Charlie Magnussen wasn't your ordinary, run-of-the-mill daughter of a notorious billionaire. She was special. Like her father, her memory was as acute and unfailing as the many languages she spoke.
Unlike her father, however, Charlie was on the run...
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"I hope you're done playing the eccentric buffoon, Sherlock."
Mycroft Holmes pressed button 22 on the elevator panel, his lips twisting as he stared at his brother's reflection in the glass. "Your escapade at Buckingham Palace is still the talk of the halls."
Sherlock rolled his eyes as he watched the upward ticking numbers above the elevator door. "And what makes you think I give a rat's ass what anyone thinks? I'm only here because of John."
"Ah, yes, John." Mycroft adjusted his umbrella on his arm. "And John's sister. The one you so often visit in the Manchester Asylum unbeknownst to... John."
Sherlock's gaze flickered to Mycroft then back again to the ascending numbers. "I already told you why I visit the woman. I find her fascinating. Much more interesting than you."
Mycroft scoffed. "It's a wonder Harriet Watson is related to John. Unless, of course, insanity runs in the Watson family. Is John insane, Sherlock? He's friends with you, after all."
Sherlock grumbled as he shuffled on the spot. He hated elevators, hated to be confined in small spaces and Mycroft's flapping gums didn't make it any easier. "Why don't they figure out how to make these bloody boxes go faster?"
"And your interest in an insane woman has nothing to do with Charles Magnussen?" Mycroft continued, not wanting to let the topic slide. "Nothing to do with the fact that he's father to Harriet Watson's children? Nothing at all?"
Sherlock grimaced and plunged his hands into the deep pockets of his trenchcoat. "Nothing."
"And you're not the least bit curious why we're meeting the President of Tamaki Broadcasting? Their daughter has made quite a name for herself."
"I don't care."
"Did you know Charlie Magnussen was enrolled in the University of Geneva when she was only 15, got her Bachelors, and then Master of Linguistics degree by the time she was 20?"
"Fine. She's intelligent. I get that. But if you're so enamoured with her achievements, Mycroft, why don't you find her yourself?"
"Oh, we've tried. And now you're the reason I get to tag along. She's not the easiest to pin down." Mycroft stared thoughtfully at the elevator panel. "And when you find Charlie, MI6 will offer her a job to work for us. I hope you'll convince her to accept."
Sherlock's eyes riveted on his brother's profile. "Have you forgotten I'm a detective, not a diplomat?"
Mycroft chuckled. "That's the last thing I would expect from you. And yet, you already have a glowing rapport with Charlie's mother."
"I'd hardly call it glowing."
"That's not what Harriet Watson says in her letters."
Sherlock's lips pursed. "It's little wonder a megalomaniac like Charles Magnussen would name his daughter after himself. Where do the letters to Harriet Watson come from? Of course, your morons didn't think to trace the postmark. That would be too complicated for them."
