Every weekday, at 12:15, Mycroft Holmes left the office. He walked five blocks to a very well-known diner. He walked in, sat at his usual table, and ordered a coffee and a plate of fish and chips. To be perfectly honest, he had no idea why he still came here. While it was truly well-known, and visited by many, it wasn't the high class place most thought he would spend his time at. It was a slightly run down place, but it had been around for the better part of fifty years, so it was something like a family restaurant.
Mycroft had found the food wasn't terrible, but it was always crowded. People chattered loudly with friends, while he sat alone in the back of the diner at a small booth. He read while waiting for his food to arrive, and then he ate in silence. Once finished, he would pay for his meal, and go back to work.
He had had this routine for about a year. It wasn't particularly enjoyable, but it was his routine, and he stuck with it. He declined offers from his colleagues to go out to lunch with them. He refused to stay at work through lunch. He did not deviate from his solitary lunch routine. It was lonely, but he didn't mind. Or at the very least he had convinced himself he didn't mind. He didn't mind walking to the diner alone, sitting alone, eating alone, and going back to his office alone. While people around him were socializing, bonding with others, Mycroft was alone.
That is, until someone changed the routine.
It was a Monday, early September, and relatively chilly out. Mycroft, as usual, was walked into the Diner. He sat as his usual seat, and ordered his usual meal. And while he read, and waited for his food, something unusual happened.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, hesitantly. Mycroft looked up from his book.
A girl, rather short in height with long black hair, obviously a university student, carrying a heavy looking bag on her shoulder, gave him a nervous smile.
"What can I do for you?" Mycroft asked politely.
"It's just," she paused a bit, as if not wanting to speak but finally gave in, "this diner is more crowded than I expected it would be and there are no seats available and I was wondering, if you aren't waiting for someone, and if it wouldn't be too much of a bother, if I could perhaps sit here."
There was a bit of stuttering on her part, and Mycroft was a bit conflicted. Surely it would be easy to tell her that he was meeting someone. It would also be rather easy to tell her to bugger off, but that wasn't polite, and she was a young lady. If Mycroft's mother had taught him anything at all, it was to be polite to women. Mycroft quickly weighed his options before deciding, if a bit reluctantly, to allow her to sit with him.
He nodded at her and gave a polite smile. She seemed grateful and quickly sat down, setting her bag beside her. The waitress came by with Mycroft's food and asked the girl if she would like to order anything.
The girl requested, on a separate check, a plate of fish and chips, and a glass of water. The waitress nodded and left to fetch her order.
The girl opened her bag and pulled out a laptop, starting it up. She did not speak, much to Mycroft's enjoyment. She simply started typing away at her laptop. Mycroft ate, shooting her glances for the first few minutes before eventually going back to his book.
The girl's typing fell into the background, and he almost forgot she was even there. Not quite though, because something felt a bit different with her there He couldn't pinpoint what that change was though, so he dismissed it. Soon he finished eating, gathered his belongs, paid his check, and left. He left, and as he did whatever had changed shifted back so that he felt no different than any other day of his life. He barely thought of that girl again for the rest of his day, except, if he were honest with himself, once as he was preparing for bed. As he lay down, he wondered if he would see her again the next day.
She did, in fact, come by the diner the next day. Again, she nervously asked to join him. He, again, though with less thought and reluctance this time, agreed. They didn't speak anymore past that. They ate, he read, and she typed on her laptop. The change inside him returned.
She, somehow, very quickly became part of his routine, and by that Friday, there was no thought or reluctance in allowing her to sit with him. By the next Monday, she didn't even ask, and he didn't notice.
Well, he did notice, but not until later as he returned to work. He wasn't upset by the realization, it had only even occurred to him as an afterthought, which had followed the realization that he hadn't heard her speak that day. For some reason, that caused change inside him, one that lasted throughout the day. He ignored it for the most part, but it was there.
The next day, as she came in and sat across from him, as usual, he greeted her with a polite, "Good afternoon." She responded in kind. They spoke no more that day. The greeting to her became a part of his routine as well. It never went further than a simply, "Good afternoon," on either side of the conversation. This routine lasted nearly two weeks.
Then, as suddenly as all the other changes, something new happened.
She had gotten her food a few minutes before, and they were silently eating when she looked over at him.
"What's your name?" She asked out of the blue. He looked up, a bit surprised by the suddenness of the question. She quickly became nervous, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just we've been eating together for nearly a month and it's just occurred to me that I don't know your name."
Mycroft smiled reassuringly, "Its fine, my name's Mycroft." He responded. "And yours?"
"Amanda," She replied.
Their conversation went no further, but the change in Mycroft that he had become accustomed to seemed to strengthen. It strengthened to the point where, though he couldn't tell exactly what it was, he could tell it had something to do with his emotions. Though, like every other day, the feeling went away as he left the diner.
The next Monday there was a slight deviation in the routine, once again. Instead of simply saying, "Good afternoon," as Amanda joined him, he greeted her with, "Good afternoon, Amanda." It wasn't a large deviation, but it was a deviation none the less.
The next day brought with it a deviation to routine that was bigger than any deviation thus far. Amanda seemed relatively cheery as she sat down and greeted Mycroft. Mycroft, instead of falling back into silence, decided to make a bit of small talk.
"How are you fairing today?" He asked. She seemed a bit startled by his question but smiled.
"Fine, thanks, and yourself?" She asked.
"About the same," he responded. That was all that was said until he departed, though this time he departed by saying, "Goodbye, and have a nice day."
The next day followed in much the same manner. It wasn't until Friday when another deviation from the routine occurred. It start with the usual greetings, nothing said past the inquiries about the other's day until after her food came, at which point, Mycroft decided that starting a conversation would not be too much of a bad idea.
"May I ask you something?" He inquired after taking her first few bites. She looked up curiously and nodded. "What, if it's not too personal, have you been working on, on your laptop?"
"Oh, just my thesis paper," she responded cheerfully. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.
"You seem rather cheery to be working on a thesis paper." He stated. She chuckled.
"I can't help being cheery about something I love," she explained. He smiled.
"So are you studying to obtain a Master Degree?" He asked. She nodded. "In what area?"
"Forensic science," she informed. He smiled a bit. Sherlock's face flashed in his mind, though he quickly shook off the thought.
They talked a bit more about it, discussing what she planned to do with the degree and what her paper was about. They seemed almost lost in the conversation when Mycroft suddenly realized he'd finished his food, and should probably be heading back to the office.
He bid her good day and she smiled at him as he left.
For the rest of the day, while doing tedious paperwork, Mycroft found that his mind often drifted to the mental image of her smile as she waved goodbye.
That Friday, after she sat down and they greeted each other, instead of starting her laptop, she asked him a question.
"What do you do for a living," she asked, her eyes looking at her hands as she twiddled her thumbs.
"I work for the government," he responded nonchalantly.
"Doing what?" She pressed a bit. He found himself a bit surprised at her question, since he'd come to the conclusion that she didn't like asking questions much.
He gave, as he usually did to those who asked, his usual mostly-true-but- somewhat-misleading response, "law enforcement."
"Ah," was the only response she gave. He was a bit disappointed, having somewhat hoped she'd continue talking but shrugged off the feeling. His food came and as usual she ordered. An idea sprang into Mycroft's mind.
"Do you plan to order fish and chips every day?" He asked after the waitress left.
She shrugged. "Probably, I'm not one for changing routines."
He wanted to laugh at that, wondering if she had realized how much she changed his.
"Well, if that's the case, then I could very easily order for you after I give my order, so that it would likely be nearly done by the time you arrive." He hadn't been sure if he truly wanted to suggest it, but he felt somewhat compelled to at least ask.
She seemed surprised by his offer, "I…suppose that would be nice, if it wasn't too much of a bother for you that is." He smiled.
"Not at all."
She then pulled out her laptop, which had been previously ignored, and booted it up. She began to type and Mycroft decided to consider his feelings from the past month or so.
It had started with the odd change, a change that only existed when with her, according to the best of his memory. It wasn't a very big change, it wasn't a feeling of love or affection…it was something else. He thought about what could have changed as a result of her presence, and it took him the better part of ten minutes to realize he had been thinking along the wrong tracks. He hadn't started feeling anything. The change was something he had stopped feeling, something he didn't often notice he was there. When he was around her, he stopped feeling so lonely.
Not completely, mind you. A strange girl in a diner could only affect Mycroft's emotions so much. But that change had been getting bigger as time went on. The more he sat with her, spoke with her; he felt it more and more. Mycroft was, sadly, often rather lonely. He had acquaintances, of course, and colleagues; he also had Sherlock, who, though he loathed admitting it, he cared about. He didn't often feel lonely at all when with Sherlock, or his mum, but he hadn't seen either of them for at least four months, not that he didn't have eyes on both.
He supposed the lack of loneliness was simply harder to pinpoint with Amanda though, because it was not a total lack. It was subtle, growing less so by the day. There were other emotions at play as well. He had come to enjoy his lunches with her, and when he left he felt a bit anxious for the next day. He found himself wishing to spend more time with her.
Mycroft prided himself in not being a complete idiot. He could tell when he was attracted to someone. Though he hadn't yet decided on whether he wanted to act on self-awareness. He couldn't tell if she returned the feelings, at least not yet, and even if she did, the age difference worried Mycroft a bit. Even if she was attracted to him a bit at some point, she could lose interest, or want someone younger.
Mycroft didn't often form romantic relationships because it often involved being close and trusting people, which was rather difficult for him. That mixed with the amount of information he had access to could let him easily invade the privacy of his love interest, and when said interest found out about his access to such information, they weren't pleased. Not that he'd ever done such a thing, but past girlfriends tended to think the worst of him.
"You seem rather lost in thought," Amanda said suddenly, looking at him curiously. He suddenly realized that he had been thinking about his feelings and how Amanda affected them for quite a bit of time.
"My apologies, was I ignoring you?" He asked, concerned she had been trying to say something.
"Only for a few seconds," she responded, "I was asking if you mostly just did desk work or if you were a DI or something of the like."
Mycroft considered the question for a bit, "I suppose I'm somewhere between the two."
She seemed confused by his answer but shrugged. She had gotten her food while Mycroft had been lost in thought, and he was just about done with his food.
"So what were you thinking about?" She asked rather casually. He considered lying to her, but thought better of it.
"Would you like to go out with me?" He asked in lieu of an answer.
Her eyes went wide. "On a date?" She asked disbelief evident in her voice. Mycroft, not wanting to let her surprise discourage him, nodded.
She seemed to consider his request for a moment before smiling. "Alright," she replied.
They exchanged cell phone numbers before he announced that he regretfully had to leave.
He ran over the conversation in his mind after he arrived home from work, before deciding to send her a text, it was short and to the point.
How about dinner Saturday? – MH
He didn't get a response until just before he went to bed. If he was being honest, he would admit that the length of time it took her to respond worried him a bit. When she did respond, though, it was nearly as short as his. Consisting only of her address followed by 'pick me up at 8 – AG'.
It struck him, after a moment's contemplation, that neither of them knew each other's last name. He shrugged it off, deciding he could enquire about it on their date.