How have you all not killed me yet? So, sorry for how long this took. I don't know what's wrong with me. I treat you all so harshly when all of you are so kind. I'm starting on the next chapter tonight! I swear. I hope this chapter isn't too disappointing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or the characters. They belong to Mr. Mark Gatiss and Mr. Steven Moffat.
"Bathroom essentials are done, now for entertainment." Anthea was performing a well known routine of packing for a trip out of the country. She had done it so many times, she considered trying to do it with her eyes closed. The many sharp edges around her flat argued against the idea and won.
It was in the same order every time because once she forgot the documents that she was supposed to take with her for Mycroft. One of her first mistakes that he had predicted and brought copies just in case. Now, each time she had to pack, she would stick to the routine and nearly triple check everything to make sure they were in the right place.
She and Mycroft were headed to Lebanon for four days and leaving that night. Not even half way around the world, but it was going to feel like it. There was no complaint on her end. In her personal opinion, she needed another trip out of the country; stay under a roof that did not remind her of how difficult her private life had become.
Midway into gathering potential reading material, there was a knock on the door. Everyone she knew that would fathom visiting would call first and her phone had not rang since she had returned home early in order to pack. This caused a cool sensation to run over her that stirred a gut feeling to not open the door.
It was simple to figure out who was on the other side of the door. Easy, but unsettling. If she did not open the door then it would open itself. That thought forced her mind to make itself up. Since there was going to be someone in her home, she was not going to let them let themselves in while she was there. Not again.
The lock turned between her fingers before she turned the door knob to open it to its full extent. Of course, her guess was correct. There he was dressed in full tailored armor to wreck havoc on her mental state. "This better not take long. I'm in the middle of something."
She watched Jim peer over her shoulder to investigate her statement. "Really? Anything I might benefit from?" He took a step forward as if to enter, but she placed her hand on the doorframe to block him.
"I don't remember inviting you in." Anthea replied determined to win against part of her head telling her to be quiet and let him do as he pleases.
Jim turned his head slightly to look at her for a moment and then down the hallway. "We could stand out here if you like." His voice was casual and unnervingly calm to her. It still had its flavor though; light with just enough Irish to stir it up.
The risk of him being outside her door for any length of time dawned on her. Neglecting her better judgment, she grabbed his arm and pulled him in before shutting the door. "Fine, you win. What do you want?" She made her way back to her task at hand not wanting to delay her routine any further, leaving him near the door to escort himself in. The books were laid in the suitcase then she started organizing the files that were on her dining room table. Not all of them concerned Lebanon.
"Are you going somewhere?" His voice nearly stung from its position across the room. The tone was blatant at letting her know he was being sarcastic, so she kept silent on the matter. "You're not trying to get away from me, are you?"
That was not expected, but at the same time, she was not all too surprised. Him being in the room while she was in the middle of packing was starting to annoy her. She took a deep breath to quiet her mind and turned to face him. "What do you want, Mr. Moriarty?" Her voice had slipped into its professional tone. It seemed like the only way to try and move things along.
He was standing over the closed suitcase that was resting on her couch. There was nothing in it yet. It was for clothes and those were packed last. "What do I want? Interesting question. Been asking myself that for awhile now." She watched him move around the room and stop near the other end of the dining table. "I think you have too."
Anthea fought the reaction to walk to the other side of the room. She had shown enough weakness around him and she refused to show anymore. "Shall we keep the subject of the conversation on you? You are the guest."
Jim smiled and shifted his weight slightly so that he could lean against the table. "Guests are superior, darling." He started to move a few files around making the alarm sound off in her head.
Everything was organized in some way and she did not want to start all over again. She walked over to him, pulled on the cuff of his suit jacket to move his hand, and made herself look at him. "Could you refrain from touching anything that looks vaguely important?"
"Don't I get a please?" There was a feigned innocent expression on his face. She only shook her head in response and moved around him to pick up a few of the files she would need.
The feeling of being watched crept up and down her spine, threatening to make her hands tremble. It was far worse than being out in public and thinking she was watched. This was where her private life thrived that was now harboring an invader willingly. An invader that was watching her from across the table causing a multitude of contradictory feelings to arise.
Another moment of silence passed before he decided to break it. "Where are you going? Somewhere exotic?"
"I can't disclose that kind of information, you know that." Anthea could finally breathe. Conversation, or what counted as conversation with him, was easier to deal with than silent tension that could knock and unsuspecting bystander off their feet.
He made a humming sound that she assumed meant he accepted the reply she gave him. Regrettably, but thankfully, he continued. "Alright, if you won't tell me where…" The pause gave her concern, so she looked up and was a little relieved to find him in the same spot instead of closer to her. He was still watching her, but the intensity seemed to falter. "When will you be returning?"
A regular person could ask her that and it would nothing, but the man standing in front of her was far from regular. It would be safe to say that he was nearly the opposite of it. Why would he concern himself with when she would be returning? A part of his last departing words rang in her head when she thought seriously about it. I wouldn't manipulate you. That, however, did not help her understand why. It only confused her more. She hated that some small part of her was flustered by his question. It liked that he wanted to know.
"Why do you want to know?" The files she had picked up were held close to her chest to give an illusion of comfort. She would have to put them down before she started fiddling with them. Gathering her mental self back together, she moved over to an accordion folder that would hold the files.
The folder had just closed when she saw him move over to her and take one of her hands gently. He lazily played with her fingers as she straightened herself. When did any contact from him start causing her heart beat to speed up and sparks to go off wherever he touched her? There was a suffocating lump of nerves that had made its home in the middle of her throat. She swallowed it the best she could and refocused her mind to a degree.
He seemed to time his reply perfectly with her mind returning to where it should be. "It would please me to know. Is that a crime for you?"
No use in trying to avoid answering the question. She knew that he was going to get it from her one way or another. The chink in her armor was starting to become larger with his visits. "Four days."
Jim looked down as he continued to play with her fingers. "Four days." He repeated, appearing to consider if her answer was honest. She was not sure why he would. Nothing she ever said to him was a lie, but the scene that she had created around her flat would cause anyone to wonder if she was only leaving for a few days.
A short moment passed before he looked at her again and smiled faintly. He leaned down to place a light kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you in four days." Her hand was let go of as he strolled out of her flat and closing the door with him.
She immediately sank into the nearest chair and took a deep breath that she had to force into her lungs. Things were moving forward in a very dangerous way for her. The only hope was that she could get through it alive.
The first day in Lebanon was relaxed, simple, and nothing was required of them until the next day. Anthea spent the majority of her day unpacking her things and placing them relatively to where they would be in her own home. It helped her sleep easier in hotels, especially in different countries. Even though every hotel she had stayed in since she started working for the British government, was nothing short of luxurious. Her ritual of placing her possessions where she wanted them brought the familiarity of the 'home sweet home' feeling into the room.
She was unsure of why she felt the need to do it this time around. Her home was not home in her mind anymore. A certain troublesome person could wander in whenever they pleased for whatever purpose, if there was one. Each morning she woke up with the anxiety of anticipating the same troublesome person to be lurking around a corner.
What troubled her more, was the fact that her anxiety was split down the middle. It was separated into uncomfortable excitement and deadly uneasiness. She could not relax after she had checked every room in her flat after waking and after returning home.
Comfort could be taken in Beirut, Lebanon. There were several thousand miles between her flat and the hotel room she was standing in. She had to stop and take a breath several times throughout the day to remind herself of that. The more she did it, the more she became dependant on it and that was damaging for her future self. Once their business in Lebanon had concluded in, now, three and half days, she would be returning home to the flat that she was trying to forget.
She decided that work would keep her busy enough to occupy her mind from becoming leached onto the foreign comfort. However, it seemed another outside influence would counter that decision.
During the four days, Anthea kept thinking she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. Whenever she looked, no one would be there. At first, she assumed it was only her paranoia getting to her and that she only needed to relax, but the third day of her stay proved her wrong.
She had been at an upscale restaurant with Mycroft and some of the politicians they were aiding when she caught a little more than a glimpse of the man that had been hiding in her blind spot.
The man was not overly dressed, but still wore the appropriate attire for the place he was in. He did not seem comfortable in it and when she thought about it, the other times she thought she saw him, he was in pedestrian clothes. Clothes that would blend in with the people around him. She considered the option that Jim Moriarty could have sent someone to watch her after figuring out where she was, but there was no reason why he would. At least not one that was logical, even for him. He did not look like any of his men either. She had made sure to commit their faces to memory, just in case.
Another problem with that theory was she only saw him while she was around Mycroft. This worried her more than when she assumed she was being stalked. There was always a worry of someone finding out what he did and where he was by the wrong someone. On more than one occasion, she had seen a man taken down for keeping tabs on her boss. It was never a pleasant sight to be witness to, but she had to be the one to identify them.
During the fourth day that consisted of finalizing any official documents and last minute questions, she only saw the man once. He was outside the government building, leaning on one of the columns, and smoking a cigarette. She could not obtain an ideal view of him, but she knew that something was curious about him.
There was never anyone with him. He always dressed the part he was trying to conceal himself in. His positions for viewing were always just out of sight for the both of them. It was why she only saw him out of the corner of her eye most of the time. The incident at the restaurant could not be avoided. It was either be seen or abandon the job for the day. Today, she was on one of the higher floors while Mycroft was busy with the higher authorities of the country. The higher floor provided a nearly perfect view of the front, but it only happened by chance that she should recognize him.
Large wooden doors opened behind her, but she stayed where she was by the window. She only looked away when she felt a hand on her arm. "Everything alright?" Mycroft asked looking in the direction she had been.
"I'm not sure yet." She looked away from him to peer at the man who still held his position. "Do you see that man? The one leaning against the column?"
Mycroft scanned the ground below them before he spotted who she was referring to and then nodded. "Do you suspect anything?"
Anthea paused considering what she had gotten from viewing the man. "I'm not sure. He hasn't shown any violence towards you, not even a despising look, but he has been following since your second day here."
"Well, we're headed back to the hotel then the plane, so I don't think we should worry unless he arrives in England with us." He left it at that and walked away from the window after a brief moment.
She relaxed at the thought of leaving that night. If the man appeared in England then he would be arrested at the airport and there would not be another word about him. Even if she would be going home, it was still returning to the routine of checking her flat for any unexpected visitors. There was a downside no matter how she thought about it.
After the visit to the hotel to gather their belongings, the quiet, but stiff ride had begun. Anthea's neck had started to become sore from how many times she turned her head to look out of any window she could find. Mycroft had tried to settle her, but he knew better than to try too hard. Once she had spotted a potential person that could harm him, she committed to it.
It did not take long to get to the airport and less time to board the small, government assigned plane. Mycroft position afforded them with that luxury. There was never any need for customs.
She entered after Mycroft and handed over her luggage to one of the men that worked on the plane. There was never any reason to remember the crew's names because they changed every time they flew. They were informed of the expected flight time as they took their seats and offered refreshments. Anthea only asked for water then indulged in the cushioned and recline capable seat before the plane was even in the air.
No pseudo title for this one. I edited my outline and the title I had planned didn't work.
Hope you enjoyed it.
I'll trying to do better at updating.
