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Hello all, sorry this is a few hours late, I love my cats but they sometimes cause mischief like deleting sections of the story when I am not looking so I have to retype it even though I originally had it ready to go. That's what I get for not setting up the chapter on here as soon as it was done!

John's POV
He is surprised when the attractive auburn haired man who moves with an air of power stops near his table, asking if he can join him. He is even more surprised when his unexpected companion asks him to lunch after asking why someone with his skill set would be here. Since he filled out the profile paperwork, he assumes that is the skill set he is referring to. So he agrees and notices that when his potential patron goes to give a time and place his attention is drawn away, to a vibrant blonde on the other side of the room. They had spoken for just a few more minutes before Mycroft had left after checking something on his phone.

After Mycroft left, he notices that the blonde's eyes follow him out the door and he quickly leaves the sugar-boy he is speaking with to follow.

His instincts say it is not a good thing that the blonde is following Mycroft.

Standing, he quickly follows, limping along with his cane in a rather frustrated fashion and pushing himself a bit harder than he had in a while. Just as he gets past the front doors, he sees the blonde lifting a bar to strike his potential patron in the back of the head.

Not happening, he thinks as he darts forward, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg from the sudden twisting motion as his cane comes up, blocking the bar before he slams his other fist into the blonde's jaw.

Grunting, the blonde staggers backwards before turning his attention to swing at him.

This time it is Mycroft who stops it, his umbrella slamming into the blonde's stomach, making him fold over before it comes down on the back of his head, knocking the blonde out with a crunching noise.

"I must thank you for your timely assistance," Mycroft comments as he glances down at the blonde man.

Before he has a chance to answer, three men carrying guns appear, two aimed at him, one aimed at the man on the ground.

"Arrest Nathan," Mycroft orders the three men, "take him back to headquarters and await further orders."

The two aiming at him tuck their weapons away, before nodding and dragging the blonde off.

"Would you care for dinner tonight?" the auburn-haired man asks once the three are gone with their burden and a black car has pulled up beside them.

He studies Mycroft for a moment before nodding once, "Sure."

As they slide into the waiting car, his potential patron comments, "I do not believe you need that cane. You did an excellent job darting and attacking without any problems I could see."

Flushing, he looks down at his leg, noticing that the sharp pain seems to have faded, and there are only twinges from where he twisted around without properly pivoting. Actually, he had moved without problems once he had zoned in on a target.

"Would you like to discuss a contract tonight or just have a dinner?" Mycroft inquires, studying him closely with his sharp eyes.

He should probably discuss a contract, the bedrest he is in is driving him insane, there have been too many mornings where he has considered just grabbing his gun and dealing with himself. It is not like he would be missed, his parents are dead, his sister is a drunk who resents the fact he was able to better himself, and he had no close friends since the ones he had died in the war. At the same time, he would like just one night to act like they are not employee and employer. Not that they are that yet.

"Dinner tonight, then our arranged lunch," the auburn-haired man declares before tapping lightly on the closed diving glass between front and bottom, bringing his attention to the fact that it is closed. He doesn't hear what Mycroft tells his driver before they are off.

"Okay," he comments with a crooked smile, "Sounds good."

The ride there is quiet, though there are several different occasions that he can feel the older man's eyes on him. When the car pulls to a stop, the driver opens the door, holding it while they slip out. Glancing about tells him they are somewhere that is probably better than he could afford but not so much that he would feel completely out of place.

Smiling slightly, he gives a small shake of his head, before following the taller man into the building.

The host immediately greets them, "Good evening Mr. Holmes, your usual table is ready if you would like to follow me?"

His potential patron nods, motioning for the host to lead and they quietly make their way through the restaurant. The table they are shown to is towards the back, near enough a window it can be glanced out but positioned so it would take a high powered gun to shoot through it. It has line of sight to all of the entrances, kitchen, and the bathrooms. The chairs are very comfortable as they slip into them, surprisingly so compared to most the places he is used to.

"Thank you for agreeing to dinner and the assistance. Both are appreciated," Mycroft states as a menu is set before him and the host withdraws. "They have excellent food here, I would suggest the Three-Cheese Chicken Penne Florentine."

Chuckling softly, he nods and replies, "I'll do that, chicken is one of my favorite."

"Is there something you would like to discuss?" Mycroft inquires with a tilt of his head, a stray auburn curl escaping the orderliness of the rest of his hair and just barely skimming his forehead.

Thinking about it he ends up sighing as he answers, "Honestly, I am curious what made you think I was interesting when there were some many better looking and in better shape blokes to choose from."

A small smile plays at the older man's lips, "I will answer after we order since Vanessa will be here in less than a minute to take our selection."

He nods just as a plump woman with merry eyes and a cheerful nature stops beside them. "Mr. Holmes, it's good to see you again," she greets his potential patron before turning to him, "Hello, I am Vanessa, I will be the one taking care of you for the evening. Can I start you off with drinks or do you know what you want already?"

Her eyes glance between them as she waits for an answer.

Mycroft nods to him to go first, so he puts in his order but is not sure what to get to drink with that. Is it something to get with tea? As soon as he is done saying his main course, his possible patron cuts in, naming off some sort of wine for both of them before ordering his dinner. The waitress writes it all down quickly before promising to be right back.

"I hope you do not mind me ordering wine for you?" the auburn-haired man asks with a tilt of his head.

"Nah, I was trying to decide what to order anyways, makes it easier," he replies with a warm smile.

"Good. Now then, I am going to answer more like my brother, I prefer to keep my observations to myself, rather than stating them aloud, but you asked so I will answer." Mycroft states, taking a breath and continuing, "When I first spotted you, I could read your military service in your posture, tan, and hair style. I could read the fact you had some form of command and are used to being listened to in the way you scanned the room and the tight expression in your eyes. Your hands when I was close enough to see them told me that you had been recently injured and that you were a doctor. A doctor and soldier who is recently injured must be a warzone, Afghanistan is more active, so you must have held a position there where you were a doctor with a staff that listened to you. This was not your first choice when you were released back into civilian life, but was a suggestion from someone you are on good terms with, even if you do not think of them as a good friend."

"Amazing," he breathes, staring at the attractive man. "Simply amazing."

A smile twitches at the corner of the genius' lips, and he must be a genius considering how much he saw without ever seeing his profile.

How could he ever hope to be of use or an adequate companion to someone so intelligent? He must only want him for sex. He could do that, though it still makes him feel a bit awkward. Or it is pity. No, that doesn't seem right, pity does not seem like the thing this genius would do.

"Pity is not something I feel," Mycroft announces suddenly, smiling at him. "You are an intelligent man in your own right, you have to be in order to be doctor and lead soldiers in a war zone. I am certain that you do not mind quiet time, just as much as you love moments filled with adrenaline just as much."

He flush, looking down and doubting that, sure he was smart enough, but not nearly smart enough it seems like sometimes considering his financial situation. Of course he wouldn't be in that situation if he hadn't tried helping his sister out.

Flashing a quick smile, he decides he is not going to do the pity party, instead he will ask about random things, get to know him. He is already quite certain he is going to accept whatever offer he is given, so he might as well enjoy this point.

Once he relaxes and switches to what his squad used to call 'Three Continents Watsons' mentality, things get a lot easier between them. The conversation flows smoothly, though most of if it is worthless small chat. It still gives him a chance to get a feel for how his potential patron acts, and he finds himself liking what he is discovering. He doesn't like the idea of being a kept man or a sugar boy, but he has a feeling that things will work out, he just has to remember to keep his temper.

At the end of the night, Mycroft offers to either take him home or summon a car for him, much to his shock. He accepts the ride, which is done in quiet. Noticing the expression on both driver and possible patron's face when he says where he is going gives him even more reason to stay quiet. After all, this is part of what he is hoping to escape with his contract.

When the car pulls to a stop, Mycroft glances at him with a warm smile, at least he is sure it is warm for the older man since he had seen some of his other smiles that were more businesslike. "I will have a car sent for you on Tuesday at twelve thirty if that is acceptable?"

He nods, agreeing with a smile of his own. "That is, thanks."

"Until Tuesday," Mycroft bids him with a nod just as the door opens.

"Until Tuesday," he echoes back before sliding out of the vehicle and heading towards his crappy flat.

There is a lot to think about between today and then.