

Seeing Carol again rises a mixed feeling in Mycroft, but he is trying to seem indiferent. She looks amazing, he should admit, almost flawless, if it's not for slightly visible dark circles under her eyes.

Through the window glass he can see her driver, one of those people who carried her brother to the car back to the day with Magnussen.

John looks behind to see the girl coming towards them.

– And it's civil servants who are told to make a lot of money, - his comment makes Mycroft smirk, because Legrand looks drop dead gorgeous right in the moment.

Her two-piece black suit literally cries about her wealth.

After Sherlock talks with the Watsons Carol steps closer to him still pretty far from his brother to overhear.

– And here we are. You and me, on the last page.

– I feel that you're again saying a quote I don't know.

– I will miss you, Sherlock. Again, - the young woman throws her hands around his neck. Mycroft's eyes, who she can see above the detective's shoulder, don't leave her on a second.

– I'll try to find some spare time to miss you too, Car.

No matter how hard her friend tries to pretend he's alright, she notices that sad sparkle in his eyes. The same one that John has.

– And one more thing. I don't know what you have done with him, - he casts a glance to his brother's side. – But keep going.

– Mycroft detests me, if you hadn't noticed.

– And you feel guilty about your brother's plan.

Sherlock Holmes. Always straight to the point.

– The time I learned about it, it was too late to change something.

– But?

– But I do feel guilty, because I hasn't warned you.

He lays his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture and squeezes a little.

– But it went quite well, didn't it? – suddenly remembering all previous events she shakes her head in disbelief.

– You're crazy, Sherlock.

– In that I will always be after you, - the man winks at her and Carol gives up a short laughter. – I'm sure I will not meet another woman insane enough to love my brother.

Instinctively, her gaze rushes to the spot Mycroft's standing on.

– I made a bet with Mrs. Hudson about you two, so don't make me lose.

– You did what?!

He kisses her quickly in a cheek heading to the plane.

– By the way, I liked your funny fights with my brother.

With the last wink the man finally turns away. But none of them can imagine that his banisment will be that short.

When the plane lands the four of them enter approaching the seat and Carol takes her place behind Sherlock's one.

– I have to go back!

– What?

His brother looks strange almost shocked as all of them.

– It was a case, a famous one from a hundred years ago, lodged in my hard drive. She seemed to be dead but then she came back.

– What, like Moriarty?

John leans closer to him looking in his eyes. Holmes' glance is blurred and sleepy and it makes the doctor suspicious.

– It’s been five minutes since Mycroft called, - he looks up at his brother. – What progress have you made? What have you been doing?

– More to the point, what have you been doing?

John smirks briefly, but Legrand sees Mycroft's face expression changing extremely fast from confussion to realisation.

Something is wrong and Carol doesn't know what.

– I’ve been in my Mind Palace, of course ...

– Oh, Sherlock.

He looks angry and disappointed turning away from younger Holmes and taking a seat.

While the detective is still trying to go back, Mary takes his phone from the shelf and starts looking at it.

– Did you make a list, Sherlock?

He rubbs his face tiredly waving his brother off.

– You’ve put on weight. That waistcoat’s clearly newer than the jacket ...

– Stop this. Just stop it. Did you make a list?

– Of what?

– Everything. Everything you’ve taken.

Carol is staring at both ot them with eyes wide-open. As far as she knows Sherlock was clear for a period of time. But knowing him she should not be surprised.

More that her friend's state, she's worried about Mycroft. His heartbreakening look gets deep inside her and if it's not for their fight, the girl will be there for him for sure.

This time he notices Mary typing something on the phone.

– What are you doing?

– Emelia Ricoletti - I'm looking for her.

– I have an accses to the top of MI5 archive...

The woman turns to him and smiles.

– Yeah, that's where I'm looking.

He seems slightly awkward and Carol gives up a short laughter drawing John's attention.

– You know, there will be a good team of you two, - he points at both, his wife and her, and Legrand just shrugs her shoulder.

– Probably. Mary's smart and I like her coat.

– Says the woman in the $4000 suit.

– Eight. If we're counting.

The silence hangs above them and Carol finds herself not able to tear her gaze from elder Holmes. He loves his brother and seeing him like this hurts him more than anything else.

– This was my fault, - Sherlock shakes his head slightly.

– It was nothing to do with you.

Watching them communicating like is not familiar to the girl and she wonders if they can possibly be like that in the future. Acting like good brothers.

Mycroft's shoulders go down like this every time he's upset or tired. This time he blames himself for his brother's overdose. But was his reaction the same when her brother was shot?

These cases are not alike, but Carol still hardly believes that Mycroft, who she knows like a man deeply concerned about such situations, could give the order to shoot Mark in that cold-blooded manner.

When Sherlock comes back from one of his 'dreams' again, they still sit like before and the detective needs a couple of seconds to readjust the situation.

He sees Carol stands right next to Mycroft, too close for their state of relationship on this day, but chooses to ignore them.

– Sherlock? You all right?

– Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?

John looks worried and Mary keeps looking at him from head to toe.

He starts to stand up that is quite difficult for him. Sherlock stumbles and steps aside.

– I have to go to Baker Street now. Moriarty’s back.

– Sherlock, – If Carol wouldn't be here she would hardly believe this soft voice belongs to Mycroft. – Promise me?

Sherlock looks around for a moment, then back to Mycroft.

– What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be off getting me a pardon or something, like a proper big brother?

He moves forward, shoving Mycroft out of the way with his shoulder, and heads for the door. Then elder Holmes turns to the entrance there are only she and John in the salon.

– Dr. Watson, - John turns back to him slowly observing Legrand too. – Look after him. Please.

The man nods and leaves the plane, and Carol keeps staring at torn pieces of paper on the floor that was Sherlock's 'list' before.

Mycroft stands on one knee pretending to pick them not paying much attention to the girl. When his hand collides with hers, he takes his one away letting her do what she wants.

Carefully picking the papers up, she handles them to the man whose notebook is already open for this. He opens it wider silently offering her to go on.

Carol gently places it between the pages and stands up. She doesn't know what gets over her, but this very moment Legrand is ready to forgive him everything, even his own stubborness.

– Won't you tell me how you got there?

Standing with her back to Holmes, the girl halts knowing he's too. Quarreling with him again is not that she wants to do now. But everything is against her.

– I don't share the details of my business, Mycroft.

– Your business?! It stopped being your business when my brother got involved.

– He would not be involved if you listened for him from the very beginning.

She closes the gap between them in three steps and now feels content looking directly into his eyes.

– I've told you, Magnusses is a dangerous man, but you ignores me and your brother, - her next words are going to be the thing she will regret later, but anyway. – That's why Sherlock came to me for help, not you.

– Do you blame me for our brothers' decisions?

Why he's always like this? How can he be a person which she wants to punch in the face and hate forever and a man who she wants to be with for her whole life.

– I can't act and behave the way you want me to do, - using her pause he goes on.

– Then you should understand it and not expect the same from me.

The man comes up closer almost taking her hands in his, but refuses and lays them on her forearms.

– What you do, it's not right, Carol.

– Not right? What could you know about what's right and what's wrong? - she takes a step back extending the distance between them. – You blame me, but how could you justify it in your heart, these terrible shortcuts your job requires from you every single day?

– I do it for the safety. And as much as I would love to say otherwise, you do this too. In your own way.

– What did you do that day for the safety of your family? - Holmes doesn't want to lead things further than she already does, but can't stop Carol now. — You are no better than me, and I'm sick to death of you pretending as a saint.

– But I will never let my heart win over my head.

His shoulders get lower as he takes a step back, still with anger boiling inside of him. Legrand seems as exhausted as the man, talking almost in whispering.

– Then keep ignoring your heart, Mycroft, until it becomes blind and deaf.

When the man hears the distant sound of the car riding away, he realises he still stands on the spot. No matter what Carol says to him, at least it's what he keeps telling to himself, now he has more importand things to do. And he has to move on.

Chapter Text

– So, how's your boyfriend?

Is the first thing that Carol hears over and over again visiting Mark at the hospital. She and Mycroft still don't speak with each other. And the girl would even miss him if it's not for things he told her that days.

– He's not my boyfriend, and I think he does fine as do you giving your increased interest to my private life.

The man almost comes back to his previous self. Mininum of bandages, no sick paleness as before, and lots of witty comments. As far as she knows he's going to be released next week.

Her phone rings and the man rolls his eyes.

– Speaking of the devil, - but when Carol sees an unlisted number she winces making her brother change his opinion. It's neither Mycroft, nor Sherlock, who's now pretty busy even without her. – No?

– No, - Legrand sits at the chair not far from the bed. There are not much people who can call her from such numbers. – Hello?

– Hello, darling, how are you? How's Mark?

She takes the phone away from her ear and looks at the screen one more time.

– Mrs Holmes? How did you get my number?

Mark arches his brows. This is something new for him. Now when he learns she's got along with Mycroft's parents.

– Mycroft gave it to me before your Chritmas visit. Just in case of emergency.

Emergency. She's definitely not the person who is worth calling in emergency cases. Only if he needs her to shoot someone.

– He called me in the morning, said your brother is in the hospital.

– Yeah, there was...an accident. But he's getting better. No need to worry.

– Oh, I don't want to listen to all that nonsense. We're going to visit you-

Carol unlikely needs a fussing worrying old couple right here.

– No, Mrs Holmes. It's okay, he will be out of here the other day.

– You are speaking like my elder son. That's why I need to come there for sure, - the girl tries to argue with the woman, but she just cuts her off. – I already know the adress, we'll be here soon.

After the hang up she looks up at her brother shrugging her shoulder. He gives her an one-sided mischievous grin.

– So, more of the Holmes?

– Yep, more of the Holmes.

When the room door opens Carol hardly wants to face it. She likes Mycroft's parents, but right in the moment the girl actually doesn't want to see someone else.

– Here you are! - Mark shows the woman a suffering smile and casts a glance towads his sister when Mr and Mrs Holmes come in. – Look, how pale the two of you are.

She starts to unpack her bag while Mr Holmes takes a seat next to Carol smirking knowingly. His face expression reminds her of Sherlock instantly and she almost smiles herself.

– I've brought you soup.

– Mrs Holmes-

– Don't 'Mrs Holmes' me, - Legrand holds back a laughter warching her brother trying to get rid of the older woman. – I know what the weak body of yours needs.

– And you, - she turns to Carol pointing with her finger. – Need a rest. Enjoy your time, dear, take a walk or something.

– Come, Carol.

Mr Holmes stands up offering his hand.

– It's a lovely cafeteria here on the first floor. Let's go there.

The cafe is surprisingly deserted and Legrand gets the table on the back of the hall with the old man following her.

The first minutes they don't talk, the silence shared between them is not tense and pretty comfortable.
As the one with Mycroft.

– I know what do you think.

– What? - the man's voice tears her out of thoughts and Carol can't catch the meaning of his words.

– When you're looking at my wife. I know what do you think about, - a ghost of a smile's dancing on his lips as he looks at the window. – My sons inherited most of their personality traits from her.

It is not typical of her, but the girl still hardly understands the way of the conversation.

– They're hard to find piece with, but if you ever grow to love them it'll deep and hard. And you can never get rid of this feeling, you will hardly want.

She sits staright with her eyes stick to this man. Is she so obvious, or insight is just in the Holmes' blood?

– I'll agree with you on that, Mr Holmes, - but he continues to observe her.

– Something has happened between you and Mycroft, right? He always prefered us to stay away from his friends or whatever he called them.

– Do you think, he phoned you intentionally?

– My son feels guilty and he can't express it properly, - he makes a pause slowly seeping his tea. – Mycroft is a hard person in that way. He is shy showing his emotions. I think, he's afraid dealing with it, doesn't know how.

– Sometimes he can be rather clear.

– Oh, don't take it too personal. He rarely shows his intelligence while insulting others, - Mr Holmes winks at her. – But he think it makes him look cool.

Carol laughs at it shaking her head. Her phone beeps with the incoming message.

– Something serious? - the old man is watching her mimics changes from grim to the friendlier one.

– Sherlock can't cope with Watson's baby. I think he's in strong need of rescuing.

– You may go now, I think we can manage with this visit. Besides, - they stand up heading to the entrance. – One good turn deserves another. I'll warn my wife not to try too hard.

With the final wink she leaves the man trying not to think that she herself needs help with Rosie. Sometimes it happens when two grown-up babies baby-sit another one.

Reaching Baker Street she almost bumps into Lestrade who makes his way out. Recently he gave Sherlock one extremely interesting case and since that can't stop visiting the detective to get any ideas.

Carol, in turn, has her own work problems.

– Greg! Before you leave, - the girl gives him a look and Lestrade rolls his eyes at it. He doesn't need to be extra smart to guess what this woman wants from him. — Don't make me ask about it again.

For the whole month the only thing she needs is an asisstant. A smart one. And that is the exact problem of the department.

– I've told you, we are looking for as fast as we can.

– It's not fast enough. Too much murders and I have only one pair of arms.

— Told you.

– One head, Greg.

– And you do amazing things with the brains of your. Just keep going with it a bit more.

Turning the door knob Legrand still doesn't tear her glance from him.

– Find me. An asisstant.

– I would get him a job probably, - Carol takes her hospital gown off heading to her office from the mortuary, when Greg shows up in her doorway.

Half a week has passed since their last meeting on Baker Street, and still no news about her possible work conditions.

– You'd better hurry up then. The lieutenant gets the idea of firing him.

– Firing Anderson?! - she walks through the glass doors of the lab. – He is a tech. What could he be fired for? He alreasy does nothing serious.

– He seems to be unable to perform his duties properly. A whiny pain in the ass of the department.

When they reach her office Carol finds a woman standing next to the door. She is nearly her age, but gives an impression of an older person. Her hair of deep black color barely reaches her shoulders.

Something in her posture reminds her of someone familiar, but Legrand can't catch who exactly.

Lestrade goes forward to introduce her.

– Carol, it's Tessa Martin. You can consider her as your asisstant for three days.

– Three days? Are you kidding?! - she points Tessa to come in. The woman is a victim of circumstance as she is, and her outrage is not for her. – Does the department even fail to find my a long-term someone? I was asking for so long.

– You are too demanding, doctor, - her future asisstant stares at them weirdly. As far as the inspector loves working with the examiner he can't stand her from time to time.

– Am I a whiny pain in the ass now?

– I'm trying to be patient.

– That must be very hard for you.

The phone ringing disturbs their talk and Carol reaches for her phone in the pocket holding back a sigh of relief.

– It'd better be a murder, - she looks at the screen. – Mm, yeah, murder!

While the inspector checks his own phone, she packs her things and gives a short wink to the woman next to her.

– Are you ready, Ms. Martin?

An abandoned outskirts block looks grim even this sunny day. Although there is also not much of a day light coming to the place where a young girl's body was found.

The three of them follow one of the officers.

– A bunch of homeless found her here. Don't think they had time to steal something from the corpse.

As they reach the spot Tessa immediately starts collecting samples along with upcoming Anderson earning a content look from Legrand. There is quite a time since she's worked with someone who didn't need to be told what to do.

Carol touches the body with gloved hands.

– She's passed through rigor, - Greg starts writing down. – So she's been dead at least 36 hours. 

The inspector is gazing down at the body. So young and dressed well, she's definitely not from here.

– She's in her workout clothes. What was she doing here?

– She was strangled.

– Thank you, Doctor. I can see that.

The asisstant gives up a short laughter behind the man's back. Carol just raises a brow to him and smirks.

When Anderson and Lestrade go away, Tessa speaks with her for the first time.

– Is that the one who will be fired?

She frowns a bit not sure if she needs to build strong bridges with a person who won't be there three days later.

– Yes, why?

– I just overheard the officers' talk.

– I don't think the lieutenant will fire him. Otherwise Phillip will hardly find a better job, or job at all.

They cross glances and Carol finds it hard to tear her gaze from her. There is something that she can't explain, as she's looking at someone who she saw before.

– Why he won't fire?

– I think about making him my asisstant.

– I didn't catch a lot, but he's said to be incompetent.

She sighs heavily. She doesn't like Phillip, but the only thought of him being kicked out of the department makes her feel bad.

– I thought you couldn't stand him.

– Did you learn this from the officers, too?

Her stern tone doesn't go unnoticed from the woman.

– Don't take it's too hard, Dr. Legrand. I'm just being observant.

– I'm sorry, - she takes off the gloves and rubs the forehead. – I'm a bit moody.

– Something happened?

– Friends issues. Nothing specific.

– That's why I used not to make them.

Legrand raises her eyes peering at Tessa. A slight sad smile touches her lips. Deciding to drop this topic she comes back to the tech.

– Everyone deserves a second chance, Ms Martin. Anderson can be not that smart, but he's organized and diligent man.

– Everyone? - Tessa looks at her suspiciously, but with a hint of smile.

– Why not? I think we can work with him quite peacefully.

Martin takes a long pause and goes on only when they leave the corpse and are ready to come back to the department.

– I heard them talking about you too though.

– Did you?

– You're a smart woman and a good specialist.

– Yeah, good dead men doctor indeed.

– And you are kind to people, - Carop turns to her.  No one except Sherlock usually tells this. Her puzzled look gives up her mixed attitude towards these words, thay the woman notices instantly. – At least others say this.

– You'd better don't listen to them, Tessa.

Legrand smirks to the woman letting her guard slightly down. These relationship won't last long, but she doesn't want to ruin everything for now. Something tells her it can be fun if she tries.

– I'm not kind.

– Because some idiot's told you that?

If that's what you think, you are naive. Or ignorant. Or I don't know what.

What you do, it's not right, Carol.

She has to blink several times to get rid of the vision of Mycroft in front of her eyes.

– No, just because I'm not. I'm afraid that's what the original source telling you.

The warm hand on her shoulder confuses the girl, but it feels pleasant anyway. Tessa nods and heads to the department's car that got them here.

Dissecting the body in silence is cool, it's cooler when it's a 'smart' silence.

Tessa takes her place behind the microscope observing some of body tissues while Carol enjoying her part of work gratefully.

– You look sad.

The asisstant throws a worried look at her colleague.

– I didn't say anything.

– Well, you didn't say it in a sad way, - the examiner chuckles and lays the scalpel down.

Shut up, Lestrade.

I didn't say anything.

You were thinking. It's annoying.

– Really? You remind me of one of my friend.

– The one with 'friends issues'.

– Erm, no, - Mingling. Something that she has always been bad at. – Another one.

– Sorry, I shouldn't say that.

– It's nothing. Just the hard time.

The woman stands up from the chair heading to take another set of samples.

– One day everything will come to its end.

– Excuse me? - Legrand turns away from the body seeing that her asisstant doesn't even furrows her brow.

– I mean the day when all the shit vanishes and all live happily ever after.

– I hope this day will come as soon as possible.

Martin gives her a sly grin and turns back to the microscope musing quietly.

– Oh, it will, Doctor. It will.

When they reach her office finally finished with the body, Carol sees Greg in her chair again.

– You are back! - Tessa smiles to the inspector with the shine in her eyes. – How's the first autopsy, Ms. Martin?

– It was thrilling.

– Was it? - he's watching the examiner heading towards her desk. — The victim was just strangled.

– The victim suffered a fracture of the laryngeal cartilage, - Carol starts arranging papers on her table. Tessa takes some of them to put in the locker adressing the woman above her shoulder.

– Tell him about the disarticulation of the hyoid horns.

– Right. In a strangulation like this, the hyoid bone can shift to the side ...

– ... which side depends on whether the assailant was left- or right-handed.

– This victim's pattern of disarticulation was the same as other victims had.

– Other? - the inspector switches the gaze while these two talk taking turns.

– Other who I found here.

Legrand handles him a file with her handwritten notes inside.

– So they were killed by the same person.

Martin shares the special look with the medical examiner.

– That's possible, but it's also possible that the victims were killed by two different left-hand dominant people.

– Possible? Can't you say for sure?

Her asisstant smiles with the shake of her head.

– I wouldn't speculate, - Greg groans and rolls his eyes.

– God! There are more of you.

– Come on, it's funny! - Carol crosses glances with Tessa shining like a Christmas tree. She likes her in the end, hoping last two days will be the same.

– Happy, this will be over soon. If you'll wind something, just text me.

Martin follows the man with the intense gaze, too displeasured, as it seems to Carol, but she doesn't give this much of attention. The moment the woman turns back to her the exspression dissapears.

– Funny, huh?

– Yeah, I think we'd make a good team, - the day is coming to the end and Legrand thinks of saying those thing untill it's not too late. – It is really wonderful to work with you.

– Oh, I think we'll meet again, Doctor Legrand. Later,  - the smirk the woman gives reminds her of something familiar. It's on the tip of her tongue, but still hard to catch, and it gives to the girl a nervous itching. – I'm looking forwars to this day.

Carol doubts she will ever meet such brilliant asisstant, but anyway will keep looking again. Her content state of mind doesn't last long. Right until Sherlock's message arrives.

Sherlock makes his way along the blue-lit corridors and through the glass tunnels under the water. London Aquarium has never felt so dreadful at this time of the night.

London Aquarium. No heels.
SH

His fingers quickly tap the message and the man hides the phone into his pocket.

– Your office said I’d find you here.

A woman is sitting on one of the benches with her back to him. Vivian continues looking forward into a tank of sharks and other smaller fish.

– We’re like them: ghostly, living in the shadows.

– Predatory.

He couldn't imagine everything ended up like this. And while Sherlock still has hope, something inside of him keeps telling no one won't get out of here safe.

When Mary joins him, the man only thinks of John who definitely has sanity to call Lestrade. His brother will be there anyway.

Carol shows up later when the detective's deduction is on its peak, but hardly it's a good idea. Through all this visible tension Legrand can't stop thinking about Mycroft and his people or maybe Greg who can handle it easily.

When they finally arrive the girl feels elder Holmse standing right behind you, but no one of them don't have strenght to look at each other. Both their glances are stick to the scene before them.

With every tiny piece of Mary Watson's past she feels unsafe, even more than in times of the high activity of her own group.

Vivian's gun is aimed at Sherlock's chest now and Mary who is from his left throws worried looks on the old woman. Carol doesn't like it, the feeling of something inevitable coming up gets her shivering badly.

Sherlock makes a step forward holding his arm to out to her.

– There's no way out.

– You’ve seen right through me, Mr Holmes.

– It’s what I do, - she tilts her head, wicked smile ghosting over her lips and Legrand feels familiar trembling from inside. Too familiar to be presice, and not in a good way.

– Maybe I can still surprise you.

Carol takes a step towards the two of them at the moment the woman fires. The girl can't even understand what's going on when strong arms grab her from behind, pressing to the chest as firm as possible, holding back.

– Mary!

Mary, who has no doubt anticipates that this is going to happen, hurls herself sideways in front of him and the bullet impacts her lower chest. 

Carol still unsuccessfully tries to get herself free, though Mycroft's grip doesn't become loose. Not for a moment. She stops fighting him when Watson falls down on the floor near the bench.

In the corner of her eyes she sees police officers hurry over to Vivian to disarm her.

When Mycroft calls the ambulance and takes his way back, Legrand can't tear her gaze off Mary bleeding to death. No need to be a good doctor to understand she'll not last long.

– Mary? Mary? Stay with me.

Sherlock stares down at her, his face full of shock. At John who already looks half dead.

Carol shakes her head slightly in pure disbelief. It seems to her that those close to Sherlock always survive this or that way.

– Look after Rosie. Promise me.

She's afraid to look at John, can't even imagine how he will live after his wife passes away.

Carol takes a step back, in the urge to go away or just not to look at it, but stumbles over Mycroft's side. Turning to him she sees the same discouraged glare on his face as she has.

– Mycroft...

Her whisper is more about question to him, but this time Holmes doesn't have answers she wants to get. Not right now.

She makes a move towards the man, still in shock, and Mycroft's arms encircle her waist and press her closer. Not in attempt to keep her away from her reckless acts, but just to hold for a moment.

The familiar warm of his she's craving for now wraps around her whole body.

That's all so fragile, she's somehow got to forget about it. No matter what people say, it's never easy to learn from others' mistakes. Today she's learnt.

After that both of them can allow themselves to be offended by each other, but that will be later. The wave of shaking goes down her spine in attempt to hold back upcoming tears, and the man squeezes her tight again.

When everything behind becomes quiet she turns back. John sits cradling dead Mary in his arms. As Greg passes his hand over his face and Mycroft watches his brother, Sherlock slowly begins to back away.

Well, they are done here.

The loud knock on Mycroft's front door tears him from observing his half empty fridge. Some days since Mary funerall pass, but all of them are still like wandering in the mist.

The door opens revealling Carol which eyes are not so puffy as before, but tired and red from constant rubbing.

The evening comes and it's pretty cold outside, but the girl stands in her thin trench coat only.

– Do you mind-?

Mycroft blinks for a few times realising he should let her in.

– Sure, - he doesn't ask what she is doing here. He must be a complete idiot to do this.

She walks past him into the warm living room where he gets to set fire earlier.

– I can't be there any more.

He doesn't reply sitting next to her on the sofa handing her a glass of whiskey. He himself wanted to visit Baker Street, but refused.

– They're all grieving, I can't be there a little longer. And my flat doesn't feel like a right place anymore, it's too quiet.

– How's Sherlock?

– Working. At least predents to. Like all of us.

Carol is twirling the glass in her hands. Living with the girl for a while he can say, she's about to say something. She always needs to hold something in her hands when she's concerned.

– I've always feared this. Since I've met Sherlock and Molly, - Legrand casts an empty glance on Holmes. – I was watching Mary and guessing if my past would ruin my life like that.

– Mary Watson had a wonderful family in the end.

– She felt guilty. Guilt is poisonous, there is nothing wonderful about it.

– Do you think she's made it intentionally.

– I don't know-.

He keeps silent encouraging her to go on. But then he catches some of her earlier words.

– Your past is still haunting you? - she shakes her head as like giving up to him

– I know, you already hate me. I don't want to make it worse, - the man looks at her intensely. – But no, there are only me and my conscience.

The girl's broken hoarse voice grows to a whisper.

– I just wish things were not so complicated, Mycroft, - the girl winces and he moves closer embracing her with his one arm pressing against his chest as Carol lays the head on his shoulder.

– Me too, Carol. And I don't hate you.

He sits like this for some long minutes stroking her hair gently, until the fire in the fireplace burns out.

– I'm grateful to you, - her quiet voice makes him lean back to watch her. – You seems to be the last bulwark of sanity here. And you keep looking after all of us.

The man chuckles shaking his head. He leans on the back of the couch dragging the girl with him.

– I've failed more than once, Carol. Failed with Mary too. I should have noticed earlier-

– Sometimes things just happen. At least you're keep trying. Besides, - she gives up a sad smile, recalling him holding her back that day. – You have a perfect reaction.

– I had to keep you from doing such reckless things. I couldn't let you-

die saving my brother. It's my prerogative

He falls silent, but her whole figure tenses anyway as if feeling what he didn't say. Mycroft sighs and shifts uncomfortably.

– I need to apologize to you.

– Do you? - it is not the first time when he does it. And if she tells Sherllock he won't believe.

– There was a big misunderstanding between us that time, - Legrand squeezes his hands reassuringly. – You just tried to keep your family safe. To protect them.

– Mycroft-

– I just need you to understand that I have my ditues too. Sometimes I have to act a certain way.

– I understand. Just...I hope we'll find a compromise.

– I want us to find it now.

His voice is firm, but she feel hidden worry and care behind it. She grins at the man and frees herself from his hug.

– Then do you mind finding it on the kitchen. I'm starving.

Holmes stands up abraptly hurrying after her.

– Wait!-

– What? Your fridge is empty again? - her cheerful smile, that he hasn't seen for so long, rushes a wave of tingling down his fingers. Bringing back memories of living together.

– It half full, by the way!

– It's half empty, Mycroft! There are only vegetables. I'll text Anthea.

Chapter Text

Morning light radiates from broad kitchen windows with oblique rays leaving traces on the floor, and Carol would most likely love it, but the dull pain in her neck ruins all the fun.

– Told you, you shouldn't take that pillow.

Mycroft comes in rubbing his own back.

– Seems your matress is not that comfortable too, - the man sits on the chair a bit sleepy. – Coffee?

– God, yes.

They were talking till 3 am, and now both of them still feel half asleep. Carol got the couch on the first floor refusing taking her former guest room.

Legrand sets up the coffee maker watching it working with childish happiness. Mycroft glares, not used to her sudden strangeness.

– Are you okay?

– A joy of controlling how the hot water rises before a torrent of pressure penetrates the tamped beans.

– Okay, I'm done watching coffee porn, - she chuckles watching him heading to the fridge.

– Oh, you're just impatient.

– I just want a cup of coffee, not a roman orgy.

Her phone makes a sound of an incoming message, and she remembers, that Mark should have come back from Milan with her youngest brother today's morning.

While she's pouring coffee into mugs, Holmes serves them a light breakfast. Delicious smell spreads across the kitchen.

– Could you check my phone, Mycroft?

The man comes up to the table flipping through a list of messages.

– First is from your brother and another one is from Lestrade. And, in my opinion, they complement each other.

– That's bad.

– He is just asking you to arrive to the department.

It's sunday, for God's sake. Why should she get back to work this day.

– Want to come with me?

Holmes looks surprised, even confused.

– Do you want me to?

And insecure. A pleased smile on the girl's lips appears instantly.

– I do want. I won't ask you otherwise.

They don't say a word and just get back to the breakfast. Though Mycroft notices a strange look on her face.

– Is everything alright? - they stand close to each other at the counter, and the man supresses the urge to touch her arm.

– Yeah, I just...feel like I'm escaping problems.

– Escaping?

– Mary. I feel like I should be with John and Sherlock, support them. But it ends up like two years ago, when I ran away to Germany instead of doing what I had been asked for.

Mycroft lets a sigh of concern and lays his hands on the girl's forearms turning her to face him.

He doesn't know what he's going to tell her. But after everything that she's done to him, has changed him completely as a person, it will be disrespectful to let her think about herself in that way.

Holmes knows that aside Anthea and his brother there are few people really close to him. But having Carol in his life now shows the man how lonely he was before.

Legrand blinks surprisingly seeing unusially soft glance shining on Holmes' face.

– I don't think you're irresponsible. Or whatever you call yourself, - his grip tightens on her arms.

– But I'm Sherlock's friend, and I don't-

– Carol, you are kind and generous and loving, and you are the best friend that person could ever ask for, - she stands still batting her eyes at him. – Give them some time alone. It will be better for all of you.

Her brows arch and it breaks her usual facade on a second.

– So, people don't like me for my brains only?

Mycroft closes his eyes on a moment trying to supress a broad smile. This woman can be smart enough to argue with his brother and a dozen of top professionals, be in the criminal organisation running it flawlessly, but can not see obvious things just under her nose.

But all of us, in turn, have our own insecurities.

– Come here, - his whisper rushes a wave of goosebumps down her skin, and when the man presses her against his chest Legrand finds herself unable to relax. – You will aways be you, your intelligence is not what defines you.

– And this is ?

– This is how you deal with people while providing families with causes of death, how caring you are towards those who are dear to you, - light strokes of his hand down her hair calm her a bit. Whatever Mycroft says, he's changed a lot. He would hardly allow himself this behaviour before.

The warmness radiates from his body under the dress shirt and the girl finds it hard to resist it.

She can stay like this for her whole life, but some of the words that the man said draw her attention.

– Providing families with causes of death? Did you install cameras in my mortuary?!

– It's the department's mortuary-

– And I work there, - she gives him an abashed smile shoving slightly his side. – Hey, you've promised me! The spying thing.

The moment he wants to answer the phone beeps with another message, and Mycroft tries to switch her attention to it.

– Inspector Lestrade is waiting for us. Let's move.

– You are avoiding the subject, Holmes.

– Am I?

– Mycroft!

Stepping to the officers' floor, Carol makes her way towards Lestrade office with Mycroft following her.

– Why are you alone?

She sees Mark chatting with Greg, but doesn't see Lucian around. And knowing her youngest brother she wouldn't be so brave to leave him unattended.

– Oh, he's in the interrogation room. Come with me.

The inspector leads her to the place grinning slyly.

– What? - she turns back to her brother. – You left him with a suspect?

Lestrade corrects her.

– Not quite a suspect. He is a gangster, has previous arrests for armed attacks and so on. Just look at that for a moment.

– Do you think I don't know what I'm dealing with? - the four of them comes into the dark room behind the interrogation one. Through the glass she can see a tall man sitting behind the table with Lucian right next to him.

Mycroft lays his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

– Don't worry. There is a dozen of policemen here.

– I'm more worried about that man, believe me.

The suspect doesn't make an impression of the innocent. But hearing this kind of her brother's voice makes her more nervous.

Lucian stands opposite the shaven-headed tattooed man, holds a shiny coin in his fingers with the man gazing at it intenlty.

– You know he hasn't this much time untill the lawyer arrives.

– I do, - Greg crosses his arms on the chest looking joyfully through the two-way glass mirror. – But it's so much funnier.

Her brother made this with all of them in their young ages. This silky soothing voice is flowing inside the room they're in, and Carol winces like from a bad memory.

She tries to concentrate on what is going on in another room.

– Say it. Tell me how you feel.

– Happy and relaxed, - the man's tone is light and friendly.

– Good. Tell me, George, what's your date of birth?

– I was born on the first of march, 1980.

– That's right. What was your mother's name?

– Christine.

Lucian goes round him laying the coin on the table surface. Mycroft winces in confusion seeing the suspect's foggy gaze.

– What's he doing? - Mark grins leaning on the wall.

– Things that Carol disapproves. Just watch.

He keeps observing the way the young man moves across the room. His features are almost like Mark's one. Black hair, blue-gray eye color, sharp cheekbones. Seems Carol is the one who doesn't look like them, except one thing. This intense piercing gaze is a common detail of Legrand siblings.

– That's a nice name. She was a good woman. She liked you to tell the truth, didn't she?

– Yes.

– Good. Now tell me how you murdered Donovan Hobbs.

Carol rushes from the room and Mycroft tries to follow her, but Mark's reply stops him.

– Let her. Greg already knows everything.

– Than why are you doing this?

– It's really just for fun.

She enters in hurry meeting her youngest brother's glance. The man behind the desk doesn't even raise his eyes.

– Sorry to interrupt you, Lucian, but-

– I was just about to get the truth from him!

– He's in trance, isn't he?

– I would describe it as more like deep relaxation.

The girl rolls her eyes, walking out, aware that Lucian will follow her.

– Hypnotized. You hypnotized him.

– Why do you have to spoil my fun, Carol?

– How many times I told you, no hypnotism. It's illegal and unethical and you can't keep-

– Illegal? We are in the police department.

– Is it the only thing you've heard?

In the distance she sees a man making his way towards them, when Greg and the company finally leave the other room meeting her in the hallway.

– Okay, just get him back quickly. It's his lawyer.

Mycroft looks at it with unhidden interest and enters the room with a young man to see the end of the show.

– George? - he sits on the edge of the desk, holding the man's hand. – Listen to me carefully.

He shakes George's hand.

– It was nice to meet you. Good luck in all your future endeavors.

He's still shaking it slightly, but claps the arm more intensely for the last time, and Holmes sees the gangster's look changes immediately.

The man glares at Lucian as if not realising what he's doing here. The boy takes the coin from the table and leaves.

– I can't believe, Mark, you took him here.

– Well, I hoped we'd find you in your office, but who knew you didn't work at weekends.

This mocking tone of his relaxes the girl a bit, and she allows her a slight smile.

– I do have my own private life- , - Mark switches his attention on Mycroft.

– Yes, I can see that.

Holmes turns his head to him with his arrogant smirk. They still can't stand each other, but seems things are getting better slowly.

– What's this, Mr. Legrand? Mocking?

– That's for sending your parents to my hospital room, - Greg barely supresses a laughter. – I could hardly look at food for a week more after that.

– What's going on?

When they reach the first floor the girl notices some kind of preparations. Coffee tables stood around the cafeteria with snacks and drinks on them.

– We are hosting an annual conference for officers,  - they share a strange look between her and her brothers. – Don't even ask.

– I still don't get why you agreed to host this thing in the department, - Mycroft looks around with the critical glance while some of the workers are trying to hang a banner on the wall.

– Well, the convention center doubled their rate after last year's...issue.

– Issue? - the inspector casts a glance towards Carol with a supressed smile, nodding sightly to her side.

– She left a severed head in the hotel fridge-

– Come on! - she throws her hands in outrage. – It was only once.

– Believe me, once was more than enough.

– Was it like that time at your university? - Lucian waves his hand at the preparations, and Carol shoves his shoulder.

– Hey, stop-

– What time? - Mycroft seems delighted to learn something new about Legrand.

– She used to hiding body parts in the lockers of people that annoyed her.

– Well, at least now I see why you made friends with Sherlock so fast.

The more of the department workers begin to arrive wandering around the hall, the more Mycroft notices Carol wincing.

– Won't you mind if we leave?

He touches her back leading to the exit, and Lucian smirks at this.

– Still don't like people, as I see, - she smiles, but holds back a snap.

– I do like people. On my table. Cut open, - Greg crosses his half terrifying glance and the girl throws her arms slightly up in a defensive gesture. – For scientific purposes only.

– Okay, now we can move out.

The moment she and Holmes reach his car, he starts showering her with questions.

– So, your brother? Hypnotist?

– No, not really. Just a little bit of talent.

– Yes, I was there. He's quite good.

Carol freezes on her seat turning to the man.

– What do you think of?

– Me?

– Come on, I know that face.

Mycroft chuckles slightly looking somewhere else, but not on her.

– His talent can be put at the service of the country-

– No, no, Mycroft. No. It's illegal, remember?

– And belonging to the mafia-like organisation is not?

He gives her one of his infamous looks hinting at obvious. Carol leans back on the leather seat.

– Touché.

The car gets out of the parking lot. Inside the quiet salon Legrand feels more comfortable than in the overcrowded lobby of the department.

– Besides, you told me your brother is distrustful.

– So?

– He seems to get along with Lestrade.

She humms quietly at it and stares at her phone's screen hanging up another phone call from Mrs. Hudson.

– Where did you find him?

– My people tracked him. He was in the middle of the road, was nearly run over.

Sherlock sniffs inxaling barely noticable perfume scent. His mumbling reaches Wiggins' ears as he makes the face.

– He's like that for the whole time, - the detective's eyes running from one man to another unable to concentrate on faces. He whispers quickly still sniffing the air around him.

– Berdamot, cardamom, cinnamon, ginger...Ambre Topkapi, - Holmes rather guesses than focuses on the face before his eyes. – Mark! How's your sister?

He rolls his eyes standing up, heading to the entrance, when Sherlock's assistant stops him.

– Wait! Will you just leave?

– What do you expect me to do? - he greets his teeth, literally done with all this shit. Wiggins steps back from the man. – It's Carol's prerogative to babysitting Holmes brothers. I have neither time nor the desire to waste it on them.

– But-

– Done with the Holmes, Wiggins!

Three weeks later

– Well, now won't you introduce me?

After the red car skids around a turn into a residential road and a driver finally parks it between buildings, John opens the front door of his therapist’s house, stepping outside.

The woman behind him seems confused, but not much, as if she used to things like that during her job practice.

Mrs. Hudson walks out the red Aston Marting, surrounded by police cars and the next moment Watson notices one more black one halting right next to red.

He immediately recognizes Mark's car.

– What’s happened?

– It's Sherlock! You’ve no idea what I’ve been through! - the woman breaks down in tears pulling John into a hug.

Legrand comes closer nodding to the man silently. He doesn't look pleased as was dragged in 'the Holmes story' once more against his will. Mark heads the way into the therapist house with a charming polite smirk on his lips.

The woman smiles him back awkwardly still embarraced with the scene in front of her eyes. John tries to understand the situation while Mrs. H is sobbing on his shoulder.

– Did you call the police?

They come into the house where Mark is already somewhere in the kitchen with Watson's doctor.

– Of course I didn’t call the police. I’m not a civilian! - when Legrand walks out of the room, Mrs. Hudson points at him. – We don't need the police when the criminal organisation collaborates with the Government.

The young man throws a quick gaze at the therapist deciding, if it's wise to mention it in front of a stranger.

John Watson should listen to the old woman at least giving how much efforts his sister laid on begging him to cooperate with Mycroft to help Sherlock.

– You need to see him, John. You need to help him!

When her stories about Sherlock making a living hell from his flat on Baker Street, and blaming Culverton Smith about being a serial killer, Mrs. Hudson storms out of the house. Watson follows her obediently.

The silence is finally settles and Mark thinks of leaving. He has his business to do, and Mrs. Hudson can perfectly cope with everything herself.

– The criminal organisation?

The hoarse low of the woman voice keeps him on his place. He swears he catches interested, but mocking note in it. The old landlady should watch her words properly next time.

– Why not the Government? - maybe it's his face or demeanor that allows the woman choose his own side for him.

She smiles to him looking from head to toe. He doesn't allow himself to smile back this time. Something in her glance alarms the man.

– The way you're dressed. Your shirt's thread count, - she tilts her head. – Government employees used to dress too pompously, but you are way more elegant and practical.

He arches his brow letting her go on.

– Besides, it's your cologne, - she comes to Mark slowly, and he supresses the urge to step back. Facing the woman this close Legrand reveals she's younger than she pretends to be from the very begining. – I know this scent. The forth most expensive man's perfume.

– You are observant indeed.

– Indeed?

She can be smart as long as she wants, but he has his tricks too.

– The way you look at all of us. Your reaction, it's not surprise, as you pretends to show them, - Mark waves at the window, on the street where Mrs. Hudson and John are standing. – As if it's not a bunch of strangers who breaks into your house with the police after them.

The man smirks and comes around her.

– We are like test subjects to you, aren't we? And you're just watching how the action turns, weaving a network of webs, right? - on a brief moment her facade cracks in confusion. He gives her a relaxed smile, leaning closer to her face.

– Although I grant you life, most wicked one, your fate shall be to dangle on a cord, and your posterity forever shall take your example, that your punishment may last forever".

The woman blinks, but the previous embarrassment vanishes from her glance.

– Excuse me?

– The myth of Arachne. Athena transformed her into a spider, - Legrand notices the slight change, it's barely visible, but he can be observant too.

– Arachne's was highly gifted-

– She thought herself an equal of the living Gods. Besides, - Mark turns with his back to the therapist intending to leave. – Athena was a goddess...

– ...did that make you a god?

He turns once more to face her knowing smile, and winks towards this woman who catches his thought easily. Her eyes were shimmering with witty young sparkle. If she wants to keep her secrets, than he lets her be. This gray wig doesn't actually make her that older.

Mark heads straight to his car passing by Watson and Mrs. Hudson, who is freeing Sherlock from the trunk.

Chapter Text

– Tell me you have something.

Carol raises her head on Greg who walks in the morgue with two paper coffee cups. He heads to the dissection table, but notices the examiner's hands all covered with blood and steps back.

She covers the body with the sheet and takes off the gloves.

– Penetration wound to the posterior between the fifth intercostal rib and scapula and anterior between forth and fifth ribs in the cardiac notch.

– You told the same an hour ago at the crime scene.

– It's because I'm still working on it. It will be longer without an assistant, you know, - the girl leads him through the lab straight to her office. – Anything about a suspect?

The man furrows his brows and Legrand instantly catches it.

– Oh, you seem worried.

– I'm not worried.

– I said, you seem worried. And you've never brought me coffee before.

When they reach her office Lestrade plops down on the sofa rubbing his face.

– Our suspect is a sisxteen-year-old boy. Security footage showed him wandering around the crime scene just a half an hour before.

– Does he bother you?

Greg is rarely upset about suspects whoever they were, but this case for some reason makes him sad and concerned.

– No...yes, it's just..., - he stands up starting pacing in cirles around the room. – His mother died ten years ago, he was left with father. And when he was eight his father brought the boy to an orphanage.

– That's not good, yeah? He's still so young.

– If he'll be proven guilty, they will charge him as an adult with first-degree murder.

Legrand is watching him slowly wandering from one corner of the office to another.

– Okay, now I am worried, - she reaches the man to halt him on place squeezing his forearms. The inspector swallows hard, his eyes are running from the right to the left. – Do you know about my father?

She shakes her head reluctantly handling him his coffee cup.

– He left the family when I was twelve. My mother tried her best to raise me, but-

– She'd done a good job, - the girl smiles warmly to him. – Don't get lost in bad memories, Greg.

They fall silent and Lestrade sees Carol holding herself back from saying something.

– Did you know, 72% of incarcerated juvenile delinquents grew up in broken homes, - he exhales heavily.

– You just can't help yourself, can you?

– Sorry. I'm sure, you will be a good father.

– Would be.

Carol winces at his words tilting her head.

– How're your dates with Molly?

– Worse than you can ever imagine, - he says it so freely, the girl decides he's got over failures. – You didn't see her face. It's like she wanted to say, she's sorry, every ten minutes.

Carol chuckles and then suddenly the loud clomping draws her attention to the hallway and Lucian appears at the doorway.

– What are you doing?

– You noticed me?

– You passed my office twice. You were clomping.

He walks in sitting on the couch where Greg set some time ago.

– You recognised my clomping? 

– No, I heard the clomping. I looked up, and I saw my brother being weird, - the boy smirks and leans back. Carol hates when Mark and Lucian act like it's their office and not hers. – So what are you doing here?

– I called him.

She switches to Lestrade who's grinning gazing at her younger brother.

– How nice, - she turns back to the boy with sarcastic grin. – Are you planning to send another gangster into trance?

– At least I work with living.

– You hypnotize them.

– Yeah, I'm sure dissecting is better.

– Do you two realize, how actually alike you two are?

Lestrade points at each one of the couple. He still doesn't come up to with them. From one point he has one very good specialist and now seems to have another of freelancers.

But they are Legrand siblings. Probably they are worse that the Holmes, but he's not sure of that. Once Greg will definitely get himself in trouble with all them.

– Yeah, like yin and yang, - Lucian stares at her provocatively crossing arms on the chest. Carol tilts her head on his words.

– Which one am I? 

– You are yin of course, shady and cool.

She takes a moment to think. The inspector is watching them joyfully.

– No, I wanna be yang.

– No, it's me. Sunny and bright.

– What? How can you always be the sunny one?

The boy points at her after her burst of outrage passes and chuckles

– Because of attitude like that.

– Fine! - she turns to Greg and nods at her brother. – You can take him now.

The man waves to the boy leading him to the entrance.

Baker street. Mycroft is over there.
JW

She gets the message the moment she's alone in the room. John has rarely texted her before, he always prefered calls.

– Now you need me to come to terms with Mycroft?

On the other end of the line aside from Watson's breathing Carol hears the dead silence. She knows Mycroft's car has a perfect soundproofing.

– He called me to Baker Street, I'm sure it's all about Sherlock. And you know he's insufferable when it comes to meddling in someone's business. So, yes, I need you.

– I do know, but every time when I try to make a point, it ends up with a huge fight, John! - they both worried about Sherlock, but Legrand has little of her patience. She doesn't want to ruin her relationships with Mycroft anymore.

– I hope you'll do your best.

With a hang up a new wave of helpless anger covers her completely. Sherlock being high again only makes things more complicated, and she's done solving his problems.

The cab stops in front of the doors and the girl rushes her way into the flat where John is trying to cope with Mycroft's people prowling across the apartment.

– Mycroft Holmes! What are all these dreadful people doing in my house?

Mrs Hudson runs into the room with Carol following her. Mycroft, in turn, shows the unflappable calm itself.

– Mrs Hudson, I apologise for the interruption. As you know, my brother has embarked on a programme of self-destruction remarkable even by his standards, and I am endeavouring to find out what triggered it.

Carol looks around watching his agents turning this place upside down. Holmes can be protecting and worrying, but this time he's crossed the line.

– Everybody out, now. All of you.

Seeing Mrs Hudson who is telling these people off, she hesitates to meddle in. No one of the agents listens to her going on with searching. But the old lady's last words to Mycroft help to make her final decision.

– Get out of my house, you reptile.

– Mrs Hudson, - Carol interruprts her stepping in between the woman and elder Holmes. – I wouldn't mind a cup of tea.

Legrand stares at her with the intense gaze, and finally Mrs H comes out with a slight chuckle dragging John with her downstairs. She would rip Holmes in pieces without this break.

Constant rustling of papers from every corner of the room makes her sick.

– Leave us.

She doesn't need to raise the voice for people to listen to her. Low and overpowering it frequently plays the deciding role in conversations.

The men vanish earning an annoyed look from Holmes. The next moment they're alone in the room.

– John called you.

– What the hell do you think you are doing? - she ignores his words and the man crosses arms on the chest straightening his back.

– Sherlock is my business.

– It doesn't allow you to break in here and ruin everything.

His brow arches on a moment and he steps forward closing the distance between them.

– Is that what I'm doing according to you? Ruin everything?

His pained expression intrudes with a slight hint of shame inside of her. Her tone softens as she reaches for his hand clasping it between her palms.

– Mycroft, please, I don't want to fight with you again. But this also requires you respecting personal boundaries of people around.

– I'm doing it for saving my brother-

– Don't you think that it's not your saving that Sherlock wants, hmm?

Legrand looks tired, Mycroft admits. And extra shifts that she picked up didn't make her look better.

– I suppose relationships with my brother shouldn't worry you, Ms. Legrand.

– Mycroft-

She has no desire to argue with him now. For the first time of their friendship he's telling her of, not she.

– I'm not sure whose side you're on, - despite his visible displeasure and attempts to act like all of this doesn't touch him, Carop sees he becomes involved.

– I'm on my own side, Mycroft. I always have and I always will. Let's settle this once and for all.

Now he's standing so close to her, one more step and she'll be pressed against his body. Floors of his black coat split aside and for one moment a white corner of a card shows itself from his inner breast pocket.

The faint one-sided smile touches her lips and with one rapid movement the girl takes it out to see it.

Alicia Smallwood

The unexpected pang of jealousy stabs her from inside as she watching this piece of paper with a phone number in it.

Carol is well aware of her own feelings to Mycroft, and it seemed to her earlier that he felt the same.

Now it all turns out otherwise.

– Don't you think, she's a bit old for you?

– Let's settle this, Ms. Legrand, - he takes the card back with a sardonic grin, heading to the entrance door.

– Also, - the man turns in the doorway. – I want to thank you for your assistance. You and your people. It was my pleasure to cooperate.

Though Carol doesn't finish yet. They're friends, and this friendship is the most precious thing she's ever experienced in her life. It seems wherever life would throw them, they ended up together anyway.

But neither her position nor his job allow all the issues disappear, and their fights always end with one of them leaving.

And if she doesn't stop him from leaving this time, Mycroft will not come back again.

With two wide steps Legrand shortens the distance and reaches the man, who's going to walk away, grabing his hand.

– Hey, listen to me-

– I don't have time for sentimental conversations, Carol!

– You always have, just don't want to bother yourself.

He although doesn't take his hand away secretly enjoying the moment. The man exhales heavily surrendering to this woman.

– Mycroft, I'm your friend, and I don't want to lose it, - her voice is quiet and soothing, as she's in no rush. Holmes is not a fan of speaking his feelings freely, and seeing this talk leading to the inevitable causes panic.

Pads of her fingers gently brush across his knuckles, calming his breath.

– You've told me once not to make myself your enemy. Now I'm asking you the same.

– I have never been your enemy, Carol. I've never wanted it.

His whisper reaches her and she moves closer cupping his face tenderly with both palms. Holmes almost leans in the touch, but holds himself back feeling her thubs brushing his cheekbones.

– I know, darling, I know. And I'm so sorry, - she opens her arms inviting Mycroft in embrace, closes her eyes when his warm breathing touches her neck. – I don't deserve a friend like you.

He chuckles slightly pressing the girl firmlier.

– I am terribly sorry, but I'm exactly what you deserve.

– I think, I can live with it.

– Why wouldn't he just have kissed her already? - John stirs his tea with a tea spoon, while Mrs. Hudson is fussing around the stove.

– He's a Holmes. They are idiots when it comes to women.

– And she doesn't make it easier for him, huh?

– I'm afraid it's just another type of idiots.

The moment Carol steps on the treshold of Baker Street flat she is dragged into the kitchen by Mrs. Hudson. Silence in the living room upstairs makes the old woman nervous.

– Mrs Hudson is wondering if you've killed each other up there...Gosh.

The scene of Sherlock and John tidying up in the room that Mycroft's agents messed up puts her in light version of shock.

Sherlock raises his head looking almost content.

– We...have come to terms.

– Yes, I can see that.

Though as soon as she comes up to the detective's desk he blocks her way.

– No, my brother's people messed the place, and I will not let you continue-

– I will clean up!

– That's worse, - Legrand rolls her eyes not noticing John's smirk.

– By the way, - she walks back to the plastic bag on the floor where she left it. – I brought you a pie.

Watson shakes his head in disagreement.

– The kitchen is still a hell of the room.

The girl peeks inside noticing the table full of chemical stuff on it. She casts a dipleasured glance towards Holmes and heads to put things in some kind of order. A couple of minutes after Sherlock joins her.

– So? - she speaks in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. – No more war?

– No more.

The man still seems sick after his last dose, and his five o'clock shadow makes him looks older.

– I'm happy for two of you. Like the old days- Sherlock, - Carol sees him halts on the spot. His glance is stick to a cup with two needles and a small amount of liquid on the bottom.

– Sherlock.

She touches his elbow slightly, afraid to scary the man, then tries to take the cup away from his hands.

He finally tears his eyes from it, switching them to the girl. She saw him being pensive before, but now Holmes is completely lost.

– Give me that, it's okay, - Legrand throws it into the nearest plastic bag with other litter. – Hey.

When his eyes meet hers she gives up a tiny friendly smile to reassure him.

– That will not happen again.

– How would you know?

– We won't let it, Sherlock.

Her grip on his hands brings him back and when her arms encircle him, the detective doesn't mind. Relaxing in the embrace he lets himself to nod, and this absent-minded movement doesn't go unnoticed to the girl. Carol hugs him tighter.

– You've fought with my brother, but then made up, - she leans back for him to notice her grim face.

No, not again.

– Sherlock, I've asked you about deducing me.

– So, you don't deny it? - the girl shakes her head. – You shirt still smells like him. Means you were hugging.

– Can't we just hug?

– Giving that your relationships with him crossed this line long time ago, yes, you can. But we usually do it after a quarrel. So?

She shrugs her shoulder.

– I don't know what to tell you, Sherlock. It's too complicated.

– Sounds like you. You always have to make it hard.

– It's not about this, - Legrand makes a pause choosing the words. – My past is constantly hanging above my head. And Mycroft will never accept it. He doesn't even know the half of it.

The man smirks with one corner of his lips watching his friend.

– I will tell you this, but only once, Carol. He's not the same man I've been knowing for my whole life, - she scoffs, but he makes her a sign to be quiet. –  And you two keep showing me that love really does change people for the better.

– Oh, Sherlock, stop it!

The blush of confussion and embarrassment covers her cheeks, and she reaches him and drags in a bear hug once more, that the detective gladly accepts.

– You can't just say such things this easily, - she hides her face in the crook of his neck.

– I do. But, - he leans back looking at the girl. – Mycroft can be mean and stubborn, so can you. But you'll endure. Your past or present can't change it.

For some time they stand like this, until John comes into the kitchen noticing the same kind of silence that frightened Mrs. Hudson.

– We are having tea tonight or you will stay like this till the morning?

Carol chuckles at his words tearing herself from Holmes and heading to the pie box.

– I missed you both, guys, honestly.

Chapter Text

– Let's be honest, it's not the best of your plans, Sherlock.

– Mycroft has been hiding my sister for God knows how many years. Do you think I'll be merciful to him?

Carol rolls her eyes crossing arms on the chest. For the whole day she's listening to Sherlock and John planning to get information from his brother.

To date, he only offers to scare the living hell out of him.

– I would say, you're obsessed with saving your sister, Sherlock.

– I'm worried.

– Obsessively.

– Why would you just not extort that from him? - they all turns to Mrs Hudson who comes in the room with a tray. Three surprised gases peer at her. – What? Stop looking like this.

– Mrs. Hudson, where did it come from in you? - Carol arches her brows pleasantly surprised.

— You are forgetting who my husband was, honey.

– Sure. But no matter how much you hate Mycroft, we will not include any violence.

When the landlady walks out, Carol moves closer to Holmes. Changing his mind about his elder brother becomes the task of the day.

– Sherlock, please. It's too much.

– So keeping my sister as a prisoner is not too much?

– We both know Mycroft. He would never do this without serious reasons.

– Are you defending him again? So you mean to tell, that you and your friends did not use more cruel measures to get the information?

– When will you stop bringing this topic in every conversation-

– By the way, - the detective interrupts her. – Aren't you breaking your own rules dealing with my brother?

– Why breaking rules? - John joins them again with a cup of tea. Carol waves her hand in irritated gesture.

– Crime families must not include policemen or those who have policemen among their relatives. Giving Mycroft's position in the Government, he's much more than a policeman.

– So you can't marry him, - noticing her outraged glance, he corrects himself. – Hypothetically.

– Hypothetically, I can. Mark has amended some of the rules, because we didn't meet the standarts from the very beginning.

– Did you?

– When first criminal groups were in their infancy, France was the main Italian enemy. Now my brother runs the organisation, and if you didn't notice, Legrand is a French name.

Sherlock claps his hands loudly drawing their attention.

– How do you feel about finishing the history lesson and coming back to the plan?

– I think you've already come up with everything.

Sherlock scans the girl's expression with the mocking gaze.

– You don't like the plan?

– Oh, how did you know this?

– Sometimes I wonder, - Johh watches Carol sitting in the chair with her legs on the armrest. – How you can talk about crimes so easily.

– You are a soldier, John. I think you understand me.

– It was a war, and you are a civilian.

– It's the same war, but only between the families. Or others who's involved.

– And yet...

She looks at him for a couple of seconds. Watson's gaze is heavy this time and she's never loved this kind of emotional presssure.

– Once back in Italy I saw a man who was hanged on his own guts. He was hanging from the balcony on the forth floor till the morning until someone called the police, - she makes a pause when sees Watson becomes a bit pale. – And when it seems I don't care, that's because I really don't.

The doctor hesitates on a brief moment, but then smiles to her awkwardly.

– I've always found your forthrightness just adorable.

The day comes to its end and John's head is cracking from today's events and two grown up babies fighting around him don't help.

When he excuses himself and leaves the flat, Carol decides to stay for a bit.

– We haven't got another choice.

– What? - Holmes dozes on a second and loses her way of thoughts.

– As much as I hate the plan, Mycroft will not tell you this another way.

– If you don't want to watch, you can wait outside.

– Oh, thank you!

Holmes almost snorts but then thinks about how things have changed when Legrand appeared in Mycroft's life. How people around him change their attitude towards him. Not much, but anyway. Carol's actions lead the way about how others act around his brother.

Sherlock turns to her as if the girl wincing.

– You adore him, it's disgusting. Terrifying really.

She chuckles, but remains silent rethinking what he just said.

– I'm not dissapointed.

– Excuse me?

– The day of the wedding I said, that I'm dissapointed in you being...like others.

– Average?

– You said that, not me.

Legrand puts her legs back on the floor and leans closer to the detective.

– I am an average person, Sherlock. Don't make high excpectations about me.

– You are not an average. Otherwise, Mycroft would not choose you over anyone else.

– I thought, you dissaproved?

The man raises from the sofa making his way to the kitchen without a word. Then he comes back with two cups of tea.

– I thought, my brother was going to break your heart, - the girl gives up one-sided grin.

– I know what I am getting into. So you can trust my judgment a little bit more.

– Maybe. Anyway I don't know much about all of your...sentimental stuff.

Carol scoffs at his words.

– Yeah, do tell, Sherlock!

– I am a brain, Legrand. The rest of me is a mere appendix.

– Sure. I don't even know what your body is for other than taking your head from room to room.

– Oh, you are so funny!

She's standing next to the entrance door of Mycroft's house in complete darkness, while Sherlock and his friends try to get the information with his stupid ways.

When Carol finally sees the lights turning on, the door opens with a soft click and John appears at the door inviting her in.

Heading to the living room the girl recognizes Sherlock's voice and another angry one of frightened to death Mycroft.

– You have no idea what you’re dealing with! None at all.

– New information: your sister is out, - John comes out of a corridor on the ground floor with Carol following him.

She immediately catches Mycroft's stern glance and throws her arms up in defense.

– Don't even look at me. Not my idea.

After confirming their information both Sherlock and Watson decide to leave.

– So that’s it, is it? You’re just going?

– Well, don’t worry. We won't leave you alone, - he winks to Carol who doesn't follow Sherlock staying by another Holmes' side.

John turns and walks away. Mycroft turns around and nervously looks upstairs at the open window.

– Want me to stay?

Legrand tilts her head still watching the man who definitely will never forget this day.

– I'm not a five-year-old boy. I'm not afraid of the darkness, - she rolls her eyes on his grumbling and takes his hand leading them to the kitchen.

– Then I have a present for you.

She comes in further into the room putting two red wine glasses on the table and pulls out a bottle from her bag.

– I don't drink at night.

– That's why you smell like cigarettes and single malt, - Holmes still stays at the doorway where she leaves him starring into nowhere.

Carol realizes it's a serious problem for all of them, and probably their lives will never be the same.
But right now she wants to reassure him and lift his mood up even a little bit.

– Come on, Mycroft, join me, - he wants to turn with his back, but something stops him. Maybe realisation that his sister, if she's out, will not give them much time to enjoy the time together.

– Fine, but no more talking about Eurus, - the young woman just shrugs her shoulders and starts opening the bottle. – Any plans for tomorrow?

– Mark wants to throw a family dinner party for the three of us. To celebrate Lucian's arrival.

She passes a glass to him when his fingers accidently brush against hers. Mycroft's gaze is still blurred and lost, and Carol puts the glass back gripping his palm across the table.

– Everything is going to be alright, Mycroft.

– You can't promise that, - he shakes his head with the exspression like he is led for slaughter.

She comes up slowly to his chair laying her hands on his shoulders in a reassuring way, when the man suddenly turns to her encircling her waist.

There is no need in words, she herself understands his worry and the extent of the problem. There is nothing to say anymore.

Legrand feels him pressing his head against her chest and squeezes him tighter. The man raises his tired glance on her smiling weakly.

– Thank you, Carol, - She doesn't like this, but can't determine what exactly.

– I don't like this voice of yours.

– What voice?

– 'Goodbye'. It sounds like a 'goodbye', Mycroft.

Holmes exhales heavily standing up from the table and out of her embrace and coming up in the middle of the kitchen.

– Because Sherlock can't imagine who he's up against. Our sister, - he makes a pause as choosing words, but it seems like a hard task. – Is good in ruining lives.

– Did she ruin yours?

– I would say, she defined it. I was the one who's responsible for her all this years.

Legrand listens to his words as from the mist curtain. This man dedicated his life to keeping Eurus' life in secret. So much responsibility and all that is on his shoulders only.

– You know, we are always here for you.

The girl comes up to him again and squeezes his hands in hers feeling them trembling slightly.

– As far as your concern is highly appreciated, I assure you, I can handle it myself, - soft smile appears on her face and she makes a move closer.

– You can cope with it of all people. But do you have the slightest idea that there are those who care about you, Mycroft?

– Sherlock and Mark would not agree with you.

– Losing you will break your brother's heart too, even if he never admits it, - only now Carol notices his thumb is brushing circles in the middle of her palm. – And Mark just has to stay firm. He likes you.

Seeing the man like this hurts her, but one thing she knows for sure. Love, and life, is a series of choices, it's what her grandfather used to tell her. Her choice, from now on, will always be Mycroft Holmes.

– Are you sure? - his words make her feel like she missed something lost in her thoughts. So he repeats. – Are you sure, you want to be involved in this situation?

– I have never been so sure.

– Because if this goes wrong and I lose you completely-

– You will not lose me...at least it won't be your fault.

– Promise?

Legrand gives up a short laughter and hugs his shoulders. If there is a possibility for him to lose her, it will only be because of her.

Like it was with Mary and John, but Mycroft is not that patient and forgiving for the faults of past, as Watson is.

– Promise.

– So, you've got along with that Inspector Detective? - Mark is eyeing Lucian across the table, and Carol notices the small smirk in the corner of his lips.

The restaurant they picked up for the dinner is vibrant and inviting, and for their luck there are not much people around for this time of the day.

– He's nice to me. And he has interesting unsolved cases.

– Did he just say 'interesting'? - the man points to his brother looking at the girl.

– Yeah, I've noticed.

– Hey, I'm still here!

They both are happy for Luc, who seems to get rid of his usual grim mood and finds himself a hobby. Moreover, a company, that was never happen to be before.

– We're just glad, you're enjoying yourself.

– And Greg is a good man, I'm sure he will affect you in a good way, - her phone beeps with the message, and Legrand can barely hold back a growl. – Speaking of the devil.

– Are you leaving already? - she can never resist her youngest brother's puppy glance, but this time it's urgent.

– Anderson needs my help.

– Did you hire an assistant to help him doing his work? - Mark arches his brows in a dark surprise.

– It's way more difficult than what he was doing before. He still needs his time to learn.

Carol takes her bag from the chair back and stands up. As much as she doesn't want to leave, duty calls.

– I'll see you tomorrow, - she kisses Mark's cheek and touches Lucian's shoulder and makes her way out.

To her own surprise no cab is seen next to the restaurant, so Legrand takes a quick walk to the nearest bus station.

It's still the early evening but she can say it's going to be dark pretty soon, and Carol fastens her pace.

She almost reaches the station, but someone bumps into her apologizing. The girl doesn't get to reply, when the white large rag is pressed to her face. Trying to escape she turns to face the capturer; unfortunately, the only thing she sees is darkness.

God knows how much time passes, but when Carol opens her eyes, there's nothing she can recognize, but the blinding light on every inch of the room she's held in.

She blinks a few times adjusting to surrundings, finally noticing details. After some moments a door from her left opens revealing three people coming in.

Her glance immediately darts to a woman who comes first. Dark brown, almost black, loose hair that riches her back, white clothes and matching white shoes.

Her features remind her about someone familiar, but after a second of recognizing the puzzle starts forming into the picture.

Two men with her take their places behind Carol's back, but they don't bother her much. She can hardly move when she's strapped to a chair.

When the young woman takes another one to sit in front of her, Legrand's eyes widen in realisation and some sort of fear.

– Penny for your thoughts, dear.

This voice. Carol can swear this woman lacks of deep black hair of shoulder length and white lab coat that the girl used to see at the mortuary for three days in a row.

– Damn it.

Chapter Text

– Damn it!

– And this is your thanks for my warm welcome?

Eurus' eyes are peering at her intensely, and Carol thinks that with such face she can equally stab her or hug. Doesn't really matter.

– I'm strapped to a chair. Is this your interpretation of a warm welcome?

She tries to move her arms, but nothing. Eurus waves her hand and one of the men quicky frees her, then guards go out of the room.

– I have to say I've longed for your company, Doctor. I like you, - the woman tilts her head still watching Legrand rubbing her wrists. – Anyone else would beg for mercy the moment he opened his eyes.

– Don't get me wrong, I liked you more as my assistant.

– Oh, it's easy to settle. Tomorrow you will be mine assistant.

Carol closes her eyes for a moment, her head is throbbing with pain from chloroform intoxication, and bright lights and white walls make it worse. More than that, Holmes's riddles make her sick.

Next words sound like mindreading.

– I know you like challenges, Doctor.

– Don't predent that you know me.

– You are Vittorio Valier's granddaughter. Of course I know you, - Carol's concerned glance makes her go on. – You kill people and dissect bodies, head over heels for Mycroft and have lovely brothers. I like the elder one, in some moment he was smarter than Sherlock and his funny friend.

– I don't kill people.

– Is that you used to tell my brothers? - Eurus chuckles leaning closer to her. Seeing that Carol clenches her jaw in a helpless anger makes her glad. – You should have it on a T-shirt.

– So they don't know about your past, do they? Oh, Mycroft, poor little thing, - the young woman tucks the strand of Legrand's hair behind her ear, and the girl barely holds from flinching. – He'll detest you when he learns.

–  You're simply trying to frighten me, - the whole way Carol is talking to the Holmes' sister doesn't make her contidion easier. It can end up badly for her. But Eurus just tilts her head.

– I am.

– I'm not afraid of you.

– I know, - she moves closer to her face whispering. — Because you're like me.

– Doubt that.

– Killing people in cold blood. Am I right? - her offended glance darts to Eurus. – We can be good friends, Carol. You just need to try.

– We were good friends, - she's talking plain and simple, because it's exactly what she means. Eurus blinks and the medical examiner notices a second of hesitation, but it's enough.

She doesn't have to be Sherlock or Mycroft, it's enough to be one the Legrand family to choose her further way of acting.

When the young woman starts talking again, Carol flinches.

– People who are about to die are very honest. It pays to listen to them.

– You are not going to kill me, - the girl allows herself a small smile. – Otherwise, you would have done it before. All you need now is a show, and me to watch it. But I still don't know why.

Holmes' eyes start shining, but no smile appears on her face.

– You are smart...for common people, of course. Now I see, what my brother's found in you.

She stands up to walk away still talking to herself more than to Carol.

– You ran away from your family to work in this kind of department. What for?

– You tell me. You are the smart one here, - she raises her head looking straight into Eurus' eyes. As far as she knows the woman is not keen on emotions, so the girl should not be afraid about being killed in a rage.

– You just can't be both a sweet smart medical examiner and a psycopath who kills people on the streets.

– Come on! - Carol throws her arms up. – Not on the streets. You're overreacting.

Holmes raises her brow in a kind of mocking, and Legrand gives up a groan rubbing her face tiredly.

– What have I done to deserve this?

– I can't list them all. It would take all night and, honestly, I have better things to do.

flashback

– Hey, Doctor Death!

Carol rolls her eyes at the nickname and Tessa gives up a short laughter while Dimmock comes into the mortuary.

– There is a girl down at the hall all covered in blood.

– Isn't it your part of work, Inspector?

– We are working, but she seems not to remember a thing.

Martin turns to the doorway and watching the detective then switches her glance to the examiner.

– So?

– Okay, lead her here. I'll take the blood samples.

After a couple of minutes the girl is sitting on the dissection table looking straight at Carol.

She takes a dictaphone to record the further procedure.

– Dr. Carol Legrand initiating examination of...

Legrand takes a pause and sets it aside, looking at Tessa who takes her place at the corner smiling sympathetically. Carol pays her attention at the girl once more.

– I-I don't want to call you "Jane Doe" because that's what I call the other women who end up on this table, who are...less alive than you.

The girl shrugs her shoulders still staring at her.

– So, based on the flounce hem of your skirt and the elasticity of your skin, I'd say you're in your mid-20s. The most popular baby name 25 years ago was Jessica.

Martin peers at Legrand with a sort of a proud sparkle in her eyes.

– Okay. Carol Legrand initiating the examination of Jessica Doe, female caucasian. Approximate age is 25...

end of flashback

When the sudden silence hangs above them, Carol turns to see Eurus, who she finds at the opposite wall sitting on the floor with bored expression on her face.

The more they talk the more Carol thinks the woman is just tired to death from this shit her life was turned into.

– We seemed to have fun back there.

– You maybe. It was so obvious for me. Why did you change your surname?

Legrand doesn't even seem surprised about the pace of phrases and changing subjects. Thanks to Sherlock, who used to talk fast. Aparently, his sister doesn't need a company to answer to her.

– Charline Valier, I like that. And "Carol Legrand" sounds...average.

– I'm full of not average things in my life.

– Sure, my brothers, - she waves her hand weakly.

Frankly, Carol doesn't feel herself being captured, more like being held back in one room with a familiar person.

Legrand sits on the floor from the chair leaning on the wall and closing her eyes.

– What are you doing? - the other woman's voice distracts her.

– Resting. You are preparing something big for tomorrow, I must be sure I'm well rested.

– You are strange.

– Sherlock has taught me. Always be prepared for the worse.

– So it's not your grandfather who taught you everything? - Carol rolls her eyes not opening them. Is it the Holmes' family trait only to mention her connections?

– You know the world contains millions of gangsters, why we always should talk about my family?

– Because you don't fit. You lack of usual family tree and organisation. And rules, don't people like you stick to rules?

– Sorry to dissapoint you, Eurus, the generation of rules had passed with my grandfather.

– Unlike your grandfather.

Carol shuts her eyes open immediately. Only knowledgeable people know he's alive. The girl doesn't expect the one, who has been locked in a cell for her whole life, to be aware of that.

Seeing her surprised expression Eurus rolls her eyes and chuckles.

– Don't look at me like this. I'm not a child, I know things.

– Yes, in comparing to you, we all are just idiots.

– Don't diminish your abilities. I've been watching you. You are great at emotional intelligence, not like any of my idiots of brothers.

Should she just take it as a compliment, like it was with Mycroft?

– Emotional intelligence? I kill people on the streets.

– Well, aside from that, - it can be just a vision, but on a brief second Carol sees Eurus grinning. – You're so relaxed. Strange indeed.

– What do you expect from me?

– What people usually do? Crying, begging? Swearing?

– You'll get enough swearing tomorrow, if your plan is good enough, - Carop can't believe she's saying that. Seems her previous live experience starts to showing up.

– I'm sure you'll like it.

Another dozen of minutes they spend in silence, and Legrand wonders if it's comfortable to keep quiet with all the Holmes. Soon Eurus stands up heading to the door.

– As far as I find your company charming, Doctor, I have my own plans for you for tomorrow. So no offense.

She opens her eyes. Is she misheard?

– No offense? You're a monster according to your brother, and now you are asking me not to take offense.

– Well, my brother, none of them, didn't make an attempt to learn a thing about me.

– So did not I, - the woman shrugs her shoulders.

– You did, just think I didn't notice. See you in the morning, Doctor.

– Why are you doing this? - Carol's voice reaches Eurus in the doorway and she halts immediately, turning back.

– I want them to see how blind they were to themselves and to you.

– Me? - her brow raises suspiciously.

Eurus gives up a knowing smirk, eyeing the girl from head to toe.

– I'm pretty sure, they don't know the real you, do they?

When Carol told she should have been prepared for the next day, she didn't expect being held in the monitor room with Eurus. Suprisingly the woman doesn't strap her, but the girl's access is very limited in order not to be seen on cameras.

Legrand is sitting in the corner on a chair watching three men and the governor slowly awaking in the cell.

Eurus comands to Sherlock in a calm voice.

– There’s a gun in the hatch. Take it.

The pressure is raising with every second, and the girl turns to the governor's wife strapped to a chair behind the glass wall. Whatever the choice Sherlock will make, she is doomed. Eurus doesn't give second chances.

Carol hears muffled begging of the man trying to persuade any of them to kill him to let his wife live.

– Countdown starting.

Sherlock stops a few steps in front of Mycroft and gestures with the gun, urging him to take it.

Carol is witnessing it from the side screen and can't help, but close her eyes, when Eurus suddenly switches her camera off.

– He won't do this. Mycroft can't stand the sight of blood.

The woman watches her with unhidden interest tilting her head and keeps silent.

– And John is a moral one, - Legrand nods to the woman. — You would kill her anyway, right?

Holmes grins reaching one of the desk drawers, pulling another gun from inside of it.

– But I know the one who can do this, - she gestures it to the girl with a wicked smirk seeing how eyes opposite her widen in astonishment. – Like the old days, Miss Valier.

Carol thinks for a moment, but takes the gun anyway, heading to the hidden wall door. Holmes will kill the poor woman, and the least the girl can do is takes off some pressure from others. If it can be called like that.

– Five minutes, - she turns to Eurus who switches the screen on again. When the door opens and she walks away John is already aiming at the governor's head.

– I can’t, - he lowers the gun and turns to Sherlock. – I’m sorry. I can’t do it.

Legrand shuts her eyes on a moment before the door to the cell opens imagining how much Mycroft will hate her after that.

Eurus's voice is pounding in her mind, audible from behind a wall.

– Since you can't push away your moral code, Doctor Watson, I've found you a person who doesn't suffer from such problems.

Mycroft's eyes dart to the door as he sees Carol coming inside the room from the wall opposite the glass one with a gun in her right hand.

– No, not you, no, - he rubs his face turning away from the girl, and she must admit it hurts to see him like this and know that she's the only reason for this.

The man hoped she wouldn't be involved in this case, he would never want her to. And now it's only his fault.

Carol slowly looks around Sherlock and John who are as surprised as the elder brother. The wrinkle between her eyebrows becomes more visible.

– I'm sorry, guys. I am so sorry.

– Five minutes starting.

As far as Legrand knows five minutes are more than enough to kill a man, so she steps further hugging Sherlock feeling his shaking hands on her back. God knows when she'll be able to see her friend again and she's going to use her chance while Eurus gives it.

– Are you okay? - Watson's voice is still frightened, and she can understand it very well.

– Better than you actually, - she gives up a grim smirk glancing at her victim.

Eurus smiles to her through the camera.

– Don't be afraid, darling. Come closer.

This game is not for her, and Carol is not afraid like Mycroft is, besides she used to this mocking voice of the woman.

– You are not serious.

Mycroft stares at her with wide open terrified eyes. Secretly, Legrand pities him, but right now is not a time for sentiments. She'll think about it later.

– I'm sorry, Mycroft. I've warned you.

– One minute, - this monitonous voice starts getting on her nerves.

With one swift motion she raises her hand and fires not really aiming. The governor falls dead with a hole right between his eyes.

– "Come closer", really? Ten years of archery practise. You think, I won't hit him from here?

Carol raises her glance on the screen watching Eurus content gaze. In the corner of her eye she notices Mycroft turns away choking and coughing against the other hand as he tries not to vomit. Others take a step from the dead body.

Sherlock looks briefly towards him and then turns to Carol.

– Are you alright?

– Quite, - she starts turning to the door that she came from. – See you, guys, I think we are not done yet.

She winks to Sherlock and John, watching Mycroft still looks away from her. A fake sympathetic grin appears on Eurus' face and door opens for Carol. With one last look she walks away.

On the left wall, the second panel away from the glass slides to one side, revealing another passageway for Sherlock and company.

– Please, go through. There’s a few tasks for you, and a girl on a plane is getting very, very scared.

The screen turns off the moment Legrand comes in the monitor room.

– Happy? - she puts the gun in front of the woman and takes her seat back on the chair in the corner.

– Very. You won't need this anymore, - she reaches the weapon and shoves it into the drawer. – Oh, don't be so grumpy, Doctor. I still have a present for you. Just wait.

Carol crosses her arms on the chest. Present or not, it's not that joyfully for the girl.

– Did you like it? - Holmes stares at her, and Legrand admits her hands are shaking but not from terror. It's a long-forgotten feeling that feels like tingling in the tips of her fingers. – You may not answer, I'm not blind.

The grin in the woman's face makes Carol wince even more. The screen is switched on again, and she continues to watch the three of the men.

– You've settled all of these, - Legrand looks around the large room with blinding electric lights they are in. The space behind the glass wall still captures her attention. – But it's not for threatening them.

Holmes keeps silent and the girl goes on.

– It's for Sherlock. That's all was done for Sherlock only. For drawing his attention. You don't want to escape, do you? Otherwise you've done it long before.

Carol leans closer to her, but so not to be noticed through the camera.

– You want Sherlock to know where exactly you are, and where he can always find you. Here. After all this comes to its end, you will surrender, Eurus.

Holmes grins broadly tilting her head to the side.

– You are smart indeed, honey. But isn't it more interesting?

She points at the screen where Carol already sees Sherlock and others. She leans behind and starts watching.

After two more tasks they enter the next place. Carol is on pins and needles watching Sherlock after the coffin room. Nevertheless, he still has John to support him, but seeing Mycroft standing alone at the doorway to the next room hurts her.

He always was by his own, and now, in the end, he still is. Something tells her this is the last task, but it only makes her nervous more. Legrands is unaware of Eurus' plans and her own role here.

– Hey, sis, don’t mean to complain but this one’s empty. What happened? Did you run out of ideas?

They stand in the empty room, just the three of them, nothing more.

– It’s not empty, Sherlock. You’ve still got the gun, haven’t you? I told you you’d need it, because only two can play the next game. Just two of you go on from here; your choice. It’s make-your-mind-up time. Whose help do you need the most – John or Mycroft?

– Eurus, enough! - Mycroft's stern voice is bouncing from the walls.

– Not yet, I think. But nearly.

Carol can't believe it. This tone reminds her of Lucian when he tortured her and Mark with his hypnotizing tricks. Do youngest siblings always need to be that insufferable?

Mycroft rubs his hands over his face and then lowers them and steps forward towards Sherlock. She wants to be with him so badly right now.

–  Well?

– Well, what?

– We’re not actually going to discuss this, are we?

What the hell is he doing?

– I’m sorry, Doctor Watson. You’re a fine man in many respects.

No, no way. She knows Mycroft too well, and he can't do this. Not the man who a half an hour ago tried not to choke on his guts after a man was killed.

– Shoot him!

The sudden realisation hits her brains. She casts a quick glance towards Eurus raising from her seat.

– Let me in, - the woman watches her laying back on the leather chair.

– Don't you want to watch till the end?

Mycroft is still talking, and Carol starts pacing along the wall, still unseen by the camera.

Sherlock lowers his head and half-turns away. Mycroft scoffs at the sight, then starts to chuckle sarcastically.

–  God!  I should have expected this, - his smile drops.– Pathetic. You always were the slow one ...

Eirus is watching it as at the cinema, with a sympathetic face expression, while Legrand feels her blood almost boils inside of her as elder Holmes continues to talk.

Sherlock shakes his head and winces.

– Please, for God’s sake, just stop it.

– Why?

– Because, on balance, even your Lady Bracknell was more convincing.

Mycroft blinks and lifts his head, looking a little disappointed.

Carol turns to Eurus.

– Let me in.

– It's not your time yet.

– Let. Me. In.

They are staring at each other with such intense, it can be cut with a knife. The girl can hardly supress the urge to look at the monitor.

– If you walks out of this door, I will not let you come back.

– I'm not asking you about coming back, Eurus.

There, in the room, Sherlock starts aiming at his brother. Seeing Carol's struggling face expression she rolls her eyes waving her off.

– Hurry. And consider it as my present to both of you.

With her last words the door opens and Legrand rushes out.

– Well, - Mycroft starts doing up the top button of his shirt. – I suppose there is a heart somewhere inside me. I don’t imagine it’s much of a target but ...

A door from the left opens and they see Carol breathing like after running a marathon.

– Car-

– You idiot!

She throws her arms around Mycroft's neck embracing him tightly. Sherlock and John exhale  and a brief smile shows up on the doctor's face as they both step back giving them more private space.

Strong arms squeeze the air out of her lungs, one of the man's arms is in her hair holding the girl even closer at the back of her head.

– I though, I would never see you again, - Carol swallows a lump in her throat holding back tears. She wants to answer something, but no word comes out. – But you have to come back.

– I will not. She let me with this condition. I can't come back to her.

They face each other and the girl sees him almost crying.

With one swift movement she cups his face leaning forward, brushing their lips together. His hands are in the curve of her lower back pressing her tighter to him. God knows, for how much he was craving for this moment. No one could predict, it would happen on the edge of his death.

Breaking the kiss Carol presses their foreheads together saving the moment in her mind. Her heart is shattering in pieces, there is no way it can end up happily for all of them.

– Love knows no age. Then why I've met you so late?

She chuckles slightly on his words, tears now are streaming down her face.

– If I knew before, love, I would hurry up.

He hugs the girl one last time placing a soft kiss on her forehead. A promise kiss, her mother told her.

Well, he has to try hard to keep this promise.

– Oh, let's get back, guys, - Eurus rolls her eyes, but Carol can hardly see something clearly behind a wet tears curtain. – It was more fun with guns.

She turns her glance towards Legrand who clings to Mycroft's side.

– Sherlock still has a loose end, would you like to help him, honey? As far as I know you're so good at killing innocent.

– What does she mean? - the panicking John's voice makes her close her eyes in displeasure.

– Oh, they don't know. Tell them, Doctor Death.

– Don't call me that!

– It suits you. Why shouldn't I?

– It that a present you've promised me? - Eurus leans closer to camera grinning knowingly.

Legrand steps away from Holmes standing in the middle of them three. He will hardly want to look at her when he knows.

– What does she want? Carol?

– Come on, tell my dear brother. Let's have some fun at the end.

Carol rubs her eyes, drying her last tears away, sighing heavily.

– I'm sorry, Mycroft.

– What?

– Tell him how you killed a man on the operating table with your lovely doctor friend. Let's laugh together.

She lowers her head greeting teeth. Things turn like it happened with Mary. Her past is slowly killing her. Ruining her life. Eurus must be enjoying herself right now.

– I'm not in rush, honey. But they are. So start talking.

– Tell me.

Mycroft comes up to her within arm's reach. His expression is grave, and Carol would give up everything she had, not to tell it over.

– Before I started forensic I was a surgeon. It was my first year, and I've assisted Dr. Pazzi that day.

Dr. Rinaldo Pazzi is the best surgeon I know.

– My God-

–  We operated on the man who had once operated on my mother. Brain surgery, cancer, nothing that he hadn't done before.

– But?

– That day he had been wasted to even stand straight, my mother had died on his table. Later it was reported as an accident. He countinued working, perfoming operations, as none of it had never happened.

Eurus humms gladly and Mycroft shakes his head as not believing her words.

– The day I was said Pazzi would make the operation, I had already known what would I do.

– You killed him. Slaughtered along with your surgeon.

– Oh, you're so wrong, dear brother, - Eurus sings. – Go on, darling.

– He's lost a lot of blood that day, - words are slipping from her tongue as nothing difficult. Frankly, it is so wonderful to tell the truth. That moment she doesn't think about the concequences. – We transfused him infected blood. Hepatitis C.

Carol flinches when Eurus claps her hands in amusement. The hoarse voice of Sherlock rings from behind. She almost forgot about him. There is only Mycroft and denial in his eyes.

– What was after that?

– Viral hepatitis leads to chronic inflammation, cirrhosis and cancer of the liver, - her face expression hardens. – He died half a year later. Too fast in my opinion.

Mycroft's sister voice lowers to the whisper, slowly getting under her skin.

– Now you see? You left the man to rot from inside, slowly and painfully. I've told you we are quite the same, Ms. Legrand. The revenge. Once you get it, nothing more is important.

– You...

Carol can't make herself to look on Mycroft. His pained voice and expression will haunt her, for sure, not one night later. As she expected he doesn't move closer to her.

– I've warned you before, Mycroft. I'm so sorry, - Eurus keeps staring at her through the screen with pleased sly smile. – But I do not repent of that. Not a day. I am really sorry you learnt it like that, but you know me.

Mycroft straightens up and steps forward to the place he stood before looking at Sherlock. Ignoring John and Carol.

– I think we need to finish this, brother mine.

The lights in the room turn red and Jim appears on the screen

– And here we are, at the end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes. This is where I get off.

Mycroft shifts uncomfortably under his brother's gaze, but then almost flinches when feels a touch to his palm. He turns left and sees Carol holding his hand tightly. His lips tremble in a sympathetic smile.

All the hatred and displeasure vanish the moment the man sees her.

– Step back, Carol. As much as I like this blouse, don't want it to be stained with blood. You have enough of it on your hands.

Her strong grip runs shiver down his spine, and he feels his heart sinks somewhere down. There is no hope for them. Eurus is his mistake and now it's time to pay off.

– Carol.

She lowers her head closing her eyes tightly, shaking her head stubbornly.

– I will not.

– Hey, look at me-

– Anthea will take it to dry cleaning. And I will not make a move.

– Take care of my assistant, okay? She has clear instructions in case of my death. - Holmes watches her intensely, but not without a hint of a smile. – Will you watch my place?

– I'm not your housekeeper, Holmes! - she laughs slightly holding back tears.

John chuckles somewhere on the background, coming closer to Sherlock facing them both holding hands. Mycroft and Carol remind him of Mary.

– You are a lovely couple, Mrs. Hudson always says this. I am so sorry it turns like this for you two, you didn't have enough time-

Legrand grins weakly interwining her fingers with Mycroft's.

– Me too, John. Me too, - she makes a pause and then her face lights from inside as from a sudden click. – Did you know, in the presence of a threat the brain activity shifts from the ventromedial prefrontal cortex to the midbrain periaquedictual gray.

Sherlock chuckles bitterly and gives up a short nervous laughter. Mycroft ang John follow him.

– God, your fun facts! You just can't help yourself, can you?

She turns to Mycroft, smirking, who's smiling too much for the moment. Nerves. Usually he's good at it. She has wanted to say him so much and has never found a proper time.

For the last time he squeezes her hand. Here they are, at the last page.

– Sometimes life takes things from you that you can never get back, - his voice is smooth like a silk, soothes her trembling hands. – And that's something you just have to come to terms with.

Carol smiles to elder Holmes back. She's never been a crying person before, but now feels her eyes are wet again.

– What if life takes too much? What if it leaves nothing behind. Just broken pieces, - after some day she'll come back to work, maybe take some of her things from Mycroft's house. If dares to come back there. – What then?

– Nothing is stopping you from collecting all those pieces and creating something new and beautiful with them.

Carol was so supportive for him all this time, now he must be strong for her.

– It won't happen. Not on my watch, - holding the gun in both hands, Sherlock lifts the muzzle and presses the end under his chin. – Ten ...

– No, no, Sherlock.

Eurus calm voice sinks in panic. Something doesn't go as she planned.

– Five ...

– Sherlock, stop that at once!

As she yells at him, a small dart whizzes out of a round hole in the wall and impacts the back of Sherlock’s head. He jolts and reaches his left hand round to it.

– Four ...

Another dart shoots out into the back of Carol’s neck making her feeling sick. He reaches round for it. Sherlock pulls the dart from his own neck.

– Three ...

Legrand feels the grip on her hand loosens and she slowly falls on the floor, hearing Mycroft's voice next to her.

After a second everything goes blank.

Chapter Text

– Hello?

Carol meets with silenсe, until a muffled rustling is heard somewhere in the darkness. She tries to seat, but her head is literally cracking from the dart's substance that was injected earlier.

She can barely identify her surroundings. It looks like an abandoned room or something remotely resembling it. Only an old iron bed and wooden floors are everything she can recognize.

– Lord, my head, - her arm winds up to rub temples and freezes on the half way.

– Could be worse.

Legrand winces from the shaking voice that seems so painful familiar to her.

– Eurus? - the girl tries to move feeling her muscles sore. – What are we doing here?

The woman is in the opposite corner of the room, sits with legs under her chin hugging them, eyes are shut tightly. Carol calls her name one more time, but Holmes doesn't respond. Nothing actually changes in her posture.

– Hey, - Legrands starts moving slowly to her as if Eurus is in a sort of shock. – Are you alright?

– Sherlock...

She muses almost silently, Carol literally reads her lips.

– Sherlock..., - Eurus's hands clench to her own forearms as if she tries to calm herself.

Legrand steps closer, still worring about her condition. The woman doesn't seem sane, she opens her eyes and her gaze is nothing but frightened, looking like a deer in the headlights.

– Hey, it's okay. Sherlock will find you.

Holmes immediately switches her attentive glance to the girl, who is now sitting pretty close to her. Surprisingly, her voice sounds more confident, but still hoarse.

– How would you know, princess?

Carol flinches. She feels as she's in the monitor room again.

Her grandfather called her 'princess', when she was a little girl, he still calls.

Eurus reminds her of a little girl too, who started a show to draw her brother's attention. Mycroft was afraid of her to break free, and she did it. Now they may hardly guard against her.

– I do know. He's a smart one, isn't he?

Carol allows herself a cautious smile, but Eurus's eyes are shut again. Though she doesn't reply her. Legrand shifts to her side laying her palm on the woman's back in soothing gesture.

This moment both if them hear someone's loud steps behind the door. Sherlock steps inside the room, almost surprised by seeing Carol here. He lowers the lantern on the floor sitting in front of the girls.

– I’m here, Eurus.

– I’m in the plane, and I’m going to crash. And you’re going to save me.

He casts a quick glance towards Legrand whose worried eyes don't leave his sister's figure.

The man reaches out and puts his fingers onto her hands.

– I can bring you home.

Eurus cries, her eyes screw tight and her face twists with fear.

– Every time I close my eyes, I’m on the plane. I’m lost, lost in the sky and ... no-one can hear me.

– You are safe now, - Carol leans closer hugging her shoulders with one hand. – You can open your eyes.

Sherlock reaches out and gently puts his hand onto hers again.

– Open your eyes. I’m here, - she finally does it and slowly raises her head. – You’re not lost anymore.

He drags the woman in embrace stroking her hair. Carol smirks watching them both, something inside if her relaxes from the constant pressure she is held in. Then Sherlock leans back trying to look in his sister's eyes.

– Eurus, help me save John Watson.

Legrand winces, this woman has planned every detail. The girl still hopes Mycroft isn't hurt. Eurus glares at Carol as if looking something to prove. She just squeezes her shoulder and helps her get up.

When the helicopter arrives to get them back to Sherrinford, Legrand leaves Eurus for a moment heading to Sherlock and John, who's wrapped in a blanket.

The opposite way Greg is coming up to them.

– I just spoke to your brother.

– How is he?!

Sherlock and Carol turn to him reacting almost simultaniously. Lestrade supresses the grin and walks past the three of them.

– He’s a bit shaken up, that’s all. She didn’t hurt him; she just locked in her old cell.

A half shaken sigh is given up and Watson turns to Carol sharing a look with Holmes.

When the inspector leaves them coming to the officers, the girl is still gazing after him.

– Are you sure? - Sherlock's voice appears at once next to her. Catching her confused glance he nearly rolls his eyes. – You keep your eyes on her for the whole time.

She follows his gaze and sees Eurus is led to the helicopter.

– Can I? - the man just shrugs his shoulders giving the opportunity to make a choice.

The next moment she heads towards Lestrade and other officers, who's ready to depart. She touches his elbow to draw attention.

– Can I leave with her? - Greg's surprised glanse embarrasses her. – I mean, we'll meet with Sherlock in Sherrinford anyway. So can I?

– Did you hit your head?!

She rolls her eyes shoving his shoulder slightly.

– Yes, thanks to her, - Legrand points to the Holmes' sister.

The man still looks at her, but finally surrenders throwing arms up.

When Eurus is set in the helicopter the door is opens again and Carol climbs inside taking her place right next to the woman.

Holmes doesn't speak with anyone, and her eyes are still a little bit tearful, but she smirks anyway when Legrand shifts at her seat, looking down behind the window.

Sherrinford is busier than ever before with a dozen of guards running across the building trying to fix their failures made before.

– Shouldn't you two be at home?

Mycroft waves one of his agents off giving an order and following his sister with a strict tense glance. Eurus is taken to her old cell, her head is lowered like nothing else bothers her except her own shoes. Sherlock comes up to him with Carol who goes right behind the man.

She is so happily relieved to see elder Holmes being safe and sound, but the girl is still aware about not showing her emotions on public. In turn she notices a few brief glances from him and just nods.

– Greg delivered John to Baker Street, and we had an idea to escort Eurus here.

– What kind of dumbass idea is that, brother mine?

– My kind, - they both switch their looks on Carol, who comes closer to Mycroft looking directly into his eyes.

Sherlock grins knowingly and leaves these two to talk. Legrand swallows heavily. This conversation will definitely not the one of her favourite, giving that now Mycroft knows all the truth about her.

He has always been the law itself. Will his principles allow him to tolerate the woman who literally abrogates it?

– If you don't want to see me, I'll understand-

– Would you tell me, if you decided to kill someone again? - he pierces her with his glance, Carol looks like a rabbit in front of a snake.

– I would never tell you any of this, if it's not for Eurus.

– Do tell me, how can I trust you after this? - she moves to touch his hand, but the man flinches back. His expression is so pained and angry, Legrand can't believe he held her hand with a smile on his lips when all of them passed out. – You betrayed my trust, our friendship. You betrayed everything that I ever stood for-

– Then why are you still talking to me?

Mycroft raises his glance that is roaming across the floor and the girl's figure, everywhere except her eyes. She finally takes his hand in hers, clasping it between her warm palms. Sad, bitter grin appears on his face as his voice is lowered to a half whisper. He takes a step closer to the girl.

– Why? Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?

– Mr. Holmes, - a man in a suit appears behind Holmes, breaking the silence. He looks over his shoulder and nods the agent to leave.

– Mycroft..., - he wants to talk to Carol so much especially after recent events, but duties never leave him this opportunity.

Her piercing eyes stare right through him. Holmes slowly takes his hand away from tight her grip and steps back. The last thing he wants to do right in the moment.

– We can talk later. I need to-

Legrand shuts him with one fierce kiss pressing their lips together, not letting him go this easily. This man can run the country, but when it comes to women he's less-than-enthusiastic.

–...go.

His lips are warm and a bit dry, and Carol takes her moment to stare at this part of his face for a couple of seconds. A small confident grin touches her own.

– I hope, I'll see you later, - she cups his cheek rubbing circles across soft skin with the thumb.

– I'll text Anthea and Phillip to meet you and take home.

– I'm not helpless, Mycroft.

Holmes tears her palm from his face squeezing it slightly in response.

– I do know, I was there, - she rolls her eyes at his words knowing she'll be always reminded of these days. – Have a safe time getting home.

But when Legrand makes a move to the lift to take her outside she feels she's still held by Mycroft's hand. With one brief movement he gently pushes her back to him.

– I...took the liberty of ordering to bring you to my house, - Holmes seems embarrassed, almost sheepish. – So we will discuss everything that happened later.

The girl carefully frees herself from his hand and nods. Not going to explain her words, she just looks at him, knowing he'll understand her.

– This is going to hurt, Mycroft. A lot.

– I've had worse. I've let you in my home, in my life before and I'm doing it again without hesitation.

– Then I'm looking forward, Mr. Holmes.

The warm smile hides in the crook of his lips, and Carol doesn't want this moment to end so soon. But when Sherlock calls her from the lift, Legrand reluctantly goes to his side, finally ready to get home.

The sound of a key in a keyhole tears her out the light sleep, and a second later muffled steps appears right next to the sofa she's laying on.

The fireplace has burned down and slight chill crawls up when Mycroft's jacket is laid down on Carol's shoulders. It's his one for sure, the girl can not mistake his scent with anyone else's.

– Is the world saved?

Her voice, hoarse from the sleep, reaches Mycroft and he sits next to Legrand. His first attempt not to disturb her is pushed away.

– Not yet, - the man gives up a tired grin.

– How did you find us? In your old house. How did you know we were there?

– I called your brothers. In a case something has already happened to you, - Carol opens her eyes lazily, looking on his exhausted form. – Lucian told us to try that place. And something about psychopath things.

She chuckles at his words. Her brother was always good in feeling human nature, manipulating and so on. To calculate a person's next step is not that difficult too.

– By the way, - the man shifts further into the sofa. – According to your clothes' state my sister held you about twelve hours. What were you doing?

– Talking.

– Talking? - it's a miracle to him that Eurus can talk, but not threaten.

– Yeah, have you ever tried?

He wants to talk her off first, but then thinks about her words. His sister has been captured there from the age of six. A little smart girl all alone in an empty world of her cell and security cameras.

Maybe if he tried to be a better big brother, she wouldn't become such a monster. He hides his face in hands rubbing it tiredly.

– I've failed as elder brother. Twice.

– Sherlock loves you. And Eurus...she just needs more time to know you.

Carol sits straight on the sofa almost touching shoulders with Holmes. The man chuckles bitterly.

– I don't think she wants to know me.

– Hey, - the girl takes his hand in her, like million times before it soothes him. – We stick together as one for a long, long time. I don't think she has much of a choice now.

Mycroft turns to look at her. With dark circles under her eyes, messy hair and wrinkled blouse she's smiling to him like nothing's happened. Like she wasn't held by his reckless sister and wasn't forced to kill a man in front of his eyes. Like he didn't try to sacrifice himself to save his brother's best friend and leave her alone. After all of this she's still holding his hand sitting on the couch in his house.

– I wish you met me when I was younger, - he squeezes her palm. – You would like me.

– I would. And I like you now, Mycroft.

– I've made so many mistakes-

– And they led you to me in the end. Like mine did.

Mycroft raises his glance to stare at her. He, in turn, is always ready to forgive her faults, but Holmes doesn't expect her to be so careless about his own.

– I love you.

After everything they've come through it's the only words suitable for them two. Carol smirks tenderly to him.

– I love you too, Mycroft.

– Sure.

He lowers his head, and Legrand notices the expression she doesn't expect to see after what she said.

– Is that your kindness, or you just-

– Shhh, - she shoves his forearm slightly. – I love you, Mycroft Holmes. I love everything about you and don't you dare assuming something else.

He is overwhelmed and relieved, and the girl notices he exhales heavily. He pulls her closer and kisses passionately. Holmes was so afraid she just pitied him for all this time. So afraid to believe her, that her confession doesn't convince the man first.

– I love you. So much, - he exhales rapidly murmuring against her cheek. – I adore you. And I promise you will be safe with me.

He leans back watching Carol. Her eyes are bright and wide as he kisses her between each word.

– I know that I'm safe with you. You've never let me forget about it, - her smile confuses him for a moment.

– Look, - Mycroft strokes the girl's hair, and she can swear it's not his smile that was a miracle to her. It's his face expression now, that surprises and even frightens her. – If you are looking for different...I would be different.

– Why should you be different?

Does he think, she wants him to change? For him to change himself?

– I thought you would end up with my brother.

– Wait, what?!

Now she is staring at him with her eyes shut open. Holmes sits back starting to explain.

– You are just friends, I know. But watching you two acting really close... First it was fine, but the more I learned about you the more difficult it was for me to see you interacting.

– Mycroft-

– I just thought you needed another type of men.

God, she loves him. Carol can never predict this man to think about millions of wrong things. And it only makes him dearer for the girl.

– Do you remember our first meeting? - she takes his hand brushing his knuckles. – You was so brave in your attempts not to look at the dissection table. So posh and arrogant. How could not I fall in love with you in an instant, Mycroft?

The man smiles happily and she immediately drags him in embrace. He is so familiar and warm. Warm, once she gets through the ice surrounding him.

Carol nuzzles her face into his chest feeling her own heart pounding against his own. Then Mycroft leans back again.

– Do you think I'm handsome?

She arches a brow. How much surprising questions will he ask her today?

– I can see it with my own eyes. I don't just think, - placing another short peck on his lips she reaches for her phone.

– What are you doing?

– Ordering food for us.

– I can just call Anthea-

– Leave her, Mycroft. She has a date tonight.

Holmes almost flinches away from her.

– A what?

– A date with Phillip, your driver, - Carol notices his suspicious glare. – Don't look at me like this. Girls are supposed to share secrets.

He's just about to tell something typical for him, but the food Legrand's ordering on the web site draws his attention.

– You are going to eat this?! - the girl rolls her eyes grinning from ear to ear.

– What's wrong with it this time? Oh-, - she raises her head and meets the man's look. – Well, you already seem like you're about to put this chicken leg under arrest.

– Why can't we have something less oily.

– I'm not going to eat your vegetables, Mycroft.

The man grins standing up from the sofa heading to the kitchen. Carol follows him immediately.

– You have to choose, Holmes.

– What have I done to deserve you? - Legrand stops almost bumping into his back, when the man suddenly halts.

– Everything, actually. Your every life choice led you to where you're now. So, I'm afraid, you've been doomed from the very beginning.

He shakes his head and turns back to the fridge, the girl appears right next to him.

– No, not vegetables! Don't you dare take this.

Chapter Text

–Alive?! For all these years?

Mrs. Holmes' raised voice hits her ears the moment Carol sneaks into Mycroft's office. Sherlock furrows his brows in surprise, but his attention is quickly drown back to his parents and brother.

No one says a word, but then Mrs. Holmes notices and turns her anger at the girl.

– It is a family matter, young lady, and-

– That's why is staying, - Mycroft's lowered voice is heard from the other side of the room. Sherlock quirks a short smile on this defensive act.

The woman scoffs half-heartedly at this, but her daughter issue worries her a lot more now.

– How is that even possible?!

– What Uncle Rudy began ... I thought it best to continue, - Mycroft hesitates, his eyes lowered.

– I’m not asking how you did it, idiot boy, I’m asking how could you?

– How could you, - Carol's sharp tone interrupts the woman who turns to her struck by her bold acting. – Not trust your son's judgement?

Legrand knows Mycroft has done everything he could have, and listening to his mother's scolding is the last thing she wants to do now. Not when she feels his pain and embarrassment like her own.

Mrs. Holmes narrows her eyes at the girl.

– You put too much trust in Mycroft. As the situation showed he's very limited.

Elder Holmes switches his glance from one woman to another. When Sherlock opens his mouth to interrupt them, Carol just cuts him off.

– I trust Mycroft with my life and I always will! Can you say the same, Mrs. Holmes?

The woman falls silent, and their father stands from his place coming up to his table.

– When can we see our daughter, Mycroft?

Seeing Legrand gazing at his mother without any hint of confusion or fear makes Holmes watch their fight till the end. And when Mrs. Holmes heads to the entrance, he doesn't feel offended or upset as it was many times before.

Mycroft notices his father winking at Carol and following his wife. Sherlock himself leaves after a dozen of seconds, letting them two talk in private.

– Not that I don't want to see you, but what are you doing here? - the girl comes up to him encircling his waist with her arms.

– Anthea called me. Said you parents and Sherlock were here and you needed rescuing. So she let me in.

She is met with silence, as Mycroft's watching her intensely until his strong voice rings again in a small room.

– I thought my mother would tear you apart.

– Secretly she respects me, - the girl reaches the cabinet in the corner in the office pulling out a whiskey bottle.

– Sure?

– Otherwise, she would stay here and argue with me till the death.

The man chuckles lightly taking one of the glasses from her hands.

– I like her, Mycroft, really. But I just couldn't watch her lecturing you. It was rude.

– And it was very brave of you to stand up for me, - he watches the liquid inside the glass. – Thank you.

Carol reaches for him and hugs with one free arm around his middle again. A kind expression in her eyes reflects a soft smile on her lips.

– I would defend you anyway.

Despite being cold and uncaring sometimes Legrand is more sincere and emotional than Holmes. She always makes Mycroft act more human-like next to her.

Sherlock once noticed his brother seemed kinder and more compassionate around the girl.

Mycroft lowers his head to place a careful kiss on the girl's temple.

– My parents will visit Eurus for sure. Do you want to go with me?

– Your mother was right, it's a family matter, Mycroft. It will be better for me to stay here.

– Fine-

– But..., - she casts a sly glance towards the man. – Mark will have some free time next week, and I've thought maybe we could spend it all together.

Holmes shrugs his shoulders pressing Carol closer to his chest.

– I'll consider that.

– Great! I'll talk with your parents after you come back from Sherrinford.

She tears herself from him and plops down the couch in the corner. Mycroft has nothing more but to throw his hands up.

– What's this have to do with my parents?!

– I want a family weekend, Mycroft. It will be incomplete without them, - he comes up to her looking down in her puppy eyes. – Ple-e-ase.

– Mr. Holmes, - they both turn heads to the entrance where Anthea stands with a handful of files. – Mr. Harris is waiting for you in the hall.

He nods and she comes out leaving the door open.

– I have never thought, you would beg me, - Holmes smirks mockingly letting Legrand lead the way.

– Hmm, I'll remind you about begging thing tonight, darling.

Anthea passes behind them barely holding her laughter back. Noticing it, Holmes gets more embarrassed leaning closer to Carol's ear.

– Stop it.

– Oh, only if you ask nice and kindly, Mycroft.

– You want what?!

Mycroft is pacing in circles around his living room with Legrand sitting calmly in the armchair.

– It's only one day, darling.

– No darlings, Carol, it's not funny, - he knows that his stern gaze doesn't work on her, but still does it anyway. – Eurus is not a little innocent girl as you want her to be.

– Your sister will be under my responsibility-

– I am the head of Sherrinford, she is always under my constant responsibility. And if something happens, it will be my fault only.

– Please, Mycroft, I will never ask you for anything ever again.

The man exhales heavily rubbing his temples tiredly.

– Only one day, - the girl giggles happily rushing to him, throwing arms around his neck. – And you will keep your eyes on her all the time.

– I promise-

– It is very serious, you can't just...,- Legrand is glancing up with shining wide eyes like a little girl waiting for a miracle. Does he really need to tell anything, if this woman always does as she wants? – When I talk, do you hear, "Blah, blah, blah, Carol. Blah, blah, blah"?

– Me and Mark will look after her. Worry not.

– Mark indeed, - Holmes shakes his head in disbelief, but hugs her nonetheless. – Your brother seems to find Eurus quite interesting.

– Well...Let's say he's fascinated.

She leans closer and kisses his lips quickly.

– Seems, the Holmes is our common weak point.

– How it's going?

Mycroft walks in the mortuary more freely in comparison with the first time looking around the room.

– Good. I mean, not for him. He's dead.

– I have always found your compassion just charming.

Carol is leaning over the dead man on the dissection table not raising her head on the man. Sherlock takes his now usual place before the microscope not paying much attention on his brother.

She raises her head from the body and freezes on one spot.

– Oh, hey!

Sherlock immediately tears his eyes from the samples noticing, for his strong surprise, his youngest sister standing at the entrance.

– Mycroft-

– Relax, brother mine. Eurus is not after you today, - he switches his glance on Legrand. – She asked me to see you, Doctor.

– Another present?

– A favor.

– And you agreed?

– I thought I should be more...cooperative. Especially with the family weekends coming.

Carol has surely won a lottery with this man who breaks his own rules for her. His sister, still hesitant, is shuffling along.

– Oh, you have that “I have a case solving hunch” look on your face, - Sherlock looks at the medical examiner observing her reaction on Eurus.

– My face doesn't hunch. It's a peaches allergy.

– Peaches? - he quirks his eyebrow while Legrand shots an offended look on Mycroft.

– Ask your brother about that.

Mycroft grins to the girl gesturing sister to come in further. Just the same moment Greg rushes inside the mortuary, but halts when sees one more person here.

The detective nods awkwardly to all of them, shaking his head.

– I'm not sure, I want to know what she's doing here, - he is now staring at Carol waiting for any results of her examination.

She takes one big breath. – His kidneys are damaged.  Look at the crystallization.

Lestrade leans back rapidly from the body part showed to him with such enthusiasm.

– Hm, yea.  From what?

– I’d be guessing, - the girl shrugs her shoulders earning a half-died laughter from Sherlock turning into cough.

– God, it's torture to work with you sometimes.

Greg rubbs his forehead. Even from his spot Mycroft can see how tired the Inspector is. With his eyes closed the man is whispering to himself.

– Have you seen this before?

– Yes, - Carol switches her attention back to the kidney.

– Okay.  Good. What did it turn out to be...before?

Legrand takes a second to think which just more reminds of hesitating than remembering.

–  Ethylene glycol ingestion.

– Antifreeze, - they immediately turn heads to Eurus, who is standing up from the chair and coming back to the body. – Someone was poisoning him.

Legrand smiles to the woman while she doesn't see her and winks to Mycroft knowingly who only rolls his eyes.

After some month working with Anderson as her assistant, she found him a better place where everyone would be content and happy. Now Carol is one to one with her problem again.

When Greg finally leaves them, the girl turns to the man.

– Don't look at me like this.

– Mycroft-

– You've told me, you won't ask for anything. And what is now?

Eurus feels the tense atmosphere around and sits back on her previous place. Sherlock tilts his head a bit. After their time in Sherrinford it is unusual to see his sister being calm like this.

– I'm still not asking. Just offering you some options.

– I will not let her out, - Carol presses her jaw tightly turning with her back to Holmes. – She will kill again-

– She will not, if you stop talking like she's not in the room.

The girl's stern tone makes him pay attention on his younger sister, who looks anywhere except them.

– You just need to keep her mind busy, even if it's just ordinary cases, - Legrand comes to her desk to click the kettle button, accidentally touching the woman's shoulder. – Eurus can be helpful.

– You drive me round the bend, Carol.

– Optimistic people live longer, - seeing the man melt a little bit relaxes the girl from this unwanted pressure. – Keep going this way, Mycroft.

– Two hours.

Holmes points at his sister and walks out of the room.

Though, it doesn't make the girl feel better after some time. The more the three of them sit in silence, the more her thoughts start chasing her.

– He acts like you put the stars on the sky.

Calm voice that surely belongs to Eurus tears her from her mind causing a small smile appear. Sherlock raises from his chair for another set of samples.

– As far as I see, he does indeed, - Holmes looks at his sister quickly and switches the glance to the medical examiner.

– Sometimes I wonder how he still tolerates me, - the girl waves to Eurus. – So, do you want to be my...occasional assistant? You could help me with some cases.

This question so simple makes the woman feel confused.

– It's up to Mycroft-

– I will talk to him, - Eurus is looking down at the body with quite suspicious interest. – Or...Mark will.

This draws her attention back to the doctor, but the next moment her eyes are running around the room in slight panic. It's always amuses Carol. The three of the Holmes are incredibly smart, but it is exactly their intelligence that keeps them from experiencing human feelings roperly.

Fortunately, she learned how to deal with Mycroft quite fast. And now, when she knows, that Sherlock is taken care of, Legrand wants Eurus to be happy too. Or at least not deadly angry.

Seems she slowly turns into Mrs. Holmes herself with her omnipresent matchmaking.

– Why do you work here? - Carol almost flinch from Eurus' sudden question. – I mean, autopsies help you solve crimes, but you seem to put your most interest in...already dead people.

Her words cause a light smile on Legrand's lips, and she tilts her head to the side.

– Most of the time I believe, that the truth helps the people who love these victims.

Sherlock grins and casts a glance towards his sister who looks interestedly at the doctor getting lost in her own thoughts.

Warm nice wind flows lazily around people on the backyard while Mrs. Holmes and Molly are running back and forth bringing dishes from the kitchen.

– Don't you think it is be too crowded here?

The man comes up to Legrand who stands leaning on a tree in the garden near tables. Mycroft's familiar cologne scent hits her senses immediately.

– It might be, but your mother's never been happier.

– Happier, really? Ten people without counting my parents! She will remind me of this for my whole further life.

She smiles patting his shoulder sympathetically.

– Eleven people, darling.

– Sherlock has not arrived yet.

– I know, it's eleven with Sherlock. If everything goes well.

The man widens his eyes at the girl, trying to rethink her words.

– If what goes well? Who is eleventh?

Rosie makes a loud noise sitting on John's laps and Carol turns her head on that.

– You'll see.

Holmes wants to argue again, but the peaceful sight of his beloved changes his mind. He looks around the space in the garden they occupy and a broad grin bloomes on his face.

– Maybe you was right about the family weekend.

His parent are beyond happy hosting such a crowd of people, and playing with Rosie. The doctor even allowed Mycroft to hold his daughter for some time.

He feels almost as peaceful as Legrand does, but still a bit nervous about his sister, whose changed behavior alarms him, but in a good way. His own acting alarms him the most.

As Carol promised him, she's looked after the woman, when he got her there. But only until Mark and Lucian arrived. Since that time the three of them have been talking constantly, God knows what about.

– Of course, I was right, - she points to her brothers. – Just look at them.

He does look, and is left surprised by what he sees. Eurus, who doesn't usually say a word without a real need, now is chit-chatting with the both of men. It's not going without some tension, but Legrand is sure it will pass soon enough.

While Mark sticks with his sister, Lucian travels from one group to another, sitting with Greg and Molly for quite a time. They talk about something and then Carol notices the boy coming up to her. Lestrade follows him from behind.

– Greg and Molly take me to the fishing cabin with them.

Her friend and the Detective Inspector seem to get along again, but this tone of Lucian surprises her. Greg puts his arm on the boy's shoulder.

– Don't you need my permission, young man? - she tilts her head making Mycroft smirk.

– I think I don't.

Her brother mirrors her gesture and grins broader. With the smile like that he looks way less serious than when Holmes met him in the department for the first time.

– It's okay, Car. Only a week, I have some spare time from investigations, - the man looks down at Lucian. – It will be fun, I promise.

The girl holds her gaze on both of them, but surrenders after a couple of seconds.

– Fine, - she throws arms up. – But be careful. All of you.

– Sure, - Molly calls the inspector back, and he turns to leave. – Come on, son.

As soon as they leave Carol switches an abashed look on Mycroft.

– Have you heard that? He cold him "son"!

A corner of his lips goes a bit up and he casts a glance towards Legrand not saying a thing.

– For God's sake, I thought Greg just needs a girlfriend, I've tried to get them together and...

– You've said, Greg told you once about his fear for not being able to be a good father. I think his dream comes true for now. Even in the way like this.

– Yeah...me too. And I like that Lucian has a parental figure, he deserves this. They both do.

She is still slow from a kind of shock, when hears a noise of a cab arriving to the cottage.

Mycroft is watching the door to see Carol's eleventh guest.

When two people come through the doorway, the only thing Legrand wants to do is run away from Mycroft's intense gaze. She hopes there will be no serious talks later.

While his parents are hassling around the new couple, the man turns to her hissing.

– Don't you want to explain this?

– What to explain, you see it yourself-

– Mr. Holmes, - a woman's voice rings behind his back. He would say the woman's. – It's nice to meet you again in such...informal atmosphere.

His lips broaden in a kind of awkwardly polite smile and he turns around to face the guest. This time there is no familiar red lipstick or complicated hair-do on this woman.

– Ms. Adler. It's a pleasure for me to see you in good health.

The man tries to find his younger brother to get an explanation, but he's nowhere to be seen. Irene nods to Carol and leaves them alone, heading to find Sherlock.

– How on the earth, she's here with my brother?!

– You knew she's alive, don't pretend otherwise, - she lays her hand on his arm to calm him. – I don't know how she ended up with him, but Sherlock asked me, if he could bring Ms. Adler here.

Holmes finally sees his brother nodding to him from afar, watching Irene already chatting with their mother with Sherlock somewhere near.

– Aren't you happy for them?

– Well, he looks...smiling, - Carol rolls her eyes hugging Mycroft waist.

– How very insightful of you, dear.

The man quirks a brief smile pressing her tighter.

Apart from some unexpected guests, it turns to be a splendid day with all friends around in a quiet homely atmosphere.

But after some peaceful minutes of standing aside from the others and sharing a well familiar comfortable silence Mycroft finds himself nervous.

He tears himself from the girl slightly turning her to face him.

– What are you doing-

– Shh, - he puts a finger in her lips. – I need a second, Doctor, be patient.

– I can't be patient, if I'm a doctor.

She laughs making him roll his eyes, but smile too anyway. A wordplay, honestly.

He reaches for his inner jacket pocket revealing a small velvet box. Carol gasps quietly when Holmes gets a gold ring with a small diamond on the top of it.

Mycroft Holmes is not the one who kneels down, so he just comes closer to her.

The girl's heart is literally going to jump out of her chest as she feels it pounding in her throat.

– I'm not the man who I thought I was, - his eyes are almost pleading and Legrand feels tears are close to be spilled. – And I owe all of it to you.

– Mycroft-

– Charline Isabelle Valier, - when she makes an attempt to stop him, he puts his finger on her lips again. – Shut up, it's your name! So, will you allow me the honor to be my wife?

– You mean it?

She tries to finds the answer in his face expression, but sees only the same nervousness as her own.

– You are the most impossible woman in my life, Carol. I do mean it.

– I will, Mycroft. Of course, I will.

– Seems, you will always keep me busy, right? - she chuckles and nods.

– If you want.

Legrand throws her arms around him, hugging the man tight. When they accidentally hear the loud clapping from around, she find herself laughing through tears.

– Since we stick together for God knows how long, - Carol leans back to quickly kiss him. – Can we stay for a night here?

Mycroft opens his mouth, but the girl gently cuts him off.

– Your mother asked me. Please, one night. We should help her to clean up after them.

The man rolls his eyes for the thousandth time today, but hugs his fiancee placing a kiss on her temple.

– One night, and then you won't work during our honeymoon.

– It's not a fair game, you know?

– I do know.

She shoves his shoulder slightly.

– Why I am marrying you at all?

– Oh, it took years of impressing you.