The Ambitious Orphan (15 page)

Once Sherlock was
safely at the top, Mycroft tied the bottom of the rope around
Amelia so his brother could lift her up. It took a little longer to
get her up and she had to help herself over the railing, but four
minutes later he was also making the ascent.

By the time he
reached the top, Amelia was sitting on the balcony floor, trying to
remove her wetsuit, with Sherlock nowhere in sight. The younger
Holmes appeared before Mycroft could get the rope off the balcony
and coiled up. He carried three large towels and had already placed
another on the floor just inside the door.

Getting out of the
rain, Sherlock helped Amelia move inside. As soon as they were all
indoors, Mycroft pulled the curtain over and dimmed the lights.
There was a moment of silence as the three of them looked at each
other. Somehow their mission had been a success and they would get
away with it.

An hour after
getting back to the hotel Mycroft finally sat down opposite Amelia.
He wore fresh clothes, as did Sherlock, and even Amelia had managed
to remove her wetsuit and get herself half changed into dry
clothing. Her legs were still clad in the damp black leggings she'd
worn underneath, and the makeshift bandage still covered her
wound.

A few seconds
before sitting, Mycroft had fetched the first aid kit and now he
opened it, knowing the cut would need cleaning, if not stitching.
It had oozed plenty of blood although the bleeding appeared to be
under control now.

“I think it will
be fine as it is,” Amelia said, her eyes on the bandage he was
preparing.

“You need a better
bandage than that.” Mycroft pointed at the red and white rag
already there. “You need to walk out of here in the morning.”

She gulped and
nodded, a reaction that made him concerned, but she didn't protest
as he reached forward and undid the knot. A few seconds later he
was looking at a four inch long cut that looked to be no deeper
than a few millimetres and was entirely scabbed over.

“That doesn't look
that bad at all. It looked worse when I bandaged it.” Sherlock
leaned forward, trying to get a better look, but Mycroft didn't
need to. It had been worse, quite a lot worse.

A quick glance at
Amelia's face confirmed his suspicion. This wasn't a surprise for
her. She hadn't healed as swiftly as the Holmes brothers could, but
it was definitely far faster than a normal human.

It didn't take
long for Sherlock to pick up on the awkward moment, and he was soon
flicking his attention between the pair of them. Eventually Amelia
looked up and straight at him.

“I've known you
were both a little special since our first observation lesson,” she
said, taking her time over the sentence. “It didn't take me long to
work out you were Mycroft and Sherlock, not Myron and
Sebastian.”

“You didn't say
anything.” Sherlock sat back, a slight grin playing across his
face.

“I didn't know how
you'd react to me knowing. I figured I'd just keep it a secret and
it wouldn't matter. Being able to heal quickly as well never even
occurred to me.”

“You shouldn't be
able to.” Mycroft stood up, giving her a deep frown. “It's a
genetic difference.”

“We never knew
that for sure,” Sherlock interrupted. “That was just our best
guess. But this might help us figure out where we got it in the
first place. If it's transferred to Amelia, then it's likely our
previous assumption of it being part of our family is wrong. Maybe
now we can solve this mystery.”

Mycroft nodded,
his thoughts thrown into turmoil for the first time in many years.
If Amelia was also as immortal as they were it changed a great
deal, and he would have to figure out how much.

When he turned
back to get another good look at Amelia he noticed Sherlock had
repacked the bandage and put away the first aid kit. It wasn't
needed anymore.

“Get some sleep,”
he said when he had her attention. “We'll leave as soon as we've
had breakfast.”

She nodded, not
even hesitating in obeying him. A few seconds later she was on her
feet and making her way unsteadily through to the bedroom.

As Mycroft sank
into a chair, his brother nodded and also headed away to sleep. It
was his duty to watch over them for one more night, and this time
he very much appreciated the time alone.

Although it
appeared that Amelia had kept their secret for several months, even
while being interrogated for what she knew about him, there were
few ways to be sure a secret like theirs didn't get out. Her
developing their immortality and healing only complicated that
further.

If she'd been more
wayward and shown any signs of wavering in her loyalty he'd have
felt very worried. As it was, he realised he trusted her. Given the
right opportunity, it might even prove useful having an immortal
female. The amount of trouble they'd had to go to in faking mothers
for each new generation of Holmes children they'd pretended to be
would be drastically reduced. It left only one logical way to
proceed. It wasn't an ideal situation but he would make the best of
it, something he'd grown used to over the years.

By the time Amelia
and Sherlock emerged again, Mycroft had straightened his mind,
decided how he would respond, and ordered them an early breakfast.
Everyone ate in relative silence. Although Amelia glanced his way a
couple of times, she seemed content not to ask questions, and he
didn't want to talk further with her until they were alone.

It was evident she
had finished healing well enough that the cut bothered her no
longer. She didn't limp, or even wince. The entire time, he studied
her.

A few emails came
in as they were gathering the last of their belongings and packing
them up. One contained a little information on the police response
to their mission, but was nothing important. It was the usual
police posturing when they had no strong leads and needed to act
like they did. The man killed was a known criminal, and there would
be few people interested in finding out who'd killed him.

The second email
gave him a little more information on Delra and some of the links
between him and the deceased Russian. It seemed the orphan had
taken a loan from Delra when young.

As soon as Mycroft
had settled the bill and left the hotel he felt himself relax a
little. By the time they were sitting on the plane and in the air,
the rest of him calmed back to his usual state. London was only a
few hours away.

Settling into the
seat opposite him again, Amelia was soon asleep, and he felt his
own eyelids threatening to overwhelm him. Before they could,
Sherlock opened his mouth.

“Well, that was an
interesting outing, brother of mine. Not something we all get to do
very often. I don't think we've had such a troublesome adversary
for many years. Of course, he wasn't anything like Moriarty, but no
one's come close to him.”

“This Delra fellow
might.”

“Really?” The
younger Holmes sat forward, not hiding his interest.

“He's got quite a
branch of criminals at his disposal. Krylov was in his pocket. Took
a loan to get started as a young adult. Not long after, he freed
himself from slavery. Used it to start his drug smuggling, and then
slaves as well.”

“Well, well, he
was quite the ambitious orphan, then.”

Mycroft
nodded.

“And it might be
quite interesting having another Moriarty.” Sherlock settled back,
a small smile on his face as he closed his eyes. Mycroft didn't
know if he agreed or not. Someone who actually stretched their
minds might be good for them, but taking on someone like the
criminal mastermind would be dangerous. At least now all three of
them healed quickly.

While the jet took
them closer and closer to home, Mycroft thought over his plans. It
would need to be explained to Amelia just right, and he would
choose his words carefully. He only hoped she reacted sensibly.

***

The sound of
brandy splashing into a glass soothed the last of Mycroft's frayed
nerves. It was always good to be back in his home. Looking up, he
even had to admit having Amelia there as well did nothing to upset
his calm.

Sensing his gaze
on her, she looked up from the book she was reading. He wandered
over to the window closest to her and looked out at the star-lit
sky for a few seconds.

When he turned
back to Amelia, her eyes were still on him. For a few seconds they
merely looked at each other, both seeing if the other might speak
first.

“I know I don't
have to tell you how important it is that our condition remain a
secret. You've already shown you understand that.” He paused and
she nodded. “But developing it as well, however that has come
about, changes several things.”

“I'm more than
willing to help with any tests you want to do,” she replied. “I am
as eager as you to know what might have given me this.”

“Yes. That's
definitely one part of what I'd like, but there's something more. I
hope it won't be offensive to you.”

She raised her
eyebrows but didn't interrupt him again.

“I'd like you to
marry me. And assuming we continue to live many lifetimes as my
brother and I have already done, to keep marrying me through all of
them.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks
flushed and her mouth fell open. Knowing she would need time to
process the request, he remained silent and waited. She got up and
walked over to stand near the warm fire. A few seconds later she
looked back towards him.

“I definitely
don't think that would be unpleasant. I assume you're asking
because this is the most logical way to handle the transfer of
whatever has caused your immortality to me?”

After a moment he
gave her a small nod, and he knew he had to be explicit. Lying to
her now would only hurt her and give fuel to a possible betrayal on
her part sometime in the future.

“I don't love you,
Amelia.”

She looked away,
evidently wishing he hadn't said it. He waited, giving her time to
compose herself.

“You started a war
to save my life. I was told vehemently that you'd never do that for
me or anyone else,” she replied, a suggestive smirk on her face all
of a sudden.

“Well, they did
deserve it.”

“The actions of
one man do not a country make... Usually,” she added when she
remembered who she was talking to. He knew she was referring to the
Ukrainian who had allowed her kidnappers into Russia and stopped
Mycroft right at the last minute.

“But you'll marry
me anyway?” he asked when an awkward silence developed. If he was
going to walk her down the aisle he wanted to make sure she was as
committed to the idea as he was. Although he'd never thought he'd
marry, now he planned to, it was something he'd consider permanent.
Divorce wouldn't be an option.

“Yes, I'll marry
you, if that's truly what you want,” she replied.

“What do you
want?”

Her eyes widened
briefly and he knew the question had surprised her. Instead of
answering right away she tilted her head to the side and stared at
the flames crackling on the hearth.

“I want to be your
Haydee,” she said eventually. He raised his eyebrows.

“The Count of
Monte Cristo's slave?”

“Yes, the princess
he rescued. He bought her out of slavery, provided her with a roof
over her head, food, clothing, entertainment and a musical
instrument for her to follow her passions. Then he confided in her,
going to her to talk when he wanted company. He even entrusted her
with his plans.”

“So, you
do
want me to keep you safe?” Mycroft asked, knowing she didn't want
to be the little wife kept at home, but unsure how this was
different.

“Yes, I'd still
like to be a part of the adventures you get up to and help you in
your work. But I'd do as you asked.”

“You wouldn't find
that overbearing of me?”

“No, not really.”
Amelia shook her head before continuing. “Within the boundaries
you'd set I'd be safe and I'd be free, just as Haydee was within
the rules the Count gave her.”

“But he set her
free at the end of the story.”

“Yes, and she
chose to stay with him because she knew that, even as his slave,
she was already free. He bought her, and in her slavery, with all
the restrictions, she was more safe, cared for and alive than she'd
ever been before she was betrayed.”

Mycroft nodded,
finally understanding what she was asking of him.

“Would you be my
Count?”

“Yes,” he said as
he stepped closer to join her in front of the fire and stroked a
hand down her cheek. “If you'll be my Haydee.”

With her heart
thumping heavily in her chest, Amelia half sat and half leant
against the edge of the bath. The seconds dragged by as she waited
for lines to appear or not appear on the stick in her hand.

Over the last week
she'd become increasingly more sure what it would say. Sickness
plagued her every evening and she'd still not bled a single drop,
despite it being well overdue. If she hadn't been living in
Mycroft's house with him she'd have tested before now, but it had
taken her several days to come up with the perfect excuse to leave
the house and buy a pregnancy test.

Even after that,
finding a moment alone when she was sure she could take it
unnoticed had proved difficult. It seemed Mycroft had decided that
taking care of her meant involving her in his life and the
decisions about their upcoming wedding.

Leaving him
absorbed in some classified information the government wanted him
to look over, she'd finally snuck up to the bathroom en-suite to
the spare room she used for her belongings. The two minutes she was
meant to wait for a result felt like they were taking forever.