"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Claire Keane

Kiana Khansmith
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MasterList
Pressure Point:
01
02
03
04
Drabbles:
In which Mycroft kidnaps an American to help John and Sherlock solve a case:
Pressure Point 04 MycroftXdaugher
Chapter One: Chapter Two: Chapter Three:
“Oh, what’s wrong hun?” Kat couldn’t help but taunt the make as he neared, “Daddy not playing ball?” She smirks, “I told you asshats, he doesn’t give a shit about me. If he did, don’t you think I would be protected by her majesty and country?” She spits in a mock English accent. The man’s footsteps echo in the empty warehouse --louder still as he near stomped in frustration. When he reached her his hand slipped under her jaw, anchoring her face up to meet his. “You think you are so clever, all of you Holmes do. The one thing you miss,” he leans closer like a drama queen, Kat rolls her eyes and his jaw flexes in anger, “The one thing you miss, he states through clenched teeth, “Is that no matter how much you all claim hate each other, you love each other more.” He smirked at her and let her face go with a bit more force than needed. “It is the drama of every family, and while you freaks may not be human, you are family.”
In which Mycroft kidnaps an American to help John and Sherlock solve a case:
Mycroft didn’t bat an eye as the men roughly shoved her into his office. Spinning on her heel she moves to attack one of them when Mycroft speaks from his seat behind his desk, “Come now Oliva, no need for violence.” She pauses mid-step and turns back at him fire in her eyes. John and Sherlock remain quiet in their seats --John out of confusion, Sherlock out of curiosity as the raven-haired girl stalked forward in front of the large mahogany desk and slammed her palms down on the surface leaning towards Mycroft. “How many times do I have to save your life and your country for my debts to be paid to you, Mycroft?” His mouth twitched in an almost smile, “You owe me nothing Oliva, I assure you, I asked you here as a favor.” A subtle lift of her brow, “You had your apes break into my house at 4 am, force me into a plane, fly me over an ocean and deposit me in your lap, just to ask me for a favor?” Mycroft leans forward resting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands together, their blue eyes locking on each other, “well, yes, but you and I both know that the apes broke into your home and accompanied you here because you allowed them to.”
Pressure Point 03 MycroftXdaughter
Chapter One Chapter Two
As soon as Mycroft pressed play he felt the air vacuum out of his lungs. A shaky frame takes a moment to focus but we see a woman, young adult fitting his daughter’s age strapped to a rusty metal chair in a seemingly empty warehouse. Her arms and legs are bound, clothes ripped and bloody, from the angle her head is bend over towards her lap, the vertebrae of her spine protrude through the skin showing malnutrition. A man steps in front of her from out of the frame and lands a blow across her cheek. As fast as lightening her head snaps back and blood squits from her nose. She leans back, lifting her eyes to her captor and her face is finally seen. Mycroft didn’t want to believe it. He knew of course, how impractical it was to have hope that the girl on the video wouldn’t be her. All the signs pointed to the fact that it was her. He felt the calmness he had inhabited before shatter around him. He never spent much time with her, never even been to a birthday party, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread crawling up the walls of his belly. Fear for his child.
With the woman’s head up and facing the general direction of the camera, John and Sherlock could see that this was, in fact, Mycroft’s child. Her hair was matted and tangled around her face but you could still see a tinge of reddish-brown hair and a nose that was –at this point very swollen but tipped down slightly in the center. But the green-blue eyes that locked onto her captor put any question to rest, she was a Holmes. The man roughly grabbed her face and tilted it up towards him, “Tell me what I want to know and daddy dear won’t have to reunite with a corpse.” Sherlock watched your brow twitch in aggravation. “If you wanted me to play nice you shouldn’t have killed my mother.” She spat a mixture of blood and spit into his face. Another blow to the face. John raises a hand to his face and takes a step back. “I can’t, I can’t watch this.” He turns on his heel and walks down the hall towards Rosie. Sherlock feels the tension radiating off his brother in waves, had it been any other situation he would have found it absolutely nauseating but he couldn’t find himself to comment on it. Not with the woman on the screen, Katie, he had said she went by –taking yet another blow to the face. Finally, she slumps over, blacking out. The abuser walks to the camera, takes it off the table or tripod he had it sitting on and angles it towards his face. “You know what I want Mycroft Holmes, either you or Kathleen here are going to give it to me.” He turns the camera back towards Kathleen moving it closer so that Mycroft and Sherlock can see the extent of her trama. Quickly he moves it back to his face, now standing in the light it’s clear that he is a white man, mid to late 40s and American, by the sound of his voice. I’ll be sending you an invite soon. “Bring what I want or I’ll kill her.” The video cuts and the screen goes black. Mycroft stumbles a bit, numbly puts the phone back in his pocket and sits/falls into the chair behind him. Sherlock begins pacing around the flat. Questions and theories flickering behind his eyes. He is seemingly only struggling with where to begin. Mycroft beats him to it, “She said that he killed her mother.” Sherlock turns to him and waits for him to continue. “Her mother died years ago, in a car accident.” “Are you sure that it was an accident?” Mycroft swallows, unsure. “I need to get to the office and do some digging. I will send over anything I find useful.” He’s up and making a hasty getaway towards the door. “Send everything Mycroft. It’s all useful.” With a subtle nod in reply, he’s down the stairs and into an unmarked car pulling away from the curb. Sherlock stands in an empty sitting room, his brain spinning with thoughts so fast he can hardly keep up. A few years ago he would have found a puzzle like this absolutely joyful but the weight of the last few years sitting on his shoulders he approaches the problem very aware of how quickly a life can be lost. Hearing a quiet noise to his left he turns to see John walking down the hall, after checking on Rosie, opening and closing his fist in a show of strong emotion. He flops down in his seat Mycroft had been occupying and Sherlock continues pacing the carpet. “I’m not even upset that he kept another secret after everything we went through with Eurus, I’m bloody furious that he let it get to this.” Sherlock hums in acknowledgment making another lap. Kathleen jerks out of unconscious with a groan. After a deep breath, she does a mental scan of her body to find out if it is as bad as it feels. Sitting bound in her seat she starts at the crown of her head and moves her attention down. Her left eye is swollen shut and she feels a gash on her cheekbone bleeding down her neck, her nose is very very broken, busted lip, shoulder out of the socket, broken left wrist, maybe a rib or two. But her legs felt fine, other than the tight restraints at her ankles. That’s good, she thought I’ll need my legs to fight my way out of here. Looking around through one eye she scans her location. Warehouse: empty, old but clean, not used for years, but no signs of neglect or abandonment. Someone was keeping it up. For what? Field trips like this? She tries to listen to her surroundings. She hears evidence of civilization but not loud enough to be in the city. If she wasn’t beaten to a pulp, half-starved, and tied to a chair she might have even found it peaceful. Her moment is ruined when she hears the door slide open at the far end of the building and she turns her head slightly to see a man walk in. The douche that has been beating the living hell out of her. Great. He looks stressed, just got off the phone with his boss? Handler? Things are not going to plan. She can’t help the smirk pull at her lips slightly.
I. AM. DEAD.
Pressure Point - (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/aLBTD7WnJ4 Sherlock thought that Mycroft was out of secrets regarding their family. Turns out he has one more. Follow my Story on Wattpad!
Pressure Point 02 MycroftXdaugher
Chapter One:
John struggled up the stairs careful not to drop the box full of clothes and shoes he had packed a few hours before. Passing through the door frame he wrestled with the baby gate until it gave free. “No it’s okay, I don’t need any help.” Dropping the box on the floor with a little more force than necessary he finally turned to face the sitting room. He was surprised to see Mycroft in his chair twirling his cane in his fingers, paying no mind to John as he continued to stare at Sherlock. Sherlock sat in his own respective seat, his elbows propped on the side fingers resting against each other forming the shape of a pyramid against his mouth, his eyes closed. Well, that can’t be good. John walked further into the room, “So you two are talking to each other again?” Sherlock expelled a breath out his nose. Maybe not then. “Sherlock, where is Rosie?” Continued silence. John really wasn’t in the mood. “Sherlock!” “Keep your voice down John, you will wake her.” Sherlock finally opened his eyes and looked towards John. “She’s fine, taking a nap in her crib the door is open and the baby monitor is just there.” He gestured to the small device next to his chair. John relaxed a bit, “You got her to nap?”, with an impressed tone. “He exhausted her,” Mycroft spoke from his seat, “then again, my brother does has that effect on people.” Sherlock rolled his eyes for what must have been the 100th time that morning.
is this thing on?
I’m relatively new to Tumblr, very new to posting on Tumblr. So if you see me doing something stupid please tell me! if it wasn’t painfully obvious I like Sherlock. I’ll brain dump here from time to time. If you have anything you want to see me write let me know!
Pressure Point Chapter 01 MycroftXdaughter
Mycroft was in his private office when he took the call. It was from a blocked number, which wasn’t completely unusual in his line of work. What was unusual was the voice on the other end. American male, aged 18-24, stressed… really stressed, and crying. “I need to speak to Mr. Mycroft Holmes right away.” the man practically sobbed. Mycroft took an annoyed breath, “speaking” he said as he leaned back in his chair moving his eyes lazily to the ceiling. Don’t I have secretaries for this kind of thing, he thought to himself. “Sir, they are going to kill her, she can’t take much more of this, she’s going to die.” Still staring at the ceiling, “I think you may have the wrong Holmes, can I give you his number?” “NO, forgive me sir, but you don’t understand, It’s Katie, they keep running these tests on her and they are going to kill her.” Mycroft froze. “Who?” he asked even though he saw her face clear as day. The man on the other side of the phone dropped his head and sighed, Mycroft could hear the side of his face rub the receiver. The disappointment and regret were clear in his voice, “You know she said she was worse than dead to you –that she never existed, said you wouldn’t save her if she was poisoned and you had the antidote in your palm. I didn’t believe her, I’ve heard of your reputation of course even all the way over here.” Mycroft closed his eyes, a look of pain resting on his usual bored face, “I asked you a question, who is Katie” Mycroft braced for what he knew was coming. “Kathleen Louise Holmes, Iceman, your daughter.”