AN: So, I just wanted to give a million thanks to anyone who has read, reviewed, followed, made comments, suggestions, freaked out, and generally stuck with my story. I've gotten to the point where if I kept individually thanking all my followers, my fingers would fall off. I never expected that to happen, so I just wanted to let all of you know how much I appreciate you reading this.
From: MH
30 Jan 7:43 PM
You'll be approaching Doctor Watson any second now. You are not to give him any information regarding my identity.
As the text predicted, the car pulled up to a phone booth containing a man of small stature. With a dazed and vaguely annoyed look on his face, Doctor Watson slid into the car besides her.
To: MH
30 Jan 7:44 PM
The target has entered the vehicle, Sir. If any complications arise, I'll let you know.
With Doctor Watson en route, A could finally focus on something more pressing than her boss' love of the dramatic. Thank some omnipotent being that she hadn't inherited that gene. She had already typed her way through a thank-you note to the Queen of Spain, a speech, and half of a to-do list before John opened his mouth.
"Hello." A turned to him and smiled politely.
"Hi." And just as quickly turned back to her list. Did she have to schedule a lunch with the Prime Minister for Wednesday or Thursday?
"What's your name then?" She was so engrossed in her scheduling that it took her a minute to realize that he had asked a question.
"Uhh...Anthea." For today, Anthea would suffice.
"Is that your real name?" Not-Anthea looked up at him for a second and smiled. Not an idiot, this one.
"No."
"I'm John." She had skimmed over his biography on her way to collect him. Dr. John Hamish "Three-Continents" Watson (though 'Four-Continents' was arguably more accurate). Saved the lives of dozens in Afghanistan, only to have his career ended early by a shot to the left shoulder. Limp is entirely psychosomatic. Has one sister. Mother is still alive, father died in 2006. Was once a talented clarinet player.
"Yes, I know." She smiled to herself.
"Any point in asking where I'm going?" She shot him a pitying look. He seemed like a nice enough man. Mycroft's theatrics could be...exhausting, to say the least. They were effective though.
"None at all...John." Ever the expert in conversing while working, 'Anthea' heard the rustle of fabric that generally means a nod. Casual conversation taken care of, A turned her attention back to the BlackBerry, where it would hopefully stay for the rest of the ride.
To: D. Cameron
30 Jan 7:51 PM
Mycroft wants to know if you're free for lunch on Thursday. If so, is the Diogenes Club suitable?
From: D. Cameron
30 Jan 7:51 PM
Thursday should be fine. 1:00?
To: D. Cameron
30 Jan 7:52 PM
1:00 is perfect.
To: MH
30 Jan 7:53 PM
Your lunch with the Prime Minister is at 1:00 Thursday. Dr. Watson doesn't seem to be a man of many words. ETA 6 minutes.
From: MH
30 Jan 7:54 PM
I didn't expect that he would be.
To: MH
30 Jan 7:54 PM
While it's on my mind, you're due for a trip to the dentist mid-March, right?
From: MH
30 Jan 7:54 PM
Correct. We can discuss available dates tomorrow.
To: MH
30 Jan 7:55 PM
You received a call from the States a few minutes before John got in the car. President Obama needs to discuss Plan Alpha with you ASAP.
From: MH
30 Jan 7:55 PM
We'll make arrangements for the meeting when you're done with Dr. Watson. It requires my full attention.
To: MH
30 Jan 7:56 PM
Your full attention? I never thought the day would come! Should I put the nation on Code 9 alert?
From: MH
30 Jan 7:56 PM
I do hope you mean Code 9 Lavender, because Code 9 Chartreuse is unlikely ever to happen, and Code 9 Pyrite has never been under my control.
To: MH
30 Jan 7:56 PM
So no zombies or solar apocalypse? Nuclear bunkers it is!
At 7:59 PM, Dr. John Watson exited the car to chat with Mycroft Holmes in an abandoned warehouse. It was a routine that Anthea had witnessed many times before. Unlike the others, John Watson refused to sit down. Her interest was piqued. A refusal, however small, of one of Mycroft's power plays took strength. Mycroft laughed. A change in tactics, then? His lips formed the word 'Sherlock' and John shrugged. Rocking back and forth on his feet, Mycroft introduced himself as Sherlock's 'archenemy' and pointed out Sherlock's love of all things dramatic. Unfortunately, John was facing the other way, so 'Anthea' couldn't see his reply. Based on Mycroft's face, it was something about how kidnapping someone to have a chat in a warehouse could be considered dramatic. 'Anthea' may have cheered quietly. John pulled his phone from his pocket.
"I hope I'm not distracting you." To an ordinary observer, Mycroft would have been the picture of neutrality. To Anthea, however, he was like an open book. His slightly-narrowed eyes and defensive stance were the picture of irritation. John shook his head. She wanted to keep him in a jar for rainy days. A man immune to Mycroft's puppet strings! Hell, even Sherlock occasionally gave in to Mycroft's threats. John was like a breath of fresh air.
Mycroft pulled out his address book. As if he didn't already have Sherlock's new flat under surveillance. The bribe was coming up. John got another text, and must have replied while reading it.
"I haven't mentioned a figure." The cheer from the car wasn't so quiet this time around. If he could survive Mycroft's final attempt, the man was totally incorruptible. The "mysterious appearance of therapist's files" was the last stop before Watson came back to the car.
"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily." Whatever John said, it made Mycroft's eyebrows shoot up, and caused his eyes to widen. John Hamish Watson had done the near impossible. He surprised Mycroft Holmes.
"You tell me." In response, John tilted his head and walked away. Always a lover of the last word, Mycroft said something about John's left hand that stopped him in his tracks. He shook his head and gritted his teeth before turning around.
"My what?"
"Show me." Rolling his neck, John lifted his left hand. Palms inwards, close to the body. Highly defensive. Anthea stared wide-eyed as Mycroft attempted to take his hand gloveless (What was his agenda?). John yanked it back before reluctantly letting him examine it.
"Remarkable." Blah, blah, tremor, I know everything about you, blah, blah, blah, you aren't haunted by the war. "Welcome back."
Holmes twirled his brolly as he walked away...his destination was uncertain. Anthea smirked as she went to retrieve Watson.
To: MH
30 Jan 8:14 PM
I think Dr. Watson won that round, Sir.
From: MH
30 Jan 8:14 PM
Simply biding my time.
To: MH
30 Jan 8:14 PM
Of course you are. Where are you anyway? I don't see another car. Hiding behind the pipes until one arrives? Is that how you're biding your time?
"I'm to take you home." John checked his phone again, and examined his left hand. "Address?"
"Uh, Baker Street. 221B Baker Street. But I need to stop off somewhere first." That somewhere seemed to be where John was staying for the time being. Anthea pretended not to notice the gun concealed in his waistband when he reentered the car.
To: MH
30 Jan 8:20 PM
We're headed to Baker Street. John has a gun tucked into his waistband. Thought you ought to know.
From: MH
30 Jan 8:20 PM
Thank you.
To: MH
30 Jan 8:20 PM
So what exactly were you doing, grabbing his hand without a glove? You never even allow for the possibility of being marked.
From: MH
30 Jan 8:21 PM
Interesting, that soldier fellow. He could be the making of my brother, or make him worse than ever.
To: MH
30 Jan 8:21 PM
So you think...?
From: MH
30 Jan 8:21 PM
It's quite possible.
The pair pulled up to John's destination.
"Listen, your boss...any chance you could not tell him this is where I went?"
"Sure!" She nodded.
"You've told him already, haven't you?" She stood by her earlier decision that he wasn't an idiot. Despite the fact that he wasn't lacking a brain, she really did want him to leave. After he was gone, she was free to go home and take a long bubble bath.
"Yeah."
"Hey, um...do you ever get any free time?" HA!
"Oh, yeah, lots." She snorted. John didn't move at all, so she continued texting. After a few seconds, she had to prompt him. "Bye!"
"Okay." Sorry, Three-Continents. Not tonight.