The Man With The Umbrella

- 1 -

It was just another day to Amelia Watson. Working within a 'prestigious' cleaning company came with a heap of boring people, who had boring houses and boring things to say. An average of the customers who used Maids Of Cleaning, Cleaning LTD were often middle-aged couples with money that set them up for life... And empty rooms in their London townhouses that forever collected dust.

What poor unfortunate souls!

They were either executives, high-up managers from popular companies, or they worked in the Financial District in some other money-making career.

Despite anything to the contrary, Mycroft Holmes was a long-time customer to Maids Of Cleaning. With that, came the knowledge of gossiping cleaners within the company. According to the lady who cleaned for Mr Holmes before Amelia, Jaimie, his home was fancy as fuck!

Amelia arrived early in the morning to her customers Kensington Manor house, not particularly thrown off by the grandness from outside. She inputted the code given from the company into his front gate. She was well versed to these gestures now for many years.

The only thing Amelia could state that made this customer different to any other, was that his gate was so thick and so tall she half-wondered if she was stepping foot into a county prison.

She walked over the gravel pathway with slightly worn black flats and her work clothes, feeling edged by the trimmed bushes and fresh brick walls. She thought it funny, how quickly one could become used to feeling like a truffle amongst rubies. Her job humbled her.

She stalled for a moment, blinking at the ornate door with extravagant engravings before spotting a small black box to the right of the door. Upon flipping the lid up, she found that the pad mimicked the same code as before, obviously.

It was apparent to her that the client who lived in this place was not meant to be home, and for that, Amelia Watson, a women in her early thirties, was momentarily thrown off guard upon seeing him.

She only knew his name, his house number, the number of rooms he requested to be cleaned and of course, the fact that Mycroft Holmes was a red client. Red clients were the high ups; the kind of people you didn't mention outside of work. It was a common high ground to even look up and down the streets before entering the home of a red client, just to be extra inconspicuous.

And to add to the flair of dramatics, of course...

And yet, there he was. Standing on the other side of the door as it opened. Briefcase in hand, wearing a three-piece suit which is most likely more expensive than anything she could ever afford on her income, and cool blue eyes narrowing their sights down at her. She wondered to herself if Mr Holmes ever kept log of how many times she blinked.

He said, with the air of authority cloaked around himself, "Ah. The cleaner." Whilst his judgemental gaze wandered her Maids Of Cleaning uniform. He made her feel like she was nothing but the grit on his sleek shoes within the first few seconds of their meet and greet situation, and there she stood, empty handed and still blinking like an blithering idiot!

Amelia Watson was just about to reply, to introduce herself for the sake of how society worked, but he beat her to it. "Alas, not the one who has been in my employment for the last year. Please, do not bother with introductions, Miss. I know that you are Amelia Watson, thirty years of age and have been in employment with Maids Of Cleaning for the last five years." He smiled in that unpleasant smarmy way of his before bestowing her with another withering look.

Amelia wondered in that moment as his dark eyes took her in, what they would be like if he were to ever fall in love. Dismissing herself from stupidity, she blinked again.