Mycroft opened the door for her. She smiled and walked inside the house. He entered after her and shut the wooden door behind him. She had always liked his flat. The wooden furniture, the lovely fireplace and the large television in front of the couch. She turned to him and kissed him lightly. They both smiled.
"You're not mad I'm your brother's intern, right?"
"You could just call him Sherlock, you know."
"I can't. He's my employer, and I should respect him by calling him by his last name."
"Respect him…" he mumbled and looked away.
"Yes, respect him. Because you got to admit – no matter how much you two hate each other, he is brilliant."
"I'm taking you there tomorrow."
"No, you are not." She laughed humourlessly and walked away from him, her back turned to him. He turned around to look at her, yet didn't ask her to turn around.
"Yes, I am. This wasn't a suggestion, it was a fact. If you want to work for him, my only condition it that I will take you over there and back here every day."
He waited for a few moments. Then she turned sharply to him.
"I think I know what all of this is about. You're mad because I didn't ask you to be my employer, aren't you?" she walked closer to him. He just looked at her, not answering. She didn't need an answer.
"Look, this isn't about you. If you would have done what Sherlock does, then of course I'd be your intern." He wasn't convinced. She now stood very close to him.
"Besides," she said quietly, "I couldn't possibly be your intern and your girlfriend. It would be… inappropriate." She kissed him, and he was now convinced. He kissed her hardly back, and she laughed. He was kissing her so hard she had to walk backwards so she wouldn't fall. They were kissing passionately, and when she reached the couch, they both fell on it, both laughing, still kissing.