"Mycroft, look! There they are!" She exclaimed as she peered out the window of the private jet, they were aboard.
He scooted slightly closer to her, slipping one arm around her shoulders and rested his hand on her knee as he leaned over to look out at the Blue Ridge mountains. The sun was just setting, and it made for a spectacular view. "They are beautiful, darling. I see why you love them so much."
"Oh, Mycroft. I love London, but I do miss this," she said, misty eyed.
His eyes were back on her and he gently stroked the back of her neck. "I'm glad we could come here then, love."
Soon they were in a rental car and Sophia was in the driver's seat. She noticed Mycroft's right hand gripping his knee and smirked. "Having a rough time handling the right side of the road, my love?"
"Every time I go to a country which drives on the opposite side of the road, I find it difficult at first to adjust. You seem to have taken back to it quite quickly."
"I guess it's sort of like they say about riding a bike. It comes back to you."
"I wouldn't know, I never learned how to ride a bike. Not a real one at least, just the stationary one in my exercise room."
"That seems sad."
"Yes, well, Sherlock and I—and Euros while she was with us—we had a unique childhood."
"I'm sure it was. I wonder what your mother will think of me—when she finally does meet me?"
"We've discussed before, she'll attempt an air of disdain at your home country but will soon be wooed by kindness and your wit, I've no doubt."
"I hope so."
"But for now, it should be me worrying over parental approval—I'm about to walk into the fire, as they say."
"You'll do fine, Mycroft—they're terribly impressed by your job—of which I've told them very, very little, of course—and your sophistication. My father has his own way of trying to be funny and make light of things, and I apologize in advance if he does a pitiful impersonation of a British accent. He'll probably embarrass me terribly, but I hope you'll stick around endure it, if only for my sake. He means well, and we are very close. I was quite the daddy's girl growing up. He'll probably also attempt to intimidate you, but most likely with a hint of humor so you'll know he isn't serious."
"Daddy's girl—protective father checking out the new British boyfriend—got it," Mycroft said as he looked out the window. It was dark, but he could make out the shadows of the mountains in the distance and the farmlands as they drove past. "And your mother? Tell me more about her."
"You already know—she's the reason I first got into computers and technology. At 35 years old, when I was only 8 or 9, she brought home an old computer from work and sat me at it. I learned basic programming and commands, and my knowledge grew from there—mostly by experience. By the time I went to university, I already knew much of what I would end up learning in classes."
"And your father, he was in construction?"
"Building houses and making improvements on them, yes. He built the house they live in now. It's gorgeous. I think you're going to love it. Lots of natural wood. Your home and office both reminded me of it a little. And their view is amazing. They are both retired now."
"And you lived in this home with them?"
"Until I graduated from university. My school wasn't far from home, so to save money I stayed at home and commuted to school every day. Then I graduated and moved for my first job."
By now she had turned off the main road they'd been on for some time and was headed up several curvy roads. "I see we're headed up the mountain now," Mycroft said, gripping the door.
"You alright?"
"I'll be fine, I'm sure. Not quite so mountainous in London."
"No, it's not, not really mountains like this in any of England. More in Scotland—though I've yet to get to visit them. Too busy with work."
Mycroft filed away that bit of information, though he wasn't able to do much with it at that time as he was driven to distraction by the curves and incline of the road. Finally, when Mycroft thought he might be sick, Sophia pulled off the curvy road they'd been on and pulled the car down into a driveway. There before them stood a two-story house covered in cedar shakes. It had a small front portico with a stone floor. Mycroft attended to the luggage and Sophia shut the boot—or trunk as she'd always called it—before they stepped up onto the portico. Before she could reach out to touch the doorbell the door was opening.
"There you are! Hi sweetie! Welcome home!" Her mother squeezed her tight in a hug before pulling back and looking at her. "You look wonderful, dear."
"Thank you, mom." She then turned to Mycroft with a wide smile on her face. "This is Mycroft Holmes, whom I've told you about."
"Welcome to our home, Mycroft," the older woman, in whom Mycroft saw many of Sophia's features, spoke to him with a kind smile before leaning in and giving him a gentle hug.
Mycroft swallowed. He'd been through countless political negotiations, meetings, dinners—he told himself again that he could handle meeting his girlfriend's parents. "Thank you allowing me to join your family for Christmas, Mrs. Cartwright. I've heard so much about you and Sophia's father, it's an honor to finally meet you."
"So, she's finally brought him home, has she?" he heard a voice call out from inside. "Well, let me see him." The older man trudged a bit slowly to the door on his cane and leaned against the doorframe as he eyed Mycroft closely.
"Mr. Cartwright, it's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Mycroft set the bags down and held out his hand. The older man stood up straighter and took his hand in a firm grip, shaking it.
"You too, son. Thank you to seeing to our daughter's safe return to this side of the ocean—even if it is just for a few days."
Mycroft smiled and nodded. "Of course, sir."
Sophia finally spoke up. "Am I being ignored in favor of my boyfriend, Daddy, or are you going to say hello to me?" She asked with a smirk and crossed arms.
"Oh, come here, girlie," he said and waved her over.
She chuckled and stepped into her father's arms, giving him a long tight hug. "I missed you, Daddy."
"I missed you too, girlie. Y'all come on in now."
They all entered the room and Mycroft was quite taken aback. They stepped first into a small foyer where he set down their bags temporarily. But once they stepped into the main room, he was awed by the vaulted ceiling, the wall of full glass doors and high windows ahead of them, and the large stone fireplace to their left. "Mr. Cartwright, your craftsmanship is breathtaking—your home is gorgeous."
"Compliments will get you everywhere, son."
"Mycroft doesn't pay compliments haphazardly, Daddy—he means what he says. You'll like that about him."
"Hmm, I suppose I might. Depends on what he has to say." He then looked the man over again. "You have a business meeting to go to tonight?"
"Daddy," Sophia warned, swatting her father on the arm.
Mycroft looked down at his suit. He hadn't considered that his normal attire would make him stand out like a sore thumb, though he was accustomed to it. "No, sir. I'm afraid after years of working in areas where a suit and tie was required, it's become my everyday attire for the most part."
"I think you look rather dashing, Mycroft. Don't worry about my husband—he just dislikes having to wear a suit and tie himself. Listen, I know you two must be exhausted from your travel. As much as I'd love to keep you up for hours and talk, I suppose we'll have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Your father and I are about ready to turn in, anyway. Would you like me to give you the full tour myself, or do you think you remember where everything is, dear?"
"I think I can manage mom, as long as you haven't reorganized like you did as soon as I went away after school."
"No, no—I haven't moved the sheets again after you threw a fit the first time you visited after you moved to DC."
"Then I'll manage fine, thanks Mom. Goodnight, Daddy."
"Goodnight, girlie. See you bright and early."
"Some things don't change, Daddy—you get me one or the other— bright, or early. Take your pick." That earned a smile from both men in the room.
"Goodnight, Mycroft," Mrs. Cartwright said, patting the man on the shoulder.
"Don't wander from the guest room during the night, son. I'm a light sleeper," Mr. Cartwright said, pointing his cane at Mycroft.
"Daddy," Sophia said in a half-whine, half-groan.
Mycroft held his hands up in a placating gesture. He'd talked down governments from starting wars, but this man may or may not strike more fear into him than any terrorist or nation or anyone. Perhaps because he had so much personally invested in this interaction. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir. I'll be on my best behavior, as always."
"Mmhmm," Mr. Cartwright grumbled.
"Carl, stop it," his wife said as she waved him towards their bedroom around the corner.
Sophia rolled her eyes and took Mycroft's hand in hers. "Come on, I'll show you the basement first."
"The basement? Usually there aren't too many exciting things in the cellar. Or have I walked into some terrible horror film?"
Sophia giggled. "You haven't seen this basement. It's finished."
He followed her down the carpeted stairs and once at the bottom she pulled him to the left. "This is the office, though it's rarely used for anything other than browsing the internet and paying bills these days. Dad doesn't get down here much anymore as he rarely takes the steps. Mom has always handled the finances though." She then led him out of the office, past the stairwell they'd come down, and into a large open living room area. "And this is where I spent many an evening in my high school and college days. I'd have friends over and we'd watch movies for hours. Sort of our own version of your theater room, Mycroft."
"It's very cozy. The fireplace is nice. The stonework is very attractive."
"My Daddy did it all."
"He's incredibly skilled. You weren't exaggerating in the least."
She turned and took his other hand in hers, looking up at him nervously. "What did you think of them?"
"Your mother is very kind. And your father has a wry sense of humor. It's incredibly clear where your personality traits come from. He is also very protective of his daughter, which I think I would consider something we both have in common—so, in the end, I believe we'll get along just fine."
She smiled wide. "You really think so?"
"I know so. Stop worrying," he said gently, placing a light kiss on her forehead. "Show me the rest?"
She nodded. "Back upstairs then."
As they reached the top of the stairs again, she pointed just to the right of the stairwell. "Coat closet." Across from them. "A small half bath for visitors." She then walked him to the right of the open sitting area they'd been in with her parents. "This is the dining and kitchen area, obviously."
"You were right, I do love the woodwork. It's reminiscent of a log cabin in some ways—but against the white walls, it also has a modern feel. It's fascinating, intriguing, and gorgeous." He then smiled and turned to her. "Reminds me of you, actually. Modern, but also classic, with a bit of a country mountain feel. Yes, this home very much suits your personality, dear."
"I take that as a high compliment, Mycroft. Thank you."
She then pointed out the pantry and the laundry area, if for any reason he was in need of them during their stay.
"Our rooms are upstairs. I'd show you the back deck, but you won't see much tonight. I'd like to wait till tomorrow for you to see that. Though you'll probably get to experience it without me if you brave leaving your room at your normal waking time."
"What would you prefer I do?" he asked, wanting to make her comfortable and ease her own nerves.
She shrugged. "Whatever makes you comfortable. Shall we go up?"
"I'll just grab our bags and you can show me the way."
She nodded and walked back through the sitting area where he diverted to grab the bags from the foyer before rejoining her. He followed her up the stairs. "First one here on the right at the top of the stairs is the guest room—yours for the time being. I hope it will be alright."
He followed her in and placed his luggage down on the bed before resting a comforting hand on the small of her back. She was so concerned about his approval of her parents, and their home—her home for many years. He knew that his general lifestyle and financial status could sometimes leave her feeling less-than-adequate. "It's wonderful, dear."
"Across the loft is mine, as well as the bathroom we'll both use."
"Shall I follow you?"
She nodded and he followed her across the loft which held a view of the sitting area below and the windows that reached from the glass doors below almost all the way to the roof line above.
"Here's the bathroom," she said, flipping the light switch to turn the lights on so he could view in to see the shower/tub, toilet, and sink. "And, this is my room," she said, entering the last door of the top floor."
"It's very pretty," he said as he looked around at the wallpaper with cobalt blue and yellow flowers, curtains and a duvet that matched it well. He set her luggage down by the bed.
She looked around the room, taking in everything she hadn't seen in over a year. "My mother made the curtains and duvet cover. I went through a blue and yellow phase and she ran with it. Hasn't changed since then.
"Admittedly, I was expecting to see purple," he said with a bit of a mischievous grin. Her love of purple was well known by not only her close friends but even casual acquaintances.
She chuckled. "Yeah, it's always been a favorite, but it certainly has rekindled in the past few years," she said with a grin.
"Rekindled is an understatement, love. More like set ablaze," he said with a cheeky grin. "You and purple go together like me and my suits." He then gently raised his hand and stroked her cheek. "I should go and let you get some sleep. I'm used to travel and jet lag and even I'm exhausted. I imagine it's hitting you even worse."
"I am feeling a bit wiped out, but I wish we didn't have to end our evening so early," she said with a sweet smile as she reached out and grabbed his hand again.
"I know my dear, but I don't want your father thinking the wrong thing about our relationship. I intend to be on my best behavior, and that includes being out of your room post haste and staying out," he said with a warm smile.
"Ever the gentlemen, Mycroft Holmes."
"And you, ever the lady, Sophia Cartwright," he said, raising her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Do you mind if I shower this evening? With the bath right next to you room, I don't want to be a bother."
"Not at all. Go ahead. Towels should be on a shelf in there."
Mycroft nodded. "Very good. Goodnight, love."
"Goodnight, Mycroft. Love you."
"And I love you," he said before squeezing her hand one last time and leaving, closing her door quietly as he left.