It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

22 - You Have One New Message

A short while later, Sherlock returned fully clothed, the white sheet discarded and his wonderfully muscular body hidden once again. Elizabeth silently scolded herself for thinking that again. She would not get involved with him like that. She couldn't. He was a - it occurred to her that she didn't know what he was to her. Was he a babysitter? Was he a friend? Or perhaps still just an acquaintance? What was she to them? Still an inconvenience? The worries hit her at a terrifying velocity.

Trying her best to dismiss them, the thief moved to the middle of the sofa so Sherlock could sit on the end. She was also clothed now and a little more comfortable in the black leggings and red blouse they had fetched for her once again, especially considering her last pile of clothes were somewhere on the streets of London.

"I'll be mother." Mycroft forced a smile as he began pouring tea for everyone.

"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell." Stated Sherlock bluntly, the expressive features on his face unmoving.

"My employer has a problem." The equerry interjected to avoid another sibling quarrel.

Mycroft continued for him, "A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen."

"Why? You have a police force of sorts and even a marginally secret service. Why come to me?"

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr Holmes?" The equerry questioned.

"Not, to date, anyone with a navy." Came the sassy response.

"This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust." Mycroft's gaze narrowed at his brother.

"You don't trust your own secret service?" John questioned, his brow hooded over his eyes which burned with concern for the monarchy.

"Naturally not, they all spy on people for money."

Harry disliked how off-track they were getting and verbally prompted Mycroft to continue, "I do think we have a timetable."

"Yes of course um..."

The older Holmes opened the briefcase by his feet and pulled out shiny, A4-sized photos of a woman and handed them to Sherlock.

"What do you know about this woman?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

"Then you should be paying more attention." Mycroft seemed to scald the detective, "She's been at the centre of two politicial scandals in the last year and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately."

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?"

"Irene Adler. Professionally known as The Woman."

Elizabeth's heart stopped. Wasn't that the woman Jim had told her about once and she had referred to before this whole mess? Was this his chance to try and get back at Elizabeth through someone else? It would make sense. He was one for dramatics and to get to her through the Royal Family? It did seem like something he would do.

"Professionally?" John asked.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers Dominatrix."

"Dominatrix." Sherlock muttered this without looking away from the photograph.

"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex." Came Mycroft's snide remark.

Sherlock looked up at his brother immediately, "Sex doesn't alarm me."