The Ambitious Orphan by Amelia Price Page B

and
watched his chauffeur drive away, before following Amelia onto the
plane. As expected, Sherlock was already sitting in one of the
seats, tapping his fingers on the armrest. Mycroft was tempted to
point out how irritating it was but he knew this would only
encourage the younger Holmes. Instead, Mycroft sat himself in what
he thought was the best seat of the four. On the right and facing
forwards.
    It left the
backwards seats as the only options for Amelia. She glanced at both
of these before settling into the one in front of him. A few
seconds later she lifted up her legs, leaving her shoes on the
floor, and attempted to curl up, avoiding looking at him as she
did.
    After several
readjustments, she closed her eyes. Immediately, Sherlock stopped
tapping. A few seconds later he closed his eyes as well, and half
an hour after that Mycroft was the only one left awake. It was
bliss.
    Mycroft watched
over them the entire night. It wasn't entirely necessary, but he'd
never found it very easy to sleep while travelling.
    An hour before the
plane was due to land, Sherlock woke up.
    “The older I get
the less I seem to sleep,” he said a little above a whisper. It
wasn't entirely true but Mycroft understood the sentiment. It could
often feel like they didn't sleep as well. The memories of so many
years weighed on the mind.
    “She looks so
peaceful when she sleeps, doesn't she?” Sherlock motioned his head
towards Amelia. Although Mycroft didn't need to look to know – he
could picture it – he moved his attention to her face.
    Both hands were
tucked under her chin, and her chest moved in a slow rhythmic
motion. A few strands of her chestnut hair had trailed loose from
her bun and were draped across her cheek. Still transfixed, Mycroft
leant forward and stroked them back behind her ear.
    Sherlock chuckled
and she stirred. Mycroft shot his younger brother a glare and
slowly sat back so Amelia wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary
if she did wake. It wasn't long before her breathing returned to
normal.
    “She's different,
isn't she?” Sherlock said, quieter than before. In response,
Mycroft raised his eyebrows; this sort of sentimentality wasn't
really like his brother either. “I think she might be good for both
of us.”
    “How so?” he
replied, deciding to see just where the younger Holmes was
going.
    “When you've seen
what we've seen and done all the things we've done it's easy to
become detached from the everyday. She reminds us to have some
compassion. To at least try to remember what it was like to fear,
to need to take care of ourselves.”
    After letting out
a sigh, he gave a slight nod. It was a good point. They'd started a
war with no thought for the deaths it would cause. Living so long
made it easy for him to be selfish. He had no financial issues, no
health concerns, very little in the way of emotional conflict, when
Sherlock was behaving, and it made it difficult to feel empathy for
a world that might need their help.
    “Despite all that,
we can't let her be a part of our world for too long.” Mycroft gave
his brother a look. Given that they weren't alone, neither of them
would say why, but the one glance was enough for the meaning to be
passed on regardless. Their secret mustn't ever get out.
    “You don't think
she'd be loyal enough for that not to be a problem? She does seem
rather fond of you... for some reason.”
    “You know some
risks are never worth taking.”
    Sherlock sighed,
and he had to restrain himself from echoing the sentiment. It was a
shame, but they just wouldn't ever be able to take the chance. Just
one slip and their carefully built world could come crashing down
on them.
    They lapsed into
silence until the plane started its decent to the airstrip. Before
Mycroft could shake Amelia awake, Sherlock leant forward and called
her name loudly enough she jumped and snapped her eyes open.
    “We're almost
there,” he said, a slightly cruel smile playing across his face at
the wide-eyed,