The Man With The Umbrella

- 5 -

"You have been struggling with the task I have given you."

Amelia had barely walked through Mycroft's front door before his lilting, superior accent made the poor girl almost jump out of her skin. She was three minutes late, and there he was, standing with his briefcase sat on the floor beside him, with one hand closed over the lapel of his suit whilst his dominant hand held his umbrella's handle. He was there and she was late.

She half-wondered if his lingering was anything like Mr Jones but she brushed that thought away almost immediately. Amelia could read people like himself easily, and Mycroft Holmes... Mycroft was far too himself to be so disrespectful and vulgar... In that aspect.

"My God!" She gasped out with a hand flying to her chest. "No." He drawled, dry-humoured. "Just me."

She usually wore her work dress but today she decided to wear the standard white shirt with sleeves folded and black flared work pants.

Amelia sent a glare towards him. It was then that she noticed that she was far more relaxed with Mr Holmes than she was with any of the other clients. Not entirely, of course. She was as relaxed as he allowed her to be. There was no obvious sternness when she slipped up, like at the music hall or at her kidnapping. He allowed her to be honest with him and tease life a little.

It seemed, more than anything, that Mycroft was quietly forcing Amelia to be her true self. She did miss that part of herself, where she could be playful, where she could be improper and where her sarcasm shines through at its finest.

As her father would say, 'Amelia, your mouth compensates for your height'

"Very amusing, sir." She barked out accordingly. Upon realising, she, with great difficulty, reeled her attitude back in before shutting the front door and pushing away the possibility that he had been waiting for her. "I'm struggling, was it?" She attempted to pick up from where he left off.

Mycroft looked at her with a mouth pressed tight and a jaw working momentarily. "I am about to deduce you, Miss Watson." Amelia had to blink her thoughts away. That statement was by far, the sexiest thing any male specimen on earth had ever said to her.

He said it in such a way that suggested that she was already aware of his talent and that she had been waiting for this moment with bated breath, for him to propel Amelia with onslaught truths and facts.

Amelia would come to know, that with time, how rare it was for either of the Holmes boys to announce such a thing as a warning before entirely shredding their prey apart. She would also learn that Mycroft's first deduction of her would be the tamest one she would ever account from him.

"You haven't showered this morning as you usually do, which suggests that you woke up later than your usual... Six AM alarm. You are three minutes late, which shows that you were forced to get a later tube than your time demands. Your clothes, usually ironed efficiently to match with the standards of your employer, employee contract, are wrinkled around the hem of your shirt. This suggests that you've been fiddling with the hem, a product of anxiety, perhaps? Your right breast pocket has a smudge of toothpaste on it. You appear fatigued but that is an easy one..."

He carried on whilst beginning to circle the girl as if she was some sort of desired prey and she could vaguely smell the scent of him, which she would later find to be erotic. His umbrella tapped in the same manner he expressed, with cold clarity, which felt as though, he was purposely edging the rosey-cheeked girl. "Bags under your eyes, a paler complexion than typical as well as the lack of cosmetics you usually adorn. That, and your slow reflexes and emotional response due to exhaustion made it so you did not see me standing in this spot for a few seconds and to snap quite ferociously..." He walked back to his original place. "I can only assume this is all, in conclusion, to myself requesting a painting, one of which you have not begun. You are, therefore, struggling with the task."