If... Then...? || Sherlock BBC

4

Evelyn looked at her watch slowly approaching 5:30. She was supposed to meet with Mycroft in a half and hour and she was still miserable for absolutely no reason. The 'JM' man didn't bother her with any more messages today. How ironic for a psychologist to view life as pointless - she thought. With a lazy movement she got out of bed. Her dark green shirt was no longer acceptable to go out in after laying in bed for 4 hours. Her hair was also a complete mess. She had 30 minutes to put herself into any order before the dinner. Evelyn opened the door to her bathroom to then take a quick shower. She put on a dark blue shirt, black pants, and black blazer. She always kept her make up simple however this time she put a little bit of a dark red lipstick on. When the woman was almost done, her phone ringed. She recognised the number.
— Hello Mycroft.
— Good evening, Evelyn. How are you? — the man asked softly.
— I am almost done. I just need to catch a taxi and I'll be on my way. — she said in a hurry.
— That won't be necessary. I send a car to pick you up. It should take you right to the restaurant. — the woman peeked through the window. A pitch black car parked by her flat. Evelyn grinned when she was the vehicle.
— Thank you, Mycroft.
— I'll see you in 10 minutes.

Evelyn got out of the car thanking the driver for a ride. She was standing right in front of the door when they were opened for her by one of the workers.
— Evelyn Laurier? — the short woman asked politely.
— Yes. — she smiled at the woman's warm tone.
— Please follow me.
The waitress led her to the table where Mycroft was already sitting dressed in a suit, as usual. He was busy texting someone. Probably from work
— You could have told me to dress a little better, you know? — Evelyn said. Mycroft lift his head from the phone and smiled slightly.
— Evelyn. How long has it been? Please, sit. — Laurier did as Holmes offered.
— Three years, I believe. Still in the government? — she asked jokingly as the waitress handed her the menu. Laurier started reading the offers.
— Please, I only occupy a minor position. — he said not hiding his pride.
— Like I would ever believe you. Could I please just have white wine? — she turned to the waitress.
— Of course. What kind?
— Sauvignon Blanc, please. Just one glass.

The waitress rushed to get a drink leaving the old friends to talk.
— Your preferences haven't changed at all. — the man stated visibly proud of his memory.
— So does yours. — Laurier answered while gesturing at the restaurant they were currently in.
— How have you been? — the man asked.
— I've been well. Recently left my job, but for now I'm doing good. I have one on the side, as you know. I assume that's why you wanted to meet with me.
— Actually, as strange as it may sound... no. No agency needs you this time. — This answer left the psychologist a bit confused.
— Is it personal then? — In the mean time, the waitress just brought her wine. — Thank you.
— No, Evelyn. Nobody needs your skills to psychoanalyse people... for now. I am here purely from a worry. — Mycroft's tone changed to slightly bitter.

There was a short silence in between the two. When Mycroft realised that the woman was waiting for an explanation, he inhaled sharply and continued.
— A passionate psychologist would never leave their job in a such short notice. You did it almost immediately, which leads me to think you're in danger-
— I am not in danger. — Evelyn quickly answered. — I have realised that my findings cause more harm than good. I didn't want it to continue. I took all the data from my recent studies back with me. I will not let people misuse this kind of information.

The silence filled the space in between them one again. Mycroft still looked concerned but he quickly let it go when he saw that Evelyn is furious with how people took advantage of her knowledge. However, Evelyn just looked away slowly drowning in her own thoughts. Who knows what she would start thinking of if Mycroft didn't t speak again.
— I'm sorry, that I have upset you. I just want you to be safe. Please, let's have a nice dinner.
— Of course. I appreciate your concern. — she took a sip of her wine. — So, what is the "quest"?
Mycroft smiled when he realised he couldn't lie to her.

Evelyn returned to her flat after 2 hours of taking with the Holmes. He was trying to get her work for the British government as a "source of information" but she quickly declined saying that she is no spy. Overall, the meeting went well and they fought up with each other. Evelyn was happy to see another familiar face. It didn't happen to her often as her parents died when she was young and her younger brother didn't contact her due to his job in CIA.

Almost immediately after she stepped into her flat, she started feeling that something inside of her was disturbing her peace. She didn't know what it was but it didn't let her relax. Maybe it's seeing a dead body again after a long time? She needed fresh air. Evelyn turned around and left her flat as she entered it, not even taking her coat off. She loved the night walks around London. It felt serene to her no matter how ridiculous it is to feel like that about London. While approaching a bridge, she got a text message on her mobile.

The victim wanted to die as he was diagnosed with a severe case of lung cancer. The "criminal" plot this event with him.
SH

Evelyn smiled when she saw the initials. Someone didn't hate her as much as she thought.

We'll see if the "criminal" is going to get a shorter sentence, considering the fact that the victim asked him to do it.
EL

This whole conversation was purely about showing off. This was their time to shine where no one would judge them. Evelyn was looking at the river and glowing buildings. Suddenly, her phone started ringing. She swore she couldn't get any time for herself for one moment. It was Lestrade.
— Hello? — she answered the phone.
— Evelyn, I need you. — he said in a serious tone.
— Another body?
— Yes.
— Where?
— Debourne Street 36F.
— I'll be there. What exactly do you want me to do? — Evelyn asked confused.
— Track somebody down.