Month 1As I stepped out of the private plane I had spent the better half of a day in, I was forced to pull my knee length navy blue coat tightly around me. The cold air was penetrating, awaiting a drop in temperature as the sun slowly rose to the east of me. I silently cursed myself for wearing a dress knowing fully well that the England weather was not forgiving. At least I had my brown knee-high boots to keep my legs somewhat warm. The strap from my carry on bag was beginning to dig into my shoulder from all of the useless things I had stuffed it full with. Band-aids, sewing needles and thread, a phone charger, a pair of short black socks, and for some reason a navy blue rounded top hat to match my coat, along with an assortment of other random items. Considering my former career as a criminal analyst for the CIA, I still had no idea who I was or why I felt the need to carry around trivial such things. I took my first steps in this new country carefully, scanning the small airport for any signs of hostility knowing well that there was nothing to worry about. Unfortunately that was the curse of the job. It kept you alert and ready at all times, a habit I was trying to break now that I was no longer in eminent danger at all hours of the day.
While taking in every detail of the dimly lit buildings surrounding me I noted a man dressed in a suit and drivers hat waiting a few yards to the right of me. He was positioned next to a sleek all black BMW, which he then proceeded to open the passenger door of and motioned for me to get in. I made my way to him, relieved as he pulled my bag from my shoulder. My hand instantly reached up to massage my muscles as he spoke to me. "Miss McKinley?" He questioned, earning a nod from me. His monotone accent took me by surprise for a moment before I remembered where I was. The jet lag was taking it's toll. I looked him over, taking in as much as I could about him. He was darker skinned, a slouching posture, neatly trimmed hair, well kept nails, and a bulb like nose. He looked disinterested in being here and slightly tired considering the time. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mason. I'll be your escort for the day." His last sentence caused me to chuckle. "I really hope escort doesn't mean the same thing in London as it does in America." I joked, earning a half smile from him. My eyes rolled in remote annoyance as I patted him on the back, sliding in to the back seat soon after.
He closed the door behind me and quickly got in to the drivers seat, setting my bag in the passengers seat and starting the car up. I felt a pang of alert as I remembered all of my luggage. "What about all of my things?" I questioned. "Don't worry, Miss McKinley. Mr. Holmes has instructed his men to take your things to your new flat." I stared at him in the rear view mirror for a second before sinking back into the comfortable beige leather seat. The interior of the car was basically like new. The seats looked as if nobody had ever sat in them before, the wooden dashboard looked untouched and shiny. It even had the new car smell lingering in the air. As we begun our journey to, well, wherever it was he was taking me, I couldn't help but think about why I was here. My long and arduous career with the military and CIA led me to this point. I was one of the longest standing in my field of work after the army and I was reaching a point where mistakes were being made on my behalf. I voluntarily left the agency, deciding to take the less emotional and destructive route by becoming a small time detective. It put my skills to good use and never hurt anybody. It did get me alot of attention from national agencies, however. Something I planned on keeping away from until I got a call from a rather desperate Mr. Holmes. He had told me that he had reviewed my file many times in my career with the CIA. He also said that if anybody could help him with his problem, I was the person. I had never been much for money and intended on turning his offer down but when he kept going up in his price I really couldn't refuse. The things people will pay for and above average intelligence and a keen attention to microexpressions that people give off. I chuckled quietly to myself, receiving a strange look from Mason.
The car ride began to feel as if it would never end. Silence filled the space between Mason and I. He looked just about as bored as I was. When we reached the inner city he let me know that we would arrive at our destination soon. "Do you know much about your employer, Mason?" I asked him as he glanced at me in the rear view mirror. His head shook a little before he answered. "I'm just a driver, ma'am." I nodded, my olive green eyes scanning the scenery around us. Tall business buildings surrounded the car, intimidating me with their height. I'd always been afraid of heights. "We're here, ma'am." He informed me as we pulled up to a neatly paved stone driveway. I sat up straight and composed myself, pulling my slim phone out of my pocket to check the time. 6:12 a.m. The sun was fully visible as we pulled up to a large grey stone mansion, the spaces between the stone pavement causing the car to slightly bounce. The mansion towered over us, presenting a very majestic yet grim appearance.
There were vines climbing up the walls, wrapping around drain pipes and sneaking up on the countless windows around the mansion. The only inviting aspect was the flowerbeds lining the stairway to the front door. There was a prismatic assortment of roses, orchids, hydrangeas, and tulips, circling up towards dark wooden double doors, making me feel a little less threatened by the somber impression this place gave me. Mason parked us near the staircase, exiting the vehicle quickly to open my door for me. He held out a helping hand, quickly retracting it when I ignored him and climbed out of the backseat. He closed the door behind me and motioned for me to follow him. I did so after taking a moment to stretch, enjoying the fresh air and sunlight warming my lightly tanned skin. I quickly caught up to Mason as he ascended the short staircase, all the while I grabbing a hair tie from my wrist and pulling my chestnut brown hair into a messy bun, my bangs falling gently into my face.
As we reached the door it opened to reveal a well-groomed man sparsely taller than me, dressed in a tidy grey suit with a black silk tie. His hairline was barely thinning, the rest of his head covered with light brown hair that was smoothed back properly. His lips were pursed tightly as he looked down his nose at me, examining me the same as I was with him. After a moment he put on an artificial smile, finally acknowledging that I was the person he was expecting. "Miss McKinley! It's so nice to meet you." His British accent was polite and professional but had a touch of power behind it. He reached out to shake my hand. "Please call me Parker, Mr. Holmes." I requested, stretching my hand out to grip his tightly, shaking it with a small amount of force before letting go. He smiled and nodded, moving back to let me in to the house. I complied, stepping in and glancing all around at the dark ambiance. The floor was a darker wood just like the door, the furniture was faded and Victorian looking, and the collections of art that he had were difficult to understand at first glance. "Thank you, Mason. Please await further instructions." Mr. Holmes' voice was faint in the background as I heard the door shut behind me.
I made my way further into the foyer, scanning every inch of the house for exits, weapons, or possible signs of conflict. The one thing that caught my eye was a silhouette at the top of a large staircase in foyer. It looked as if someone were hiding right around the corner of the staircase. "May I take your coat?" I hesitated before turning to see Mr. Holmes with his arm held out to take my coat. I glanced back up at the stairs, soon pulling my coat off of my hourglass frame to reveal my black floral print dress, a small black belt wrapped around my waist for accessory. He took my coat and quickly ushered me in to a nearby room filled with wooden furniture and Victorian art. A long table sat before a bay window on the far side of the room, out-looking what I assumed to be the backyard. Two off white chairs sat closer to us, a fireplace in front of them and a dark wooden table sitting between them with a silver tray set on top containing a tea kettle, two tea cups, a cup full of milk, and a plate holding a few biscuits. "Please take a seat." He said while hanging my coat on a coat rack placed near the door.
I sat in the chair closest to me, folding my hands neatly in my lap. He took at seat in the opposite chair and began pouring tea into the tea cups. After adding some milk he handed me a cup which I graciously accepted. I sipped it quietly, waiting to hear anything he needed to tell me. He sat in silence, holding his cup at chest height as he stared at me, his lips slightly pursed like when I first saw him. I tried to read his face but, to be honest, he was a hard man to read. He either looked angry or like he was trying to keep up a professional appearance. It made me uncomfortable. After a moment he finally spoke. "I take you know few details about why you are here." It sounded like a question but it was more so him insuring that I didn't know more than they wanted me to. I nodded in reply, taking another sip of my tea. "Good. As a former soldier I expect you not to ask questions, however, as a highly regarded criminal analyst I expect you to have many." He paused for a second, testing my obedience. I gave him a reassuring smile and kept my mouth shut. While I was very curious about being shoved on a plane with all of my personal belongings, I first and foremost had the intelligence to figure it out myself and not ask questions.
He set his cup down on the tray and stood up, pulling a medium sized dark brown envelope from his suit jacket pocket. "Everything you need is in there." He said while handing me the envelope. I clasped it in my hand and set my cup down before opening it. Inside contained a set of apartment keys, a car key, a black iPhone, and a debit card. I glanced up at him, dumping the contents in to my lap to get a closer look at them. The car keys had a BMW logo on it as well as a miniature British flag hanging from the key chain. The only way I knew the other set of keys were apartment keys is because of the apartment number printed on them, just as the debit card had my name printed on it. There wasn't much to the phone aside from the case that had been chosen for it. It was bright yellow, on the back only, with a smiley face carved in to the top right-hand corner. Not printed on to it, or even just a simple sticker. It had been carved in to it. It wasn't noticeable unless you looked at it closely. My fingers grazed over it, feeling the ridges and imperfections in the design.
I took a mental note of it before turning my attention to the closed door. A small creak had caught my attention. "The vehicle you arrived in is now yours to do what you see fit as well as the debit card. Your payment will be put in to your account every two weeks, the payment for today has already been transferred, and the other set of keys are for a flat that I've already set you up in." Mr. Holmes explained as he strode over to the door, blocking my sight of it while retrieving my coat. "The phone is for instructions. An associate of mine will be keeping in touch with you. Mason will take you to your flat and help you get situated. All of your belongings should be there by the time you are." He made his way back to me and held my coat up, motioning for me to stand. I got up and turned around, sliding my arms in to my coat, buttoning it up when I was comfortable. I faced him, wanting very much so to ask him what I was even doing here. All I knew was that I had a large amount of money to spend, a new car, and a new apartment. I kept my mouth closed, however. I would find my answers soon enough. He held his hand out, motioning for me to leave the room. He followed close behind, ushering me to the door. Before opening it I turned heel and stared at him. "I know I'm not suppose to ask questions, sir, but I do need to have an idea as to what I'm here to do. A hint? A clue?" I made sure to assert my concern in my tone, slinking back slightly when he looked me up and down with a hard expression. "Very well, Miss McKinley." I let him continue without correcting him on my name again. "A dear friend of mine will be going through some hardship in the next few months. I need you to help adjust him to it so as to not cause too much stress on him and any other parties involved. I would appreciate, however, if you would not inform him of our dealings together." His was as cryptic as ever but it gave me enough to go off of. I just had one last question. He could tell by my uneasiness, causing him to sigh loudly and stare at me in a displeased manner. "Is there anything else, Mrs. McKinley?" He was impatient, like he was in a hurry for me to leave. "Your friends name, sir?"
"John Hamish Watson."