Iceman & the Coffee Boy 07
ICEMAN AND THE COFFEE BOY
by Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the secondary index page.
In which Ianto learns some fundamental truths about his new family.
CHAPTER 07 - REVELATIONS
It took Ianto only a couple of weeks to realise that his father was an overbearing, controlling bastard with a hang for the dramatic. For the unnecessarily dramatic, in his eyes, but what did he know about acceptable behaviour among the obscenely rich?
The first sign of it was an official letter from one of the oldest, most respected banks, where he apparently had an account now… based on a newly arranged trust fund. The figure opf said trust fund had his mind boggled. However, the letter explained, currently he wouldn’t be able to touch it directly. He only had the monthly alimony at his disposal - which was still enough to cover the rent of a much better flat (alone!), his study fees and other basic expanses like food or clothes.
It made him absolutely furious. Furious enough to fire off an angry text, telling his father that he didn’t need alms.
“Nonsense,” Mycroft Holmes said two hours later, when he finally found a ten-minute-window to call him back. “That money is yours by right. Had your mother told me about you, this would be exactly the sum I’d have paid her in the last twenty years. I take my responsibilities seriously, my boy.”
“I’m not your boy!” Ianto fumed. “And I can earn my living without your alms!”
“I’d assume that such immature temper tantrums are also part of being a Jones, wouldn't my own little brother be also prone to them,” his father replied in cold disdain. “You are being ridiculous, Ianto. Like it or not, you are my progeny, and as such, you’d have been entitled to my support while growing up. That wasn’t an option back then, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s your money, not mine. Feel free to give it all to charity once you’ve turned twenty-five, if you find it so burdensome. In the meantime, you might want to look for a flat that would be a bit more… refined than the fetid little hole in which you’re currently housing. Now that you can actually afford it.”
“And leave Wesley behind to fend for himself, which we both know he can’t do on his own?” Ianto countered icily. “Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I’m not the sort of bloke who’d discard his mates the moment they’d no longer match his lifestyle.”
“I’m quite certain that Wesley wouldn’t mind sharing a more… acceptable flat with you,” his father answered. “I can imagine that he’s less comfortable with your current living conditions than you are. He’s grown up in what you’d call a posh house, after all.”
That silenced Ianto for a moment. He hadn’t considered that the cheap little bed-sit he saw as a lucky catch might have been a social disgrace for his roommate who indeed came from a posh family. Besides, if he as honest to himself he had to admit that using his father’s money to help Wesley made it easier to accept said money.
“I’ll… consider it,” he said reluctantly, because it was painfully apparent that in the end he’d give in.
“Good,” Mycroft Holmes said in his smooth diplomat's voice, keeping any traces of satisfaction out of it. “You can do so while thinking about my job offer, too. I’ve taken the liberty to ask my assistant to send you a list of available flats in acceptable proximity to your school. You and your roommate can check them out and chose the most suitable one. In the meantime you might want to do some shopping. The Institute does have a strict dress code, I’m afraid. Wesley might actually prove helpful int his matter, given that he knows the expectations of his own social circle.”
“Thank you,” Ianto replied somewhat coldly, “but I think at the age of nineteen I’m quite capable of shopping for clothes on my own. We haven’t all grown up with a numerous staff doing all the mundane tasks for us. I’ve more or less run our household since the age of twelve while my Tad was labouring at Debenham’s; I’m sure I’ll manage going to the clothes’ shop alone, too. Good day, sir.”
He hung up on his father, and Mycroft sighed wearily. The boy was proving to be more difficult than he’d expected, and the last thing he needed right now was another complication. It was time to call in the cavalry.
“Call in Captain Harkness,” he said to Quilla. “There’s something the two of you need to know; for various reasons.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
If Ianto thought the issue of shopping for clothes - or that of a new flat - was closed, he soon learned to think again. Right after the end of his shift at Angelo’s, when he was picked up by the now-familiar sleek black car of his father’s.
However, his father wasn’t in the car this time. Just the elegant woman of the many names and Captain Harkness in the driver’s seat.
“We need to talk,” Lisa/Quilla/whatever said calmly. “Please get in the car.”
Ianto shook his head.
“Nah, I don’t think so. You want to speak? Then let’s speak here.”
“This is not the right place for that,” she said. “Please, don’t be melodramatic. We aren’t going too far; just to the Criterion Restaurant.”
Ianto hesitated for a moment, then nodded abruptly. Before getting into the car, though, he called Wesley.
“Wes? Ianto. Listen, the ninjas of Mr Holmes want to chat with me. We’re going to the Criterion Restaurant. Should I not check in with you in the next hour, call the police. And Wes? No chickening out; I count on you. Ta.”
“I assure you, this isn’t necessary,” Quilla said when he climbed into the back seat next to her.
“Perhaps not,” Ianto replied, “but I’m not taking any chances. Wes might be a frightened rabbit, but somebody with a posh family can’t vanish so easily without a trace like nobodies; like me.”
“You’re grossly paranoid,” she commented, texting away on her phone rapidly. “Congratulations. You’ll make Mr Holmes proud one day.”
“Yeah, cos that’s my highest ambition in life,” Ianto countered dryly.
At that, she did look up from her phone for a moment.
‘You can’t imagine how ambitious such a goal would be,” she said in utter seriousness. “But you will when you learn to know Mr Holmes a little better.”
Ianto still wasn’t persuaded. “I’ll take you word for that.”
“You should,” she replied seriously. “I’ve worked for him for almost a decade by now. I know him better than most people; certainly a lot better than his own family, with one exception.”
“The infamous Aunt Diane?” Ianto guessed.
That earned him a surprised look. “Mr Holmes already told you about her? Good; cause we’re actually on our way to meet her.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Is that a Holmes thing, kidnapping people from the street when they want a friendly little chat?” he demanded. “Cos I have to tell you, it’s bloody annoying.”
“Yes, I imagine it is,” she replied without remorse. “But, you see, Mr Holmes is a very busy man; and Dame Diane wanted a discreet meeting. Had she appeared at Angelo’s, that would have been anything but discreet.”
“Why?” Ianto asked in bewilderment.
“You’ll understand once you’ve met her,” she replied. “Ah here we are.”
The car pulled up in front of the beautiful white neo-Byzantine building housing the Criterion Restaurant - a rather posh one by the looks of it - and Quilla shooed Ianto out of the car.
“We’ll go right in,” she told Captain Harkness who was wearing a tailored suit tonight instead of that outdated greatcoat of his (apparently, working for Ianto’s father paid well). “Come after us when you’ve parked the car, will you?”
Captain Harkness nodded and drove away to the parking lot nearest to Piccadilly Circus. Ianto was mildly surprised that the man was supposed to join them but wisely kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know the power dynamics within his father’s staff, and the last thing he needed was to insult somebody in an important position.
Just cos he was the illegitimate son of their boss it didn’t mean they couldn’t make his life hell if he made them mad.
Quilla led him into one of the most startling rooms he’d seen in his young life; one with a curved ceiling, decorated in tiny glittering golden ties that lent it a peculiar night-time glamour and arcades of slender marble pillars framing it lengthwise. Small, round tables, each decked for four with crispy white and with the finest silverware stood in double rows, waiting for the customers who, however, seemed a bit sparsely represented tonight.
Quilla crossed the main room and steered him directly to the “Long Bar”, with its plush red velvet armchairs and the pulsing life of the Piccadilly visible through the revolving doors. There were more people present, mostly well-dressed, but some in casual clothes, too. The woman by whose table they stopped, however, seemed anything but casual.
She looked to be some indeterminate age between forty and sixty, although she was probably older, based on the fine laugh lines around her dark eyes. She was tall, slim and trim, with surprisingly broad shoulders and carried herself with the slightly rigid posture of a professional soldier, although she didn’t wear a uniform.
What she did wear was a vintage skirt suit in soft beige, based on the fashion of the 1950s, consisting of a pencil skirt and a somewhat extravagantly cut blazer with a red silk blouse. It all seemed very simple, yet Ianto knew that a model like this would have cost a small fortune. She wore her dark hair in a French twist, hidden under a small, feathered hat, and her lipstick was the same blood red as her blouse. Her whole appearance spoke of money - lots of it - but also of exquisite taste.
When she saw their approach, she looked up form her glass of red wine and smiled.
“Ianto!” she said, her voice pleasantly deep, with the slight rasp of a habitual smoker in it. “So good of you to have come!”
“As if I had much of a choice,” Ianto replied with a faint smile. “This must be the Holmesian way to meet people, apparently.”
The aunt of his father laughed.
“I know,” she said. “We can be terribly inconsiderate; not to mention arrogant and selfish. How about I promise you never to have you kidnapped again?”
“That would be a beginning,” Ianto agreed, and they laughed.
“It’s a deal,” Dame Diane declared. “Very well, children, have a seat and order something to drink. Jack will be here in a minute, and then we can talk.”
“Talk about what?” Ianto asked with a frown.
“About my nephew,” Dame Diane replied. “Your father. Oh, don’t worry,” she added, catching Ianto’s alarmed glance in Quilla’s direction. “She and Jack are informed. Mycroft told them the truth.”
“And the thought of asking me whether I wanted it to become public knowledge didn’t occur to him, of course,” Ianto commented darkly.
Dame Diane rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Telling his closest co-workers isn’t making it public knowledge. These two know more about him than anyone else; including me, and I even work with him on occasion.”
“I still don’t see why they’d need to know something I haven’t even told my sister yet,” Ianto returned stubbornly.
“Yet?” Dame Diane repeated with an elegantly arched eyebrow. “But you intend to tell her eventually, yes?”
Ianto shrugged. “It will be inevitable, after a while. Whatever you might think about us, lowly peasants, we’re not all stupid. Rhi clearly isn’t despite the fact that she married an idiot,” but his small half-smile revealed that he was actually quite fond of his brother-in-law. “She will realise that I no longer have to turn around each penny twice. And I’m not gonna lie to her.”
“Are you really sure it will be wise to tell her the truth?” Quilla asked.
“She’s my sister,” Ianto replied, his annoyance obvious.
“Your cousin, actually,” she corrected, but Ianto shook his head.
“No; in every way that counts she’s my sister. We grew up together, played together, went to school together, shared the pox, watched our Mam slide deeper and deeper into depressions, watched Tad drown his pain in the bottle… even if we weren’t related by blood, that would have forged us together…”
“And yet she left you alone with an alcoholic at the age of twelve,” Quilla said pointedly. Ianto shrugged again.
“She was seventeen and in love; I never blamed her. She needed to live her own life… not that it was an easy one. I managed; and it made me strong. So, you see,” he added with a wry grin in Dame Diane’s direction, “I always had plenty of family around me. Even if it wasn’t as posh as yours.”
That came out a bit harsher than intended, but Dame Diane took no offence.
“I don’t blame you for clinging to your independence,” she said. “Personally, I find that a good thing. However, you need to know a bit more about our side of the family before you and dear Mycroft decide if you want to make your… err… connection ‘public knowledge’ as you so eloquently put it.”
“Why?” Ianto accepted the coke from the waitress with a polite nod. “To be properly impressed with their - your - importance?”
“No,” she answered seriously. “Because you carry that heritage in you, too, and you need to know what you might have to deal with. Oh, Jack, good,” she added in a much lighter tone when Captain Harkness strode in confidently and accepted from him a kiss on the cheek. “Do sit down, love. We were just about to tell young Ianto some basic facts about our family.”
“That ought to be interesting,” Captain Harkness made himself comfortable with a bottle of mineral water. “What do you know about the Holmes family, Mr Jones?”
“Only what Mr Cooper could find out for my Tad, and that wasn’t much,” Ianto admitted.
Dame Diane nodded in satisfaction.
“Of course not. We value our privacy, and as both dear Mycroft and I are involved with the Home Office in various ways, we have the means to enforce that said privacy is respected, no matter what.”
“Meaning that Mr Holmes can go a very long way to control what kind of information is allowed to come out and what isn’t,” Quilla added.
“You mean he’s some sort of spy or whatnot?” Ianto asked, frowning.
“No,” Dame Diane replied firmly. “Your father, dear, is a civil servant. Specialised in troubleshooting, which is why he prefers to remain in the second line of the Civil Service. It allows him to blend into the background and makes him all the more efficient.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” Ianto said dryly. “If I remember correctly, James Bond was a civil servant, too.”
“An apt metaphor,” Captain Harkness grinned. “Of course without the licence to kill. The British government doesn’t condone assassinations.”
“Not officially, anyway,” Quilla added. “Besides, there are minions for that sort of dirty job.”
“Like the two of you?” Ianto asked sarcastically.
She shook her head. “Oh no, we’re not mere minions. We’ve been promoted for quite some time.”
Ianto didn’t feel particularly impressed by that statement.
“So you’re his PA and Captain America here is his chief honcho,” he said with a shrug. “Still counts as minions in my book.”
“Yeah, because you’re a young, ignorant fool who’s no idea what he’s talking about,” Captain Harkness said bluntly. “So let’s get a few things straight, boy. Your father works in disaster management. That means working very closely with both MI5 and MI6 to delete threats to national security. He’s not an actual part of either department, though; he’s, on paper, a high level minor civil servant, and they consult him in cases where they need his abilities.”
“What abilities?” Ianto asked.
“You’ve met Sherlock, I’m told,” Dame Diane said and Ianto nodded. “I assume he did his deduction spiel on you, then.”
Ianto nodded again. “Part of, yeah. He was fairly distracted by his case. I looked him up on the internet, though, and found that website of his: The Science of Deduction… which is really odd. The man is clearly a genius, but clearly a mad one. Are you telling me that my… that Mr Holmes is the same?”
“You must understand one thing,” Dame Diane replied. “Both Mycroft and Sherlock were born, due to a rare combination of genes, with heightened senses and a genius-level intelligence. They both can notice details at a fleeting glance most people would need hours to find… if ever. But it comes with a price.”
“Sensory overload?” Ianto offered uncertainly. That earned him surprised, even impressed looks from the other three, and he shrugged. “Seemed logical with heightened senses.”
“You are right, of course,” Dame Diane sighed. “Mycroft has always been fairly apt in channelling those impulses, but Sherlock… it took him decades to deal with them, and his methods were often not very helpful. But that’s neither here nor there. I wasn’t just speaking about the senses, though. I meant deductive abilities, memory, observation skills… their brain capacity is way beyond the average.”
“And that comes with a price, too, I guess,” Ianto said.
“Nature likes to even out things,” she replied. “When you’re well above the average in one area, you’ll end up well beneath the average in the other one, if you understand what I mean.”
Ianto nodded slowly. “I think so, yeah. You mean that if someone is intellectually outstanding, they often turn out emotionally stunted, right? My… Mr Holmes does come over as fairly distant.”
“That’s public school education for you,” Dame Diane said. “The boys learn at a tender age that sowing their emotions in public is gauche, rude and a sign of poor breeding. Social graces, manners and courtesy, on the other hand, are highly prized. After all, ‘manners maketh the man’ as it’s said.”
Ianto remembered Sherlock stiffening in discomfort as Angelo, in his true Italian exuberance, had embraced him, and nodded in understanding.
“The manners part didn’t seem to have stuck with Sherlock, though,” he commented.
“Nonsense,” Dame Diane waved off his objections. “Sherlock knows well enough how to behave. He just chooses not to, out of sheer impatience with people who’re less intelligent than he is.”
“That would mean just about everyone, save for his brother, though,” Ianto said. “He must make enemies by the dozens each day. No wonder you guys are spying on him all the time.”
“That’s one of the reasons,” Quilla corrected. “The family of Mr Holmes is generally protected due to his position.”
“Yes, I know,” Ianto said. “He told me something complicated about it. It’s still creepy. But if he watches everyone and everything, who watches him? Or is there a rule about the watcher not needing to be watched?”
“On the contrary,” Captain Harkness said. “He needs to be protected, better than most other people, because he’s one of the few who keep this country running, despite the incompetence of most career politicians, beginning with Harold Saxon. So Quilla and me do our best to keep him safe and sane by any means necessary, so that he can do his job.”
“And how, exactly, are you doing that?” Ianto asked doubtfully.
“By preparing his schedule and reminding him of his appointments,” Quilla counted down on her perfectly manicured fingers. “By seeing that he always gets the exact kind and amount of information to do his work. By force-feeding him if we have to, confiscating his cigarettes if he smokes too much, and forcing him to rest by… err… unorthodox methods if we have to,” she gave Captain Harkness a meaningful glance that Ianto couldn’t interpret. “By seeing that the security systems run at peak efficiency and always, always knowing where Sherlock is and what he’s up to.”
“Sounds like a full-time job,” Ianto commented. “But really, is this not a bit of overkill? He’s a grown man, for God’s sake; he ought to know when to eat or to rest.”
“He should,” Dame Diane agreed, “but he doesn’t. Which is why he needs his minders. You must understand that while both my nephews are certifiable geniuses, they’re really bad at taking care of themselves.”
“Or allowing others to take care of them,” Quilla added. “So we have to be very sneaky if we don’t want to get fired. Because who’d keep him going then?”
“I thought he was just displaying the stiff upper lip that’s required by posh families,” Ianto said.
“Early institutionalisation played a role, for sure,” Dame Diane agreed. “But the roots lay in their childhood. Violet never tolerated emotional scenes (although not even she could stop Sherlock’s temper tantrums), and the years at boarding school only exacerbated this tendency towards burying their emotions.”
“Well, that certainly explains a lot,” Ianto allowed with a shrug. “But I still don’t understand what kind of significance it’s supposed to have for me. Mr Holmes certainly doesn’t have any particular feelings for me, hidden or otherwise, save perhaps a healthy amount of embarrassment; and frankly, it’s mutual. I wish Tad had taken the secret with him to the grave. It would have been better for all parties involved.”
“Perhaps,” Dame Diane said. “But he didn’t do so, and I for my part am glad that he chose not to.”
Ianto gave her a doubtful look. “You do? Forgive me, ma’am, but that’s a bit hard to believe.”
Dame Diane nodded. “I see why it would be - from your vantage point anyway. It’s different for us, Holmeses, though. Until now, we all thought the line would end with Mycroft’s generation, seeing that neither he nor Sherlock had any children… or any indication to have some. Learning about your existence was a shock for us all, certainly, but mostly because of the not knowing about you for twenty years part. Had we known, the family would have done their duty. We take care of our own.”
“I’m glad you didn’t know,” Ianto replied darkly. “At least I had a normal childhood. Granted, it was not always easy, but it gave me the chance to grow up like a human being; not like some sort of robot.”
The unfriendly glares given him by Quilla and Captain Harkness made him realise he’d been more than a little rude and he reddened in embarrassment. Dame Diane, though, just laughed at him.
“Is that how you see us?” she asked, amused. “As robots? Well, I must admit that we might make such an impression at first sight - and you haven’t even seen the worst of us. Just wait until you meet Violet and her omnipotent housekeeper!”
“I’d rather pass if you don’t mind, ma’am,” Ianto said honestly. “I think I’ve seen as much of the family as I’ll likely be able to stomach at any given time. No offence intended.”
“None taken,” Dame Diane assured him. “I can understand that we must seem high maintenance to you; in all honesty, we are. But I also know that once Mycroft has overcome his first shock - which might take a while yet - he’ll grow into his role as a father gradually. You are more than just a surprise for him, Ianto; you’re a gift.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ianto laughed, but Dame Diane cut him in the word.
“No, my boy. I’ve listened to you and believe me, I understand your doubts. Now give me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say. Your father is a great man; one who never got duly appreciated by his family. Violet was always preoccupied with herself, and then with her favourite baby boy, and Richard… Richard was always too busy with the eight billion things he was doing at the same time, and his only concern was to prove himself to his own wife. I did what I could for Mycroft, but I’m not his mother, and I was often away while he was young. He’s accepted that he’d never have a family of his own, which he always saw as a failure but thought it better than living a lie.”
“You mean cos he’s… err… into guys, mostly?” Ianto asked.
Dame Diane was truly surprised. “He told you?”
Ianto shrugged. “He didn’t have to. I pretty much figured it out on my own.”
“You’re very observant,” Dame Diane said. “In fact, you already show a few Holmes traits. You could fit in quite well, eventually… if you choose to.”
“I have my doubts about that, ma’am,” Ianto said dryly. “It’s enough to take a closer look at my roommate to see that I’d never fit into such a posh family; and frankly, I don’t particularly want to, either.”
“I didn’t mean Violet’s stiff and boring tea parties,” Dame Diane said, smiling with faint irony. “Being a Holmes means so much more than boring conversations and Saville Road clothing. Look at me: I chose to become a pilot, at a time when most women of my social status only had proper marriages on their minds. My brother - your grandfather - was a name-worthy scientist who ran a scientific institute and served his country as a civil servant at the same time. And your own father; he’s managed to protect this country from threats those ridiculous conspiracy theorists couldn’t come up with in their worst nightmares, using his vast intellect and negotiation skills alone. Being a Holmes is a great opportunity to use all your skills to their full capacity, cause the name literally opens doors that would remain closed otherwise. Are you truly going to let those chances slip through your fingers, just because you don’t like our attitude? And are you gonna deny Mycroft the chance to learn how to be a father? He’s willing to give it a try - are you?”
“I’m not sure,” Ianto replied honestly. “I’m content with being who I am. I don’t want to become somebody else. I want to achieve what I can on my own, not cos my father has connections.”
Dame Diane nodded. “That is very ambitious of you. Well, you don’t need to worry. Mycroft will never put you into any position you won’t deserve - or cannot fill. He’s a great believer of having the right people in the right places,” she gestured towards the other two. “Look at them. They reached their position through hard work; and they’re still working hard to keep it, every single day. You’ll have to prove yourself like everybody else. All you’ll be given are opportunities. What you make of them, that will be up to you.”
Ianto was saved from the necessity to give an answer (which he didn’t have at the moment) by a sharp ping sound, with which his phone signalled an upcoming text message.
“Sorry,” he murmured, fishing out the phone to check the message. It was from Wes.
Everything all right? WWP.
He smiled and texted back. Fine. I’ll be back within the hour. IJ.
Then he looked at Dame Diane apologetically. “My roommate is getting restless. I better go before he calls the police.”
“Not that it would do you - either of you - any good,” Quilla commented dryly. “Very well, Jack will take you home in a moment. Don’t forget that you’re scheduled for a visit in the Torchwood Institute on Saturday. Do you have any decent clothes you can wear? Suits are obligatory for male employees - or visitors.”
“I think I can manage,” Ianto replied with a shrug.
“I hope so,” she gave him a stern look. “I’ll be accompanying you, and I do have high standards, you know.”
“Is that supposed to frighten me? Cos it doesn’t,” Ianto stood and kissed the hand of his great-aunt gallantly. “Ma’am, it has been… interesting, but I really have to go now.”
Dame Diane nodded graciously. “Of course, my boy. I hope next time I won’t have to send for you; I find your company very refreshing.”
She took a business card from her wallet and handed it to him.
“Feel free to call if you want to learn more about us.”
~TBC~
Chapter 08 - The Tower
by Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the secondary index page.
In which Ianto learns some fundamental truths about his new family.
CHAPTER 07 - REVELATIONS
It took Ianto only a couple of weeks to realise that his father was an overbearing, controlling bastard with a hang for the dramatic. For the unnecessarily dramatic, in his eyes, but what did he know about acceptable behaviour among the obscenely rich?
The first sign of it was an official letter from one of the oldest, most respected banks, where he apparently had an account now… based on a newly arranged trust fund. The figure opf said trust fund had his mind boggled. However, the letter explained, currently he wouldn’t be able to touch it directly. He only had the monthly alimony at his disposal - which was still enough to cover the rent of a much better flat (alone!), his study fees and other basic expanses like food or clothes.
It made him absolutely furious. Furious enough to fire off an angry text, telling his father that he didn’t need alms.
“Nonsense,” Mycroft Holmes said two hours later, when he finally found a ten-minute-window to call him back. “That money is yours by right. Had your mother told me about you, this would be exactly the sum I’d have paid her in the last twenty years. I take my responsibilities seriously, my boy.”
“I’m not your boy!” Ianto fumed. “And I can earn my living without your alms!”
“I’d assume that such immature temper tantrums are also part of being a Jones, wouldn't my own little brother be also prone to them,” his father replied in cold disdain. “You are being ridiculous, Ianto. Like it or not, you are my progeny, and as such, you’d have been entitled to my support while growing up. That wasn’t an option back then, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s your money, not mine. Feel free to give it all to charity once you’ve turned twenty-five, if you find it so burdensome. In the meantime, you might want to look for a flat that would be a bit more… refined than the fetid little hole in which you’re currently housing. Now that you can actually afford it.”
“And leave Wesley behind to fend for himself, which we both know he can’t do on his own?” Ianto countered icily. “Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I’m not the sort of bloke who’d discard his mates the moment they’d no longer match his lifestyle.”
“I’m quite certain that Wesley wouldn’t mind sharing a more… acceptable flat with you,” his father answered. “I can imagine that he’s less comfortable with your current living conditions than you are. He’s grown up in what you’d call a posh house, after all.”
That silenced Ianto for a moment. He hadn’t considered that the cheap little bed-sit he saw as a lucky catch might have been a social disgrace for his roommate who indeed came from a posh family. Besides, if he as honest to himself he had to admit that using his father’s money to help Wesley made it easier to accept said money.
“I’ll… consider it,” he said reluctantly, because it was painfully apparent that in the end he’d give in.
“Good,” Mycroft Holmes said in his smooth diplomat's voice, keeping any traces of satisfaction out of it. “You can do so while thinking about my job offer, too. I’ve taken the liberty to ask my assistant to send you a list of available flats in acceptable proximity to your school. You and your roommate can check them out and chose the most suitable one. In the meantime you might want to do some shopping. The Institute does have a strict dress code, I’m afraid. Wesley might actually prove helpful int his matter, given that he knows the expectations of his own social circle.”
“Thank you,” Ianto replied somewhat coldly, “but I think at the age of nineteen I’m quite capable of shopping for clothes on my own. We haven’t all grown up with a numerous staff doing all the mundane tasks for us. I’ve more or less run our household since the age of twelve while my Tad was labouring at Debenham’s; I’m sure I’ll manage going to the clothes’ shop alone, too. Good day, sir.”
He hung up on his father, and Mycroft sighed wearily. The boy was proving to be more difficult than he’d expected, and the last thing he needed right now was another complication. It was time to call in the cavalry.
“Call in Captain Harkness,” he said to Quilla. “There’s something the two of you need to know; for various reasons.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
If Ianto thought the issue of shopping for clothes - or that of a new flat - was closed, he soon learned to think again. Right after the end of his shift at Angelo’s, when he was picked up by the now-familiar sleek black car of his father’s.
However, his father wasn’t in the car this time. Just the elegant woman of the many names and Captain Harkness in the driver’s seat.
“We need to talk,” Lisa/Quilla/whatever said calmly. “Please get in the car.”
Ianto shook his head.
“Nah, I don’t think so. You want to speak? Then let’s speak here.”
“This is not the right place for that,” she said. “Please, don’t be melodramatic. We aren’t going too far; just to the Criterion Restaurant.”
Ianto hesitated for a moment, then nodded abruptly. Before getting into the car, though, he called Wesley.
“Wes? Ianto. Listen, the ninjas of Mr Holmes want to chat with me. We’re going to the Criterion Restaurant. Should I not check in with you in the next hour, call the police. And Wes? No chickening out; I count on you. Ta.”
“I assure you, this isn’t necessary,” Quilla said when he climbed into the back seat next to her.
“Perhaps not,” Ianto replied, “but I’m not taking any chances. Wes might be a frightened rabbit, but somebody with a posh family can’t vanish so easily without a trace like nobodies; like me.”
“You’re grossly paranoid,” she commented, texting away on her phone rapidly. “Congratulations. You’ll make Mr Holmes proud one day.”
“Yeah, cos that’s my highest ambition in life,” Ianto countered dryly.
At that, she did look up from her phone for a moment.
‘You can’t imagine how ambitious such a goal would be,” she said in utter seriousness. “But you will when you learn to know Mr Holmes a little better.”
Ianto still wasn’t persuaded. “I’ll take you word for that.”
“You should,” she replied seriously. “I’ve worked for him for almost a decade by now. I know him better than most people; certainly a lot better than his own family, with one exception.”
“The infamous Aunt Diane?” Ianto guessed.
That earned him a surprised look. “Mr Holmes already told you about her? Good; cause we’re actually on our way to meet her.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Is that a Holmes thing, kidnapping people from the street when they want a friendly little chat?” he demanded. “Cos I have to tell you, it’s bloody annoying.”
“Yes, I imagine it is,” she replied without remorse. “But, you see, Mr Holmes is a very busy man; and Dame Diane wanted a discreet meeting. Had she appeared at Angelo’s, that would have been anything but discreet.”
“Why?” Ianto asked in bewilderment.
“You’ll understand once you’ve met her,” she replied. “Ah here we are.”
The car pulled up in front of the beautiful white neo-Byzantine building housing the Criterion Restaurant - a rather posh one by the looks of it - and Quilla shooed Ianto out of the car.
“We’ll go right in,” she told Captain Harkness who was wearing a tailored suit tonight instead of that outdated greatcoat of his (apparently, working for Ianto’s father paid well). “Come after us when you’ve parked the car, will you?”
Captain Harkness nodded and drove away to the parking lot nearest to Piccadilly Circus. Ianto was mildly surprised that the man was supposed to join them but wisely kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know the power dynamics within his father’s staff, and the last thing he needed was to insult somebody in an important position.
Just cos he was the illegitimate son of their boss it didn’t mean they couldn’t make his life hell if he made them mad.
Quilla led him into one of the most startling rooms he’d seen in his young life; one with a curved ceiling, decorated in tiny glittering golden ties that lent it a peculiar night-time glamour and arcades of slender marble pillars framing it lengthwise. Small, round tables, each decked for four with crispy white and with the finest silverware stood in double rows, waiting for the customers who, however, seemed a bit sparsely represented tonight.
Quilla crossed the main room and steered him directly to the “Long Bar”, with its plush red velvet armchairs and the pulsing life of the Piccadilly visible through the revolving doors. There were more people present, mostly well-dressed, but some in casual clothes, too. The woman by whose table they stopped, however, seemed anything but casual.
She looked to be some indeterminate age between forty and sixty, although she was probably older, based on the fine laugh lines around her dark eyes. She was tall, slim and trim, with surprisingly broad shoulders and carried herself with the slightly rigid posture of a professional soldier, although she didn’t wear a uniform.
What she did wear was a vintage skirt suit in soft beige, based on the fashion of the 1950s, consisting of a pencil skirt and a somewhat extravagantly cut blazer with a red silk blouse. It all seemed very simple, yet Ianto knew that a model like this would have cost a small fortune. She wore her dark hair in a French twist, hidden under a small, feathered hat, and her lipstick was the same blood red as her blouse. Her whole appearance spoke of money - lots of it - but also of exquisite taste.
When she saw their approach, she looked up form her glass of red wine and smiled.
“Ianto!” she said, her voice pleasantly deep, with the slight rasp of a habitual smoker in it. “So good of you to have come!”
“As if I had much of a choice,” Ianto replied with a faint smile. “This must be the Holmesian way to meet people, apparently.”
The aunt of his father laughed.
“I know,” she said. “We can be terribly inconsiderate; not to mention arrogant and selfish. How about I promise you never to have you kidnapped again?”
“That would be a beginning,” Ianto agreed, and they laughed.
“It’s a deal,” Dame Diane declared. “Very well, children, have a seat and order something to drink. Jack will be here in a minute, and then we can talk.”
“Talk about what?” Ianto asked with a frown.
“About my nephew,” Dame Diane replied. “Your father. Oh, don’t worry,” she added, catching Ianto’s alarmed glance in Quilla’s direction. “She and Jack are informed. Mycroft told them the truth.”
“And the thought of asking me whether I wanted it to become public knowledge didn’t occur to him, of course,” Ianto commented darkly.
Dame Diane rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Telling his closest co-workers isn’t making it public knowledge. These two know more about him than anyone else; including me, and I even work with him on occasion.”
“I still don’t see why they’d need to know something I haven’t even told my sister yet,” Ianto returned stubbornly.
“Yet?” Dame Diane repeated with an elegantly arched eyebrow. “But you intend to tell her eventually, yes?”
Ianto shrugged. “It will be inevitable, after a while. Whatever you might think about us, lowly peasants, we’re not all stupid. Rhi clearly isn’t despite the fact that she married an idiot,” but his small half-smile revealed that he was actually quite fond of his brother-in-law. “She will realise that I no longer have to turn around each penny twice. And I’m not gonna lie to her.”
“Are you really sure it will be wise to tell her the truth?” Quilla asked.
“She’s my sister,” Ianto replied, his annoyance obvious.
“Your cousin, actually,” she corrected, but Ianto shook his head.
“No; in every way that counts she’s my sister. We grew up together, played together, went to school together, shared the pox, watched our Mam slide deeper and deeper into depressions, watched Tad drown his pain in the bottle… even if we weren’t related by blood, that would have forged us together…”
“And yet she left you alone with an alcoholic at the age of twelve,” Quilla said pointedly. Ianto shrugged again.
“She was seventeen and in love; I never blamed her. She needed to live her own life… not that it was an easy one. I managed; and it made me strong. So, you see,” he added with a wry grin in Dame Diane’s direction, “I always had plenty of family around me. Even if it wasn’t as posh as yours.”
That came out a bit harsher than intended, but Dame Diane took no offence.
“I don’t blame you for clinging to your independence,” she said. “Personally, I find that a good thing. However, you need to know a bit more about our side of the family before you and dear Mycroft decide if you want to make your… err… connection ‘public knowledge’ as you so eloquently put it.”
“Why?” Ianto accepted the coke from the waitress with a polite nod. “To be properly impressed with their - your - importance?”
“No,” she answered seriously. “Because you carry that heritage in you, too, and you need to know what you might have to deal with. Oh, Jack, good,” she added in a much lighter tone when Captain Harkness strode in confidently and accepted from him a kiss on the cheek. “Do sit down, love. We were just about to tell young Ianto some basic facts about our family.”
“That ought to be interesting,” Captain Harkness made himself comfortable with a bottle of mineral water. “What do you know about the Holmes family, Mr Jones?”
“Only what Mr Cooper could find out for my Tad, and that wasn’t much,” Ianto admitted.
Dame Diane nodded in satisfaction.
“Of course not. We value our privacy, and as both dear Mycroft and I are involved with the Home Office in various ways, we have the means to enforce that said privacy is respected, no matter what.”
“Meaning that Mr Holmes can go a very long way to control what kind of information is allowed to come out and what isn’t,” Quilla added.
“You mean he’s some sort of spy or whatnot?” Ianto asked, frowning.
“No,” Dame Diane replied firmly. “Your father, dear, is a civil servant. Specialised in troubleshooting, which is why he prefers to remain in the second line of the Civil Service. It allows him to blend into the background and makes him all the more efficient.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” Ianto said dryly. “If I remember correctly, James Bond was a civil servant, too.”
“An apt metaphor,” Captain Harkness grinned. “Of course without the licence to kill. The British government doesn’t condone assassinations.”
“Not officially, anyway,” Quilla added. “Besides, there are minions for that sort of dirty job.”
“Like the two of you?” Ianto asked sarcastically.
She shook her head. “Oh no, we’re not mere minions. We’ve been promoted for quite some time.”
Ianto didn’t feel particularly impressed by that statement.
“So you’re his PA and Captain America here is his chief honcho,” he said with a shrug. “Still counts as minions in my book.”
“Yeah, because you’re a young, ignorant fool who’s no idea what he’s talking about,” Captain Harkness said bluntly. “So let’s get a few things straight, boy. Your father works in disaster management. That means working very closely with both MI5 and MI6 to delete threats to national security. He’s not an actual part of either department, though; he’s, on paper, a high level minor civil servant, and they consult him in cases where they need his abilities.”
“What abilities?” Ianto asked.
“You’ve met Sherlock, I’m told,” Dame Diane said and Ianto nodded. “I assume he did his deduction spiel on you, then.”
Ianto nodded again. “Part of, yeah. He was fairly distracted by his case. I looked him up on the internet, though, and found that website of his: The Science of Deduction… which is really odd. The man is clearly a genius, but clearly a mad one. Are you telling me that my… that Mr Holmes is the same?”
“You must understand one thing,” Dame Diane replied. “Both Mycroft and Sherlock were born, due to a rare combination of genes, with heightened senses and a genius-level intelligence. They both can notice details at a fleeting glance most people would need hours to find… if ever. But it comes with a price.”
“Sensory overload?” Ianto offered uncertainly. That earned him surprised, even impressed looks from the other three, and he shrugged. “Seemed logical with heightened senses.”
“You are right, of course,” Dame Diane sighed. “Mycroft has always been fairly apt in channelling those impulses, but Sherlock… it took him decades to deal with them, and his methods were often not very helpful. But that’s neither here nor there. I wasn’t just speaking about the senses, though. I meant deductive abilities, memory, observation skills… their brain capacity is way beyond the average.”
“And that comes with a price, too, I guess,” Ianto said.
“Nature likes to even out things,” she replied. “When you’re well above the average in one area, you’ll end up well beneath the average in the other one, if you understand what I mean.”
Ianto nodded slowly. “I think so, yeah. You mean that if someone is intellectually outstanding, they often turn out emotionally stunted, right? My… Mr Holmes does come over as fairly distant.”
“That’s public school education for you,” Dame Diane said. “The boys learn at a tender age that sowing their emotions in public is gauche, rude and a sign of poor breeding. Social graces, manners and courtesy, on the other hand, are highly prized. After all, ‘manners maketh the man’ as it’s said.”
Ianto remembered Sherlock stiffening in discomfort as Angelo, in his true Italian exuberance, had embraced him, and nodded in understanding.
“The manners part didn’t seem to have stuck with Sherlock, though,” he commented.
“Nonsense,” Dame Diane waved off his objections. “Sherlock knows well enough how to behave. He just chooses not to, out of sheer impatience with people who’re less intelligent than he is.”
“That would mean just about everyone, save for his brother, though,” Ianto said. “He must make enemies by the dozens each day. No wonder you guys are spying on him all the time.”
“That’s one of the reasons,” Quilla corrected. “The family of Mr Holmes is generally protected due to his position.”
“Yes, I know,” Ianto said. “He told me something complicated about it. It’s still creepy. But if he watches everyone and everything, who watches him? Or is there a rule about the watcher not needing to be watched?”
“On the contrary,” Captain Harkness said. “He needs to be protected, better than most other people, because he’s one of the few who keep this country running, despite the incompetence of most career politicians, beginning with Harold Saxon. So Quilla and me do our best to keep him safe and sane by any means necessary, so that he can do his job.”
“And how, exactly, are you doing that?” Ianto asked doubtfully.
“By preparing his schedule and reminding him of his appointments,” Quilla counted down on her perfectly manicured fingers. “By seeing that he always gets the exact kind and amount of information to do his work. By force-feeding him if we have to, confiscating his cigarettes if he smokes too much, and forcing him to rest by… err… unorthodox methods if we have to,” she gave Captain Harkness a meaningful glance that Ianto couldn’t interpret. “By seeing that the security systems run at peak efficiency and always, always knowing where Sherlock is and what he’s up to.”
“Sounds like a full-time job,” Ianto commented. “But really, is this not a bit of overkill? He’s a grown man, for God’s sake; he ought to know when to eat or to rest.”
“He should,” Dame Diane agreed, “but he doesn’t. Which is why he needs his minders. You must understand that while both my nephews are certifiable geniuses, they’re really bad at taking care of themselves.”
“Or allowing others to take care of them,” Quilla added. “So we have to be very sneaky if we don’t want to get fired. Because who’d keep him going then?”
“I thought he was just displaying the stiff upper lip that’s required by posh families,” Ianto said.
“Early institutionalisation played a role, for sure,” Dame Diane agreed. “But the roots lay in their childhood. Violet never tolerated emotional scenes (although not even she could stop Sherlock’s temper tantrums), and the years at boarding school only exacerbated this tendency towards burying their emotions.”
“Well, that certainly explains a lot,” Ianto allowed with a shrug. “But I still don’t understand what kind of significance it’s supposed to have for me. Mr Holmes certainly doesn’t have any particular feelings for me, hidden or otherwise, save perhaps a healthy amount of embarrassment; and frankly, it’s mutual. I wish Tad had taken the secret with him to the grave. It would have been better for all parties involved.”
“Perhaps,” Dame Diane said. “But he didn’t do so, and I for my part am glad that he chose not to.”
Ianto gave her a doubtful look. “You do? Forgive me, ma’am, but that’s a bit hard to believe.”
Dame Diane nodded. “I see why it would be - from your vantage point anyway. It’s different for us, Holmeses, though. Until now, we all thought the line would end with Mycroft’s generation, seeing that neither he nor Sherlock had any children… or any indication to have some. Learning about your existence was a shock for us all, certainly, but mostly because of the not knowing about you for twenty years part. Had we known, the family would have done their duty. We take care of our own.”
“I’m glad you didn’t know,” Ianto replied darkly. “At least I had a normal childhood. Granted, it was not always easy, but it gave me the chance to grow up like a human being; not like some sort of robot.”
The unfriendly glares given him by Quilla and Captain Harkness made him realise he’d been more than a little rude and he reddened in embarrassment. Dame Diane, though, just laughed at him.
“Is that how you see us?” she asked, amused. “As robots? Well, I must admit that we might make such an impression at first sight - and you haven’t even seen the worst of us. Just wait until you meet Violet and her omnipotent housekeeper!”
“I’d rather pass if you don’t mind, ma’am,” Ianto said honestly. “I think I’ve seen as much of the family as I’ll likely be able to stomach at any given time. No offence intended.”
“None taken,” Dame Diane assured him. “I can understand that we must seem high maintenance to you; in all honesty, we are. But I also know that once Mycroft has overcome his first shock - which might take a while yet - he’ll grow into his role as a father gradually. You are more than just a surprise for him, Ianto; you’re a gift.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ianto laughed, but Dame Diane cut him in the word.
“No, my boy. I’ve listened to you and believe me, I understand your doubts. Now give me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say. Your father is a great man; one who never got duly appreciated by his family. Violet was always preoccupied with herself, and then with her favourite baby boy, and Richard… Richard was always too busy with the eight billion things he was doing at the same time, and his only concern was to prove himself to his own wife. I did what I could for Mycroft, but I’m not his mother, and I was often away while he was young. He’s accepted that he’d never have a family of his own, which he always saw as a failure but thought it better than living a lie.”
“You mean cos he’s… err… into guys, mostly?” Ianto asked.
Dame Diane was truly surprised. “He told you?”
Ianto shrugged. “He didn’t have to. I pretty much figured it out on my own.”
“You’re very observant,” Dame Diane said. “In fact, you already show a few Holmes traits. You could fit in quite well, eventually… if you choose to.”
“I have my doubts about that, ma’am,” Ianto said dryly. “It’s enough to take a closer look at my roommate to see that I’d never fit into such a posh family; and frankly, I don’t particularly want to, either.”
“I didn’t mean Violet’s stiff and boring tea parties,” Dame Diane said, smiling with faint irony. “Being a Holmes means so much more than boring conversations and Saville Road clothing. Look at me: I chose to become a pilot, at a time when most women of my social status only had proper marriages on their minds. My brother - your grandfather - was a name-worthy scientist who ran a scientific institute and served his country as a civil servant at the same time. And your own father; he’s managed to protect this country from threats those ridiculous conspiracy theorists couldn’t come up with in their worst nightmares, using his vast intellect and negotiation skills alone. Being a Holmes is a great opportunity to use all your skills to their full capacity, cause the name literally opens doors that would remain closed otherwise. Are you truly going to let those chances slip through your fingers, just because you don’t like our attitude? And are you gonna deny Mycroft the chance to learn how to be a father? He’s willing to give it a try - are you?”
“I’m not sure,” Ianto replied honestly. “I’m content with being who I am. I don’t want to become somebody else. I want to achieve what I can on my own, not cos my father has connections.”
Dame Diane nodded. “That is very ambitious of you. Well, you don’t need to worry. Mycroft will never put you into any position you won’t deserve - or cannot fill. He’s a great believer of having the right people in the right places,” she gestured towards the other two. “Look at them. They reached their position through hard work; and they’re still working hard to keep it, every single day. You’ll have to prove yourself like everybody else. All you’ll be given are opportunities. What you make of them, that will be up to you.”
Ianto was saved from the necessity to give an answer (which he didn’t have at the moment) by a sharp ping sound, with which his phone signalled an upcoming text message.
“Sorry,” he murmured, fishing out the phone to check the message. It was from Wes.
Everything all right? WWP.
He smiled and texted back. Fine. I’ll be back within the hour. IJ.
Then he looked at Dame Diane apologetically. “My roommate is getting restless. I better go before he calls the police.”
“Not that it would do you - either of you - any good,” Quilla commented dryly. “Very well, Jack will take you home in a moment. Don’t forget that you’re scheduled for a visit in the Torchwood Institute on Saturday. Do you have any decent clothes you can wear? Suits are obligatory for male employees - or visitors.”
“I think I can manage,” Ianto replied with a shrug.
“I hope so,” she gave him a stern look. “I’ll be accompanying you, and I do have high standards, you know.”
“Is that supposed to frighten me? Cos it doesn’t,” Ianto stood and kissed the hand of his great-aunt gallantly. “Ma’am, it has been… interesting, but I really have to go now.”
Dame Diane nodded graciously. “Of course, my boy. I hope next time I won’t have to send for you; I find your company very refreshing.”
She took a business card from her wallet and handed it to him.
“Feel free to call if you want to learn more about us.”
~TBC~
Chapter 08 - The Tower