This is Grace~! Writing since 2013, keeping my sanity intact, and my delusions come true through fiction.
Thank you for liking, reblogging, or simply reading my fics. I'm happy you probably love them as much as I do. My inbox is open for requests, although I can't promise I'll quickly get to them. I'm a working girlie now 😭
These stories are all Character x Female Reader, though I sometimes try to make them gender-neutral.
Also, these stories are free if you see them published on other sites (other than Ao3) it's republisehd.
Thanks for making it this far. The Masterlist is below. I hope you find what you're looking for!
The Masterlist
🧠 ──────── 🔍 ─────────🕵️
Criminal Minds
Aaron Hotchner
a lady's favor
calls : [ 1 ] , [ 2 ]
my idiot
spill
ties
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Harry Potter
Severus Snape
Series/Multi-Chapters
The Mail Mini-Series
You: the Wife | Companion Pieces to the Mail Mini-Series
Christmas Eve, Christmas
One-shots
Severus Snape Headcanons
Expecto Patronum
Red Days
In Sickness and In Health
Something along the lines of how Sherlock doesn't listen to Mycroft so he has to call his wife the only other person able to convince him other than John. She convinces him and they solve a case together. A bit of insight between their relationship.
Thank you.. have a great day...🥳😇🤩
The Holmes Men
Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Reader / Sherlock Holmes & Reader
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There’s the soft thump of your sneakers as you enter 221B Baker Street, lips pressed in a thin line — dragged out of bed on your day off, and it shows. From your untamed hair to the irritation in each step as you climb up the stairs.
“Oh, no,” Sherlock mutters under his breath, eyes widening a fraction as he turns to Mycroft, “Brother, tell me you didn’t.”
Warm, creamy vanilla touched with amber and tonka bean — akin to the scent of freshly baked sweet bread wafts into the room before they could see you.
“I did,” Mycroft answers, entirely unbothered.
“Has it ever occurred to you both that you’re both insufferable?” you huffed, stepping into the flat, arms crossed. Your gaze lands squarely on Sherlock, “Especially you,”
“I’ve often been told,” Sherlock replies, without missing a beat. Mycroft, your dear husband, feigns offense, “Me?”
“Yes, you, I love you dearly, but sometimes I do so wish to strangle you and your timing,” you sigh, as you sit on the couch, turning back to Sherlock, “Mycroft says you’re refusing to take his case.”
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For a moment, Sherlock turned to Mycroft, giving him a look which his brother dismissed, and sighed before he addressed the matter at hand.
“There are far more important cases than whatever game my brother is playing. I don’t work for the government — and I certainly don’t dance to its tune.” Sherlock said flatly.
“He was asking quite nicely, from what I’ve heard,” you remark, having been discreetly called in the midst of their discussion, “And Mycroft rarely asks anything of you. Wouldn’t you like to be useful for once?”
“Did you bring her here just to guilt-trip me?” Sherlock asked, with a look of incredulous disdain.
“Yes, I thought I’d try a more effective method,” Mycroft said smoothly, legs crossed as he leaned back on John’s chair, “You listen to her, yet I’m your brother.”
“Did you even hear him out?” you asked Sherlock, who immediately answered, “Yes, of course I did,”
“Then summarize it for me,” you tilt your head, unconvinced, waiting for him to speak.
“Something about a government official, blackmail, lost files, a scandal that could —” Sherlock paused.
“—undermine national security,” Mycroft finished for him.
“That’s a no then,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, as Sherlock gazed out the window. “It’s dull. Predictable. Not worth my time.”
“Stopping someone from possibly destabilizing this country is dull?” you point out, making him see it in a different light as Sherlock turned to you sharply, and Mycroft’s lips twitched upward to a smile.
“You do realize my brother weaponizes your charm?” Sherlock asks.
“Of course, he does,” you answer dryly, “I let him.”
“Quite effective if I do say so myself,” Mycroft smiles.
“Now, will you take the case, or must I resort to other methods of coercion?” you glance at Sherlock, as he arches an eyebrow, “You wouldn’t,”
There was that look on your face, ‘try me’, and he sighed.
“Fine, but you’re coming with me.”
“Not allowed, dear brother,” Mycroft cuts in at that, as you also said, “No, thank you, it’s my day off and you want me gallivanting around London?”
“That’s my only condition in accepting your case, brother,” Sherlocked smirked as Mycroft scowled, and you groaned.
“If she returns with so much as a hair out of place, little brother,” Mycroft stands, and steps close enough that his shadow falls over Sherlock, “We’ll have words.”
“Oh, don’t worry, brother, I won’t let anything happen to her,” Sherlock said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and turned to you, “Shall we, dear sister?”
“Could you wait for me downstairs?” you ask Sherlock, wanting to speak to Mycroft alone, and he lingers before giving you the space, “You.”
“Me?” Mycroft asks, as you stand and wrap your arms around his waist, and say, “I’ll call your office, make up for your day off.”
“Good, because I was planning to stay in bed all day— and you’ve gone and ruined it,” you tease, your voice softening as you rest your forehead against his, “I’ll see you at home?”
“Yes, love, home,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, holding you just a little bit longer, “Be careful.”
Author's Note: This has been in my drafts for awhile. Just finished it, yay~! Inspired by me tripping on the sidewalk a few months back. Possible medical inaccuracies. This will be added to the masterlist pinned on my profile with my new ko-fi page~ I hope you like this :>
Summary: This is how you first met.
Pairing: Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader
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This is entertaining.
Was your first thought the moment you were seated in chairs. The waiting room a whirlwind of activity: complaints about the wait, demands for attention from your fellow patients, as the doctors, nurses, and techs, whizzed past the double doors no doubt tending to critical patients whose life hung in the balance. Your eyes could barely keep track of who went where, and what they carried or were doing.
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Your ankle throbbed, not one for causing a scene, you remain seated observing the organized chaos, the wait was very long, but you weren’t in a rush and didn’t mind the change in scenery from your everyday hustle and bustle.
Being stuck in the ED gave you a legitimate reason not to go to work.
In the organized chaos, someone does notice you. His eyes scan the room — the way he always does when he comes in for his shift, tugging out his AirPods — until they land on you.
Just there, swollen ankle perched across your opposite knee, gaze fixed on your phone. Unlike the others, you don’t complain. You don’t have that look on your face that screams ‘displeased’, ‘angry’, ‘impatient’. And, that’s what draws him to you.
You see his black jeans as you look up from your phone. Then the blue fleece Beers of the Burgh hoodie, scruffy beard, and tired but kind smile on his face as he first spoke.
“You’re way too quiet for this waiting room. I’m Dr. Robby,” he crouches down, eyes flicking toward the faint purple tinge at your ankle. “Let’s take a look at that, shall we?”
He reaches out, carefully, guiding your leg down and outstretching your foot. His hand supports beneath the heel as he studies the swelling.
“Alright, let’s get you in a bed,” he stands, offering his hand for balance as you rise. You steady yourself with that same hand braced on his shoulder, hobbling beside him while he clears a path without a word.
Through the double doors, the noise of the waiting room fades behind you, replaced by the hum of the ED — monitors beeping, voices quick and concise. Beds lining the bays, most of them full.
Robby slowed — one of his colleagues passed by, a woman about his age, blonde hair tight in a bun. On her chest, you briefly see the badge, Dana Evans, nurse-in-charge. His hand gently caught her arm toward you both.
“Got room for one more?” he asked. Dana gave him a look — their beds full, staff stretched thin from the long shifts. After a moment, she sighed and tipped her head toward a bay she’d just discharged. “Thanks.”
From the hall, he guided you past a curtain, easing you on the narrow bed until you settled. Then he tugged the curtain half-closed behind him, providing a semblance of privacy from the rest of the ED.
Pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, he crouched down, eyes back on your ankle.
“Alright,” he said, voice low but firm, “Let’s take a proper look. How’d you hurt it?”
“I tripped on uneven pavement,” you sheepishly admit, “Does it look bad?”
“Bad’s a subjective term,” Robby glanced up briefly, then started the inquisition as his hands worked over your ankle, “How’d it happen? Which way did it roll? Did you hear a snap or a pop? Any other injuries? Allergies to meds?
To which you answered the best you could recall, his thumb testing one side then the other, his eyes noting the way your face contorted every time he reached a sore spot. Finally, he leaned back, and pulled off one glove.
“We’ll need to get an X-ray to make sure we’re not dealing with a fracture,” he informed, calm but firm. “How’s the pain right now — sharp, dull, constant? Do you want pain medication?”
“It’s dull.” you say, leg outstretched, foot propped up by a pillow, “I can take it as long as I don’t put weight on it,”
“That’s a good sign,” Robby nods approvingly, “We’ll line you up for an X-ray,”
“Use this if you need anything. Okay?” He reached past you, unhooking the call button from its’ post and set it in your hand. His eyes met yours, a faint twinkle through the fatigue in his smile, “We’ll get back to you as soon as we can,”
With a quick tug of the curtain, he slipped out into the throng, the faint squeak of his sneakers on the tile. Left alone, you lean back against the raised bed, fingers curled around the plastic button in your palm.
Around you, the voices from the ED echoed — questions, answers, pages, supply runs, monitor alarms, a cart being wheeled. Your gaze drifted toward the narrow gap between the curtains, where he just stepped out, hoping to catch a glimpse of him at work. The mere thought of it sending a faint flush into your cheeks, and you quickly looked away.
Everything seemed to happen so fast in the ED, that you hardly noticed the time passing. It was your turn for the x-ray until an R2, Dr. Mel King, approached that you realized it was your turn for the X-ray. She walked you through what to expect for first timer’s what-to-expect which eased some of the anxiety curling in your stomach.
After nearly half a day in the ED, they discharged you. Your ankle was wrapped, crutches for the next two weeks and advised to return for a follow-up in a few weeks.
Though before you left the ED, you spotted Dr Robby.
“Thanks, by the way,” you murmur, a soft smile tugs on your lips, “There were probably a lot more patients to see, yet you chose to deal to my measly sprain.”
Robby rubbed his jaw, glancing down at your ankle, the crutches you used, before meeting your eyes, “Your attitude caught my attention.” he said, “Most people come in whining, wanting to be seen first. You… didn’t,”
“I get the system — people who need urgent care get seen first,” you acknowledged, as he weakly smiles, “I’m not one of them.
“Made my day actually, for once a patient that wasn’t angry at me,” Robby admits, as you tease unable to resist the opportunity, “Would you like me to be?”
“No, please don’t,” his smile brightening… until his pager beeped. He glanced down at the message and when he looked back, his smile had faded, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
“I’ll get out of your way,” you murmured with a weak smile. Robby giving a small nod, “Take care… until then.”
Against the edge of the nurse’s desk, Robby leaned casually, eyes following you as you moved away. The memory of your calm in the storm of the waiting room lingered.
Then, you paused at the threshold, crutches under your arm, and stole a quick glance back. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, his cheeks flushed, caught. A faint twinkle in his eyes as an embarrassed smile formed at his lips. You gave a small wave before slipping through the doors.
Robby let out a soft breath, shook his head, composed himself, and finally turned back to work.
Author's Note: This was inspired by the last few episodes of Season 12. I was planning on expanding it to a multi-chapter, but never happened so I'm publishing this portion. I hope you guys like it~! The Masterlist of Fics is on my main page.
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For the most part, anyone in the State’s Attorney’s office usually gets in his way. This was why he wasn’t pleased when they first directed him to the youngest head of complex prosecution, ASA Nina Chapman.
Though it seems that after threatening her career, demanding warrants without the whole picture, she pulls through, she stays, and insists on helping him.
Makes him ask why? Others would go over his head and complain about him. Not her. This bothers him.
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But he also starts to rely on her. If unknowingly, even to himself.
And, Nina? His keeping her indiscretion with Tom Villar under wraps? This has her on his side. Whether he wanted to have her there or not.
Then there were the coffees; he’d bin them before, but after time passed, getting to know her better, working with her, he started to drink them, slowly and inevitably trusting her.
His coffee, the one she always brings? Was black, just the way he liked it.
Every case solved, every barrier he’s put up eventually falling down. Forces him to think about the man he’s become. Especially after she calls him out.
His time in captivity, as short as it was, was also the longest time he thought about anything and everything. His mind was askew between blood loss, hallucinations and survival.
His team was his family, each one of them he picked, trained, honed. They were his kids. No one touched them. Under his watch, he protected them from the politics, the consequences. One woman squirmed her way in that group. Her.
So, when he meets Al in that blood-loss induced hallucination, where he gets told there’s more, he doesn’t understand. Is there truly ‘more’?
Until Nina confesses her feelings and he’s thrown for a loop.
Because there’s deceased wife and love, Camille. In that despite all these years remained in his heart. His son, Justin. Almost everyone he has ever loved or cared for, Erin, Jay, Anna, Noah, his team or what remains of seemed to be better off not around him.
But she’s already in.
The Internal Affairs Investigation runs its’ course. Each one of them interrogated and cross-examined. Their truths and lies on straight. Their jobs, lives, on the line, reputations, credibility restored, badges reinstated.
“I don’t get more,” Hank sits, by her side as Kim walks down the aisle. “And, what you learned?”
Her eyes may be on the couple reciting their vows on the altar but her body, her knees touching his thighs was enough for him to know.
“Just the tip of the iceberg,” his voice low, just enough for only her to hear.
I need something done? I don’t know where the line is. That’s the truth.
“Why don’t you get more?” Nina softly asks, after the ceremony passes a blur, the guests cheer as the priest pronounces the words ‘You may now kiss the bride’.
“For them,” he simply stares at Adam and Kim, their first kiss as husband and wife, after years in his unit, “Their whole lives are ahead of them,”
Her eyes widen only a fraction, as the couple walks down the aisle as husband and wife, a new kind of understanding dawns on her. Her surprise wears off when the guests stand and Hank follows the trail of guests exiting the church.
Summary: You're sick and you try to hide it from Severus, but of course, he easily catches on.
Author's Note: I tried writing tonight after months, so I'm a bit rusty. I feel like I already did this prompt differently.
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“Sev?” you softly call out, as you tentatively peek through his office door. Behind his desk, Severus was seated grading a student's essay, the sound of his quill scratching softly echoing in the room, “Is it a bad time?”
“There is never a good time, love,” Severus sighed, waving for you to come in, and you tentatively do. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m out of Pepperup Potion,” you hate asking for medication from him, especially when you were the one sick, but he did occasionally supply the Medical Wing when they were out. “Madam Pomfrey is too,”
“Of course, she’s out. These students ask for potions at the smallest inconvenience, and at times she’s much too happy to oblige,” he gets up from his desk and browses his shelves, “Who is it for?”
Your reply comes too quickly for his liking.
“For a student,” you lie, then as always overexplain. Your tell. “Madam Pomfrey sent me to retrieve it. Hoping that my reception would be much warmer than if she came here herself,”
“Her assumption would be correct,” he nods as he finds the shiny red potion and then turns around to actually see you.
His eyes narrowed as he observed your flushed, puffy cheeks, and your hands, which you fiddled with behind your back as you waited for him. In a couple of strides, his cool hand is on your heated forehead.
“Liar. What are you doing up and about?” he sternly scolded, but not in anger, rather concern, “Get back to bed, love,”
“There are classes to teach and papers to grade…” you weakly argue, but he’s already on you. His hand on yours, robes billowing behind you both, as he guides you back to your shared bedroom, “I can work, I promise!”
“And let you run yourself to the ground?” Severus scoffed at the thought, opening the bedroom door and ushering you to get settled beneath the blankets, “Not a chance, love, now stay there. I’ll bring you soup and the potion,”
“I’m not that sick!” you argue.
“I will not stand by when you are ill,” he murmurs, before placing a soft kiss on your heated forehead and then the back of your left hand where the shiny platinum ring he put there five years ago remains and will remain forever, “In sickness and health, love, remember?”
Summary: Your period and its horrors come at the most inopportune time.
Pairing: Severus Snape/Reader
Author's Note: The period pain Hurt/Comfort fic I intended to write a long time ago is finally finished.
There was the dull persistent ache that radiated from the base of your spine to the center of your back, rendering you temporarily immobile.
Your pain was doubled by the cramps in your lower abdomen. A single move would make the dam break, and his sheets would be stained red.
Instinctively, you curled up on the bed. On the other side, Severus remained asleep, oblivious to the agony that mother nature wrecked upon you for the month.
You didn’t know how much time passed, but once the pain briefly subsided you made the move to clean up and place a tampon before getting back into bed. Unconsciously, Severus pulled you closer and as time passed, you managed to fall asleep.
His consciousness slowly came about as your warm skin pressed against his hand. Your grasp tightened, and he snaps awake.
“Are you okay?” you shake your head, as he frowns, “What can I do?”
“Can you take me to the loo?” you asked. Severus nodded, carrying you to the porcelain throne, and stepped outside. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you, Sev!” you said, but he waited patiently outside the door for any sign of distress.
Your hips feel like they could collapse during the short few steps you took to get to the door. You grabbed onto the door frame for support, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you, and before you could fall over strong arms caught you.
Severus lifted you effortlessly, from the bathroom straight back to bed. His frown, not one of anger but concern, deepened as he tucked you in.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, your cheeks immediately heated up when you answered, “It’s just my period.”
“Was it always this painful?” he asked, as you affirmed. His frown slowly disappeared in understanding, “During the first couple of days”.
“Do you need anything else? Would you like pain potions, tea, or heating pads? Tell me what helps ease the pain, darling,”
“Just the potions and heating pads,” you requested, and leaned up to give him a gentle kiss, “Thank you,” Severus nodded.
His steps were quick as he fetched what you needed unable to bear the thought of you in pain when he could do something about it. On his return, you take the medication and place the heating pad on your stomach.
“Can you stay?” you ask, knowing how busy he could be. “If you aren’t too occupied for the day?”
“For you, darling, I’ll always be available,” Severus answered and settled by your side. His hand atop of yours as you drifted off to sleep grateful for his presence.
“Love you,” you sleepily breathed in before darkness consumed you, and he placed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too, darling, I’ll be here when you wake.”
And he was there when you did wake, arms loosely wrapped around you as he also slumbered.
This was the first he noticed the moment he opened his eyes. His last memory of your change of clothes on the edge of the bed was cut short by slumber. His hand instinctively reached out for your familiar warmth, his sleep-addled mind slowly processing before finally getting up from the comforts of bed.
Where were you? His frown returned in your absence.
The Malfoy’s Annual Christmas Eve Dinner has sapped his remaining energy for the evening. His exhaustion was evident in how he didn’t remember if you ever joined him in bed, hadn’t even felt the bed dip from your weight.
In his drowsy state, he treads carefully across the wooden floor, following the faint sounds of music coming from downstairs. His hands come across the silver garlands you decorated on the staircase and then pieces of the puzzle clicked.
His enchanted gramophone was put to good use as tunes played in the background of your late-night decorating. From the middle of the steps, he could see you beneath a Christmas tree that certainly wasn’t there when you both came home hours before, surrounded by gift wrappers, fairy lights, and covered in glitter.
Though, he didn’t celebrate the holidays as much as others would before. His outlook in life had drastically changed ever since you’d formally been together. With you, there was something to look forward to.
This would be your first Christmas together, and he awaited the day you would ask when you would shop for decorations but you didn’t probably conflicted to ask but this will not do the next time.
His steps are cautious as he sits down behind you, arranging actual gifts beneath the tree, before slowly wrapping his arms around your waist. Though you could smell the faint jasmine of your body soap that he always ‘mistakenly’ used, you let him embrace you from behind.
“I missed you,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, as his eyes locked in on the wrapped items and then you, “but it seems you were quite productive in my absence,”
Your cheeks heat up at his words and he presses another kiss to your temple.
“I’m sorry I know you don’t like celebrating,” you turned and explained. “But I hoped you’d make an exception,”
“I will,” his grip around your waist tightened, as your smile widened, “Every year for the rest of our lives,”
“Please don’t joke with me,” you gaped. His gaze was steady as his fingers brushed away the glitter that dusted your cheeks, “Really?”
“I hope you left something to do for me,” your heart swelled at his words. “I can’t have you doing all the work,”
“There is one thing,” you reached for the star, behind the wrappers, and presented it to him, “For you,”
Severus sighed.
Of course, you saved this particular thing for last but then again you couldn’t reach the top of the tree nor would you want to use magic to do this sort of thing.
In tandem, you stand, Severus on his toes as he reaches up to place the star at the top of the tree, and as soon as it’s situated it illuminates a soft yellow glow. Your eyes twinkled happily, and his heart was full at the sight of your happiness.
In the background, the clock chimes midnight. Just in time.
“Happy Christmas,” you whispered. Your lips curved in a smile as you faced him, “Happy Christmas, darling,”
Without a word further, his lips meet yours in a warm and gentle kiss. The world fades into the background in his arms. Your soft breaths further urged kindling desires as you pulled back for air.
Your foreheads rest against the other’s, cheeks tinged pink, and lips plump as his eyes only focus on you. There was a smidge of glitter on his sleepwear from your antics.
“Can we take this to bed?” his voice baritone vibrated through as he flicks his wand effortlessly to clean up, “If you’re not too exhausted?”
Summary: Unexpected visits with unexpected reveals.
A/N: I am still alive *insert ozai's voice*.
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ACCESS DENIED.
These two words in bright bold letters were not what the consulting detective expected when he swiped the card he stole from his older brother.
“If you could excuse us for just a minute,” Sherlock said, quickly retreating from the situation before they could be caught, as John trailed behind him. “Sherlock! What in blazes…?”
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For once in his life, his phone rings at an opportune time. His mother’s sermon rudely abrupted by the constant noise that she rolled her eyes and waved him off.
Mrs. Holmes, otherwise known as Mummy, was your typical loving mother, however, possessed intelligence of no bounds.
Her arrival half an hour prior caught you both off guard as Mycroft opened the door. Her smiling facade withered the smallest bit at the sight of you eating breakfast in nothing but her son’s long sleeves. Her eyes caught on the engagement and wedding band set that twinkled when sunlight hit the space of the dining room not noticing that her son’s hands were adorned with one of the same.
“Alexander Mycroft Chad Holmes,” her tone unimpressed to say the least, as you mouthed Chad quietly laughing and **then the corner of his lips twitched, “Please tell me you didn’t ruin a marriage,”
“Mummy, I’m appalled you thought I could do such a thing,” Mycroft sighed, as he let her in, and turned to you, “The only marriage I can ruin is my own,”
Her mouth parted slowly in realization as you stood to formally greet her despite your state of dress.
“We’re sorry for the deception, Mrs. Holmes,” your hand outstretched as she skeptically accepts, “However, it’s nice to finally meet you,”
“This isn’t some sort of joke,” Mrs. Holmes said sternly, her eyes narrowing at Mycroft, “Is this Mycroft?”
“Why do you assume the worst of me today, Mummy?” he sighed, as she sits down beside you by the breakfasts table,
“Because I’m your mother. I know you far too well,” she answered, and turned to you, “I expect an explanation right here, right now,”
“Of course, mummy,”
Thus, the inquisition commenced. Her questions unrelenting from when you met, relationship milestones, how did you hide everything from them, and so much more that you were surprised that Mycroft hadn’t found the excuse to bail out.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mummy,” his phone raised to reveal the most irritating picture of Sherlock, “Must take this,”
“Fine,” she conceded, as Mycroft walked away, leaving you to face her, “Does your brother know about this?”
“Of course not, you’re the first,” he then remembered, “Besides Anthea that is. We did need a witness,”
“Oh, you, go answer your brother,” Mrs. Holmes shooed Mycroft away and turned to you, “I do hope you know you can tell me if that boy crosses a line,”
“Mycroft may be like that Mrs. Holmes, but he does treat me very well,” your eyes on his figure by the window no doubt scolding Sherlock for whatever he has been doing, “If there was a problem, I’d probably do damage before you could do anything else,”
“I needed to hear it from you,” she said, as her eyes also focused on her son, “They are different from most men,”
“They are,” you agreed, as Mycroft ended the call, “You have nothing to worry about,”
“I hope you ladies are finished?” he stands between your seats, “I cleared our schedule for the rest of the morning to make up for this interruption,”
“I know when I’m not wanted,” she gets up on her feet and Mycroft escorts her to the door, “It was good meeting you, dear, and Mycroft?”
“Grandchildren,” she simply said, and he immediately answered, “Mother,”
“Oh, do come to Christmas together,” she insisted, “Your father needs to meet her as well,”
“I’d like that,” you answered, as Mycroft simply accepted, “Thank you for visiting,”
“Yes, we’ll see you soon, Mummy,” Mycroft said, as she waved goodbye, “Safe travels,”
