The night of Sir Arthur's gala finally arrived and it was a warm one, England had received quite the unusual heatwave during the last few days and though things had started to calm down a breeze would have been most welcome.

Artemis had just stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair when she padded into the large bedroom naked as the day she'd been born only to walk almost directly into the lean but solid chest of one Mycroft Holmes. She blinked a moment and stepped back to look at him properly with those dazzling eyes of hers. He had his tux on looking as immaculate as ever, hair combed, pocket square neatly folded and bow tie perfectly adjusted. In his right hand he held up a black garment bag which Artemis glanced to before back to the taller man.

"I'm assuming that's not a t-shirt and a pair of jeans."

He flashed her one of those hardly there smirks of his. "You assume correctly, little assassin. Charlotte just dripped this off for you." He held the garment bag out for her to take. "All bodyguards are expected to be in black tie as well."

"So I get a tux?"

"Unfortunately that would only raise eyebrows around these people." He told her softly.

"I have more mobility in pants."

That was true, she always wore pants because of the range of movement. Mycroft hadn't ever minded, they were usually tight and gave a lovely view of her backside; not that he spent a lot of time looking of course.

"Please just put the dress on." He insisted. "Your shoes are in a box on the bed. I shall order a car for us."

She took the dark garment bag – which seemed lighter than she'd expected – and nodded just a little. She didn't exactly have a problem with putting on whatever was in the bag, Artemis just didn't see the necessity. He'd not peered inside the garment bag but didn't have any concerns, Anthea had always had a good eye for fashion so whatever had been chosen for Artemis would no doubt be exquisite.

Without a word she simply turned away and walked back into the bathroom while Mycroft headed downstairs and quickly ordered them a car with little more than the push of a button. Once the car was ordered he made his way into his large sitting room and poured himself a drink, he always needed one before these things.

The goal for the evening was to show his face, be polite as he mingled like he cared what the rest of the one percent did with their boats and then leave as quietly as he could. Speaking with the foreign minister was his primary objective while his secondary would be to either avoid entirely or have very little conversation with Lady Smallwood. She'd continued her strange 'let's go for drinks' which in all honesty had started to disturb him. The night would be a late one but Mycroft was nothing if not used to that at this stage of his life.

For roughly twenty minutes Mycroft nursed his scotch and waited for Artemis knowing the car was sitting outside for them. While he didn't want to go to Roxbridge's gala and he'd not rush Artemis, she did this even more rarely than he did, he couldn't let his driver sit around waiting all night and there was a point when fashionably late became plain old late.

Mycroft knocked back the remnants of well aged scotch then left the sitting room intent on leaving it in the kitchen, however, when he made to pass the staircase he paused upon spotting Artemis as she descended them. The glass slipped from his hand and fell to the floor where it landed with a dull thud before it rolled away a little from his foot; the glass didn't break, it was too good a quality of crystal for that.

Blue-gray eyes raked over her from toe to head as his mouth hung open in a very uncharacteristic way. She wore silver and black peep-toe heels which probably would have left her almost the same height as him but it was the gown that had most of his attention. It was silvery-gray and sparkled beautifully, practically see through, there weren't any sleeves just delicate little straps and a very dramatic, deep V. The dress was full length with a slit all the way up the right side from which he could see those creamy legs of Artemis'. Her long raven hair had been pulled over her left shoulder exposing her neck and the only bit of jewelry she wore, a set of simple but effective earrings which dangled down to her jaw. The eyeliner was sharp but subtle and then there were her lips, a matte, deep maroon color which drew the eye.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs she tilted her head a little, the only indication she was confused.

"Why is your mouth hanging open?"

The tuxedo clad man took a second to blink and flick his brain off and on again, his mouth managed to close and he straightened himself up a little.

"Sorry, it's just you look … wow."

"The great polyglot Mycroft Holmes reduced to 'wow'."

He nodded as his eyes insisted upon returning to the dress again. "Well you do look very beautiful."

Polished emeralds glanced down at her long dress and it was only then with her only a foot away from him that Mycroft realized that sure enough she was practically his height in her heels. Artemis ran her hands down the sparkly fabric a second or two before she finally returned her attention to the British Government as if she'd deciphered something.

"I think that was Anthea's intention. She made me watch videos about make-up when you were working in your office."

Charlotte planned this! Mycroft's mind screamed at full volume inside his head. Had he not known better Mycroft would have assumed this had been some convoluted attempt to murder him.

"I take it I did all of this properly then." She asked in that lyrical voice of hers.

The taller man nodded, eyes still preoccupied with the way her dress pushed her breasts together seemingly impossibly.

"Very, very properly."

Yeah, his brain wasn't working correctly; it was almost as if it had developed lag. The auburn-haired man was amazed by the way she'd managed to cover over her scars to the point she'd practically neutralized them. The one on her neck was still the most obvious but Artemis had taken much of the redness out of he nasty scar. Mycroft honestly didn't know whether to kiss or kill his personal assistance for this.

Beautiful, that was the only word he had for her. She'd always been stunning but this … Mycroft hadn't ever known how much he'd needed to commit this sight to memory.

"I suppose I would be deemed pretty. I am thin with a large chest that doesn't seem to fake or disproportionate to my body." She said quietly.

Her description sounded so flat like a a description one would give the police, and it finally managed to snap his attention from the dress to Artemis' face as his eyebrow shot upwards towards his thinning hairline. He couldn't let that stand, needed to correct it.

"No, not 'suppose', Artemis." He insisted with a shake of his head. "You honestly have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?"

Mycroft slipped his hands to her slender hips so he could hold her close while looking her firmly in the eyes.

"You are a goddess carved of marble and draped in jewels. Your eyes shine more immensely than all the stars in the heavens. You are far beyond words so I must settle for 'beautiful'."

With that Mycroft pressed his lips to Artemis' own, just a chaste kiss but loving nevertheless.

"What is the word?" She questioned when they broke apart.

"What?" Mycroft raised a single eyebrow as a hint of puzzlement entered his voice.

"There is a word for everything even if it's in a different language, and a man like Mycroft Holmes isn't the sort to be stopped by a lack of vocabulary, so tell me the word."

Ah, thought the older man, prove my intelligence. He understood what she was asking, what she wanted of him. Mycroft was the man who figured everything out, had an answer for all things. He could do this so he nodded ever so slightly.

"Very well." He agreed then took a moment to comb through his vast mind and knowledge. "You are … ethereal."

Another kiss, shorter than the previous. The dress had started to bring up that primal urge again, the one that wanted him to just rip the dress off and take her against the wall there at the bottom of the stairs; claim her. Mycroft didn't though, he had too much control of himself for that and once they'd broken apart Artemis smirked; something which had started to become slightly more frequent as of late. Slowly she raised up her right hand brushed away the transfer of her lipstick from his lips with her thumb.

"Probably best if the man who runs the entire country doesn't show up wearing my lipstick."

That made him smirk. "These people do far weirder things, I assure you."

He let her wipe the deep maroon away from his lips and then looped their arms together intent on leading her out the house after he'd grabbed his trademark umbrella, he really needed to get to the gala. Almost at the car he remembers he'd left the glass on the floor but decided he could fall over that later.

The drive to Sir Arthur's estate wasn't exactly long but it certainly wasn't sort either so the pair had plenty of time to discuss any further threats to his and Lady Smallwood's lives; the conversation did wonders to aid Mycroft in moving his attention from the way Artemis' naked thigh pressed against his leg.

"Have you managed to locate all the contract killers I informed you of?" Artemis enquired as the car turned a corner.

"Just about." He responded quickly. "Kerr O'Loughlin is in Prague and Jaeger is in Oslo. My people haven't been able to track down Vazquez just yet though he was spotted in Vienna four days ago."

"He's the one I'd watch out for, he's stupid to a point it's lead to a wild over-confidence."

Mycroft let out a little hum of understanding. "Yes, you said. I shall double our efforts to locate him, shouldn't take too long, we only missed him by a few days."

Soon the British Government and the former Reaper arrived at the Roxbridge estate and Mycroft stepped out first into the warm night air and was momentarily struck by a little pang of annoyance that there still wasn't a breeze. Like a perfect gentleman he helped Artemis out of the car and marvelled at the way the light of the full moon bounced off of her dress almost making her sparkle. So beautiful.

The pair turned their attention to the house where the gala appeared to be in full swing inside the gargantuan mansion. It was an old building clearly two hundred years old at least and lit up like Christmas. Somehow the Roxbridge's event planners had managed to turn a house into an extrovert.

Together they made their way up the old stone steps and stopped just outside a set of open double doors from which the sound of chatter and classical music poured outwards. On either side of the doors stood two guards who looked like they'd stepped out of the most stereotypical American club film ever and a young, and rather short, red-haired woman who accepted the carefully written invitations as people arrived. She greeted him with a smile while Artemis mentally assessed the capabilities of these two guards. Mycroft fished inside his tux jacket a moment in search of the invitation only to hand it over, the young lady flashed a black light over then clipped it to the clipboard she held along with the others.

"Thank you, Mister Holmes." She grinned. "Please enjoy your evening."

Mycroft nodded his thanks then led his truly stunning plus one into the historic house and left his umbrella in the stand just a short distance from the door. The Roxbridges had existed in England all the way back to the time of George I, they'd probably be around for several more hundred years as well. The walls were a stately red with marble columns dotted about the place and a health amount of wainscoting. Paintings in golden frames of long dead ancestors hung on almost every exposed section of wall and someone had gone a little over the top with the floral displays. A great hubbub ran through the estate from those inside and out chit-chatting about this and that; what Gregory would have referred to as 'ruling the world mumblings'.

Artemis couldn't spot any set room for this gala to be held in, people – of which there were dozens upon dozens – just seemed to have taken over the whole house and Artemis had absolutely no idea what the fuck she was meant to do at this gala but, fortunately, Mycroft was well versed in these events and easily led her though the house with hand firmly on the small of her back. Slowly the pair walked along a partially large hall with several people wandering around talking to one another about whatever rich old people talked about. Soon after several more halls and the occasional pause to greet someone Mycroft guided Artemis into a smaller room which turned out to be some kind of billiard room decorated in dark wood, greens and yet more paintings. An impressive fireplace took up almost the entirety of the left wall as they entered and was lit despite the hot evening. Four chairs set out in a little square with a short coffee table between them dominated the space in front of the fire, two were occupied by men both somewhere in their late forties, one a graying brunette the other a blond. On the right side of the billiard room stood two people having a game while a fifth man – the youngest of them all who Myc recognized as Jackson Greene – watched. Everyone seemed to ignore the bodyguards dotted around, like they didn't exist until needed.

"Good evening, gentlemen." Mycroft greeted pleasantly when they stepped into the far quieter room.

Five sets of eyes instantly flicked up to the British Government but then, very quickly, turned to Artemis; something which wasn't lost on Mycroft for a moment, he could have rolled his eyes and the other men wouldn't have noticed in that movement. Something in the back of his mind purred though at the knowledge that Artemis was so eye-catching while being entirely his.

"Good evening, Mycroft." Said the taller of the two men at the billiard table in a thick accent.

The man was none other than Hãnse Jørgensen, an attaché from the Greenlandic consulate, he was a good-hearted family man who took pride in doing a good job, a man who had Holmes the elder's respect.

"Yes." Agreed Thomas Fusco; the CIA station chief who oversaw any and all operations in the UK. The American had worked closely with Mycroft for almost a decade now. "And do tell us who this lovely lady is."

Fusco ignored the fact it was his turn to try to pocket a ball and instead flashed Artemis his most charismatic smile. The American liked to think himself something of a ladies man.

Kindly Mycroft introduced his colleagues and acquaintances to Artemis. "Certainly, this is Artemis, my bodyguard."

Eyebrows shot up at that and Myc was fairly sure he'd heard one of the other bodyguards stifle a laugh. It wasn't necessarily that they'd believed Artemis incapable of being a guard, more that in her dress she looked so sweet and innocent. The real controller of all England ignored this and instead went to sit in on of the two vacant armchairs with his back to the door opposite Stefan and Percy while Artemis, of course, remained standing so she could keep en eye on the entire room and the doorway.

"The all-powerful Mycroft Holmes now carts a woman around to protect him." Said Sir Percy with an underlining taunt.

Truthfully Mycroft didn't like Sir Percy Statham and nor did anyone else in the room. The blond was Edwin's deputy and just had a tenancy to rub people the wrong way. He wasn't exactly the worst of sexists but there was certainly a lot of prejudiced there.

"Now, now, Sir Percy, if history has taught us anything it is to never underestimate a woman." The Polish man smiled but there was kindness in his blue eyes. "Especially one so beautiful."

Sir Percy cast a momentary glance to the graying brunette man at his side before returning it to Artemis, or more correctly her dress.

While Sir Percy wasn't particularly liked the same wasn't true of Stefan Lewandowski – the First Secretary at the Polish Embassy – no, Lewandowski was a surprisingly kind man for his job. He seemed like a man out of his time, his mannerisms and sense of fashion would have been more at home in the forties. While he spoke with unmistakable Polish accent it wasn't nearly as thick as Jørgensen's Greenlandic one.

"Isn't that the damn truth." Greene chortled as he leaned against the billiard table.

While the other four men seemed prepared to move on but Statham's somewhat bigoted mind had taken over.

"Perhaps, but still-"

Mycroft cut him off, partly because otherwise they'd never move on but mostly because Mycroft rather liked the idea of shutting Sir Percy up; he really wasn't in the mood for more of Statham's sexist shit. Fusco could have his moments at times but that was just the way he spoke, he never meant anything by it and was smart enough to realize when he'd gone a little too far and apologize for it. Meanwhile Statham appeared to have some deep-seated belief that women were little more than playthings.

With a smirk and without taking his eyes from Statham, Mycroft spoke. "Artemis, how many ways – just in this room – have you calculated to kill Sir Percy here, hmm?"

"Seven."

Artemis hadn't even pause for a split second, her answer was smooth and without a hint of irritation or amusement. Lewandowski and Jørgensen shared bemused smirks with one another, it was always enjoyable to see Sir Percy Statham put in his place. Fusco leaned on his cue stick to watch bemused as the events before him unfolded; it would certainly be better than anything which had happened at the CIA station that day.

"Seven." Mycroft repeated, though his eyes were hard he couldn't prevent the small smirk which had started to crawl its way onto his lips. "And if you got really creative?"

Artemis knew what Mycroft was doing, she knew that tone of voice well and she'd play along for him. That was how the green-eyed killer found herself peering around the lavishly decorated – slightly overly opulent – room.

"Nine." She amended.

"Perhaps, Sir Percy would like a demonstration of what a woman is capable of." Jørgensen suggested intent on getting in on pissing Sir Percy off.

The blond's eyes went wide at that clearly worried because he'd finally managed to move on from Artemis' breasts and up to the scar at her throat.

"Perhaps she should, however, Artemis is not a performing monkey and I'd hate for her to get blood all over the floors."

"Four of my options wouldn't leave any blood."

Fusco, Lewandowski and Jørgensen all burst out laughing in a mix of accents at that comment while Greene did his best to stifle his own chuckle behind his hand. Statham rather looked like a child whose mother had yelled at him in front of his friends. Mission accomplished then, muttered Mycroft's mind. Having done exactly what he'd intended Mycroft elected to change the subject as Artemis perched on the arm of his chair, an act which showed off those beautiful legs of hers.

"Thomas, have you managed to shut down your little problem yet?"

The American nodded as he lined up his shot. "Did indeed, thanks, Mycroft." He paused a moment to glance at Holmes the elder. "Sometimes I wonder why people have to get so offended about fucking everything."

Lewandowski's brow furrowed. "There is a lady present, Thomas, be polite."

Mycroft shrugged a little. "During the Second World War the Japanese made and mass-produced land minds made of terracotta."

The Greenlandic attaché raised a single questioning eyebrow. "You're point?"

"Simple." Began the auburn-haired man. "Never underestimate the human desire to kill one another and the ingenuity they will use in order to complete that desire."

Greene's sunken hazel eyes turned to fix themselves onto the man who essentially ran England – and probably a couple of other countries as well – as he tried to process exactly what thoughts went through his mind.

"You're a dark one, aren't you?"

Fusco breathed out a laugh as he moved around the billiard table. "This guy is practically the real life Ozymandias, must make Miss Artemis his Silk Spectre."

"I'd certainly like to see the outfit." Statham finally settled back into his smirks and rested against his soft chair with a hungry grin.

"Ten." Artemis suddenly said which got a raised eyebrow from the prejudice blond.

"'Ten'?" Statham questioned.

Artemis explained. "I forgot about your bow tie, so it's ten ways to kill you."

Once more that set off a round of chuckling which even Mycroft couldn't resist. After that the men continued to converse over this and that, business things on a global scale while Artemis listened to everything going on outside the room and stayed alert. She didn't need to know what Mycroft was talking about, Artemis didn't work for the British government, no, she worked for Mycroft.

Eventually, after maybe a half hour, the auburn-haired man finally rose to his feet unable to take the heat by the fire and excused himself intent on finding the foreign secretary and then escaping back to his home.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Enjoy the rest of Sir Arthur's delight of a party."

Jørgensen nodded his goodbye. "Always so polite, Mycroft."

Together Mycroft and Artemis left the billiard room and made their way back out into the hustle and bustle of the gala, he guided her through the vast house with a large hand on the small of her back; the pads of his fingers ran over the detailed work of her dress and delighted in the slight scratch it gave him.

He was fairly certain the foreign minister would be somewhere in the ballroom at the rear of the house so he headed straight for it with the wonderful Artemis on his arm. Unfortunately the tall man and his plus one got stopped hardly fifteen feet from the billiard room by Sir Arthur Roxbridge – a rather short man who'd started to bald – and his dainty wife, Lillian, as they spoke with the Home Secretary.

"Ah, Mycroft." Started Roxbridge as soon as he spotted the taller man. "I wondered when you would appear from the shadows."

He nodded. "Yes, good evening, Sir Arthur."

"Mmm, when are you going to let them knight you?" The elder man asked with a little too big of a smile.

"I have no intention of ever adding Sir to my name."

That was true, Mycroft was a man who worked in the shadows, a man who had no need for titles and powerful station.

"Shame," said Lady Lillian. "Sir Mycroft does have quite the ring to it."

Quietly the Home Secretary bid everyone a goodbye then excused herself to get another glass of champagne.

"Well do enjoy the party along with your … lovely wife."

Had Artemis been prone to shock or surprise – generally any warning-less emotional burst – she'd have raised an eyebrow at the word 'wife'; Mycroft wasn't the marring kind. She'd expected him to instantly correct Sir Arthur but instead he plastered on that fake, happy to see people smile of his.

"Where are my manners? Sir Arthur, Lady Lillian, this is Artemis."

With a toothy smile Sir Arthur lifted Artemis' hand so he could press a gentle kiss to it which his wife didn't seem too pleased about.

"I always wondered about the ring he wears, nice to see he's finally letting such a beauty out of the house." He chuckled in what he assumed was a charming way.

Obviously Roxbridge nor his wife had been in the loop in regards to everything that had happened with Hades. Had he known he'd probably have backed away from Artemis fearing his death.

"Pleasure." Was all Lillian said.

"Likewise." Responded Artemis.

She only spoke because she'd heard Mycroft say that before and guessed it would probably be best to be polite and try not to show the auburn-haired man up.

Roxbridge's gray eyebrows shot up as a smile appeared. "Ooh, and American to boot, you are full of surprises, Mycroft."

Had Artemis glanced at Mycroft she'd have noticed the momentary slip of his mask which revealed a split second of puzzlement before he affixed it again like nothing had ever happened and returned his attention to Roxbridge and his wife.

"But of course. Please excuse us."

With that he guided his bodyguard away, his hand still on the small of her back. Together they slipped away, scooted around other guests of the gala. The 'wife' word had stuck in Artemis head though and she had questions about it.

"You didn't correct him that I'm not your wife."

There wasn't any bite in her voice – never was – it was just a piece of information she was missing and required an answer to. Mycroft hardly missed a beat.

"Trust me, it was far easier and it also prevented Sir Arthur attempting to seduce you in front of his wife. That woman has the restraint of a saint, I don't know how she does it." They turned around a corner passed an ornate staircase. "Also, why are you suddenly speaking with an American accent?"

"Oh, I've decided this is what I sound like now. You asked me to choose an accent and I think Artemis sounds American. It's the accent I had when you named me so it is almost like a birth accent."

Mycroft couldn't really argue, she'd done exactly what he'd asked of her and had given it great thought it seemed. Artemis had thought for herself and made a decision on who she wanted to be without pressure or guidance from himself or anyone else. Truthfully he rather liked the American voice, it reminded him of the stunning little girl he'd carried into the cabin in Finland.

"Is that going to be a problem?" She asked quietly so as only he'd hear her while they continued to walk.

Myc shook his head. "Not at all. I asked you to choose for yourself and you have. If your wish is to appear American then that is who you are, my love."

While Artemis couldn't actually feel pleased or gratitude she experienced something akin to it upon hearing his acceptance. She'd chosen American – New England by the sound of it – because that was how she'd been when they'd met, when he'd named her, when he'd essentially created her. Artemis had debated using her native Russian but no, that had been Mariska not Artemis.

The pair continued through the seemingly endless house and Artemis had started to wonder why she'd not asked for a map to this place days earlier; she'd expected a house about Mycroft's side – which wasn't exactly small – but this place was taking the piss. Occasionally Mycroft greeted people like he cared about their existence while he headed for the ballroom in search of his prize, namely the foreign secretary. Mycroft never paused to speak with any of them and hardly even glanced at Stefan Lewandowski when they stumbled upon him again as he spoke with a young woman.

The music grew louder as they approached the ballroom and soon the grand room came into view. There were two small steps which lead down into a room with way too much marble flooring. People were gathered in huddles as they muttered of government secrets and God only knew what else, while other couples danced together. Some of the ballroom's occupants paused to look at Artemis who stood out in her sliver and gray, though she didn't know if they looked because of her dress like with Sir Percy or it was all down to the fact Mycroft never showed up with anyone on his arm; the eternal loner when it came right down to it. Artemis was just like Mycroft really, it was just that they'd decided to be alone together.

Just before they could head down the small steps into the almost ostentatious ballroom Lady Smallwood appeared as if she'd teleported with her new gentleman friend, Lord Justice, Sir Christian Hallow. Smallwood flashed Mycroft a smile which faltered a second when she saw Artemis and she squeezed Hallow's arm just a little tighter.

"Ah, hello, Mycroft." She trilled.

Her hair was up, held in place by an ornate hair stick and her lips were a bold red that Mycroft mentally determined to be a little young for her. The dress she wore hung down to mid-calf and was midnight blue with three-quarter sleeves and a high neckline; it was the delicate lace overlay which gave the dress its character though. The elder woman looked nice enough but Mycroft would have still rather taken Artemis home so he could just stare at her. He'd have also liked to have scooted around Smallwood and Hallow but she didn't seem in the mood to let him get away so easily.

"Lady Smallwood, a pleasure to see you as always."

Lie! He had much better things to do and everyone knew it even if they were too polite to say anything about it.

"Oh, you remember Christian Hallow." She said as she patted the judge's arm.

"Yes, of course. Nice to see you again, Sir Christian."

The two men shook hands as the gala continued around them, soft classical music and chatter.

"Likewise, Mycroft."

Artemis honestly didn't understand why everyone had to go to such extents for etiquette, it was pointless and a waste of their time. Artemis also noticed the way that Lady Smallwood kept staring at her with pursed lips and irritation so clear even Artemis found it easy to register. Mycroft must have seen it as well while he chatted with Hallow because she soon felt his slender fingers tapping against her hip where it took her less than a second to start reading off his Morse Code in her head; would you mind getting me a drink from the bar? She knew exactly what he was doing, trying to put some distanced between his Artemis and Smallwood, certainly more for the elder woman's benefit. Artemis couldn't have cared less what Smallwood thought about her and it was clear from the way Hallow kept subconsciously flicking his eyes to Artemis' chest that her mere presence had started to piss the Parliament member off. First Artemis had come out of nowhere and laid claim to the most intelligent and silently powerful man in the country, and now Christian Hallow couldn't stop treating himself to the view of her breasts. The dress Artemis wore wasn't in any way inappropriate for the event but it was certainly a show stopper.

"Of course, British." She answered uncaring that no one else knew Mycroft had asked a question.

She left his grasp and slipped away into the crowd, around waiters who took glasses of champagne to every corner of the estate and guests who were literally everywhere. Mycroft didn't watch her go, wasn't like any danger would befall her.

Hallow grinned a little too wide for his face. "British? Is that her little nickname for you?"

"It is, yes." The taller man nodded.

That was all Mycroft wished to say on the subject. The reason for said nickname was top-secret as well as personal.

Meanwhile Artemis headed to the bar while watching the people around her go about their night at the party, some of them she'd seen before in meetings with the elder Holmes or just in the MI6 hallways, but most of them were entirely new to her; some the public would know by name while others worked in the shadows.

As soon as she reached the large bar back towards the front of the house they'd passed some time ago she ordered a scotch for Mycroft – he'd never been a much of a champagne fan. While she waited Artemis glanced her polished emeralds around to the mass of people all around her, it was easy for her to spot the guests from the bodyguard; the wolves from the sheep. It didn't matter that they'd been dressed in posh, expensive suits, no, it was all in the way they carried themselves, backs straight and arms kept before them with their hands cupped while their eyes flashed around in search of possible threats.

The scotch was set before her and Artemis grabbed the glass quickly so she could return to Mycroft's side. As she walked Artemis passed a young woman probably a little younger than herself, she was dressed as one of the waiting staff with her hair in a high ponytail and caring a silver tray of canapés. This girl didn't exactly look out of place but something didn't sit right with Artemis about this stranger. Still, she continued back through the house to find Mycroft had managed to make it into the ballroom and speak with the foreign secretary, the only issue seemed to be Lady Smallwood and Sir Christian had tagged along with him; even playing polite he'd managed to scoot himself to his primary goal for the night.

Carefully she lifted her dress with one hand as she made her way down the little steps into the ballroom and straight to her tall man. Artemis slipped back into place at his side and handed him his drink only for him to slip his arm back around her slender waist; the touch wasn't possessive exactly just a grounding touch which kept her there with him.

"Thank you, Artemis."

She ignored most of what he discussed with the blond foreign secretary, Lady Smallwood and the Lord Justice, it had nothing to do with her and they probably all spoke for a good half hour. She kept her attention focused around the room just to keep an eye out to begin with but soon green eyes spotted two more waiters, one roughly the same age as the girl she'd seen while the other was a good thirty years older than him. These men stuck out to her, they weren't right but Artemis didn't quite know why. They didn't seem to be very good at their jobs, missed people who clearly had intentions of grabbing one of the canapés. These people seemed more focused on looking around much as Artemis had to surveil the room, then she saw a third man far behind her, this one was in his late fifties and that was when it all clicked for her; Artemis knew that face and he sure as fuck wasn't a waiter. Andreas Mandrapilias. Without her face showing even a hint of concern Artemis peered around her, over her shoulder, as she tried to access who these people would be after since there were a lot of powerful people of several nationalities at this gala, that was when she saw the female she'd noticed by the bar again, she must have been Rhea Mandrapilias. Rhea looked around like the other men but then found Mycroft and Lady Smallwood on the far side of the room and Artemis had to accept the fact that they weren't after any of the other people at the event, this was all about the contract on Mycroft Holmes that Hades had failed to complete. Artemis watched as Rhea moved towards her father, Andreas, as calmly as she could then muttered something before they broke off to inform Andreas' three sons and his brother, Yannis Mandrapilias. This was serious.

"British?" Artemis got no answer from Mycroft, he was part way through a much needed conversation. She wasn't being ignored exactly, just put of for a moment. "British."

Her second attempt didn't get any answer out of him either so Artemis gave up and just moved to what she knew would work and would work quickly. These people were converging on Mycroft and Smallwood so she simply elbowed him sharply in the ribs which got a deep hiss from him and finally, finally, he looked down at her. He had his back to the threat, was completely unaware of it all.

"Yes, Artemis?" He asked while he rubbed at his side.

"Quincey Morris." Artemis told him stoically.

Lady Smallwood, the foreign secretary and Lord Justice all furrowed their brows as confusion overtook them, 'Quincey Morris' wasn't exactly a normal thing to say after one had elbowed a man. While they were confused Mycroft's face paled before he tensed and took a calming breath.

"'Quincey Morris' what on earth is she talking about, Mycroft?" Lady Smallwood practically scoffed.

"We're under attack from a force greater than ourselves who could kill us easily."

The three people he'd been speaking with instantly let their faces fall from puzzlement to fear as they started to back away towards the steps in search for escape; Mycroft helped to guide them away. Artemis, however, she remained very, very still.