Can't Stay Away (BBC Sherlock) -2-

31. The Shark

He did look like a shark, with his dead eyes hiding behind the glasses. The only similarity he had with Moriarty was that he was dressed in a suit. At least Moriarty never worried about protection, he'd never had his body guards tag along on visits.

All of Magnussen's guards stood to face their boss. Relax. He doesn't know who you are. He probably never will. Though, since I was here and unfamiliar, I wouldn't be surprised if I was questioned.

"I understood we were meeting at your office," Sherlock stated.

Magnussen looked around the apartment. "This is my office." His voice was soft and low, his accent was a bit different. He didn't sound intimidating, but that meant nothing. "Well, it is now." He picked up a newspaper from the coffee table before sitting on the couch.

"Mr. Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband's letters."

Magnussen looked like he was focusing on more important things.

"Some time ago you...put pressure on her concerning those letters."

Magnussen finally looked up, leaning back.

"She would like those letters back. Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind..."

Magnussen snuck out a quiet snort.

"Something I said?" Sherlock sounded a bit miffed.

"No, no. I-I was reading," Magnussen said quietly. "There's rather a lot. 'Redbeard.'" I saw Sherlock stiffen beside me. "Sorry." Magnussen shook his head. "S-sorry. You were probably talking?"

"I..." I stole a brief look at Sherlock, who looked like he was speechless. That couldn't happen often. He finally cleared his throat. "I was trying to explain that I've been asked to act on the behalf of—"

"Bathroom?" Magnussen turned his head to one of his guards.

"Along with the kitchen, sir," one replied.

"Okay."

"I've been asked to negotiate the return of those letters," Sherlock said more firmly. Magnussen removed his glasses, looking towards a window. "I'm aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents—"

"Is it like the rest of the flat?"

"Sir?" one guard asked.

"The bathroom?"

"Er, yes, sir."

"Maybe not, then."

"Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock asked.

Magnussen met his gaze before looking out a window again. My skin prickled. Though he said little, Magnussen was bothering me.

"Lady Elizabeth Smallwood," he whispered. "I like her."

"Mr. Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?"

"She's English, with a spine." I kept my hands behind my back as Magnussen pushed the coffee table away from him with one foot.

As Magnussen stood up, one of the guards removed the fire guard away from the fireplace. I shifted closer to Dad, unsure of what was going on.

"Best thing about the English..." Magnussen strolled over to stare at us three. "...you're so domesticated." His gaze lingered on me, making me want to squirm where I stood. Does he know? No, he can't. He's only just met me. He can't know anything about me. "All standing around, apologizing..." He nudged his way between Sherlock and me. "...keeping your little heads down."