Prompt 11: Intervention
Title: Intervention
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: G
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 1476
Summary: They both know something is not right with the whole affair but, unlike Mycroft, Philomena has learned to leave Sherlock to his own devices
Author's Notes: For prompt 11 of watsons_woes July Writing Prompts. This one was "Ladies' Night: Use a female POV."
When the file crosses Philomena's desk she pushes it aside without looking for it. "No." The poor underling doesn't know what to make of the word. All he can manage to do his repeat the word slowly and with that upward inflection that sets of every 'moron' bell in Philomena's head that exists.
"Tell him I won't do it."
"People don't tell him no." The underling, a boy who probably is trying to bravely fill his elder sister's former place, is stalling. He needs time to have this make sense. Unfortunately MI5 and MI6's deplorable, and wilfully so, record keeping will not wait.
"Tell him Mrs. Kensington says no. That'll be all, thank you."
"Mrs. Kensington? It says here M-
"Out of my sight, love." Philomena finds that adding an endearment or a trite saying after ordering someone with a tone of voice like...how did Reggie put it? Oh, like "Satan ordering an explanation for why Hell has frozen over." Anyway, adding a 'love' or a 'dearie' or 'lad or lass' afterwards assures the person in question that she is at least partly human.
Then again, the way she gathers it, she would have had every right to interoffice the boy's head back to Mr. Mycroft Holmes for the last remark. Don't shoot the messenger may be the practice in open hostilities but how many examples in history consisted of precisely the opposite.
=====================================================================================
She had read the papers, read Watson's blog, and had heard and read enough opinion to make her head ache. She's on medication for that too. Mycroft has been all but banging down her door, weekly, for her to look deeper into it. They both know something is not right with the whole affair but, unlike Mycroft, Philomena has learned to leave Sherlock to his own devices. Mycroft, bless the overprotective sod, cannot fathom the idea of Sherlock - or her for that matter - being able to make their own decisions and living with the consequences.
Mycroft is just annoyed that what Philomena has said about Sherlock's drug abuse had proved correct. And was annoyed that as a result of that Sherlock still actually spoke to her. E-mails mostly. She hasn't had the pleasure to meet his good doctor yet. Where Mycroft had inserted his presence as an auditor for Sherlock's choice in companion, Philomena had merely congratulated him on a partner. Sherlock's response had been a clutch of feverfew tied onto her door knocker. Another had appeared on Reggie's tombstone.
John reminds her a lot of Reggie, which makes her slightly furious considering the to-do that had surrounded her four year marriage. Reggie had been a paramedic, a stupidly caring man, and always chose to see the best in people. Even when said morons who certainly did not deserve it managed to get him killed. His last request had been to not blame the policemen involved. Philomena is proud that this is the only promise that she could not keep to her late husband, aside from forever of course but she was fool enough to promise that in the first place. No one can give anyone forever.
That does mean, however, that one should deprive themselves of the opportunity. John has been immeasurably beneficial to Sherlock. The reverse is also true. Philomena may not have the spies that Mycroft does at her disposal but she does have access to a lot more that Mycroft has time or bother to remember. No one suspects the librarians.
Sherlock has not spoken to her since his supposed death but neither has he given any sign to John it appears. Idiot. For the first month she hopes that John is a far better actor than he seems but he certainly is not. He is fading and fading fast. Each time she sees a picture of him in the paper or on the internet he looks like he's waiting for the world the swallow him up. It will. She is sure of that.
Sherlock, as brilliant as he is, has miscalculated and this time she does not feel like letting him realise that on his own.
Philomena makes her way to the break room and fixes herself an entire pot of tea. Then she proceeds back to her office and shuts the door. No one will bother her when her door is shut. No one will ever forget what happened the last time.
It takes her about a week to get everything sorted out and another two days to actually ascertain a pattern and declare as accurate as she is able that she's found him. No one knocks on her door. No one emails her. No one with black bags come to take her away. She's fairly certain that her tracks are covered but knows full well, as both MI5 and MI6 do, that she is too precious to them to lose.
Much like Mycroft Holmes is the British Government in the way that he can find out anything and summon everything, Philomena Kensington is the personification of the information flowing through MI5 and MI6. No one in the entire government can take a piss without her knowing of it. This is why working at the British Library had not worked out.
John will be suspicious. Of course he will and he would be stupid not to be. She brings a copy of her birth certificate and the only good photo of the five of them that exists along with the information she's complied. She slips it under 221b's door and then checks into a hotel at Piccadilly where she plans to remain for the four days. That is John's deadline.
John comes on day three. He's armed and suspicious but as she suspects he knows and believes her the second he sees her. She considers making a comment about eyes and hair but. John has of course seen the photograph.
John nods. "Yours and Mycroft's noses are the same." He apologises as Philomena sniffs in disgust but she waves her hand. She tames the retort that would normally leave her after such a comparison and allows herself to be forgiving with John Watson. He has been through enough.
"I have tickets and supplies with me should you like to go after him."
"Why haven't I met you?"
"We would have been introduced this Christmas, I believe." At his blank stare she decides to actually answer his question. "Sherlock and I function more as distant cousins. I let him go his own way and he contacts me when he feels like doing so. It has done well for us. You, of course, see what the opposite has done in his relationship with Mycroft."
John very badly wants to ask questions about everything but no one has time for this. "I promise I will give you my life's story, if Sherlock does not give it to you first, when you return. For now you need to go if you choose to."
"What makes you think I have a choice?" John near laughs as he takes the tickets, travel documents, and other paperwork she prepared yesterday morning. "Does he know?"
"Of course not."
"Did you know?"
"Within six minutes of seeing the footage." John's eyes reflect first embarrassment that he hadn't caught on so quick and rage that she had kept silent so long. "I thought you knew," she explains before he explodes. "I didn't think Sherlock would make a capital error such as this."
"Error?"
Philomena smiles, wanly. "When he returns, if he returns, would you forgive him? Truly, Dr. Watson? And if he hadn't at all? What would have become of you then?"
John cannot answer. She makes a 'and there you have it gesture.' "I do not interfere in Sherlock's life, that is Mycroft's division, but there are exceptions to even my rules. And I understand matters of the heart better than the two of them." She looks down at her ring finger. Even after all this time she is unused to finding her wedding ring around her neck instead on her finger. Sentiment is a weakness one she prefers not display. "I appreciate the intent but not the method." They share a knowing smile after that.
John nods. "Thank you." It is the most honest one she has heard in awhile. Just before he leaves he promises her word from Sherlock when he finds him. "I can understand him hiding from Mycroft but he owes you."
Three weeks later it takes the form of a virus she spends the better part of the morning trying extract from her computer at home. She recognizes the code she had helped Sherlock design in an April Fool's prank against Mycroft in their teens when he was being particularly self righteous. She smiles and sips her tea. "You are quite welcome, little brother," she says to the empty room.
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: G
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 1476
Summary: They both know something is not right with the whole affair but, unlike Mycroft, Philomena has learned to leave Sherlock to his own devices
Author's Notes: For prompt 11 of watsons_woes July Writing Prompts. This one was "Ladies' Night: Use a female POV."
When the file crosses Philomena's desk she pushes it aside without looking for it. "No." The poor underling doesn't know what to make of the word. All he can manage to do his repeat the word slowly and with that upward inflection that sets of every 'moron' bell in Philomena's head that exists.
"Tell him I won't do it."
"People don't tell him no." The underling, a boy who probably is trying to bravely fill his elder sister's former place, is stalling. He needs time to have this make sense. Unfortunately MI5 and MI6's deplorable, and wilfully so, record keeping will not wait.
"Tell him Mrs. Kensington says no. That'll be all, thank you."
"Mrs. Kensington? It says here M-
"Out of my sight, love." Philomena finds that adding an endearment or a trite saying after ordering someone with a tone of voice like...how did Reggie put it? Oh, like "Satan ordering an explanation for why Hell has frozen over." Anyway, adding a 'love' or a 'dearie' or 'lad or lass' afterwards assures the person in question that she is at least partly human.
Then again, the way she gathers it, she would have had every right to interoffice the boy's head back to Mr. Mycroft Holmes for the last remark. Don't shoot the messenger may be the practice in open hostilities but how many examples in history consisted of precisely the opposite.
=====================================================================================
She had read the papers, read Watson's blog, and had heard and read enough opinion to make her head ache. She's on medication for that too. Mycroft has been all but banging down her door, weekly, for her to look deeper into it. They both know something is not right with the whole affair but, unlike Mycroft, Philomena has learned to leave Sherlock to his own devices. Mycroft, bless the overprotective sod, cannot fathom the idea of Sherlock - or her for that matter - being able to make their own decisions and living with the consequences.
Mycroft is just annoyed that what Philomena has said about Sherlock's drug abuse had proved correct. And was annoyed that as a result of that Sherlock still actually spoke to her. E-mails mostly. She hasn't had the pleasure to meet his good doctor yet. Where Mycroft had inserted his presence as an auditor for Sherlock's choice in companion, Philomena had merely congratulated him on a partner. Sherlock's response had been a clutch of feverfew tied onto her door knocker. Another had appeared on Reggie's tombstone.
John reminds her a lot of Reggie, which makes her slightly furious considering the to-do that had surrounded her four year marriage. Reggie had been a paramedic, a stupidly caring man, and always chose to see the best in people. Even when said morons who certainly did not deserve it managed to get him killed. His last request had been to not blame the policemen involved. Philomena is proud that this is the only promise that she could not keep to her late husband, aside from forever of course but she was fool enough to promise that in the first place. No one can give anyone forever.
That does mean, however, that one should deprive themselves of the opportunity. John has been immeasurably beneficial to Sherlock. The reverse is also true. Philomena may not have the spies that Mycroft does at her disposal but she does have access to a lot more that Mycroft has time or bother to remember. No one suspects the librarians.
Sherlock has not spoken to her since his supposed death but neither has he given any sign to John it appears. Idiot. For the first month she hopes that John is a far better actor than he seems but he certainly is not. He is fading and fading fast. Each time she sees a picture of him in the paper or on the internet he looks like he's waiting for the world the swallow him up. It will. She is sure of that.
Sherlock, as brilliant as he is, has miscalculated and this time she does not feel like letting him realise that on his own.
Philomena makes her way to the break room and fixes herself an entire pot of tea. Then she proceeds back to her office and shuts the door. No one will bother her when her door is shut. No one will ever forget what happened the last time.
It takes her about a week to get everything sorted out and another two days to actually ascertain a pattern and declare as accurate as she is able that she's found him. No one knocks on her door. No one emails her. No one with black bags come to take her away. She's fairly certain that her tracks are covered but knows full well, as both MI5 and MI6 do, that she is too precious to them to lose.
Much like Mycroft Holmes is the British Government in the way that he can find out anything and summon everything, Philomena Kensington is the personification of the information flowing through MI5 and MI6. No one in the entire government can take a piss without her knowing of it. This is why working at the British Library had not worked out.
John will be suspicious. Of course he will and he would be stupid not to be. She brings a copy of her birth certificate and the only good photo of the five of them that exists along with the information she's complied. She slips it under 221b's door and then checks into a hotel at Piccadilly where she plans to remain for the four days. That is John's deadline.
John comes on day three. He's armed and suspicious but as she suspects he knows and believes her the second he sees her. She considers making a comment about eyes and hair but. John has of course seen the photograph.
John nods. "Yours and Mycroft's noses are the same." He apologises as Philomena sniffs in disgust but she waves her hand. She tames the retort that would normally leave her after such a comparison and allows herself to be forgiving with John Watson. He has been through enough.
"I have tickets and supplies with me should you like to go after him."
"Why haven't I met you?"
"We would have been introduced this Christmas, I believe." At his blank stare she decides to actually answer his question. "Sherlock and I function more as distant cousins. I let him go his own way and he contacts me when he feels like doing so. It has done well for us. You, of course, see what the opposite has done in his relationship with Mycroft."
John very badly wants to ask questions about everything but no one has time for this. "I promise I will give you my life's story, if Sherlock does not give it to you first, when you return. For now you need to go if you choose to."
"What makes you think I have a choice?" John near laughs as he takes the tickets, travel documents, and other paperwork she prepared yesterday morning. "Does he know?"
"Of course not."
"Did you know?"
"Within six minutes of seeing the footage." John's eyes reflect first embarrassment that he hadn't caught on so quick and rage that she had kept silent so long. "I thought you knew," she explains before he explodes. "I didn't think Sherlock would make a capital error such as this."
"Error?"
Philomena smiles, wanly. "When he returns, if he returns, would you forgive him? Truly, Dr. Watson? And if he hadn't at all? What would have become of you then?"
John cannot answer. She makes a 'and there you have it gesture.' "I do not interfere in Sherlock's life, that is Mycroft's division, but there are exceptions to even my rules. And I understand matters of the heart better than the two of them." She looks down at her ring finger. Even after all this time she is unused to finding her wedding ring around her neck instead on her finger. Sentiment is a weakness one she prefers not display. "I appreciate the intent but not the method." They share a knowing smile after that.
John nods. "Thank you." It is the most honest one she has heard in awhile. Just before he leaves he promises her word from Sherlock when he finds him. "I can understand him hiding from Mycroft but he owes you."
Three weeks later it takes the form of a virus she spends the better part of the morning trying extract from her computer at home. She recognizes the code she had helped Sherlock design in an April Fool's prank against Mycroft in their teens when he was being particularly self righteous. She smiles and sips her tea. "You are quite welcome, little brother," she says to the empty room.