The Secretary

Chapter One~Meeting Mr. Holmes

Knock knock knock. A young woman popped her head through the door. "Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes?" Mycroft Holmes answered distractedly, looking down at the file in his hands.

"Your last appointment is here. A...Mr. Watson?"

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Diane. Please, show him in."

Ducking her head, the woman hurried back into the foyer, her five inch heels alerting the man to her approach. Mr. Watson turned his sandy blond head towards her, having been inspecting the painting above the settee. "Mr. Holmes will see you know, sir. Please, follow me." Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and lead the way back to the office. "Straight through."

"Yes, thank you. I have been here before." He stopped for a moment, taking in her appearance. They stared at each other, only breaking eye contact when Mycroft addressed her.

"Diane, some tea for our guest, if you would be so kind."

"Of course, sir. Excuse me."

When the door had shut, John took a few steps forward. "What happened to the other girl? Janine, was it?"

"Yes," Mycroft said in his usual drawn out way. "Well, after the incident with the Woman, she was...let go. Now, right down to business."

Diane made her way to the kitchen, occasionally looking at the phone in her hand. Her fiance had texted her hours ago, saying that they needed to talk when she got off work. And no matter how many times she texted him back, asking 'about what?' Or 'are you ok?" There was no answer. He was really starting to get worried about him. She had already set the kettle on the stove and was taking out Mycroft's favorite China set when her phone buzzed in her pocket, causing her to almost drop the tray. She pulled it out, seeing that it was from Jay.

I can't take it anymore-JD

Confused, she quickly responded. Can't take what, dear?-DS. She spared a glance at the kettle, which wasn't even steaming yet. BUZZ!

I want you out of the apartment by the end of the week. I'm done with this charade that we're actually happy.-JD

Diane gripped the counter, afraid her usually sturdy knees would fail her. What could he possibly mean? They were happy. They were getting married in four months, the plans had already been set, the invitations mailed out. He couldn't be serious. A million things ran through her mind. Maybe this had something with that girl from work that he always seemed to be hanging out with. Or maybe, his mates had finally convinced him that she wasn't worth the headache, considering all the time away from home she would have to take. Mycroft traveled a lot, and his secretary always went with him so he could keep on top of his day to day meetings and assignments.

You can't mean that, Jay! I'll be home in two hours, we can talk then.-DS

There was no reply after that. Diane stood there waiting for it, only to have it buzz in her hand again, startling her. This time, she did drop a cup. It smashed against the carpet, breaking into pieces. "Shit." She muttered. That was his favorite cup...he'd know that she'd given him a different one. Mycroft Holmes was strange that way, he always knew when something was off. The devil's in the details, he always said. Checking her phone, she was met with a message from her boss, not her fiance.

Where are you with the tea?-MH

Sorry, sir. Made a bit of a mess, just cleaning it up now.-DS

No answer, no problem. She continued cleaning up the China, before grabbing another cup and setting it on the tray. By then, the kettle was screaming for her to get it off the stove. She went about her business, pouring the hot water into the teapot over the tea leaves, placing the milk and sugar bowls just so beside each other. Despite only having done this for four months, Diane had gotten very used to weight of the tea tray. Everyone always said that Brits were obsessed with tea, but Mycroft Holmes set a new standard for that. It seemed like he needed a new pot of tea every hour, constantly sneering into his cup as he read over the multitude of papers that crossed his desk every day. The familiar feel of balancing the tray was comforting to her as she knocked on the door before pushing it open with her hip.

"So, sorry, gentlemen. Had a bit of a spill." She set the tray down on the edge of the desk so she was not standing right between them. Common courtesy and all that. She stirred the tea inside the pot to circulate the leaves. Placing a strainer in the cup, Diane poured the liquid. She turned to the guest. "Milk or sugar, sir?"

"Splash of milk, no sugar, please." She handed the cup to him, then began on her boss's. He had a bit of a sweet tooth, so he liked both milk and a good bit of sugar in his tea. Once they were situated, she stood back and waited to be dismissed.

"Thank you, Diane. Perfect as always. You may go now. If you don't mind, take these and file them." There was a large stack of files sitting there. She smiled and quietly took them, glad for the distraction. Leaving the men to their business, she said nothing.

A little over an hour later, Mr. Watson stepped out of the office to see her sitting straight backed at her desk, legs crossed at the ankle, with a file on her right side so she could copy the information, and a cup of coffee on the other, occasionally taking a sip. He watched her for a bit, she was so absorbed by her work that she didn't hear him come out. Or it might have been the headphones that she had in. John wondered for a moment what she was listened to as she worked. He noticed how the back of her shirt rode up a bit on her back, exposing the very edge of the ink that adorned it. With her hair up in its tight bun, he couldn't accurately tell what color her hair was, only that it was dark. Her glasses were perched on her face, right where she didn't have to look down her nose at the computer screen. She reached over, looking to make sure she didn't knock her cup over as she did, noticing his boots in the corner of her vision.

"Oh!" She pulled the earbuds out. "Mr. Watson. I trust everything went well?"

"Yes, very well. Thanks. So..." He watched as she tilted her head a bit, waiting for him to speak. "How long have you worked for Mycroft?"

"Little over four months. It'll be five in a week and a half. Um, how do you know Mr. Holmes?"

John chuckled. "Mr. Holmes? That's the first time I've ever heard anyone call him that. Er, I work with his brother, Sherlock. Yeah, we share a flat." He grasped his hands behind his back, standing as if at parade rest. "Have you ever met him?"

"Who? Sherlock?" She shook her head. "No, I've never had the pleasure." When the man in front of her scoffed, she smiled. "Yes, that's much the same reaction Mr. Holmes had when I told him that. Apparently he's quiet the character."

"You can say that again." Diane turned back to her computer, then jumped when her phone buzzed on the desk. He watched as her face fell from whatever the message held. "You alright?"

She cleared her throat. "Fine, thank you." He didn't have to be a Holmes brother to see know that she was blinking away tears. "Is there something you needed, Mr. Watson?"

"Right, yeah. Uh, Mycroft wanted to see you in his office." She stood up, jerking her shirt down and smoothing out any wrinkles in her skirt.

"If there's nothing else, sir, I'll let you show yourself out." Neither said anything else to one another as they moved past each other and went their separate ways. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, come in. Please, sit." He waited for her to get comfortable, peering at her over steepled fingers. "What happened?"

"Sir?"

"In the four months you have worked for me, you have done an impeccable job. Considering that you came to us from the States, you are seemingly well versed in...well, everything. You have never once slipped. So. What. Happened?" She didn't answer, just looked down at her hands in her lap. Her boss sighed and stood up from behind his desk. "Diane. Do you like working for me?"

Her head shot up. "Of course. This is probably the best job I've ever had."

"So...what could have possibly happened in the kitchen to make you break my favorite cup?"

Diane chuckled. "I figured you would realize it wasn't the same one. I'm really sorry, Mr. Holmes. I...had a bit of a scare, dropped the cup. I'll replace it, please don't fire me." This was the very last thing she needed, to be fired for a cup.

"Fire you? No, dear girl. It's just a cup, granted I don't think you could afford to replace it. That was an antique, a set that belonged to my grandmother. Not to worry. You are a very good worker, probably the best secretary I've ever had. At least you're not on your phone constantly. Anyway, what I'm interested in is the scare you had that caused you to break something when you are normally so careful, even when startled." He was leaning against his desk, arms crossed.

"Nothing of any importance, sir. I...I got a disconcerting text message, that's all. Again, I apologize for the cup."

"Hmm...I see. Well, if you're all finished for the evening, you may go home." He turned away and moved to sit back down. She stood up.

"Thank you, sir. Goodnight." When she got back to her desk, she pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer. Tossing her phone and appointment book in, Diane stopped for a moment. She had dodged a bullet. Her predecessor to this job had been let go because of some sort of affiliation with someone who could have potentially brought down the British Government. The only reason she knew any of this was because she had seen the files. And Mycroft had basically threatened her, telling her that if she ever did anything of the sort, she'd suffer the same fate. In other words, she'd never be hired anywhere that had anything to do with the government ever again. How she had gotten this job, she still didn't really know. She just remembered sending out her resume to some random job agency, and the next week she got a call from a mysterious man asking her to come work for him.

All in all, it had been a long day.