Sherlocked (BBC Fanfiction)

Chapter 3 - Mycroft *EDITED*

I strode through an abandoned warehouse, only a portion of the overhanging lights illuminated.  Water droplets dripped from the ceiling and splashed onto the cement, echoing throughout the vast warehouse.  In front of me more of the overhanging lights flickered on revealing a man standing a good thirty feet from my position.  He leaned on his umbrella, his other hand stuffed in the pocket of his trousers.  He wore an expensive looking, well-tailored suit, that meant money.  His posture was one to suggest power.  In government most likely.

In front of the man was a straight-backed armless chair facing him.  He gestured to it with the point of his umbrella as I began to approach him.  “Have a seat, Jordyn.”

I could go one of two ways with this; I could listen to the soldier side of me which was screaming at me to play this out calmly or I could listen to the inner child within me which whispered to me to go off like a bomb.  Carefully choosing my words I said, “You know, I’ve got a phone.”  I glanced around the warehouse.  “I mean, very clever and all that, but uh…you could just phone me.  On my phone.”  I strode past the chair and stopped a few paces in front of the man.

“When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place.  You must be tired from walking all over London.  Sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down,” I replied and shifted my weight and crossed my arms.

“You don’t seem very afraid.”

“You don’t seem very frightening,” I said.

“Yes.  The bravery of a soldier.  Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don’t you think?  What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?”

Slightly taken aback by his abrupt question, I faltered.  “I don’t have one.  I barely know him.  I met him today.”

“Hm.  And since today you’ve moved in with him and now you’ll be solving crimes together.  Are we to expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?”

“Who are you?”  I demanded.

“An interested party,” he stoutly replied and clasped his hands behind his back, concealing his umbrella. 

“And why’s that?”

“I am willing to pay you a large sum of money to keep tabs on Sherlock Holmes.  But under no circumstances is he to know.”

“Why?”

He exhaled quietly and replied, “Because I worry about him.  Constantly.”

“Well that’s awful nice of you.”

“So?”

“I’m not interested.”

“I haven’t even named a price –”