Disclaimer: don't own, characters belong to ACD and the BBC.
Written for the prompt "Unsolicited mail" from Sidney Sussex.
Unsolicited mail.
A warm huff of air drifted through the half-open window, carrying sounds of traffic, the distinctive smell of a cigar –some luxury brand – happy Czech chatter, a random bird singing and more of those hints that told of Spring in Prague.
The woman turned away from the window. Too distracting. Back to the task at hand.
She allowed herself a small smile before slipping the phone into the envelope. Hideous colour. Poor man, to carry it around… He probably wouldn't care.
She addressed the package and frowned, looking at her own handwriting. Would he know?
Of course he would.
He would probably deduce a whole string of snippets, pieces of the truth, ranging from the brand of her hand cream, to were she had bought the stationery, by just tilting the envelope, holding it in the light and glaring at the thing with those burning quicksilver eyes.
God, she had missed that.
She suppressed a grin and resisted the urge to spray the envelope with perfume. The whole wear-gloves-and-don't-lick-the-envelope thing would have been somewhat pointless then, wouldn't it? It would have been worth it, though, to see the look on his face.
The almost-smile faded and was replaced with an expression that could have been regret (of course it wasn't; she never regretted anything, did she?) as she shook her head to herself, red curls falling in her eyes again.
That was before. This was different.
New players, new game. Too late to regret now.
Thank you for reading!