#v. What will grow from this blood soaked soil? ::teenager AU ; Abigail::

[collidingxworlds]

Abigail giggled at Mycroft's answer. Not because his words had been particularly funny, they hadn't been funny at all, but it would have been hard to miss the disdain in his voice. So, public means of transportation, of any kind, wouldn't be part of her daily experience anymore. And maybe they would have never been a thing in her life at all.

What a strange thought. Yet another inescapable difference she would have to get used to. But perhaps it was the best. The further away she got from her late father's shadow, the easier it should have been for her to rebuild herself around the scars.

"Alright, Mister Holmes. I'll start with the books then," she agreed with a nod, not wanting to annoy him, even if the amused smile lingered on her face.

Could anyone blame her? He made it way too easy. And that was something that, deep down, Abigail was extremely grateful for. When she had taken the first step inside that house, just a little over an hour before, she had been utterly convinced that she would feel too out of place to relax.

But look at her now. She was at ease enough to torment her new guardian.

"Does that mean that I will never be allowed to go to Starbucks either?" She questioned in a cheeky tone, even if the answer was an easy guess.

Still the man's offer surprised her. He would buy her an instrument, if she had asked for it? He obviously could afford it, he could have probably afforded a whole orchestra, but it made her wonder just how far his leniency would stretch.

"I don't play the piano, sorry. But Marissa and I...my best...we were learning to play guitar together. We had plans to try and apply for the school music program, but..."

Her voice trailed off. She didn't need to say why that had never happened. Mycroft could guess what she wasn't saying.

"So...Is a guitar something you'd be willing buy for me? I promise that I won't play in the middle of the night!"

A bus? Why would she want to take a bus? What an utterly ridiculous idea, and Mycroft's expression in response certainly showed his opinion on the matter.

"If you want to learn the history of the city, I will organise a proper guide for you. You will learn nothing of importance from an unqualified con artist giving tours on roofless public transport. In the meantime, there are certainly books on the topic within this library."

And if Abigail did not like any of them, Mycroft could purchase more. He want, in fact, rather keen on the idea of her learning about London - or, even better, her new country in general. There were numerous historical tomes on the shelves. Most were rather dry (the political memoirs especially so), but he was certain he could provide the girl with something that would interest her, even if he had to go out and buy it especially for her.

The comment about his mentality regarding relationships was ignored. Mycroft did not think his point of view to be that of an 'old person', but he also did not want to discuss it any further. It had never been a topic that he was particularly keen on even thinking about, and that feeling was only made stronger when a child was asking him questions about it.

"I do not have a music room, no, but I do have a piano." Mycroft motioned fo Abigail to follow him, turning to leave the room with the intent of showing her to the aforementioned instrument.

"Do you play?" He asked as he walked. "Or, do you play something else? Assuming it isn't something too intrusive, I would be happy to purchase what you need."

Which was to say, she would not be getting a trumpet or anything like that. A violin, perhaps, was as far as he was willing to go - and that was only because he could send her to his brother for lessons, instead of having to tolerate them himself.

[collidingxworlds]

Plotted starter for @governmentofficial - Abigail Hobbs & Mycroft Holmes

There are events that turn your life upside down in the matter of seconds. Everything you had thought, believed in, knows till that very moment crumbles into ashes before your eyes. The solid ground you’ve always had under your feet suddenly vanishes, leaving you plunged into a free fall. Your whole world collapses on itself in front of you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

That was exactly what Abigail Hobbs had experienced less than a month before, when the FBI had barged into her house, but not before her father had managed to put his hunting knife against her mother’s throat and slit it open. The same knife that had pressed in the skin of the girl’s own neck, as she was used as a human shield, one that should have lasted long enough for her to share Louise Hobbs’s fate.

She didn’t remember much after that. The feeling of the blade cutting through her flesh, the warmth of the blood wetting her rapidly cooling skin. The deafening sounds of gunshots and then a strong, steady pressure around her neck, keeping it from bleeding it as copiously as it had been.

Then just blackness.

She had woken up days later in the ICU of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, with a tube shove down her throat and machines beeping madly all around her. On the side of her neck, under a heavy bandage, a wound that would have scarred and marked her for the rest of her life.

The next week had been a blur too. She had learnt that both her parents were dead, that her father was a serial killer and that all the money and the properties of her family had been confiscated to pay the victims’ family. She had found herself at 13 years old, orphaned and penniless, with more debts to be settled. The world she had spent her childhood in was gone, just like that, and her future had looked like a dark, bottomless void.

At least until social services had tracked down some distant relatives on her mother’s side, who had accepted not just to pay for her medical expenses, but also to take her in.

A couple of days she had been put on a plane and shipped to England, with nothing but the slightly oversized, old clothes one of the nurses had generously provided her with and a passport.

And that was how Abigail had found herself standing in the hall of a mansion of the size of a small castle, surrounded by paintings that had to cost more than her old family house had. It made her feel intimidate and completely out of place, like a cheap trinket that had ended up in a refine jewelry shop by mistake.

That place was nothing like the home she had grown up in. Her house had used to be simple, decorated with the rugs and deer mounts her father had made out of the animals he hunted. The smooth wood surfaces, the many handmade pillows and pelts had always made it feel warm and welcoming, even despite the dark, disquieting shadows had been cast all over it when, several months before, she had discovered what sort of monster her father was and what other, less conventional materials were used to decorate the building and fill their plates.

The mansion was gave off a completely different vibe. It felt cold and distant with its high, finely chiselled ceilings, its large windows and pieces of furniture that looked like the belonged into a museum. The only bright side was that it was surrounded by a large garden. The thought of being able to immerse in nature even there brought her some comfort.

Blue eyes touched one of the armours before moving on the man who had come to greet her at the door after a limousine had picked her up at the airport. Mycroft Holmes. Her new adoptive father, even if, looking at him, Abigail wondered if he could have truly become a parental figure.

He too, like the mansion, was nothing like what she had known till now. However, in this sense, it was perhaps for the best.

“Do you really live here all by yourself?” She found herself asking, the hint of a frown on her face. “What do you...do with all this space?”

It made her wonder what her new room would have looked like.

“And...what should I call you?” She couldn’t see herself calling him ‘Dad’ nor using his first name. Perhaps ‘father’? Or maybe... “Mister Holmes?”

[collidingxworlds]

MYCROFT HOLMES - @governmentofficial ​

The library certainly seemed to be going down well. Considering that Mycroft rarely had a chance to use it himself, he supposed that it was good that Abigail would presumably making use of it in his stead. None of the books were anything that particularly needed to be preserved; they were items that should be used. 

He allowed her to touch the books without comment. Abigail hadn’t showed any signs of being destructive so far, therefore there was little reason to worry that she may harm his property. Mind you, it was worth continuing to keep an eye on here. Traumatised children - they had a tendency to lash out, no? That was certainly what he had been led to believe, though it was one of the few topics that Mycroft could not claim to be an expert in.

“What sort of thing do you imagine to be contained within classified documents belonging to a high ranking civil servant?”

Mycroft’s response to the girl’s question was somewhat of a non-answer. This was, of course, on purpose. There were plenty of things that Abigail may accidentally see, as there were plenty of matters that Mycroft advised on. While he knew that he would undoubtedly have to explain some of his work at some point, minimising the amount that the girl actually knew about seemed like the best course of action - both to protect the classified nature of it, and for her own safety.

“You will have to sign the Official Secrets Act, of course,” Mycroft then added. “It is nothing to worry about, assuming you do not plan on selling national secrets to unsavoury characters. I have the paperwork set up already. You can sign it once you have settled in a little more.”

That being said, she would need to sign it by the end of the day. Mycroft had managed to adjust his schedule so that he could work from home for the rest of the week, allowing him to prevent Abigail from being left alone while she was still brand new to the scenario, but there was still the risk that she may overhear a phone call or attempt to read his emails. Steps needed to be taken to prevent information being leaked, just in case the girl did feel inclined to do such a thing. 

Abigail pursed her lips pensively as she pondered the question she had been asked, her eyes remaining locked on the books. She already had a reply, but she was pondering whether or not he should answer seriously or joke around. Without making it too obvious, of course, since Mycroft didn't seem like the kind of person who might appreciate humour.

"Sensitive information," she ended up answering, choosing to do a little of both. "Royal gossip. Potential blackmailing material. Secret identities. Stuff related to a lot of money. The results of the next election. Deals with the local crime lords. Names and whereabouts of said crime lords. And..." She turned around to look at her guardian, the hint of a cheeky smile on her lips. "Maybe the numbers to win the lottery?"

She was tempted to ask if she has gotten something right and, since she would be forced to sign a non-disclosure agreement or whatever, but pushing it was probably not the smartest move. She had no doubt that Mycroft could have sent her back as easily as he had taken her in, if she had inconvenienced him too much.

"It's okay, Mr Holmes. If it's so important, I can sign it even now," she said instead, turning her gaze on the books, squinting slightly at the titles. "I know that I should read the fine print and all that, but I'm sure that you know it by memory. And I don't think that the sum-up is different from 'if you see something that's even only vaguely related to Mycroft's job, don't tell anyone and forget about it'. Right?"

A crease formed in the middle of her forehead, as she moved to another section of the bookshelves. The man hadn't been kidding when he had told her that he didn't own much fiction.

"Do you have anything about crime?" She asked after a few moments of silence, pulling out a random biography. "Not necessarily novels. Anything on the subject. I've been thinking..."

Her voice trailed off, and she turned her gaze towards the other side of the room.

"If I had remained in the States, I would have tried to join the FBI. Maybe I can still do something similar here. It seems fitting with everything that has happened, if I could help hunting down people like...like my Dad."

[collidingxworlds]

While Mycroft's words hadn't completely ruled out the possibility that she might be allowed outside on foot, something told Abigail that some convincing would be needed to truly obtain the permission to do it. Personally, she couldn't think of any reason why her request should be denied, but she had already grasped that her new guardian was a weird one.

Not necessarily in a bad way, just...different from most people.

Still, it made her wonder what the man had against the idea of wandering around London. Was it the traffic? The crowds? The crime rate? Her guess was as good as any.

"Alright, I guess that's fair. As fun as it can be, I don't want to get lost during my first week here," she agreed with a little nod. She might be a little suspicious about what his true thoughts on the matter were, but he also had a point in telling her to wait.

"Can I at least ride on one of those buses they have for sightseeing? That would help me learn the landmarks more quickly, don't you agree? And it will also be a little crash course of the local history."

Or, at least, that was what she had always thought it worked. She had never ridden anything of the sort. The few trips she and her family had taken had mostly been in the countryside and, in any case, her parents had been the ones to decide what to do and how. She wasn't expecting Mycroft to be less strict, but it was worth a try.

So, no walking on any make out session. That was both a great news and a bad one. On one hand, she would have been spared the sight of some gross spectacle. On the other, it meant that she couldn't have used it as teasing and blackmailing material.

"Old people's mentality, got it," was all she said, and whether or not she had meant it as a jab, it was for her to say and for her guardian to guess. Time to move on.

"Do you also have a music room?"

@collidingxworlds continued from [x]

Was that expression one of sass? Mycroft was reasonably sure that it was. Dear Lord, he did not want to deal with a sassy child. He'd experienced enough of that with Sherlock, and he wasn't even his father!

With luck, Abigail would grow out of it - and, if she did not, then she would have to be trained out of her. At the very least, she needed to learn to control herself and keep such expressions to herself in front of anybody of importance.

"You will be driven until you are used to the city. Then we can discuss the matter again," Mycroft decided. Why exactly Abigail would want to walk, he didn't know. If they were in the countryside, he would understand. The city, though? It was hardly a pleasant place to be.

At least she didn't want to use public transport. That would surely be a sign of grief-driven insanity.

Mycroft had to agree that public displays of affection were, to quote, 'gross'. He had no desire to see such a thing, nor did he have any desire to be caught in such a scenario. Luckily, it was not something that was going to happen.

"I do not have a partner," he stated. "I have no interest in seeking a partner. That is not going to change." Mycroft was confident in his words. Love, and relationships in general, were tedious wastes of time that would only lead to inevitable heartbreak. It was far more sensible to avoid them altogether.

[collidingxworlds]

MYCROFT HOLMES - governmentofficial​

While he waited for Abigail, Mycroft returned downstairs and spent his time in the living room, replying to emails on his phone. Her arrival had forced him too take the day off work - something that was certainly not ideal and had resulted in an increase in the amount of correspondence he had received. None of it was particularly important, mind you. For once, the world seemed to actually be behaving in his absence.

As he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, Mycroft placed his phone back into his pocket and went to meet his new family member. He was pleased to see that not only was she wearing some of her new clothes, but also that they fit well. Good. The possibility that he could have made a mistake in sizing had been a real one. Contrary to popular believe, Mycroft did get things wrong sometimes - and women’s sizing was hardly the most simple matter that he could find himself having to decipher. 

Motioning for Abigail to follow him, he began to lead her toward the library. There were, unfortunately, quite a few rules when it came to his home, and so he responded to her question completely seriously. “Take your shoes off if they are muddy - if they are not, I don’t mind either way. Do not go into my bedroom or my study without prior permission. If you see anything lying about that looks like it is an official document or otherwise related to my work, do not touch it. If you do happen to see something that you should not, do not tell anybody about it. Similarly, should anybody ask you about me, do not reveal anything that would not be common knowledge. Do not invite anybody over without permission.”

There would be other rules too, but perhaps that was enough for now. That being said, as long as Abigail kept privacy and keeping the house in order in mind, she should be fine. Mycroft had lived along for a very long time and it would likely take him time to adjust to having somebody else in his house, but he would adapt eventually. 

Abigail dutifully followed as Mycroft led the way towards the next stop of their tour, even if her eyes kept wandering around. She wasn’t expecting to find a part of the house that looked more like an actual home, but the sooner she learnt the way around the place, the sooner he could have started to roam on her own, without having to rely on someone else.

 The idea was comforting, just as the knowledge that there was a whole park outside for her to explore. Hopefully she could have worked out at least some of the restless energy that was making her twitch.

“Don’t worry about the shoes. My Mom had me do the same thing when I came back from the woods,” she reassured him, sounding slightly distracted. “So, it’s a habit I’ve been taught since when I was little.”

Not that she was that much older now, even if it felt like it.

“And honestly? The idea of dirty these floors or one of your carpets is terrifying. It would feel like throwing cake at one of the paintings.”

Which was another thing that Abigail wouldn’t even dream of doing. She might be something akin to a feral animal compared to her new guardian, but there were lines she wouldn’t cross. If she had ever felt like engaging in some teenage rebellion, she would have other ways to express it.

“Don’t touch your stuff, don’t nose around in your rooms, don’t gossip, got it,” she continued as they reached the door of the library. She waited for Mycroft to to step in first before following. “And who would I even invite? I’m in a foreign country, you’re the only person I know. Sort of.”

Abigail opened her mouth to say something else, but the words got stuck in her throat as the room was revealed to her. It was as elegant and refined as the others, and it gave off the same vibe of impersonal, sophisticated beauty. However what was even more impressive was the number of volumes that were neatly stashed away on the several polished shelves.

And Mycroft had called it “just a room”.

“Wow,” the girl breathed out, walking past the man and making a beeline for the closest bookcase. “You weren’t kidding about having a lot of books.”

With just a hint of hesitation, she rose a hand and gently pocked at the back of one of the tomes. It even felt expensive to the touch.

“I have a question. What kind of things that I shouldn’t see I might see?”