The Man With The Umbrella

- 10 -

Amelia likes to consider that day, to be day one.

The ride to Kensington was filled with absolute silence. Viola was miming lyrics to her music quietly at the front of the car whilst Mycroft made it clear that he needed to be on his phone. He had one phone call, of which was purposely vague and Amelia thought it was better that way, for herself and Viola's benefit. He was quite conscious of the girls not knowing any national security matters.

It was a ten minute drive in the same sleek car that she was becoming used to, that Mycroft placed his phone back into the pocket of his black coat before pulling out a familiar object. "Inspector Lestrade wished for me to thank you for your compliance, Miss Watson. The yard no longer needs this, but, of course, any odd text messages -"

"Should be kept entirely secret. Of course, sir." Amelia bit back a small smile at Mycroft's unimpressed look as he handed her, her battered phone, rather stiffly. "I have taken the liberty of inputting Inspector Lestrade's personal number per his request, as well as the number for my assistant, Anthea. It is unlikely that you will not be able to reach me on my personal number, but I thought it best." He spoke to her with no ounce of the obvious being a favour, but a simple matter that needed to be completed. "Very few people have it. Use it well."

"Oh. Thank you, sir. I..." Amelia struggled for a moment, phone in her lap and brows furrowed somewhat. "I won't ask again why you're doing this for us, for me, considering that you are unsure of it yourself but, I can't just sit and do nothing in your home. Both for my sanity, and... Well, I suspect that it's just rude, really."

"I have invited you."

"Still, I feel odd."

"To that, I say... Stop."

"Stop feeling odd, sir?"

"Precisely."

Amelia turned to stare at him just as he assessed her with his ever-cool look. "You're odd." Amelia decided. His expression was unchanging. "I prefer to think of myself as more evolved, Miss Watson."

She laughed and he stared. Mycroft constantly had the look of someone who never relaxed, and Amelia wondered, for one moment, what he looked like at night. Did he sleep in the dark, stiff and like a modern-day Dracula?

"You have the en-suites, as I am sure you remember from last night. I would suggest... Showering. You are still splattered with paint. I will have someone gather your art supplies, Harvard degrees and Cambridge applications, Miss Watson. I imagine that to you, painting and re-applying for university to finish your subject has a calming effect on what is likely a... Worrying time." The words slipped from himself in a painful manner, as if he couldn't fathom doing such things to calm his mind.

Amelia considered Mycroft with a bemused look as the car turned the corner. "Is that what being stalked by an ex is, sir? Worrying?" Something like a typical smile managed to waver across his features. "I would not know, Miss Watson."

The mention of the reason for her stay hung heavy for a second, and Amelia thought over what to say with her lip caught between her teeth as she looked out of the window, mindful of Viola. "I have a load of questions I want to ask you, so I'll save the pleasantries of beating around the bush, may I bombard you?" Mycroft bestowed her with a look of curiosity and with a slight incline of his head, he nodded for her to continue. "Will my name be kept out of the media, now that he is definitely after me and possibly Viola?"

Mycroft's hands clenched around his umbrella, which sat between his legs. "It will, yes. You would be surprised at how many cases similar to this are kept safely out of public eye, Miss Watson." His gaze was unwavering and Amelia's questions appeared to have his sole attention. "Additionally, you will find that the name given of our killer was derived from the question mark given at the end of his text message to you."