A/N: Uncle Mycroft is my everything :3

Files

The hotel was beautiful. Almost overwhelmingly beautiful. It was lavish, both on the outside and on the inside. This afternoon, however, nothing was more overwhelming than the rows of special armed force units, sniffer dogs and every kind of security personnel one could imagine.

The first to face this line of fire was a couple in their mid-thirties. The gentleman was pushing a pram with a sleeping infant inside, whilst the lady carried a ruddy-faced three-year old who had in his hand a small present wrapped in red and gold.

"Surname?" asked the officer who stepped up to meet them.
"Goldspink…" muttered the father, a little overwhelmed by the stoic stares of the uniformed personnel around him.
"And your names, sir and madam?"
"Roger Goldspink…and this is my wife…"
"Claire," the lady continued, "Claire Elizabeth Goldspink."
"Claire Elizabeth…nee Harris?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Good, names are all in order." said the officer, "Now, can I see your papers please?"
"Of course…" answered the lady, reaching into her coat pocket and producing an envelope.
"Thank you very much, Madam,"

The officer deftly opened the already opened envelope and removed the A5-sized card within it. He flipped the card open, careful not to spoil it and spotted the barcode beneath the written contents. Turning to an officer who stood beside him, he presented the card to the officer, who promptly produced a scanning device of some sort. He ran the device over the barcode and within seconds, a beep was heard.

"All right, the paperwork is in order. Please proceed through there, all your belongings will be x-rayed, just for security clearance. Your cooperation is appreciated." the officer said, ushering the little family unit through the hotel's grand doors.

This went on as the guests came streaming in. Their names were verified, papers were scanned, belongings were x-rayed. By the time the guests made it through the hotel doors and up to the little function room where they were expected, they were somewhat frazzled by the fastidious security checks they had had to go through.

"We…are…never… asking Mycroft for help again, even if it means not getting a reservation at our favourite hotel," Molly muttered to Sherlock between gritted teeth after having apologised to the nth guest of the day for their arduous journey into little Stella Holmes' first birthday party.

Eventually, the guests settled in, calming down and livening up after their epic journey to what was a delightfully simple children's birthday party. As the party unfolded, it brought smiles to Molly's, and even Sherlock's, faces as they watched the little children play, tossing balloons in the air and begging their mums and dads for just "one more eclair, Mummy!", or "one more iced bun, Daddy!"

However, no sight brought them more delight than that of Mycroft Holmes, the Head of the British Secret Service and of basically every government department in the country, sitting calmly beside the highchair of their giggling one-year old. They laughed as the little girl offered him a half eaten rusk, igniting a smile on her uncle's face as he graciously leaned over and pretended to take a bite of her biscuit. They watched as Mycroft responded with an earnest, Thank you very much, Stella, before popping a little kiss on her tiny forehead.

"I can't believe this is the same man who had this entire hotel swept for bombs…" Molly said with a chuckle. Sherlock smirked and put his arms around his wife as he turned to kiss her on her forehead.
"Well, I can," Sherlock replied. "And believe me, he's already planning next year's…"
"Oh god, you're not serious?" Molly exclaimed, turning to look up at Sherlock.
"I never joke, Molly," Sherlock answered, "And neither does Mycroft when it comes to Stella."

Molly laughed, shaking her head.

"What are we ever going to do with you, Uncle Mycroft?" Molly remarked with a warm smile in the direction of her brother-in-law.
"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do," Sherlock said, shrugging.

The couple observed Mycroft again. This time, he was pretending to sip tea out of an imaginary teacup that Stella had offered him. He sipped it and remarked, What delicious tea…, which in turn ignited a peal of laughter from the little girl.

"You know how you have that list? That wish list of sorts…for Stella?" Sherlock asked Molly.
"Yes. What about it?" asked Molly whipping her head round to face him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head in the direction of his brother.

"Mycroft has a file…or two." said Sherlock matter-of-factly, while Molly's jaw quite literally dropped to the floor.

END