Chapter Fifteen - Inside Information

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"Well, now that we are all fed and happy, it's down to business." Holmes sat back down in his seat, his hands folded before him on the table, smiling across at his brother. "Let's get right to it, shall we? What do you, Mycroft Holmes, know of the Red Circle?"

Mycroft lowered his wine glass from his lips without taking a sip. "Oh brother, are you sure you want to go down that road?"

Holmes swirled his own wine around in his glass. "That bad, hmm?"

"Yes, that bad." Mycroft sighed.  "Please tell me you did not manage to get yourself wrapped up in the affairs of the Red Circle and the like."

"I didn't.  She did." Holmes nodded to Caroline. 

"Did not. My father may have though, by the sounds of it."

"And what evidence do you have of this?" Mycroft asked.

"The word of his lover, a fortune teller, and a dead man who called him a crook."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and gulped his wine.  "Oh dear..."

Caroline withdrew and handed him the mysterious letter sent to her which had started it all.  Once he had read it she explained to him everything since then, most recently the confrontation with Phelps and the sniper shooting. It was strange how a letter - which had seemed simple and innocent enough in the beginning - had set off this wild chain of events, so wild in fact that they were now dealing with a mysterious organization. 

"Which brings us here to you," she finished.  Then she added, "Because Sherlock is at a loss."

John laughed and Mycroft smiled. 

"Yes, yes, hilarious, I know. I'm glad you find my ignorance so amusing. But-" Holmes broke off suddenly, looking at Caroline. "You called me by my name."

"Yes, I did."

"You've never done so before."

"Oh."

"Yes, it's always 'Holmes'."

"If I remember correctly, I did use your name when I said goodnight when we returned home from the pub."

"Pub?" cried Mycroft.  "Oh, don't tell me it's that ghastly place you go to get your brains punched out for money."

"Accurate description," said Caroline. 

"Precisely the place."

"We got a little tipsy," Caroline continued. 

"Tipsy," laughed John.  "You were drunk." 

"I can't imagine what they'd be like if you got a bit of drink in them," mumbled Mycroft. 

"Trust me, it was very amusing," John told him. 

"I'll take your word for it. 

"But still, you said, 'Goodnight Sherlock Holmes.' You've never just called me 'Sherlock'."

"Oh, well so what? Did I offend you?"

"No, in fact, quite the opposite." Holmes winked at her from across the table and she blinked back, face and neck rapidly flushing. 

"Now, do tell, Brother dear," Holmes pressed. "You clearly know of whom we speak, therefore you must know something about this mysterious Red Circle. You're a government man - give us some of your inside information." 

"Well, I'll start by saying that while I've heard of them, yes, I don't know much, so don't get your hopes up too high, and don't get yourself too excited." Mycroft cleared his throat before continuing.  "The're a special organization.  They infiltrate. Governments, systems, the army, even the workforce."

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