"Good evening Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson," said Mrs. Smallwood.
While John gave a nod and a stammered reply to someone he's heard about yet never met, Sherlock's response could not be categorized as anything remotely pass social muster.
"What brings you to this part of the neighborhood? Another scandal? In flagrante delicto? No? Someone in need of dispatching, perhaps?" quips Sherlock in sharp succession to mask the foreboding shiver that course through his body. Tension seeps in, then was succinctly kicked to the curb. He has no use for such superstitious premonition. There was no such thing as coincidences, especially on the eve he was supposed to meet with his brother. Whatever it was should prove more interesting than the case before last.
Lady Smallwood's measured breath spoke of learned patience when dealing with the consulting detective. She ignores his taunts and invites pleasantly through the roll down window instead, "Take a drive with me, Mr. Holmes."
Not wanting to seem too eager, Sherlock pretends ignorance and stretches out the charade, "Oh, are we going somewhere?"
"Only if you accept my offer," she counters in equal measure.
Genuinely having too much fun, Sherlock gasp in mock horror and pulls back as if affronted, "How forward of you! To proposition me in front of my own home no less."
And catches himself from grinning when he hears a choked sound from near proximity.
Lady Smallwood was all smiles and rewords her request, "I only ask that you hear me out of its entirety before you make your leave."
She then purposely cast her gaze to the nondescript manila envelope lying on the seat next to her afore looking back at him expectantly. Sherlock perks up and drops all traces of his good humor when he sniffs pointedly, "John comes with me. Either you disclose it to both of us now or I tell him later. I do dislike repeating myself."
After a brief hesitation, Lady Smallwood acquiesces with a nod and Sherlock pulls the door handle open and slides right in across from her. John takes the seat next to him and was preemptively caught mid motion from closing the door by one of her suited lackeys.
John transitions from one awkward moment to another when he said his thanks to no one in particular before extending a hand to their host, "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Smallwood."
Only to receive a polite nod with his arm left hanging. He clears his throat and reverses the motion into scratching the back of his head instead. The car ignites and soon takes off from the curb.
Without preamble, she hands over the envelope to Sherlock who immediately opens it. Out spills a dozen photos, some varying in resolution of one Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock's brow furrows in silent query upon sighting the date and time stamp. He flips through each of them quickly, only to return to the ones without his brother, lingering longer and pouring through them at different angles.
It was clear, from what John could observe indirectly from his position that the photos were taken in the span of several days judging by the varying outfits in each one. Furthermore, all were taken in the day time, from different CCTV cameras to be exact. Beyond that, John was stump as to the reason for the surveillance of Mycroft taking a stroll around town. Albeit the clothes were out of character. John would have never guessed the ever natty dressed elder Holmes would own such mundane clothes as news hats, a sports coat with elbow patches, turtlenecks and fitted jeans. In fact, Mycroft resembled one more from academia than a bureaucrat. Admittedly, the blatant disguise has John's thoughts jump to one immediate conclusion. It boggled the mind in considering the British Government may be in some sort of hot waters with the very country he ran. John hopes for Sherlock's sake that his observation as always, with the exception of earlier, was off the mark.
Sherlock scoffs out of nowhere and admonishes while still analyzing the photos, "Unfurl your brows, John. It's unbecoming. The conclusion you arrived at may be warranted for the goldfishes of the world, but do not project them on my brother."
The consulting detective than rudely hands off the package to his friend and eyes Lady Smallwood with his piercing gaze. To whom, despite her earlier request, remain serenely nonverbal. He scoffs again and expounds on his deduction per usual, "Lady Smallwood would not have taken the trouble to consult me were my brother be labeled as a double agent. He's much too resourceful to demean asking me for assistance to flee the country. The very thought is insulting. Us Holmes, as my brother and his predecessors would say, are loyalist to the crown and the good of England. Now, as to the surveillance. Mycroft detests legwork. What horrid entity possess him to even make such an effort?"
John was rather perturbed by Sherlock's unwavering belief in his brother. It was a sentiment rarely spoken.
Taking her cue, Lady Smallwood begins her tale, "Three weeks ago, we received a cipher from an old associate long expunged from record. They requested a meeting with Mycroft and Mycroft alone. They insisted a public area and no surveillance within the perimeter. Your brother understood the risks and took pains to assure us the legitimacy of the request. He was adamant that we abide by the rules."
Clearly agitated by this news, Sherlock glance distractedly out the tinted windows afore stating tersely, "A paranoid spook from the past lured my brother into a trap. Am I missing anything so far?"
"Right on all counts," said Lady Smallwood who failed to staunch the glimmer of respect and admiration reflected from her eyes. Though he may be a nuisance most times, no one can fault Sherlock Holmes for being useful.
"Wait, Mycroft's been kidnapped!?" John nearly shouted. Feeling downright offended for a person to whom he rarely had any warm feelings towards except that one time in Sherrinford when Mycroft had the decency to offer his own life. John just couldn't believe how calm the elder Holmes' so-called colleague and his own flesh and blood is taking this all in. Wouldn't the whole country be in an uproar by now to look under every nook and cranny to find him?
"Don't be absurd," said Sherlock in all seriousness, "He's hardly a kid."
John gawps at his friend in horror for that single takeaway of what he brought up. The lack of concern was appalling. Meanwhile Lady Smallwood follows their byplay with uncontainable humor and chose to remain silent at present.
Sherlock shakes his head and states with a tinge of exasperation, "My brother would have left a trail, obviously. He wouldn't put himself at risk without precaution. Lest—"
The consulting detective cuts himself off and ponders his next words carefully, "Lest he failed to account for the unaccountable."
Satisfied with his own assessment, Sherlock ignores the eye roll from John at his cryptic word choice and turns his game face on to Lady Smallwood, "You came to me for help. What is your offer?"
"Sherlock! You can't be serious!? He's your brother!" chides John for his friend's lack of familial affection. This was not some stranger being a pawn in Moriarty's old games. The stakes are higher probably given what secrets Mycroft holds.
Sherlock promptly ignores the noise thrown at him and waits for Lady Smallwood's reply.
The pause following John's outburst lingered for another minute while she appraise the consulting detective with a slight tilt of her head. Neither gave any indication of their inner thoughts on the matter beyond what was discussed. After another moment, she smiles and informs the detective of the terms, "During your investigation, you will have limited access to Mycroft's files pertaining to this case, his office, and his PA. You may form a team, of your choosing, to assist your endeavors. Furthermore, we claim your full cooperation and consultation on duties afforded to the Holmes Estate within the interim. All financial expenditures rendered in service shall be covered and a sum of £100,000 be transferred into your account upon your successful live retrieval of Mycroft Holmes."
She allows a smaller pause to take shape before offering her hand to shake upon stating, "Do we have a deal, Mr. Holmes?"
The dangerous glint reflected off of ice blue orbs spoke for itself.