"I am very sorry my wife is running late."

Cora barely places her lips to the cup and sips her tea. She's well aware the china costs more than she could ever hope to make. It's also far more beautiful with its intricate flower patterning than anything she's ever seen.

Far more beautiful than anything she could ever hope to be.

Swallowing, she looks up. "It isn't a bother, Sir. Everyone has needs to attend."

Sir Edwin looks out the window of his study as he places his hands behind his back. Reflecting off the skin left in the wake of a receding hairline is the light of the setting sun. The three-piece suit he's in she'd wager is more expensive than anything she's yet to see on Mycroft—which surprises her.

And again, reminds her of her place.

He takes a deep breath. "Mycroft is partial to familial sentiment."

"I highly doubt that. He is not shown to be partial to anyone." Crossing her legs, Cora wants to believe that maybe Mycroft does care, but…

But she suspects he merely tolerates her and everyone else. Every person is just a means to an end. Every person is a toy in his hands. He's just simply a bored human being who likes to play god by influencing the lives around him and making them grateful he exists.

Even if they don't know it's him.

"No?" Sir Edwin questions with a thoughtful look to her. "A girl with a sordid history and no place being an assistant is given the opportunity of a lifetime."

See? Playing god, she believes. It's the honest truth. The only difference is Mycroft's more tangible than the God she's supposed to know. After all, Mycroft sought her out for whatever reason. Mycroft keeps her for whatever reason. Mycroft, by those stands, is already more present than God's ever been.

In addition, she doesn't have a sordid history. She knows Mycroft would never allow for such an assistant in his position.

Her gaze sweeps the room. It's decorated with pieces she'd never be able to afford—even if she sold every valuable organ she has. Gold rim, crisp, and unmarred the room is everything she's not. Which is odd because growing up the world teaches that you can look as beautiful as this room and be well kept. You can be delighted in and have riches.

But real life is not as the world leads one to believe.

The fingers of her free hand tap the mobile in her lap, and she glances at the dark screen. If the house has one flaw, it's the cold feeling. Unlike Mycroft's estate with its friendly suits of armor she enjoys smiling at, this place is exceedingly unwelcome to those within her pay grade. And while she's never bothered to question where Mycroft's riches come from, she never needs to question Sir Edwin since the hallway is lined with portraits of the dead who have seemingly financed everything.

I don't belong here, she decides and looks at the man again.

Settling on the sofa across from her, Sir Edwin gaze softens. "I must admit, Mycroft was wise to select you. You have proven useful to him if for no other reason than you saved his life."

Her head tilts gently, and she tenses. The man has never given her a compliment, and she knows something cruel will be said. It's who he is, after all.

"At this point, you have been informed his last assistant deceived him, I assume." When she nods, Sir Edwin continues. "Then you must also recognise that all who know him are simply protecting him. It's the least we can do for all that he does."

Cora isn't sure it's a valid reason for people to be cruel and heartless, but she knows well enough that they're probably taking out their frustration on her. Placing the cup gently on the table, she leans slightly forward. "What did she do? The other one… Anthea."

Sir Edwin purses his lips before he gives a soft, humorless chuckle. "Anthea. Not her real name, mind you. No. They decided an epithet was in order—"

"Forgive my delay. Terribly rude of me." The dark-haired woman that enters holds a smile on red painted lips. When her gaze settles on Cora, however, the smile fades as her face darkens.

Standing, Cora glances to Alexander who tails the woman into the room. With a quick breath, Cora smooths her black dress and holds out her hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Lady Cunningham," she states with an icy undertone and an upturned nose. She makes no attempt to return a hand as she moves to Sir Edwin and settles down next to him.

Cora takes the movement as an indication she needs to settle back in her seat and Alexander sits next to her. Her fingers wrap around her mobile as if it will tether her to the shaky existence on which she stands.

"Did Alexander pull you from a skip?" she questions.

"Mother," Alexander chuckles with a roll of his eyes as he looks at Cora. His gaze settles on her with that gorgeous smile. "Forgive, Gertrude. She's protective of her boy."

Cora allows a smile to be plastered on her face as he kisses her cheek. "As she should be."

Lady Cunningham's brow raises slightly wrinkling her forehead. "Mycroft's standards seem to have slipped."

"Gertrude," Sir Edwin warns. "Our son is courting her."

"His standards seem to have slipped as well," she scoffs and stiffens on the sofa. "I assumed we raised him better than to date the rough sleepers he meets with his charity work."

"Gertrude!" Sir Edwin snaps.

"Mother!" Alexander objects and places an arm around Cora. "Give her a chance. You don't even know her."

Cora knows better than to speak. She knows better than to defend herself. She is the blemish in this glamorous world. The spot on the kettle. Fly in the tea. Which, when she thinks about it, she should know better than to be here.

She is not the prized show horse needed. After all, she barely makes rent. She doesn't come from money. She would rather sit at home and watch films than be a socialite.

She doesn't fit in.

And there shouldn't be a reason Alexander enjoys her company.

"What could I possibly need to know?" Lady Cunningham questions with a pointed look to her husband. "It's clearly written across her attire."

"Mycroft and our son find her valuable, which means I do as well," Sir Edwin says with a sharp bite in his tone, "regardless of how you feel about her attire."

Lady Cunningham straightens up casting a narrowed glance at her son. "You should be wedded to Olivia. At least Elizabeth has spent time grooming her daughter to be socially acceptable."

Elizabeth? Cora wonders.

"Who was a gossip and a complete arse until her father committed suicide!" Alexander argues as he checks his mobile.

Cora blinks as the binder pops into her mind. She recalls Lady Smallwood's husband committed suicide, and the binders said her name was Elizabeth though Mycroft calls her Alicia.

Alexander was supposed to marry Lady Smallwood's daughter, she realises.

It's then she recognises Alexander is simply dating her as punishment for his mother's forced betrothal. She is nothing more than a tool, a pawn, in this socialite game. Well, at least she doesn't have to consider marriage.

She can tell Vieve she's simply meant to be an old maid.

Flipping her mobile in her lap, she pretends to check the time—which is still rude. However, they don't have to know she's looking for an escape. An escape Vieve won't give her, but Mycroft might.

Help, she texts.

Setting it in her lap again, Cora swallows roughly. As Lady Cunningham escalates the conversation with how Alexander cocked up the engagement, Cora's stomach knots tighter than a child's shoelace.

She shouldn't have text Mr Holmes. She shouldn't have intruded on his time. She shouldn't have asked him to save her from a situation she put herself in.

Her limbs stiffen as her mobile buzzes. Glancing down, her face pales. Mr Holmes is ringing and she knows she shouldn't have bothered him.

"Excuse me," Cora interrupts before quickly moving into the hallway. Stomach and heart lurching, she clears her throat and answers. "Sir?"

"What's wrong?"

The breath is sucked out of her. The sense of urgency in his voice catches her off guard, and she finds herself unable to respond.

"Are you hurt?"

Eyes burning, she struggles to swallow down the lump in her throat. Why would Mycroft be worried about her? Why would he care? Why would he help?

"Cora?"

She shakes her head only to remember he can't see her. "No, I…uh…um… I need an excuse. T-to leave. I…um…"

When he doesn't automatically respond, she knows he's going to scold her. She shouldn't have called him of all people. Molly! Molly could have done it. Maybe. But not Mycroft. No, not Mr Holmes. He owes her nothing.

"Tell them I need you to pick up a file from the office," Mycroft says. "I'll explain to Edwin on Monday."

"What?" Leaning against a wall, tears sting her eyes. "How did you… Um…Sir?"

"Cora, we both know I don't really hold a minor job in the government."

His tone is meant to make her laugh, however, she works on leveling her breathing and blinking away tears.

"Go, Cora. Before they seek you."

"Thank you," she whispers, and he hangs up. Taking a long, deep breath, she returns to the sitting room. "Forgive me, but Mr Holmes needs me."

The mother looks at her. "That man has no class."

"Gertrude!" Edwin snaps, eyes narrowed. He gives the tiniest glance towards Cora before looking at his wife again. "Just because he informed me of your affair does not mean you get to attack his assistant nor him."

Clutching her mobile, Cora quietly grabs her purse and scurries out since that is an argument she doesn't need to be involved in. It does make her wonder, though. While Sir Edwin told her he was skeptical because of Anthea, she can't help but wonder if the affair added to the reason he was cruel as well.

"That didn't go exactly how I...envisioned."

Cora pauses at the front door and turns to see Alexander catching up. "And how did you see that going?"

"I didn't know my mother would attack you."

Cora exits the house and approaches the waiting car. "She's right, you know. I don't have a pedigree."

"You're not a dog."

Without stopping, she watches as Henry opens the door for her. "We both know I don't fit into high society. We also know I am a fantastic way to get back at your mother for the Smallwood ordeal."

Alexander grabs her wrist and spins her. Looking at her, his jaw stiffens. "You think I'm dating you because I'm trying to infuriate my mother? Are you serious, Cora?"

She shrugs. "You tell me."

Those dark brown eyes wince, and he releases her wrist. "That's truly what you think?"

"I don't fit into your world."

He huffs and shakes his head. "I didn't take you for one who needed approval in order to show up."

There's something odd about those words, but Cora can't quite put her finger on it. Not that it matters anyway, tossing her bag into the back seat, she just wants to go home.

His fingers catch her chin, and he turns her head towards him, so she meets his gaze. "I do love you, regardless of what you believe. My father realises that, and so does my mother which is why she's trying to degrade you. No one is good enough for her son.

"And this world should not be exclusive," he says. "Not to anyone, and especially not you."

To that, she doesn't respond. Instead, she just gazes into his beautiful brown eyes unsure if this will ever work. Unsure if she wants it to work. She doesn't want to be subjected to the elite if they are a cruel part of society.

Though what part of society isn't cruel?

"I hope the rest of your night goes well," he says and kisses her.

As she heads home, Cora taps the mobile against her thigh. Alexander loves her, but can she say the same? Can she truly admit that she's in love with him? Is it fair to him if she doesn't know? And while she knows he's well worth the fight, she isn't sure she wants to battle society. She deals with Mycroft's—

Her head rests on the window as that fact stares her in the face. To the Cunningham's it's either Sir or Lady, and that's all it will ever be. They wear their title proudly. They hold their heads high. They are on a platform she will never reach no matter how much she climbs.

Mycroft, on the other hand, came to her level. He chose to remove Mr Holmes and bring her to his playing field. He chose to respect her and if she thinks about it, he even guides her. So, if she thinks about Mycroft showing partiality to people…

He does.

In his own way.

Stepping from the car, she takes a moment to watch Henry drive off. As the street lights twinkle, people bustle passed enjoying the beautiful night. Movement in a lit window across from her catches her attention. There she sees a mother rocking her child causing her mind wanders back to the car earlier with Rosie and John.

"No Baker Street Adventures for you?" A smirk lines his lips as he looks at a babbling Rosie who's flipping through a picture book.

Rolling her eyes, she still doesn't know why he terms the brother's constant barrage of her name as Baker Street Adventures. "I have yet to be called Ashley, Giselle or Veronica this week. I'm doing well."

"Could always be worse," he advises.

"Certainly. Mr Holmes should provide hazard pay," she jokes as the car slows. Pulling out her mobile, she sends a text informing Mycroft it will take an extra seven minutes since traffic has crawled to a stop. Hopefully, this won't interrupt his luncheon with Lady Smallwood. Please God no…

"Mycroft decided Sherlock needed to be unseated in the Guinness Book of World Records for most mobile use?"

"I'd rather throw the thing out the window and be done with it. However, busy schedules prefer punctuality."

"Always by their schedules… I wonder if I'll ever have a day when I call it quits," he says softly and she's well aware it's a rhetorical question—one she'll ponder at some point in the next few hours.

All the same, she knows John'll never stop. She's heard he loves the thrill too much. Has seen the excitement in his eyes when Mycroft's given them little tasks as everyone tries to find Belfaust and his girls. Knows he's trying to beat an invisible clock.

And who wouldn't love working with their best friend?

With a wrinkled brow, she bites her lip. Not me. There isn't a chance she'd ever want to work with Genevieve. The drama alone would be overwhelming.

Yawning wide, she rubs the back of her neck. She'd kill for a nap.

"I remember those nights. Still have them at times," he says. "Not a whole lot of sleep. Coffee is mandatory…"

"I don't have children, John. You of all people should know this by now," she chuckles and looks at him. "Anyway, how was the zoo with Molly?"

He keeps a lock on his smile as if there's some big secret about being in a zoo with a woman and his daughter. His eyes, however, light up the car. "It went well. Rosie loves her and that's all I can ask. She does babysit a lot, after all. Best not to have a babysitter she hates."

Yip.

Yip.

Yip!

Blinking, Cora looks from the building to her left. Eyes wide, she swears someone rolled the dice on a Jumanji board since several coyotes rush passed. Cars honk and swerve to avoid a collision with the loose canines. In the distance, there's a crash.

Cora's gaze, however, follows the pack because she knows without a shadow of doubt coyotes don't frequent this part of the globe. It also has her recalling those odd rings about packs seen. Maybe there's more to the story than she believed.

In any case, as long as giant mosquitos don't appear she'll be fine.

With a shake of her head, Cora blinks and she releases a slow breath. Does she contact Mycroft about it? He's been wondering about the coyote reports as of late. Maybe it's best to wait until Monday morning. It might be two days away, but are the coyotes really that urgent?

Murmuring and gasps catch her attention causing her to turn back to the building across. Magically three enormous words are now smeared across the brick wall:

"MENE

MENE

TEKEL"

Below those is an enormous dog print that looks like it's dripping blood.

No. She squints. Not a dog…

Her jaw drops as she turns towards where the coyotes disappeared to.

Pulling her mobile from her bag, it takes her no time to dial.

"Finding yourself in another dinner you need my help—"

"It's urgent!"

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