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Mycroft didn’t have friends… Or so Sherlock was led to think and how could he not with the way that his brother was and his philosophy that ‘caring was not an advantage.’ This illusion was broken when he and John ran into you in an old warehouse they were investigating.
Ok maybe ran into wasn’t the best term.
It was more like they had stumbled into a fight between you and what looked to be around five ninja looking characters. You didn’t seem to need their help as your fighting skills were impressive, every move against you, you turned back on them with deadly force, but Sherlock and John helped when they could- a well-placed kick here, a foot to trip over there, and some abandoned throwing stars in between.
You were protecting an array of computers that were all blinking like something dire was happening to their contents and whenever one of your opponents would go near you promptly blocked their path. You had just broken the neck of the ninja that had leapt onto your back when a calm settled over the area and John began asking questions as Sherlock observed you, which you ignored, quickly counting the bodies around you before tensing.
You heard the gun click before you saw the missing ninja, quickly scooping up two throwing stars and throwing them with deadly accuracy in his direction. Though he was quickly neutralized, he had already pulled the trigger, aiming directly at John’s heart, but as luck would have it, you shoved him out of the way.
The bullet ripped painfully through your shoulder as you toppled him, landing on top of him after he hit the ground. Normally this wouldn’t have been enough to incapacitate you, you’d been shot before and still bounced back up, but you hadn’t really been expecting five ninjas and they gotten in more than a few good hits.
John gently rolled you off of him, his eyes taking in the blood seeping from your wound, “We need to get her to a hospital.”
Sherlock was looking at your unconscious form thoughtfully, “Can you patch her up?”
“Sherlock she needs-“
“Answer the question, John.” Sherlock snapped.
“Sure I can patch her up, but-“
“Good. Bring her along,” he demanded, stalking off. John looked back to you and scooped you up as carefully as he could before rushing along back to Baker St. after Sherlock.
You woke up on a couch in an unfamiliar room with shooting pain in your shoulder, attempting to sit up before deciding that was a bad idea as your whole body ached when you shifted. John and Sherlock were in the kitchen and had fallen deadly quiet when you stirred, opting to watch their mysterious guest before announcing their presence.
You reached out the fingers of your good arm to find your emergency phone, which was expertly concealed in the sole of your shoe for moments just like this one. You were off-grid, untraceable until that phone was turned on, as it was only supposed to be a recon mission with no chance of conflict. You turned the phone on, they probably weren’t even looking for you yet but Q would no doubt notice, and hit the number one speed dial before pressing it to your ear.
It only rang once before his smooth voice came pouring through the phone and you growled, you’d been out longer than you thought, “That is bloody bull-fucking-shit and you know it.”
“Well I’m reporting in now you bloody idiot, next time check your intel before sending me into a sodding ninja ambush.”
“Oh shut it you cheeky twat. I took care of it.”
“I will not watch my bloody fucking language, you arrogant over-inflated bastard.”
You calmed slightly and closed your eyes with a pained sigh, “I’m on a couch in your brother’s sty of an apartment that’s where.”
“No two people could have that same cocky all-knowing look and not be bloody related.”
“It wasn’t by sodding choice. Those two idiots meddled, stupid civs always getting in the bloody way. Your brother’s little doctor friend got me shot, the prat.”
“Shoulder.”
“Dunno. Haven’t seen it yet.”
“Do I sound bloody ok?”
You groaned as you shoved yourself up with a wince and tried to stand before collapsing down into the couch again, “Yeah that is not happening, my fucking ankle is buggered up.”
“What do you mean how did that happen? Ninjas you fucking arsehole.”
“Worse than Munich but better than Shanghai.”
"Of course everything is bloody better than Shanghai, I almost died in fucking Shanghai," You clenched your jaw, “Don’t you dare, you bloody-“
The line went dead and you growled sarcastically, “Yes. Sodding hang up on me. You know how much I looovve that.”
You knew they were listening but honestly didn’t care, “He’ll be here in ten minutes, Holmes. If you don’t like it, you can suck my bloody balls because I don’t give a shit.”
John and Sherlock came to the doorway just as you pressed a hand to your side, wincing as you counted a broken rib and at least two fractured ones and grumbled, “Just a recon mission they said, a walk in the park they said, in and out no one will know, Bloody wrong, those stupid idiots.”
Sherlock began with his deductions, “MI6. For a long time by the look of it. No partner and my brother on speed dial so likely a high rank if not a 00 status, further supported by the use of deadly force on your opponents. Skilled with computers and incredibly intelligent. Observant, as you only caught glimpses of me as you were fighting but still ascertained my identity. You value innocent life since you rescued John at your own expense but have little tolerance for those less competent than you. Your relationship with my brother is complex and estranged but you have proven to be of value enough that he will come to retrieve you himself, though that may just be due to your current location.”
Your eyes looked up to meet his from your position bent over on the couch, a small smirk spreading across your delicate features, “Fascinating… It must be in your genes, I can’t say I didn’t wonder… M always claimed his family idiotic but you seem competent enough. Arrogant and cheeky but not totally brainless.
You grimaced as you shifted to lean back, “Though, at the same time, I can see why he views you as he does.”
“I suppose I have you to thank for fixing up my shoulder, John. Which was it?” you asked, letting your eyes slide closed.
He tilted his head at you, worried that maybe you were a little delusional from blood loss not to know which shoulder, and your eyes flicked open to clarify, “Afghanistan or Iraq?”
Stunned, he looked between you and Sherlock, “Are you sure she isn’t your sister?”
You laughed weakly, the action causing pain to ripple through your body, “I can assure you we aren’t related. I don’t even know his name.”
“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes”
A wide grin spread across your face, “You parent’s really went all out with the names, didn’t they? I rather like it. Sherlock Holmes. Has a nice ring to it.”
He raised an expectant eyebrow at you but you defiantly stuck out a hand for John, ignoring him entirely “My name is (F/n) (L/n), It’s a pleasure to meet you, John…”
“Watson” he supplied, taking your hand, “John Watson.”
“You know, I think I fancy that far more than your friend’s name. Sturdy and strong. Suits you.” You said with a sly smile and he gave a proud smirk.
Your face scrunched up as your shoulder throbbed painfully again and John frowned, “You should sit still, you’re in pretty bad shape.”
“Trust me. I’ve had worse.” You stated, offering him the best grin you could manage just as the door to the flat flew open and Mycroft stalked through, ignoring everything but you.
“Hey M.” you greeted, you previous anger towards him simmered down now that you had thoroughly vented.
His eyes took a moment to scan you before he turned to John, “I see you patched her up. You have my thanks, I could not afford to lose such a valuable asset.”
You rolled your eyes with a sigh, leaning back into the couch again as he babbled with John about your injuries and then scolded Sherlock for getting involved in state business again.
You felt yourself slipping off into a light sleep when there was a weight on the couch next to you, you didn’t open your eyes but softly asked, “Can we go home now My? I’m so tired.”
You felt his lips on your temple and heard a slight choking sound from John before he responded, “Of course, darling.”
When you opened your eyes both John and Sherlock were staring at you, perplexed, and you smirked, “Complex yes, but far from estranged.”
Mycroft took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your bruised knuckles, “I told you he was an idiot.”
Turning, your eyes found his and he knew what you wanted, pulling you carefully into his lap to offer you a bit of comfort. He wrapped his arms protectively around you as you nuzzled your nose into his neck, “I think we broke your brother and his charming friend.”
There was the rumble of a short laugh from his chest, “I hardly care. They were bound to find out eventually, I only wish that your shoulder could have remained intact through the process.”
“As do I. Promise me- no more ninjas.”
He leaned back slightly to look at you, “I thought you liked ninjas. A challenge you said.”
You lifted your head to meet his eyes, “I changed my mind. Ninjas are a pain. Promise?”
Resting his forehead on yours, he purred, “I promise.”
Your lips were about to meet when you teasingly pulled away, “Good. Now take me home, I’ve had enough of your brother and his flat.”
He gave you an unamused look but you could tell there was a tiny bit of laughter in his eyes as he quirked an eyebrow at you expectantly. You giggled and leaned up to press your lips against his, giving in to his silent demands as you always did before he stood, cradling you against his chest, and exited the flat, leaving John and Sherlock to try and wrap their heads around what they’d just seen.