Overqualified [Mystrade]

One: Shown The Ropes

Greg was sure to be stood outside Mycroft's office five minutes before he was required to be there. In a flash, he was escorted inside the building and sat in a warm homey room to wait for Mycroft.

The door opened and much to Greg's surprise, Mycroft's PA strolled in. She went by Anthea, as far as Greg knew. Although John had mentioned something about that not really being her name. She gives him a small smile and sits down in the chair beside him, her movements slow as if in pain.

The wince she gave as she sat down was full of pain. She hissed through her teeth, clearly trying to not show how much it hurt her just to sit in a chair.

"You alright?" Greg asks, holding a hand out to show he'd help if he could.

She gives a laugh and nods. "I will be. Six months rest should do it."

Despite trying to keep his mouth shut, Greg's curiosity got the better of him. "What exactly happened--"

The Detective Inspector was cut off by the door opening and Mycroft Holmes strolling in, appearance immaculate as always. He looked as though he should be sat on a throne, Greg muses.

Anthea, Greg noticed, sat a little straighter as her employer walked in.

No one spoke a word until Mycroft sat in his chair, smiling at Greg as he does. Anthea had sent him a right odd look when that happened.

"Right" Mycroft smirks, dropping a large folder in front of Greg. "Today, Anthea will be showing you around and explaining a few things to you before she takes her leave. There's not a lot to it, but as I've already said the trust level required is extremely high"

Greg didn't get to say a word about anything before the two to them are shooed out of the room by the man sat before them. Greg almost rolled his eyes. That was the Holmes brothers alright. Impatient and quick to move on to the next task, not caring for other's opinions or feelings.

Don't even get him started on the Holmes' opinion on feelings. God.

Six months of being that near insufferable man's replacement personal assistant. Greg wasn't sure how he was going to cope.

*

"Oh! This is my favourite part of the job" Anthea chuckles, sliding into her desk chair (soon to be Greg's desk chair).

Mycroft had been right, unsurprisingly, there wasn't much to the whole thing. More often than not it was simply fetching things Mycroft needs at the time, such as files and things like that. 

Greg had asked questions but Anthea didn't seem to want to talk about why she was going to be off for six months. Over than a few stiff movements, Greg didn't see anything wrong with the women but he'd long ago learnt not to judge people based on appearances.

The man stands behind her, watching the screens. He was curious as to what had her chuckling and smiling. Over the course of the day, it had become clear that the two were alike in many ways. It was odd, rarely had Greg bonded with someone so quickly. He, however, was sure he had a friend in Anthea.

In a matter of moments, it becomes very clear what was she was going on about.

Cameras. Lots of them.

Anthea clicks on a few things and the small squares widen, condensing down to just two. One half of the screen was covered by a piece of paper with a winky face on, put their by whoever's house was being filmed, Greg assumes.

The other screen showed two people standing by a door.

"Oh my God... No..."

"Oh, yes!" Anthea giggles.

"Is that..."

"Yes!"

"Oh, no.."

There, on the screen, stood Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, two of Greg's closest friends. Greg had heard Ms Hudson joke about how the pair always argued like a married couple. Right now, it was clear that Ms Hudson wasn't as much of a comedian as Greg had thought.

Sherlock was stood in front of his bedroom door, wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts, seeming as if he were blocking John from the room. His face was red, from anger and, unless Greg was very much mistaken, embarrassment.

John was red faced too, although only anger showed on his face. Hurt too, maybe. Greg couldn't see that much of John's face, the camera only showed his back. It was clear from his shoulders that the doctor was tense. No wonder. His wife was heavily pregnant and now Sherlock was clearly up to something.

"What. Are. You. Hiding?" John says each word deliberately slow, as if talking to a mentally slow child.

Sherlock's jaw clenches. "Nothing"

"Is someone in there?" John asks, nodding to the door behind Sherlock.

"No" Sherlock shakes his head but even Greg can see it's a lie.

A few heated comments are exchanged about trust and friendship before John storms out of view, his angry face being momentarily revealed to Greg. Mentally, he made a note to ask John out for a pint. The man needed to relax.

Sherlock sighs before disappearing into his room.

Anthea let's out a giggle.

Greg looks at her, shock clearly showing on his face. "How can you laugh?" He asks, unable to believe it. "John looked absolutely shattered that Sherlock wasn't trusting him with... with.." Greg looks back to the screen. "What's behind that door?"

Anthea chuckles again, turning in her chair to look at Greg. "People"

People. Plural. More than one. Greg's eyebrows raise, remembering Sherlock's clothing, or rather lack of them.

"People?.. Sherlock's in there with... someone?" Greg frowns, looking at the closed door on the screen for a moment before looking back to Anthea. "Who?"

A smirk stretches over the woman's lips. "I'm sure you'll see soon enough." Anthea claps then, changing subject like a frog leaps from lily-pad to lily-pad. "Come on, now, time for me to show you how to file properly. Mr. Holmes is very particular about the filing" She then stands, wincing a little.

Always one to help the damsel in distress, Greg offers his arm. Anthea smiles at the gesture and links her arm with Greg's. They walk down the corridor in silence, Anthea using the Detective Inspector for the support she needed.

Going by how much weight she was putting onto him, Greg had a feeling she needed the support more than she let show.

After Anthea showed him how to do all the files work, they were let off for the rest of the day. Anthea had been right, they get lots of time off.

Greg hoped he didn't get too used to sitting around and having the day to himself. Maybe he should join the gym again, just while he was playing PA for Mycroft. No way did he want to get lazy. He had to be fit for when he went back to the Yard. Beside, never know when he may met the second Mrs Lestrade.

As they exit the building, arms still linked, Anthea tensed up, eyes darting towards her car. Greg knew that look. The look of someone who lived alone and didn't want to go back just yet.

Glancing at his watch, Greg opens his mouth to ask a question. "Late lunch?"

Anthea watches his face for a few long moments, shocking covering her sweet features before she smiles and nods.

"Sure. You're paying" She chuckles and nudges him.

Greg laughs too. "Why of course, ma'am. What sort of gentleman would make a lady pay while in one's company?"

Anthea pretends to think. "No true gentleman"

Laughing, the pair make their way towards a café for a late lunch, unaware of the man watching them as he stood as still as an ice sculpture at the window above the entrance.