Orphan on Baker Street

Nineteenth: Mycroft

The cab stops in front of a large brick building; it looks quite official. We get out, and I stand on the sidewalk just staring at the hugeness of the building while Sherlock pays the cabbie. He brushes past me quickly, and I fall in line behind him.

Two guards in front of the door nod to him and open the marble entrance for the two of us. He doesn't wait for it to open very far before darting in. I nod my thanks to the guards and rush quickly after him.

The hallways are tall and intimidating. Sherlock leads me to a dark wooden door at the end of the hallway, and I watch as he flings it open. When he does, a man behind his desk stands as if to protest.

"Moriarty," is all Sherlock says as he waltzes up to the desk. The two men stare at each other for a moment. However, the expression of the man behind the desk - whose nose is fairly pointed - is a confused and annoyed one.

"I thought we established he was bluffing," he says. His voice sounds firm and intelligent.

"Yes, but that was last week," Sherlock replies cheekily. I slowly walk up to stand beside him, pushing my eyebrows together.

"Then why wasn't I told about it?" I pipe up. Sherlock glances at me once, then twice, and he stares at me for a while. The man behind the desk does the same, as if just now noticing me and trying to figure out why I'm here. "And who even is he?" I ask, gesturing to the man whose stare suddenly makes me feel like he's judging me.

"Sherlock, I would prefer you keep me up to date with your girlfriends. Especially if they're teenagers," the man remarks, raising his eyebrows over at Sherlock.

"You spy enough on me as it is. And she is not my girlfriend," he says sternly, sending his gaze quickly over to the other man. "She is Mrs. Hudson's niece. She came from the orphanage - the one around the corner of Baker Street - and she's very clever." I send my gaze over to Sherlock. Clever, how flattering...

The man behind the desk smiles nostalgically. "Do you mean the Lighthouse Orphanage? I remember suing the owner of that place for spitting on my car."

I can't help but to smirk at him.

"Oh, this is Mycroft," Sherlock says. He looks at me while gesturing to the man. "Mickey," he says, looking at Mycroft this time and gesturing to me.

"Pleased to meet you," Mycroft says unsincerely as he returns to his seat. "So, why did you bring up Moriarty?"

"I just came from Scotland Yard. Lestrade got a case for serial suicides," Sherlock explains.

"I still don't get how you know they're suicides," I comment curiously. Sherlock glances over at me, looking confused.

"What's so hard to understand? One of Moriarty's henchmen lures victims to a building, makes them choose between two pills, and always wins. Were you even in England last year?" He continues to frown down at me.

"Sorry for being out of the loop," I say, crossing my arms. There's a bit of silence before he turns to look back at Mycroft.

"So?" Sherlock exclaims impatiently.

"I'll have it taken care of," he says quietly, glancing around his desk. "You're dismissed."

Sherlock gives him a slight bow and leaves. I roll my eyes, and we exchange a smile. Then the two of us exit the building and catch a cab back to Baker Street.

While we ride along down the street, Sherlock glances over at me.

"So, what have you decided to do about Gavin?" he inquires. His voice sounds different, as if... he were playing a different part. It clicks in my mind that he's talking about Greg.

I chuckle slightly. "I'm just going to reel him in and burn the string with a lighter." He chuckles as well. Then he just pats my knee and looks out the window. The rest of the ride home is filled with an excited silence.