They took a private jet back to England. Sherlock Holmes lay back in his seat with his scarf over his face to block out the light while he slept. Mycroft Holmes stared at his brother. "He's sleeping," he said. "Sherlock doesn't like people to watch him sleeping. I haven't seen him asleep in years. The last time, he was in the hospital after...after the overdose."

His face was full of compassion. The mask of pleasant indifference that he wore most of the time had dropped. It was only his brother that caused him to let his let his guard down. Otherwise his was the same in crisis or calm, always prepared, always able to offer a new solution. Anthea admired that ability in him. Even so, she was honored that he let her see him at times like this when he wasn't being the British Government, he was only being a man. She wanted to help him somehow.

"Sir? Would you like some water?" she asked offering him a bottle.

He tore his eyes away from his brother and turned to her. "Yes, thank you," he said taking it.

Anthea climbed into the seat next to him and pulled out her phone. She stared at the display. When she looked up again, Mycroft Holmes' gaze was focused upon her. He was lying back in his chair attempting to rest, but those frighteningly intelligent blue eyes bored into her, searching.

"All is well with the commonwealth," she said reassuringly, and he smiled before closing his eyes to get some sleep. She stared down at him for a moment, and then pulled out a novel to read. It was a sordid little novel about a Roman general and his female captive. She had long since got over trying to hide her love of historical romances from Mycroft Holmes. He had a way of knowing a person's secrets with a glance. Sherlock Holmes could read a person's past from stains on their cuffs and wrinkles in their skin, but Mycroft Holmes could read a person's very soul. As he had that first evening.

After leaving the party, they dined at one of the best and most exclusive restaurants in London. The waiter had removed her serving of grouse, and had set out a plate of cheeses. Then he served a light red wine in a crystal goblet.

She took a sip, and the clean, sweet, fragrant wine caused her eyelids to flutter closed in pleasure. She opened her eyes to find him staring. "Now that we have concluded our meal, with your permission, I would like to talk business."

"This is a dessert wine," she said. "Aren't we going to have dessert first?"

"But you don't like dessert, Miss Sutton. You rarely eat sweets at all."

"You presume to know a great deal about me, Mr Holmes. Why do I rate such scrutiny?"

"Because it is rare that I find someone so well suited to my needs."

"Your needs? Who exactly are you, and what needs are you hoping that I will fulfill?"

"I run a small, but essential, department in the British government. You won't find it on the organizational charts. In fact, the department is mostly composed of myself alone. I have a secretary for appointments, and a driver, but what I really need is an assistant."

"Are you asking me to become your PA? That's hardly what I went to Oxford for."

"Yes, but one can't fault your typing speed."

She put on a face of quiet disdain. "I'm sorry Mr. Holmes, but I think that you are mistaken about me. I am not interested in becoming a personal assistant."

"Personal assistant will be your official title, but that is only for appearances. I have other work that I will expect from you, and you will be generously paid."

She frowned as she guessed what "other work" he was likely to be expecting. She rose to her feet. "Mr Holmes, If you think that I am the kind of woman that can be bought, then you don't know me at all. Good night."

Mycroft touched her shoulder gently with one hand, "It is you who are mistaken now, Miss Sutton. And not just about my offer. Please, hear me out. If I'm wrong about you, then I will have you driven back to the college and no harm done."

She turned back to face him, and something in the lilt of his eyes made her resume her seat. He sat down as well.

"Tell me then what you think you understand about me."

Mycroft Holmes leaned back in his chair, and his lips pursed slightly as if he were attempting to avoid a smile. "The party that you planned. It was the first one that you have planned in over five years. You used to get great enjoyment out of knowing what people would do and influencing how they would act. It was satisfying, wasn't it? To anticipate all of the possibilities and then to watch as all of your plans worked perfectly. And yet, somewhere along the way, you became disheartened with it all. What does it matter if you were the best hostess in the world? What good would that do the world as a whole? You found it to be pointless. You wanted to do something different with your life, so when you applied to University, you chose computer science instead of the classical literature that you loved. You chose that major in part because you have always been fascinated by technology, but mostly you did it to upset the expectations that everyone placed upon you. Computers were a place where no one that you had met before would follow you. A place where you weren't judged by your looks, but by your accomplishments.

"You succeeded because of your exquisite attention to detail, and you became well known within your sphere. You still enjoyed planning, people, and politics enough to research vulnerabilities in Government servers, and you found them. All over the place you found them. Your paper made quite a stir when it came out, I hope you know. It was very enlightening. As soon as I read it, I knew that I had to meet you."

"So you want me to fix the holes that I discovered in the government servers."

"No. There are others working on that now that we know of them. I want you for your other skill. Your instructors say that your knowledge of Artificial intelligence in nuanced and far reaching."

She smiled, "You've talked to Dr Bush have you?"

"Not only him. You are the darling of all of your instructors."

"So what kind of AI do you want me to write?"

"I want a model of the commonwealth."

"What part of it?"

"All of it. I want a measure of its health, its wealth, its safety, a monitoring program that will help me predict threats to the nation."

"That's a very big program, I don't know if it can be done."

"It's already been done, in a very basic form. There are a number of indexes that I monitor. They were written by Dr Scott Andrews."

"Dr. Andrews! He was the foremost authority on large scale computer modeling before his death two years ago. You say that he made a model of the commonwealth?"

He attempted to, but he didn't finish. The great problem is finding a way to make sense of the data produced."

"That's why you need an AI. A program that can interpret complex data and come out with a simple prediction."

"You've grasped the problem very quickly. Most people can't even understand the premise. Once I have an idea of where to look, I can use my existing resources to stop problems before they happen."

"But the program that you want. It would be very difficult to make."

"That is why I need you."

"But there are better programmers than me."

"Not for my purposes. Many programmers can understand data, but how many of them understand people the way that you do? No, Miss Sutton, there is no one better than you, and if it can be done, then you are the one who can do it."

"It would take time and money to set up."

"You can have as much money as you need. Time, on the other hand..."

She reached out and took another sip of her wine.

"I know of very few government offices with unlimited budgets. What exactly do you do?"

"I advise, organize, and monitor."

"Monitor what?"

"Everything."

"I don't understand."

"Let us suppose that a minister has a question about the Navy, South Korea, North Africa and the trade in illegal plutonium, he could consult many advisors or he could consult me. I make it my job to stay on top of things, to monitor things, so that I might most accurately advise those in power as to what actions to take."

"And this program I am to write. It is to help you monitor things."

"Yes."

"Isn't this all a bit Orwellian?"

"Just because someone is monitoring everything, it does not follow that this is a negative thing."

"It doesn't?"

"When you monitor a party, are you a malevolent force, or are you trying your best to make sure that everything runs smoothly? People go to the buffet table not because you have forced them to do so, but because they want to. You provide direction by planning where to place the plates and the forks, thus making sure that everyone gets served. Is that not the way a civilization should be run? You and I are no different in this respect. We seek to eliminate chaos and create order. We watch what people do naturally and use our knowledge to channel them to do those things that are best for the society as a whole. You may appear to others to be simply the PA of a middling government official, but in reality you will be directly responsible for monitoring threats to us all. Your work will improve the quality of life of every man, woman, and child in the commonwealth. So, my dear Miss Sutton, what do you think? Do I understand you, or would you like my driver to return you to the party?"

Anthea yawned. Both of the Holmes men were asleep now. She pulled out her phone and took a photo before checking the monitors again. The line was rising, but it was well within normal range. All was well with the commonwealth. She put her phone away, and closed her eyes, hoping to get a few hours rest before they landed.