Phoenix escorted the three to Mycroft’s office. John and Sherlock took the two chairs, and Avery, after declining both offers, stood behind Sherlock’s chair and played with his hair absentmindedly, which Sherlock ignored from familiarity. Rachael stood in the corner of the room, still playing with her phone as she listened to Mycroft’s scolding and praise alternatively as he rehashed some case that they had undertaken for him, and assigning them some new case. How wonderful, to not be the only one to take on the complicated missions for once. John had made Sherlock more compliant. She wondered what had happened before Phoenix had been employed, before Avery had left. Had Avery been the connecting link?
She knew Mycroft pretty much blackmailed John in the beginning, but how would he get Avery to help him?
She let her gaze briefly catch Mycroft’s, who didn’t notice. She frowned. Was he a bit paler than before? He wasn’t that much older than she was, really. Probably. She, like Avery, was ever unsure of her age, having forgotten to pay attention to such things. There was, what, maybe ten years at most between them? Perhaps.
It was a fundamental flaw, she believed, that although she was so good at examining and manipulating others, she found it impossible to compare others to herself. She spent her life focusing on others. Her own biography would be rather empty indeed. She lacked a proper understanding of her real self, the information others took for granted, she either forgot or had altered so many times that it was no longer valid.
Favourite foods, favourite colours, accent, attitude, stance, everything.
The only thing she could ever know for sure is her natural appearance - hair colour – the blinding red that gave her her names. Her natural eye colour was blue. But they too had been altered so so many times.
As she mused, Mycroft finished up and the three left the room. She looked up to Mycroft with a frown, who looked away. She waited.
“You can go,” he told her finally.
She nodded and turned to leave, when Mycroft was overcome with a fit of coughing and sneezing. She waited it out. Finally he stopped.
“Bless you,” she said as she hid her concern with a smile.
He waved her to leave.
Phoenix didn’t sleep that night either.
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The Phoenix - A Sherlock Fanfic
Fanfiction[Sequel to Third Holmes] Mycroft Holmes. Calm, collected, emotionless. At least, that's what they say. But what if there was one woman towards whom he felt...something. And what if she had a secret? What if she was a spy?
