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"It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
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SHERLOCK HOLMES AND DR. JOHN WATSON were very accustomed to being in unsettling circumstances.
They had taken on a Chinese smuggling ring, been drugged to the point of delirium, assisted the royal princess against a naked dominatrix.
There was also the span of two years when Watson believed Holmes to be dead- the former was still a tad bit cross at that.
And, they could never forget Sherlock's self-induced downward drug spiral which eventually led to the capture of one of the most prolific serial killers in London.
There were a lot of unsettling- traumatic- circumstances that were somewhat dealt with.
So, standing outside a secure government building- flanked by two sturdy guards- and brought there with absolutely no explanation, was definitely something they would add to their list of unsettling circumstances.
"Sherlock," John whispered, trying to increase the minimal space between him and the blonde guard who reeked of aftershave. "Do you have any idea what we're doing here?"
"Hm," Sherlock muttered, not paying any mind to the man holding his elbow as he examined their surroundings. It only took him a few seconds to make his deductions. "Mycroft."
"Wha-"
"Honestly, John, the fact that you've managed to survive this long-"
"Sherlock..."
"Alright, fine," he said, noting all the different buttons in the elevator they were just led to, seeing the highest floor ring red. "The men who came to get us are secret service- that was obvious- and based on their unflinching silence, we can tell that they are highly trained and experienced. During the ride here, I noted that we were heading out of the city, the drive taking approximately two hours and through restricted sections of the countryside. When one of the men took my phone, I observed that their prints had been erased based on the smudges left when they returned it. On the outside, this building is decrepit- looking rather abandoned- but on the inside, it is pristine with high ceilings and all a ghastly bright white. Also, there is one thing you seemed to miss."
"And that is?"
The edges of Sherlock's lips quirked up, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with mischief as he looked down at his companion. "My brother is a right arsehole."
It hadn't escaped Sherlock or John that the two men were still in the elevator with them when both let out an offended cough.
Sherlock wrinkled his forehead as he turned around and John tried to suppress his laughter when his friend spoke. "Can I help you?"
Both men grunted in unison, something that bothered John but intrigued Sherlock as the elevator finally reached its destination.
The doors opened and both men extended their arms out for the two to exit, and when they did, the men did not follow.
John Watson gasped as he took in the grand hall, in the simplest words, it was immaculate.
The white walls that had decorated the ground-level continued on. The space was big enough for two floors but was only one. There were several skylights that brought in the sun and helped with the lack of windows. Surprisingly, there were several large oak trees that looked so out of place in the sterile environment.
As they walked further down, there were several different rooms that flanked each side of the hall- doorless and large.
John spotted a music room, a grow room, a library, an art studio, a gym, and it just continued on and on; John guessed there were at least twenty rooms, all just as large and filled with different surprises.
"What do you make of this, Sherlock?" John questioned, his fingers reaching out to touch an artificial flower sprouting from the nearest tree.
"Mm..." Sherlock muttered, instinctively wandering over to the music room that housed many violins. "I'm not sure. I require more time to collect my deductions."
"Always the slow one brother mine."
Mycroft Holmes' voice echoed through the halls and Sherlock rolled his eyes as his brother approached him.
"Mycroft," Sherlock started, spinning on his heels. "I figured that it was you that brought us here. Although, I hate to admit I'm at a loss for why."
Mycroft chuckled as he curled his lip at John who was still busy inspecting the tree. "You are? Well, that's odd considering your growing reputation. Tell me, have the goldfish been terrible influences?"
"Goldfish?" John interjected, his face scrunched up as he popped out from behind another tree. "Am, am I the goldfish?"
"Ignore him, he's easily distracted," Sherlock insisted, glancing around the room once more before turning back to his brother. "You have an assignment for me?"
Mycroft shrugged. "In a way-"
"-one which, no doubt, I will not be interested in it-"
"-well-"
"-one which requires the utmost secrecy-"
"- as they usually do-"
Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he continued to inspect his brother.
Twitching fingers around his umbrella.
Light perspiration on his forehead.
Purposefully widening his stance.
"-one which you're...hesitant...to give."
"Sherlock," Mycroft started, waiting until John's curiosity diminished enough to join them. "John. For quite some time I have been keeping a secret-"
"Well, that's not unusual," Sherlock snorted, frowning when John elbowed him. "You did manage to keep our sister a secret for the majority of my life. Even I know when to tip my hat."
"Do you think you have another sister?" John quickly quipped, smirking at Sherlock.
Sherlock feigned a frown. "One secret sister? Reasonable. Two? Just simply unlikely."
"As I was saying," Mycroft continued, taking out his handkerchief to blot his forehead, having already visited Eurus the day before and not wanting to relive his past mistakes. "I have been keeping a secret. Just I and two other members of the British secret service are aware of this secret, and even then, they don't possess sufficient details. I have been carrying this burden alone for a number of years, but it seems that I am no longer able to maintain it myself."
"Well, out with it then," Sherlock snapped impatiently, already craving his morning cigarette that was rudely interrupted. "My disinterest will only increase and I'm afraid I have more pressing matters."
"I assure you, there is nothing more pressing than this..."
"Then what?" John finally asked, his impatience matching Sherlock's.
"Mycroft, это ты (is that you)?"
The sudden ring of an unmistakably foreign female voice caused all three men to snap their necks in its direction.
"Galina," Mycroft cooed, tucking his arms behind his back as he smiled. "Yes, dear, it is I, and I've brought along some friends."
Sherlock's eyes zeroed in on the woman as she walked up to Mycroft. She had flaming red hair that was braided down to her middle back. Her green eyes were wide with interest and accented by the freckles that bridged her nose. The corners of her plump pink lips were turned upward; a dazzling smile as bright as the sun. She was barefoot and wore a thin white dress that was tight against her chest and flowed out at her waist, stopping right above her knees.
If Sherlock could understand the emotions racing through his mind and scratching at his scientific reasoning, he would have found that she was the most brilliantly stunning woman he had ever seen.
Yes, she was beautiful- but he had seen women more so than her.
No, it was her essence that just blanketed the room with serenity- that's what made her stunning to him- the fact that looking at her wasn't like looking at any woman walking down the street, but looking at her felt like looking at fine art dangling in a precious museum.
It was an experience.
"Friends?" Galina asked, her accent lighter this time, but raised with disbelief. "Since when do you have friends? And since when do I get to meet them?"
John coughed to hide his laughter as Mycroft's cheeks blushed. "Let me rephrase. This is my brother, Sherlock Holmes," he gestured to the tall consulting detective who had yet to remove his eyes from here, "and this is his...pet Dr. John Watson. Sherlock, John, this is Galina Ivanov."
Mycroft didn't miss the way John frowned at his introduction.
"Mr. Holmes?" Galina said, her smile widening as she hurried over to the man, lifting herself on her toes to kiss his cheeks- once to the right, then the left, then back to the right. "Привет (hello), I have heard a lot about you!
Sherlock tensed at the sudden intrusion of his personal space and the feeling of her lips on his cheeks. The woman was a lot more forward than the ones he had met, and he assumed it was because of her...slavic(?)...heritage.
He was busy thinking through the possibilities based on the fluctuations of her accent and the arc of her nose when she accosted John with the same greeting.
"Я тоже рада с вами познакомиться. Я должен вам сказать, что мне просто нравится ваш блог," she began, but when she saw the confused look on John's face, she let out a throaty laugh. "No Russian, yes?"
John's sheepish smile and the hand that scratched the back of his head confirmed it to her.
"I apologize, I am so used to Mycroft and his choppy accent, I forget not everyone knows the mother language," she explained, glancing behind her shoulder to quirk her eyebrows that the aforementioned man. She turned back to John, "I said I love your blog! Mycroft hates that I spend so much time reading it, but it is just so interesting."
"Yes, yes, John and his ridiculous hobby attract a variety of dimwitted followers. Who are you?"
Sherlock's abrupt- and frankly rude- remark caused Galina to turn around slowly to face him; her freckled arms crossed against her chest as she held her chin high.
"Жалость (pity)," she began, her bare feet making no noise as she closed the distance between them. "Are you telling me you haven't figured it out?"
Sherlock snorted and narrowed his eyes at the challenge.
Definitely Russian based on the accent and her confirmation.
White dress. White represents goodness, purity, innocence...virginity.
Bare feet.
Red hair.
No jewelry and no makeup- rather odd for a woman her age...
Age? Twenty? Twenty-one?
"Anytime now?" She urged, her lips twisting sweetly as he continued to stare blankly at her. She turned to pout at John. "Your blog makes him seem intelligent. Is it hard for him sometimes?"
Mycroft's laugh snapped Sherlock out of his deductions. "My brother has always been the dumber sibling. Do forgive him. I find that this environment might have disoriented him."
Galina's soft smile was replaced by a pout. "Of course, it did. Look at this place, Mycroft! I am a twenty-one-year-old woman and you have me trapped here like some gagged bird-"
"-caged bird-" John interjected.
"-caged bird! I have not stepped foot out of this place since the day you brought me here ten years ago! I want to leave!"
"You haven't left this place in ten years?" John questioned incredulously, shooting a look at Sherlock to see if he held the same face, but the consulting detective was still too busy staring at Galina to process any of the words being said.
"Да- I mean, yes. Mycroft keeps telling me that I can leave, but he always takes it back," her pout returned, her rage dimming as John considered her words.
He could not even imagine being stuck in one room- albeit one spectacular room- since the age of eleven. He wondered how incredibly lonely it must have been for her growing up with no one but Mycroft, of all people, as a company.
Moreso, he wondered exactly why she was in this situation.
"God, Mycroft. Do you just enslave every women you meet or is it just your sister and Russians?" John asked.
"You are in luck, дорогой (dear)," Mycroft smiled, placing both of his hands on Galina's delicate shoulders, side-stepping John. "You're leaving today."
Galina's eyebrows shot up as she uncrossed her hands. "You have said that before..."
"Use those abilities you cherish so, am I lying?"
Galina's eyes scanned Mycroft's face, and John thought it adorable how the tip of her tongue popped out when she bit it in concentration.
He found it even more adorable when she let out a girlish giggle as her bright green eyes twinkled with joy.
"Mycroft!" She squealed brightly, jumping into his waiting arms as she peppered his cheeks with kisses. "Спасибо, Спасибо, Спасибо (thank you, thank you, thank you)!"
As Mycroft pulled himself from her embrace, his eyes wandered over to John Watson. "There is, however, one catch...
While Galina was reveling in her happiness, and John was watching with tender eyes, Sherlock finally escaped the confine of his Mind Palace and threw his scarf on the ground as all his deductions clicked into place.
"Absolutely not!"
♖
Shortly after the introduction of the petite redheaded Russian, the Holmes brothers took to a rigorous argument with the younger Holmes shouting obscenities while his brother tried and failed to stop him from destroying the observatory. If Galina hadn't seen Sherlock Holmes, she would have thought that he was a twelve-year-old throwing a tantrum.
Galina took it upon herself to insist that Dr. John Watson accompany her to the tea room located at the furthest possible point away from the two bickering brothers.
Galina was excited for anyone to try her pryanik- traditional Russian spice cookies- that she had made that morning. Their talk consisted of Galina blathering on about all the wonderful hobbies she had acquired during her years at the institution- ironically named The Maximoff- and John talking about his time in the war; something Galina was keenly interested in.
It was all they could do to drown out the yells that were still managing to reach the tea room.
Neither had any idea what had set off the argument, but Galina could not settle for standing in the same room with such negative energy that seemed to leech off all the joy she was feeling at being told her freedom was imminent.
It wasn't like Mycroft Holmes was a bad man; he had treated her right and given her anything and everything she wanted- even going as far as to raise her since the age of eleven- but freedom was freedom and she just wanted to feel the sunlight (pure and unfiltered) on her skin after ten long years.
After one impressive hour of fighting, Sherlock and Mycroft finally joined them for a round of tea and biscuits- albeit an extremely uncomfortable one. No one dared to speak for a pregnant twenty-minutes until John could no longer take it.
"So," he began, drawing out the last syllable as he awkwardly brushed the crumbs off his pants. "Shall we start from the beginning of...whatever it is this is?"
Galina gave him a tender smile, pushing back pieces of her braided hair; she liked Dr. John Watson, his presence was comfortable.
"That is a rather long story," Mycroft sighed.
"We have time," was Sherlock's oh-so-clever retort.
Galina smiled at this too; she liked Sherlock Holmes, he was interesting.
"About ten years ago, I was doing some discreet work for a section of the Russian government, just a brief four months-"
"-brief, he says-" Galina whispered to John, rolling her eyes sarcastically.
"Yes, it was an eventful winter. Anyways, we were tracking down a secret regime that was failing to train child soldiers in telepathy-"
"-telepathy is not a thing that exists, Mycroft, we both know that," Sherlock snapped, hating that he found Galina's biscuits so enjoyable.
"Obviously," Galina interjected, snatching away Sherlock's biscuit mid-bite. "That is why they failed to train child soldiers in telepathy. I swear, I thought he was supposed to be clever," she said, turning back to John.
"We are losing track of the conversation, darling," Mycroft said, smirking when Sherlock pointed his narrowed eyes at the Russian girl. "It was then that I became involved. Unfortunately, before we could accomplish a successful extraction of the children, the terrorists had managed to kill everyone but her-"
"-I am still here, дорогой (darling)-" she said mockingly. "And I do have a name-"
"-Galina was the only one he survived. In their attempts to train Galina to become a telepath, they actually managed to make her an authentic empath-"
"-empaths are not a thing either-" Sherlock interjected, snatching another biscuit from the tray before Galina could slap his hand away.
"Again, I am still here. And you can not say that empaths are not 'a thing' because I am right here and I am 'a thing'," she said, trying to make sure she was making proper use of her air-quotes. "The ability is nothing like what you have read about, most of those are rubbish. Empaths have the ability to feel other people's emotions, to absorb those emotions and take them on as their own, and to even alter what the other person is feeling. Trust me, even though I have only interacted with Mycroft for the past ten years, I still remember how emotionally draining it is to be around lots of people. Христос (Christ), just being in the same building with you two bickering practically made me faint."
"Galina's abilities are real, Sherlock. I can attest to that myself and maybe someday she will grace you with a demonstration if she hasn't unknowingly already," Mycroft chided, leaning over to pat the top of the woman's head, as she frowned. "When we extracted her, we had in mind to try and weaponize- if you will- her abilities, but the feisty child would not cooperate."
Galina tipped her head to Sherlock as she shrugged her shoulders. "It is no fun hurting people when you can feel the pain."
"Since I am not in the business of torturing children, there was nothing I could do. By that point, the surviving members of the regime were trying to find her, hoping that they missed some things during their experiments. I couldn't turn the poor girl away, so we just kept her here hidden for her protection."
"Ten long years ago," John muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Seems a tad excessive."
Galina giggled as she leaned away from Mycroft and toward John, who she already felt was her friend. "There were moments when I believed he was just making it all up. But, Mycroft, you were saying earlier that I can finally leave. Have you taken it back yet?"
Mycroft leaned back against his chair as he crossed his legs, clasping his hands together on his lap. "I have not. I don't think it is impossible for you to imagine just how stubborn Russians can be, but it seems that the threat has greatly diminished, although it is not completely extinct. So, I feel comfortable enough to free you, as you have so eloquently been putting it. However, I do have one caveat..."
"Well, you wouldn't be Mycroft Homes if you didn't," John said, suspiciously eyeing the way Mycroft fidgeted with his cuff links.
Galina rolled her eyes. "And what is this cravat-"
"-caveat-" Sherlock corrected, finding it oddly enjoyable to correct her.
"спасибо (thank you), what is this caveat?"
"You are going to live with my brother and be under the strict supervision of him and Dr. John Watson."
"что (WHAT)!" Galina shrieked, slamming her cup down on the table as her petite figure shot up and out of her seat.
"Oh, now I see why you were fighting," John said, dabbing his lips with a napkin. "Didn't think to fill me in, Sherlock?"
"Didn't seem like the proper time," Sherlock said, examing the biscuit in his hands with curious eyes. "Galina's biscuits are quite nice. Any more and I'll end up as fat as Mycroft."
"Ты должно быть шутишь надо мной (You have got to be kidding me)!"
"Galina, relax..."
"Расслабиться (Relax)? Расслабиться (Relax)? Только не говори мне расслабиться (Do not tell me to relax)!"
"Now, don't start making any idle threats..."
"Знаете ли вы, что мы делаем в моей стране, когда мужчина говорит женщине расслабиться (Do you know what we do in my country when you tell a woman to relax)?"
The rest of the conversation was too fast for Sherlock to comprehend, but he was sure he heard something along the lines of a boot going somewhere a boot should not go.
"Galina," Mycroft said, raising his hands in the air as he stood up, an odd look in his eye that Sherlock was too familiar with. "Perhaps I may have chosen my words unwisely, but the fact remains you need to try and calm down."
She didn't want to calm down, she wanted to bite the older Holmes' head off, but because of her abilities, she had long ago learned how to channel and taper her rage. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.
She turned back to Mycroft after smoothening the skirt of her dress and adjusting her hair. "What I was trying to say was that I do not need a babysitter, Mycroft; let alone two."
"Galina, it is for your own protection. This is the only way I feel it is safe for you to transition your life out of The Maximoff. It will only be temporary until we find a more suitable alternative. Do you not want to leave as soon as possible?"
Galina let out an annoyed sigh because she knew Mycroft was right. No matter how many times she teased him, she knew that he had developed a strong- almost paternal- connection with her, and he only wanted to keep her safe. She understood that it was a big step for him to allow her outside of the Maximoff and to begin adjusting to civilian life.
She knew this all because she could feel Mycroft's anxiety when he readjusted his sleeves and tugged at his tie, she could feel his wariness as he looked at Sherlock and John, and she could feel his unspoken wish that she would reject the proposition.
"Fine," she said, not wanting to argue any further as she walked up to Mycroft and laced her arms across his stomach. "Спасибо (thank you), I know how difficult this is for you so I will try to be on my best behavior."
"While the sentiment is touching and all," Sherlock coughed, standing up and placing his large hands in between Galina and Mycroft as he broke them apart. "I don't believe I have agreed to this little arrangement."
"Sherlock," John said, watching the look of disappointment flash through Galina's emerald eyes. "Be reasonable, mate. It's only for a bit and wouldn't you be itching to get out of here after ten years?"
"I would have simply found my way out," Sherlock remarked, wrinkling his eyes in confusion when John gave him a pointed look and a curt nod toward Galina. "I don't understand what you want from me, John."
"John wants you to say yes," Galina laughed, grabbing Sherlock's arm and dragging him down to her height, which proved quite difficult with the near foot of difference in their height. "I will not be any trouble, I promise. You can do the things you normally do with an extra body there that you will not even notice."
Sherlock could feel the slight tremble in her fingers at her plea, and her eyes were begging him to accept Mycroft's proposition but felt that agreeing to house the redheaded Russian would provide no use for him- no benefit- and he did not see a single reason to allow her into his home and subsequently his life.
Galina was looking at Sherlock like he was the most important person in her life at that moment and like all her hopes and dreams were resting on his answer because they were. He couldn't remember ever feeling like a necessity to someone and the power it gave him was insurmountable.
He always felt powerful because of his intellect and his cleverness- always superior- but this was a different feeling. It tugged at the sentiments that he had spent the last year and a half trying to stifle after their unfortunate emergence with the Eurus situation.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see John waiting expectantly with his arms crossed and lips puffed and Mycroft grinning with a victory.
Sherlock wanted to say no to her, but he couldn't, and they all knew that was because she was drawing something within him that was terrifyingly surreal.
"Yes," Sherlock whispered, snatching his hand away as he ran a hand through his hair. "Get your things, Galina. It looks like I am taking another stray home."
Galina didn't even bat an eye at his tone when she threw her body on his, lacing her arms around his neck, forcing him to grab her waist to support her weight, all the while peppering his face with kisses. "Я знал, что ты скажешь да (I knew you would say yes), thank you, thank you!"
"God, I am going to regret this," Sherlock muttered, delicately unlatching her hands away from his neck as John waltzed over and helped her to her feet.
"For some reason, I don't think you will," John whispered, both men watching as Galina ran toward Mycroft and began excitedly shouting in Russian, her red hair coming undone from her braid as her bare feet refused to stay put.
"Oh, wait!" The woman shouted, turning around swiftly before she could run off to her bedroom. "Where is home?"
Mycroft let out an exaggerated sigh and John chuckled as he picked up another biscuit.
Sherlock smirked, the address coming out like a timeless melody played countless times before.
"221B Baker Street."
―A/N―
I hope y'all enjoyed this first chapter!
For this particular story, the chapters will be longer and I apologize if some of my readers prefer shorter chapters.
Have y'all ever had a ton of ideas and a ton of thoughts that you just vomit out and you have to do all of them at once?
That's me. That's me right now.
As always, if you like my work I encourage you to check out the other fan fictions I have posted!
I have a Loki fanfic, a Draco fanfic, and Levi fanfic and a Bucky fanfic!
Until then & eternally grateful,
Bella.