♞--I chose us over him.

DESKTOP ONLY! Semi-private, low-activity, Mycroft Holmes RP blog based on the Sherlock Holmes Chapter One and Sherlock Holmes the Awakened canon. [ Penned by Corpsie ]

 ♞–What a despicable thing, to have to deal with public events and getting out of his beloved stationary havens. Really, this time of evening, Mycroft would much rather spend at Diogenes. The only thing to get him out of his office with no regrets would be keeping his brother out of trouble-- but that seems to not be what's happening right now.

      However, his brother was supposed to be here, somewhere. Not that he is easy to spot. The night is dedicated to Scotland Yard to make connections with outside offices of law enforcement. Pathetic pleasantries and biting off more than one can chew, if you ask the elder Holmes brother.

      His invitation was expected due to his government status and making sure his eyes and ears were paying good attention. Not that it was clear what he did, or him advertising it. For now, he simply sat at his assigned table, drinking. This will do for now-- or... well, it would-- if his table was not currently entertained by a particularly sloshed high ranking officer. Mycroft turns slightly and whispers to the man sitting by him.

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“You were never one to enjoy ‘leg work’ are you Mycroft. Luckily for you, that’s our speciality.”

She had a bad feeling he was being deliberately optimistic about this case, it wasn’t everyday that Sherlock got asked to help his brother with…well anything….so this must be big, important.

She moved closer to Sherlock by instinct as the elevator began to move.

 ♞– Of course, the entire idea wasn’t new. Mycroft had wanted to work arm in arm with Sherlock since he realized his brother was of a similarly working mind to his. With both of them together, the Empire would be served greatly. The honour, even in the shadows of it all... Impeccable as it should be. However, those hopes had long since been suppressed given that Sherlock preferred petty criminals and the chase. 

she’s supposed to be in & out . that’s all this was supposed to be , but no . she’s there – still there , like she’s stuck . like she doesn’t know what to do . she feels indecent , as if her mind’s running back & forth , screaming at her . noting that it’s her fault for feeling this way , that she should’ve done it & left .

“ i don’t need that . ” she’s responding , with nothing but her own loyalty to her employer – to herself , most of all . delilah’s hiding something , the mere fact that she’s stalling . perhaps because he’s seen her for everything she is , or maybe he isn’t scared of her . delilah’s trying her best – she wants to do this , she wants to kill him , to feel something besides this ache in her heart , the empty space that harbors whatever need she has . “ are you scared ? ” she’s asking , brow arching at his words , chewing down on her lower lip to the distinct point where she can feel her own blood coming out . a way , a tell that she’s having a hard time settling with things , with this . her hardest opponent . & it shouldn’t be , she shouldn’t still be there , it should’ve been easier .

with the utter intensity that she’s feeling , her heart rate higher & higher , noting that he’s a man without fear , she’s gathering . she takes into utter considering that he’s her target , that she needs to get rid of him before they get rid of her . finger gently squeezing at the trigger , not pointed at him – she’s going to regret this , isn’t she ? letting someone like him go . delilah shouldn’t be feeling this way , she’s never one for second guessing things , much less herself . with her trembling notion , she’s pointing the gun at the wall , pressing against the trigger , shooting at it . just like target practice . just like the first man she killed . & now , she’s ready – completely & utterly concentrated on killing him .

“ you’re right . everyone should welcome death , just like you . ” she’s taking the deepest breath she can , before pointing the weapon at him once again , ready . she’s born ready , she’s calmed down . & this time ? she’s doing it , aiming the gun straight for some part of his body , his chest , even . & she’s shooting . with a ’ bang ’ echoing in the room , eyes watching as she’s convincing that she’s done justice .

   ♞–  It was true, a killer did not need such things as pride-- quite frankly, they did better if they had none. It was a thankless job, lowly even. He knows this, having employed countless of the like -- anonymous pawns-- to do his dirty work for him. Not that he took joy out of it, such low as it was. And he very much was merely one step above a pawn even if barely. Still anonymous, still invisible in his work. Really, he is curious who would decide to do this to him and he’s only somewhat sure of who it was... But maybe that makes no difference now. 

   Now, was he scared? Not at all. His life only mattered if he served his country, expecting to be taken out like an old dog once he was no longer useful. This is only mildly what he expected and therefore, he has no intent on fighting it or gracing the other with fear. Mycroft would not afford that satisfaction for the other in front of him. He doesn’t welcome death but he isn’t afraid of it either. It’s a constant in the human condition, why should he fight something as inevitable as death? Even if it could be avoided now it brought him no desire to exert himself. 

   The gun fires, by whatever miracle, just as the door opens and Barbara steps in. She screams in horror at the sight of the gun and the act she just witnessed, dropping the tray. It all alerts the guards even more than the sound of the shot as they rush in, only to quickly piece together what happened. The bleeding Mycroft now fallen into his chair is damning evidence by itself. The other problem that follows is this: Mycroft is bleeding but he’s not yet dead, bullet lodged inside his side with no exit wound. Of course, if the injury isn’t tended to and soon-- he will be but that’s a given. He presses with what little force he can muster over the wound, trying to stop the endless pouring of blood. He’s slowly losing consciousness and wouldn’t even dare to taunt or say much, however, last words feel important... 

At this Elizabeth rolled her eyes, glancing at the younger Holmes brother beside her. He wouldn’t take the job. No way in hell…would he…? Looking back to Mycroft she blew out a long breath. If he wanted a fight, she could give him one. She tensed.

“A favour? What in Gods name can Sherlock give you that you don’t already have access too?”

For emphasise, she raised her hands, then dropped them too her sides. The familiar pang of nicotine withdrawal swirled in her body. She longed to be outside, pushing smoke into the blue sky. But no, she was here between these two….clever idiots!

“I really want to know….then we can talk about a deal…”

   ♞– Mycroft grimaced, of course. He was never a fan of such petulant behavior, immature as it’ll always be according to him. Hell, he even raised the troublemaker out of this, through his ever so annoying rebellious phase and into an even more so infuriating and disrespectful adult-- he had little hope his brother would associate with somebody more worthy of both their time. Let alone, ones that would show understanding of what they’re dragging themselves into. He never liked this anti-discipline act that was present, as if life was only mistreating them alone-- and yet, somehow, everyone else managed to endure. 

   He enters the lift just at it pings him out of his thoughts. 

Elizabeth stood next to Sherlock Holmes in front of the other Holmes brother in his stiflingly warm office. She hated that they were here in the first place, Mycroft was not her greatest fan at the best of times, and today was not the day to rile Lizzie up. She and Sherlock had already chased a suspect through the disgusting back alleys for hours in the warm sun, to no avail. He had escaped them. With no more choices, they had inlisted the help of Mycroft, wishing to use his connections to look at surveillance footage to find him. But all they got was his attitude. Fed up already, the red head gripped her hair in frustration,

“It’s very bloody practical Mycroft, how else would we have tracked him down? Party tricks my ass! We use our minds, more than I can say about the police….we need to find him! So quit with your condescending attitude, this is no time for you’re personal opinions!”

Originally posted by where-our-stories-start

   ♞– Now, Mycroft glared past his brother, towards the other occupant of the room, then after a moment sighed as if that’ll alleviate his annoyance. It does not.

   ❝Usually, I am not fond of wasting my time or the precious resources provided to me on such banal things-- and I’d make an exception, provided Sherlock takes it upon himself to reconsider my offer to find a proper job.❞ There’s no hopefulness in the look he gives his kin but it surely says enough to warrant some kind of thought. ❝The use of your mind when tracking down petty criminals, when the country needs you most...❞ Mycroft mutters, clearly trying to insult, as he stands from his chair and starts to exit his office. 

she hated this , the fact that she was in view of someone else & they could see right through her . maybe that’s why she does this , to get another person’s opinion on herself , like a mirror . god – even thinking about that makes her scream internally . delilah’s taking a deep breath , wavering , wanting for every single part of her mind to be blocked away from whatever he’s doing .

& she’s smart , she really is . nonetheless , she’s better than this , some observation that he’s probably doing mentally – trying to see how insane she really is , to be calm , to display herself as a good person , friendly – jovial , when in fact , she’s nothing but a killer . always has been , truly . manipulative , too . no wonder she’s good at this . “ tell me , ” she’s sighing , putting a pause on her words as she’s looking at him , directly , with the gun still pointed at him . “ why would i go from my boss to you ? what can you offer me that they haven’t ? ” she’s curious , with her brows raising , head tilted to the side . delilah’s studying the other , allowing his words to seep into her head . of course she’s there by someone else’s request & she does her job , quite well , if she could speak . “ i can’t disclose that information , ” which means , she is . she just can’t say more about it , considering her status , at the moment .

“ is this another way for you to fully investigate me ? who i am & things like that ? ” she’s chuckling , wanting so badly to pull it , to shoot him , right in that petty face of his . “ killing you would be the one thing that fulfills me . ” & whilst she doesn’t care about anything else , this is what makes her feel better , what brings her joy . the feeling of killing someone & washing their blood off in the shower – she’s designed to do this , no matter what . & nevermind how heartless she can be , & no wonder why she doesn’t have any close prospects , they’re alike , yet so different . alone , of course . but loneliness is everywhere , really .

& his words are what hit her , the way he’s granting her permission to do it – is he setting her up for something terrible ? has he already called the police ? no , he doesn’t seem like the type to do that , not right off the bat . which is why , she’s curious , watching as her fingers shake right above the trigger , as if she’s having a panic attack . “ welcoming death already ? ” she’s asking , like there’s a worry sinking in her bones , contemplating on actually doing it . no second guessing , she’s doing it . lifting up her weapon , pointed directly at the other – taking a deep breath , however , she’s wondering if it’ll count if she shoots somewhere else in the room , acting like she did it .

  ♞– Her breathing is enough to alarm him to the fact that this isn’t a lost cause. He merely notes it, glancing at the clock on the wall then back at her. He’d consider more but then it makes him think he can drag this to it’s full extent.

   ❝Truly I can only offer you the unseen servitude for the Empire and nothing else.❞ He says, with a light hint of amusement as if he’s all too aware of the irony—never remembered, never mentioned. He does good work but nobody knows, or could even tell what with his lowly income. He’s humble yet oh so arrogant, too, it’s the paradox of his work. ❝Ah, of course, contract confidentiality. Familiar with that as I am,  all things considered—It’s such a shame. Who would have known, maybe that’d be thing to inspire fear in me…?❞ He eggs on, still sounding nonchalant. 

   The only time he’s ever was truly scared when a gun was pointed at him was at Stonewood manor… nothing else cuts as close and clear, than his kin in an irrationally emotional state, waving around a weapon like it didn’t matter. But that would have added salt to injury, not being shot—but the person who would have done it. Other times have been so banal that Mycroft didn’t grace them with the fear it should have evoked. When the topic was brought up by his colleagues, he merely shrugged and the one time he was forced into counseling he raised the question out of curiosity. Then it was described to him as Blunted Affect, which Mycroft found no interest in dwelling on. He was not his mother’s son, never was close to it. Siger was the only one who ever found semblance of pride in him, before his early passing. Nothing else came to a connection. This is no different. He blinks, standing up and pointing at his head momentarily.

Jamie inclined her head slightly. “Quite,” she agreed. “I have never found opposition like Sherlock Holmes. No offence to present company, of course.” She flashed him a quick smile, quite sure that he wouldn’t be offended in the slightest. One thing she had gathered from observing Mycroft Holmes was that the man was very like his brother – he rarely took offence, and understood that this polite talk was merely a façade, a necessary game played out between them, even in the absence of Sherlock.

He said that his club was supposed to be a quiet place, and Jamie leaned forwards a little, lowering her voice conspiratorially, in a way which could have been taken as serious or disparaging, depending on one’s opinion. “I apologise, Mr. Holmes, I did not mean to disturb the other guests,” she said softly. “I am indeed here to discuss something.” She paused, resting her elbows on her knees and placing one arm over the other in a stiff gesture, unlike her usually poised countenance. 

“I am curious about the extent of your knowledge,” she said, meeting his gaze with her own cool one. “You refer to me by an incredibly vague moniker, one used only by people very far removed from me personally. And yet, here I sit opposite you.” She frowned a little. “I am curious as to whether you are playing at ignorance, or whether your brother simply hasn’t divulged what he knows about me. In short, I want to know the extent of what you know.”

   ♞– Of course, no offense was taken to the statement; he knew that Sherlock was the more proactive of them and therefore most likely more fun to lead around. Like throwing something to a dog who excitedly gnaws away at it, obsessing and not letting go till he starts to grow bored… Mycroft found that to be a waste of precious energy. Meanwhile, as Jamie lowers her tone and he does appreciate it, even if this was his own private quarters in the club—as one of the perks of being a founding member—he had no interest in setting a poor example... And even if he isn’t one to react, not like this – surely not easily, but… as the words ring in the air he replies too urgently, as it was something spilling out of him.

   ❝And what? You actually expect me to just answer you? Tell the full extent of it all?❞ There’s genuine amusement there, booming in the laughter that tries to break out, as evident from his voice despite the lowness of it. After another moment, and a rather prominent huff, he grasps himself back together. A total tonal shift as he looks back in utter seriousness, despite the smirk on his face now back in full effect. ❝Now, somebody in your position, I am sure, would know how powerful and useful information is. I see no reason to tell you anything, at least without incentive to do so.❞

  He wasn’t one to not take his own advice-- Silence was golden. Whether Sherlock liked being constantly reminded of that or not, and here he would apply it for the nth time himself. He knew better than to just be stupid and open. He could talk about nothing for hours, just ramble on, which he might as well do here. Moriarty, as she was right in front of him, wasn’t even a fraction of as intimidating or nerve-wracking as Sherlock made the then anonymous figure out to be. And here Mycroft thought he could enjoy something of a discussion with non-flesh and blood for once...Or maybe he was just being ignorant and arrogant as he tended to be when anyone addressed him.

truthfully , she doesn’t look suspicious . or even seem it , considering her friendly & positive attitude , who could suspect her as a hitwoman ? no one , that’s who . & that’s why it made sense , why she made sense . of course , she’s still studying the other – wondering what makes him really tick , glide with fear , all of that . delilah can tell that nothing , well , as of now , truly scares him . & maybe that’s holding her back from placing her gun on the desk – because he’s showing a different emotion , blank . she already wants to throw up at the décor , it’s … dingy , it’s too oddly colored for her , but , whatever calms her down , right ?

“ walk ins , ” she’s chuckling to herself , shaking her head at his words , hand holding down on her weapon so close to her skin , she can feel it practically bruise her . nonetheless , not too worried about that , she’s more concentrated on the man in front of her . fuck it , she’s doing it , no overthinking – she’s slamming her gun on the desk , fingers curled against the trigger . eyes directly on the male , not going back .

delilah’s listening to his words , huffing . it sounds pathetic , like he’s trying to analyze her , which , won’t work as much as he thinks it might . “ hitwoman . for a private employer , ” she’s musing , head tilted to the side as she’s trying to figure out why he’s asking her about it , what she does . it feels like utter nonsense , though , she’s going to play his game , see what he wants . “ do you always try to therapize people before dying ? ” she’s contemplating , with nothing but a brazen chuckle leaving her lips . even then , she thinks it’s something of a waste of time to ask her questions , seeing how she’s a woman on a mission , clearly so .

   ♞– And now, thankfully, he can drop the pretense. With a heavy, and very annoyed sigh, he closes his eyes then shrugs. He didn’t see a point of a discussion but biting time and all that-- the security staff here was abysmal. War Office? What a farce.

   ❝Hmm... Is that how it is then, and yet I was going to offer you a job.❞ The sarcasm emits from that sentence so strongly it could be beyond just palpable.  ❝Very well, Miss Monroe, I would ask if your employer is my chance one famous consultant but I take it the answer is obvious enough as it is. Despite his sometimes too cruel sense of humor, and desire to make me uncomfortable, I don’t think his paranoia would allow this... In which case, I take it, you’re here on somebody else’s request?❞ Mycroft locks eyes with her, face nearly blank apart the utter disinterest in this scenario, almost as if the answer will not sway him any which way. 

   ❝Tell me, then... how much are they paying you for this? Is it truly worth the effort?❞ Says the one man who disliked getting his hands dirty or even a hint of fieldwork, yet finds himself risking other people's lives on daily basis, like he has a say in this. Regardless, his eyes settle into a glare. ❝On another account, why bother killing somebody whose death makes no difference? Nobody knows my name, or ever will, and the only person who might be truly upset by my passing, would -- all things considered-- either set out to hunt you down or carry on. Admittedly it is hard to differentiate what his reaction would be these days...❞ He makes a vague gesture with his hand, almost seeming frustrated-- but not putting enough energy into it to make it convincing.