A/N: Set after "Another Reason Altogether" and before "Instructional Materials". This one may take awhile, as I'm quite busy with real life (read: work) at the moment. But as always, please enjoy! Thanks for everyone who's stuck with this so far, you guys keep it fun and keep me going. I don't know what I'd do without you (well probably just quit!). I do not own, nor do I profit from.
John had never done anything like this before.
Never thought to steal the mobile that Sam had left him and Sherlock, so that they could get in touch with him if they needed to and when they wanted to.
Never considered calling the Interpol agent during the middle of the day from his own mobile in his office, carefully keying in the number and then shutting Sam's phone off again, so it would not record a call, nor show any battery drain when Sherlock next used it.
Never used Sam's connections to get information he wanted, information he didn't think he could obtain any other way, or at least not quickly or easily.
John had never thought he'd be sitting behind his desk in his locked office, forgoing his lunch break, keeping a sharp ear on the sounds from the corridor, in case someone came by and knocked.
Never imagined he'd be listening for the faint Scottish accent when the woman he was trying to reach answered her phone, her voice not quite suspicious, but cautious, since his number would be identifiable as a London call, but not someone she would know or recognize.
"Yes, hello?"
John never pictured taking this deep breath, letting it out slowly, wondering if he was utterly mad for what he was about to do.
"Angela MacTaggart?" he asked.
"Who's this?" she replied, not precisely answering his question.
"My name is Doctor John Watson. I don't know if you remember – "
"Yes, of course I remember you, Doctor Watson," she interrupted smoothly and John never thought he'd hear the faint note in her voice that spoke of tension brought back to the surface, fear that had not dissipated. "May I ask how you got this number? And if everything is all right?"
"I got your number from a friend in Interpol," John replied. Never considered he'd admit so plainly to that, especially to someone who knew Mycroft. "And yes, everything is fine here, thank you."
"I see," Angela replied, and there was now a note of displeasure in her voice. John ignored this. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"
John had never done anything like this before.
It was oddly thrilling, but entirely terrifying.
"I was wondering if you could take some time to come to London?" he asked. "I need your help."
He never imagined he'd be able to identify a frown over the phone, at least not on someone whom he barely knew. He suspected Sherlock could do it in his sleep, though.
"My help?" Angela enquired. "With what?"
Another deep breath, another pause on the line, another step John had never thought he'd ever take or ever have to.
"With Mycroft."