part eleven of (probably) twelve!! some of you are still enjoying this fic, and though it has been orphaned on ao3 due to unforseen circumstances, mycroft and jane still live on, and i would like to see this fic through for the next few chapters! content warnings for this part are jam packed so pay attention to those. we've got a big one.
cw: death (spoilers for the show, obviously), explosions, general emotional turmoil, graphic sexual content, mycroft lowkey does not gaf that silas is dead to be honest with you guys, anyways we have made it to the smut but in order to unlock it you have to read some absolute torment, not proofread we die like silas :p
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten |
when i get you alone it's so simple (m.h.)
They set off the next morning for the factory. James and Sherlock seemed to be on speaking terms again, which pleased her. She hoped that perhaps James had apologized for whatever qualm Sherlock had found in him. When she whispered her hopes to Mycroft, he only squeezed her hand and gave her a pitying glance.
Finally reaching Afshin, they stumbled upon what was most certainly Silas' factory, given that they spotted him walking around nearby, but seemed to just be at the side of a mountain.
"Shall we go and have a gander?" James said over Sherlock's shoulder, a strange sort of gleam in his eye as he gazed at him.
"That's all well and good, James," Mycroft interjected, "but how do we get in?"
As she looked up at Mycroft, she noticed that he too was looking at Sherlock expectantly. He had an expression reminiscent of a parent waiting for a child to find the solution to a very simple problem. He masked it with genuine curiosity, which may have fooled Sherlock, but did not fool Jane.
"Suggestions in a hat, if you please-" Sherlock called back, before pausing. He observed the side of the mountain closer. "The map in Silas's study. The outline of these mountains. They match."
Mycroft's eyes lit up, but he schooled his expression as he urged Sherlock further. "I thought you told me that map was useless? It didn't even have North marked on it."
"It's not a map," Sherlock replied eagerly, "It's a cross-sectional plan."
James joined Sherlock in his observations, swiftly deducing a second, less guarded entrance to the tunnels.
"You knew," she accused quietly as they made their way down, "You knew about the map."
He smiled, "You read me far too easily, dear," he said with fondness, "Yes, I knew. I went to look at the map before we left. But, it is better to let Sherlock figure these things out on his own. He needs the mental exercise."
James felled the guard outside the entrance very easily, and Sherlock felled the one inside, albeit with much less brutality. James looked pleased, almost hungry as he praised his work. Xiao-Wei, Emine, and James split from the group to go after Malik. Mycroft seemed pleased with this arrangement, and kept a steady hand on her the entire time they searched for Beatrice.
When they found her, she seemed to be already paranoid. Sherlock attempted to persuade her, but it was Cordelia who truly broke through to her. Beatrice, Jane realized, is possibly Silas's worst victim. To take a child away from a most loving mother and two elder brothers, molding her into a puppet, was perhaps more despicable than locking Cordelia in an asylum. Cordelia had support in her sons, while Beatrice was isolated and preyed upon in a way that Jane could only imagine.
A bittersweet reunion was had between the mother and daughter, and she found herself wiping tears from her eyes. But they were soon in motion again, as Beatrice led them to Silas. Jane thought for a moment that they had been duped, and that Beatrice was still very much loyal to her father. That was, until she pulled a gun on him.
As she understood, Silas had asked Sherlock to be the heir to his criminal enterprise, while having also promised Beatrice the same. Beatrice had overheard this the night prior, which led to her distrust of him. Silas, to his credit, tried his hardest to manipulate her back onto his side, pulling her into his arms. Beatrice seemed to reciprocate his embrace, but they soon found that this was only a ploy to press the gun to his side, firing a shot through his stomach.
The shot had only just rang out when an explosion ripped through the tunnels. Mycroft was atop her in a moment, shielding her from the debris and dragging her away.
"Where is he?" he yelled to Sherlock, "Where did he go?"
Beatrice grabbed hold of Cordelia's hand, calling for her brothers to follow as she led them outside.
Jane held her breath until the fresh air hit her lungs. But just as she inhaled, another explosion echoed from behind them, knocking both herself and Mycroft off their feet. She was still for a moment, barely registering the scuffle around them until she heard James call Sherlock's name. When she looked up, Xiao Wei, Sherlock, and Beatrice had fled along with Silas, and gunshots rang from the mountain. She looked over to Mycroft, who was already sitting up again and watching them retreat.
"James?" she called, seeing his crumpled form on the ground. She crawled over to him, and watched as he shoved a paper into his pocket. "Are you hurt?"
It was when he looked up at her that she finally saw the extent of what Mycroft meant by his affliction. His eyes were wide and manic, his pupils twice their usual size. His usual charm was gone, and what was left behind was something deeply unsettling as he stared past her after Sherlock. "…James?"
Mycroft pulled her away just in time as James moved to push her out of his line of sight. "Come. He can take care of himself." He hauled her away, and pulled her into the shade of a nearby tree, taking his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the soot from her face.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, checking him over for any blood.
He shook his head, "A few bruises, and perhaps a temporary aversion to loud noises, as is typical for a bombing."
"Should we not go after Sherlock?" she questioned.
Mycroft looked up the mountain, "They took the horses," he said, "It is of no use. The probability of Sherlock being seriously hurt is low. It is three people against an already wounded man. It would do no good for you to witness such things, anyhow."
James had finally pushed himself up, and hobbled towards them. He too looked unharmed apart from a few bruises. "Terribly sorry, Jane. Had quite the shock," he tapped the side of his head lightheartedly.
"It is alright," she replied as gently as she could. James seemed back to his usual self now, but she couldn't shake the sight of his black, vacant eyes. "You should sit down, James."
The sound of hooves diverted their attention as three horses made their way towards them. Sure enough, Silas was not among them.
"He is dead," Xiao Wei announced.
Mycroft stood, noticing Sherlock's horse lagging behind slightly. He dismounted shakily, ignoring James' greeting completely, tears in his eyes as he tottered towards his brother, who moved closer to him. Sherlock crumbled before their eyes, seeking refuge in his brother's arms as he sobbed violently. Mycroft assumed the position naturally, softly shushing him until his breathing evened out again. "He fell," Sherlock whimpered, "He held me— and then he fell. I tried to- I tried to stop him but he wouldn't-"
"It's alright, Sherry," Mycroft assured, "Breathe, now, brother dear."
Cordelia seemed tearful as well, so Jane joined Beatrice in consoling her. Emine and Xiao Wei gathered their things and prepared for their journey back to their own horses. James stood and observed from the sidelines, scanning the human devastation before him.
Sherlock did not speak for the entire day's drive back to Constantinople. James tried his hardest to comfort him, but did not succeed in breaking through to him until they were safely back at Silas' manor in Constantinople.
The house was abandoned when they arrived, which was a relief to them all. She made her way to the room she had been assigned before they left, changing out of her clothes and bathing herself with the washbasin in her room. She was pleased to find that there were nightclothes in the wardrobe, as it was already very late at night, and she did not wish to impose upon Beatrice any further.
She had only just pulled her dressing gown on when there was a knock at the door. She had the good sense to peak through the crack in the door before opening it this time. She was very happy to find that it was Mycroft, and swung the door open. He smiled nervously at her, and it seemed that he too had cleaned himself up. He looked almost sinful, standing before her in his own dressing gown, his skin still damp.
"Mycroft," she cooed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into the room. "How I have missed you in the past-" she glanced at the clock, "half an hour."
He laughed, "As I have missed you," he countered, "I… Well, I thought you may like a bath, so I've had one drawn for you, if you are not too weary."
She leaned back, looking up at him, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You are seducing me, Mr Holmes," she triumphed.
He grimaced at the phrasing, "I would not put it so lewdly."
"I would love a bath," she insisted, taking his hand, "Lead the way, my love."
He led her down the hall, giggling and shushing her so as not to rouse suspicion as the others settled in their beds. She was pleased to see that the bath was large enough for two.
"You will be joining me, yes?" she hoped, and he flushed softly.
"If that is what you wish," he squeezed her hand. She practically leapt at him, pressing her mouth against his much in the way they had at sunset two days prior. He groaned softly against her lips, "May I undress you?" he asked in a whisper.
"You may do whatever you'd like to me," she smiled, and he swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Do not say such things," he whined, "At least until the wedding."
She scoffed, "We are still waiting for the wedding?"
"It is what's proper, Jane," he replied firmly.
She stepped back and untied her dressing gown, letting it drop to the floor, swiftly followed by her nightgown until she was bare in front of him. She knew it was a foul move on her end, to resort to such lowly tricks, but she could not resist— especially when his lips parted in shock and he clapped a hand over his eyes after they had already spent a long moment flickering over her form, observing every detail.
"This," she stifled a laugh, blushing to her shoulders, "Is quite the opposite of propriety, Mycroft."
"Jane!" he tittered, "You startled me!"
He uncovered his eyes again once he heard the unmistakable sound of the water sloshing against her skin. He began to laugh, a contagious laugh that spread until they were both covering their mouths so as not to wake the whole house.
"My point still stands, you know," he added as he began to disrobe as well. "The marital act is named so for a reason. You are a lady, and deserve to be treated as such, yes?"
She made no response, only staring at him, entranced. He was beautiful, traitorously so. There was a light scattering of hair over his chest and a trail down his stomach, leading to the already rigid length of him. She was not oblivious to carnal desire by any means, she had more than once imagined him in such a state in the dark of her bedroom. Yet, he was more enchanting in the flesh than her imagination ever conjured. Despite all they had endured, all that he had endured, he was happy— comfortable even in this moment.
"It is your turn to fluster, then?" he teased, stepping in beside her and settling into the water. "Have you no witty reply to bestow?"
"You are magnificent," she exhaled, gliding atop his lap and kissing him fiercely, the water nearly splashing out of the basin, "You are the most handsome man in the world, and I the most fortunate woman."
He blushed and put his hands cautiously on her hips, one sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. "I must endeavor to best you, and tell you that you are much more magnificent than I. I feel I do not often remark on your beauty, so as not to seem shallow— but you must know that it occupies much of my mind. And now that I have seen you like this, I fear I shall never think of anything else again."
"Mycroft," she moaned against his neck, straddling his thigh and rutting against him.
"Heavens, Jane," he panted as she kissed and nipped at his jaw. "Perhaps- perhaps we can work around that one small limitation."
She giggled, "Yes. A loophole, perhaps?"
"Yes," he quipped eagerly with a chuckle, "Yes, that would be acceptable. We are engaged, are we not?"
"Yes," she nodded gravely, "Simple touches are not coitus. And we have had quite the difficult week, have we not? It is only natural to wish to unwind."
He laughed, and pulled her in again, parting her lips with his tongue and guiding her cunt over his thigh again, his eyes darkening at the whimpering moan that escaped her.
"There you are, darling," he praised in a hushed tone, "How is that?"
She found herself lost for words, and so she just nodded fervently, her lashes fluttering and her eyes wide as her hand ran over his chest and down his stomach. "Will you let me touch you?" she asked with equal amounts of timidness and desperation. His cock twitched, and he inhaled sharply at her words.
"Yes, God, yes," he muttered, his grip on her hair loosening in favor of cupping her face tenderly, pulling her in for another kiss. It lasted only a moment though, as she pulled away in order to trail her fingers down his pelvis. His breath hitched, and his brows furrowed as she wrapped her hand around him, squeezing the head softly. The water made him glisten as she stroked him, his swollen lips parted in ecstasy. She observed him keenly, watching every micro-expression on his face, every muscle twitch.
His firm grip on her hips never stopped, and she pressed her forehead against his, as she canted more and more desperately against him, whimpering with every praise he offered. Each of his breathy curses sent her closer to her pinnacle, and she gripped his damp hair with her free hand. "Mycroft-" she gasped, "Mycroft, I-"
"Yes, I- he shuddered, "Yes, I know, my darling. Go on. You've done so well."
He tensed his thigh underneath her, and with a few more splashes of water over the side of the bath, she found release in his arms, trembling violently and letting out sounds that were much louder than they should have been given the late hour. Mycroft did not seem to worry about that, however, as he spent over her fingers with a guttural groan.
"My darling," he said through labored breath, pulling away enough to look into her eyes, "I love you so very much. More than anything in the world."
"As I love you," she smiled, her own chest heaving. "More than life itself."
They laid there for several minutes, until the water began to run cold, and he helped her out of the bath and into a linen towel. "Your legs are shaking," he observed after drying himself off and putting her nightclothes back on her.
"If they are, the fault is all yours," she accused, tying his dressing gown and leaning against his chest.
"Indeed, you are right, my dear. I shall do my best to atone for my mistakes," with that, he swept her off her feet, shushing her playfully as he carried her to the other side of the hall and into his room.
"Who are you and what have you done with Mycroft Holmes?" she whispered through a laugh as he placed her gently down on the bed and perched next to her.
He leaned down to kiss her forehead before laying down beside her and allowing her to slot against his side, "You bring it out of me, my love."
He didn't dim the lamp on their bedside, as they both preferred to look into each other's eyes as they drifted off.
