The Other Side - BBC Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter 17 - Risk

Angel
The next morning I wake up in my hospital bed to find that I have an unexpected visitor.
"Hello Mycroft." I say quietly, not wanting to provoke my thumping headache to worsen. Ever quick to worry I whisper shout "What if Jim arrives? You can't let him see you!" I hope for both of our sake that he has thought this through.

"He won't be let in. I paid off (and threatened with a life sentence) the receptionist and the nurses." Mycroft states, his voice emitting the usual air of superiority you would expect from him. Satisfied, I sit up slowly. I have to raise my hand to my head to stop it from spinning. " I assume that you've guessed - or rather deduced - why I am here? On the very slight off chance that you haven't, though, let me enlighten you. It is less than a week until Moriarty plans to assassinate the Prime Minister. You are due to be there, undercover, to protect and save Mr Cameron. Apparently, though, you are unable to remain in contact with me, and by default the rest of the British Government, because Moriarty is becoming suspicious. So, I ask you this: So we risk the Prime Minister, or do we risk the operation?" He explains the situation with the utmost sincerity which sends a chill down my spine despite the drugs in my system. Having thought long and hard all night about it I have an answer to hand. I can't say I like it but it is true.

"Neither." I say.
"What?" Mycroft exclaims, wide eyed.

"Neither," I repeat, "We don't risk the Prime Minister or the operation." I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "We risk me. Either everything goes as planned and we continue or Jim finds out that his closest ally works for the British Government. Imagine what that would to him. He wouldn't be able to trust anyone and eventually he would deconstruct his own network. James Moriarty would burn out until he was just a story." As I finish, realisation hits him.
"He'd kill you." Mycroft utters in disbelief. I muster a sad smile,
"Occupational hazard."

Mycroft
Although I know that Angel is right, I can't help but try to talk her out of it. She is one of my most valuable operatives.
"What if he doesn't stop, though?" I try. 
"Then you start over with another agent, you pretty much are the British government, you'll figure something out." She's right, again.
"We could put somebody else in charge of the Prime Minister?" I suggest, almost believing myself. 
"What's gotten into you Mycroft? That would be far too risky and how could they be prepared in a week? Forget it. Stop making excuses and accept the fact that it's happening - I'm guarding." She dictates. I sigh, defeated.
"Fine, you win." I mutter. "I need to get back to work, England won't run itself." I get up to leave.
"Wait, I'll walk you out of the ward, need to stretch my legs." says Angel. She, with a little more effort than usual, ,stands up from the bed, steadying herself on the chair I had been sitting on. 
"Maybe you should rest?" I wonder aloud. I'm met by a look that tells me it would probably be in my best interest to remain quiet.

We reach the door and I bid her farewell and instruct her to keep me up to date of the plans. Having noticed the staff that they can now let in other visitors without expecting a long prison sentence, I walk into an empty lift. As the doors close I see a man in a suit turn my way and look at me. 

Moriarty.

The doors close up and he is gone as quickly as he was there.

Jim
I hear the ping of a lift; instinctively I turn to look. There I see a man in a suit with an umbrella looking at me.

Mycroft.

The doors close up and he is gone as quickly as he was there.

Angel
Mycroft gone, I clamber back into my bed and prepare myself for a long day of waiting. Just as I find a comfortable position Jim meanders through the curtain, a troubled look on his face. Before I can ask why he answers my question.
"I just saw Mycroft, why would he be here?" Oh shit. I need an excuse.
"Um," I begin, "Maybe he was looking for Sherlock, isn't this the hospital where he works?" I play dumb; I know that he doesn't work here.
"No, that's St Bart's." He says.
"Oh, yeah."

We make small talk for a bit, Jim cautious of the other people in the ward. He leaves to get some lunch for himself, me stuck with hospital food. Once I've forced it down, I call a nurse to ask when I can leave. She tells me that they need to run some tests and they'll tell me after that.

After half an hour of being poked, prodded and questioned by an extremely Scottish doctor I'm told that I can leave as soon as i'm ready, provided I rest for the next few days - as if. Jim returns from his suspiciously long lunch break smelling of coffee and Irene Adler's perfume. I don't comment but make a mental note to tell Mycroft who, if I remember correctly, thinks that she is dead. Despite the fact that he has only just got here, I send him on an errand to find me some suitable clothes. I can't be seen in public in a hospital gown after all.