"Bus Stop, wet day, she's there, I say/Please share my umbrella"
Mycroft Holmes had little idea what he was doing on the dingy tube platform, surrounded by dirty commuters.
It's all so bloody common, he thought, as he brushed imaginary lint off his shoulder. Why do I let him goad me into these things?
He had summoned his erratic sibling earlier that day and what began as their usual repartee turned into a verbal sparring match. Now here he stood amongst the masses, and for what reason but to prove his annoying little brother wrong?
Mycroft huffed. Needs must, he supposed, and now Sherlock owes me a favour.
There was a haughty, scoffing sound to his right, compelling him to slightly alter the position of his head to observe the situation in his peripheral.
"Sir, you find yourself mistaken," the clipped tones came from the pursed lips of a stylish brunette. Mycroft couldn't see her face, as she was gazing intently down at her mobile, but from her assured stance in her chic high heel shoes and the confidence in her fingers flying over the keys of the phone, he could deduce she was in her mid to late twenties.
"I am not interested in anything you have to say. I advised you before, the next time you touched my arse it would be the last. Sir." Never having looked up from her phone, she turned away from the portly, red-faced man in obvious dismissal.
"You were always too high in the instep for your own good. Just you wait, the agency will hear about this," the man roared.
The woman simply looked over her shoulder with a casual "Bye," and resumed typing while the apoplectic man stormed off toward the lifts.
As soon as the doors closed on the man's swollen face, the woman heaved a great sigh, finally abandoning her furious typing. Looking around to see if there were any witnesses, she locked stunning blue eyes with Mycroft before he could swiftly hide his gaze. Fortunately, the train was pulling in to the station.
Fascinated, Mycroft followed her onto the train, posing as a regular passenger. She phoned her mother ("Yes, again.") and spoke with a friend ("No, not tonight.") before finally standing when the train approached her station. She eyed him suspiciously when he stood as well, but he just waved it off, "Oh, this is my stop as well. After you."
Silence followed the pair all the way to the surface, but when they emerged to a downpour, "Bugger."
"Beg pardon, but my umbrella is big enough to cover us both. Allow me the privilege -"
She cut him off, "No, no I do not need another entitled hand on my person, thank you."
"I promise to be the very definition of propriety," Mycroft said as he simultaneously opened the umbrella and offered her his elbow, "Mycroft Holmes, pleased to meet you - "
She hesitated, and he could see the struggle in her expressive eyes. Ultimately, she decided to trust him. "Anthea," she said, as she crooked her arm through his, "pleasure, I'm sure."
"That umbrella, we employed it/By August she was mine."