Chapter Three

Mycroft's PA, Estelle this week, was pulling out the latest reports to hand to her boss. The main concern was Shining Dawn, a pro-death cult that was gaining strength. Their belief was that the human species was a stain on the earth and that it needed to be culled. They had agents analyzing the last bomb that had been discovered from the group and the investigation was going smoothly but slowly.

Second on her professional agenda was the nuclear trade agreement in Saudi Arabia. There were multiple arguments for and against the knowledge of nuclear power being traded for guaranteed oil prices for the next twenty years. It was of vital importance that things go smoothly...either way. Estelle sighed as she pulled up her next document. Doctor Watson.

Estelle was impressed at the doctor's resourcefulness and observational skills with regards to the MI-5 officers tailing her but it was frustrating that certain things were...unknown.

In the past month, the doctor had carefully and seamlessly orchestrated her move from private practice to working at University College Hospital A&E. She had also moved to a small two bedroom flat on Euston street.

Apparently, anger had been more than enough motivation for her to move on. Mr. Holmes had been...upset was an understatement, apoplectic with anger was closer to accurate. He was extremely worried about the doctor working in a busy casualty. Estelle understood Dr. Watson's need to keep busy. Working in the A&E was an adrenaline rush as close to her time with Sherlock as she could substitute.

Unfortunately, it had the tendency to concern the elder Holmes. Her cold, aloof behavior had had the unexpected consequence of influencing Mr. Holmes's behavior. He had started becoming harsh, unfeeling and every bit of his moniker, The Ice Man, going so far as not showing any reaction or care when an asset was lost due to an agent's mishandling of the case. The asset had been a 16 year old boy and the task of informing the grieving family had been left to her.

"Estelle! Where is the file from our CIA liaison?"

Mycroft walked into her small office, glare in place, holding a file on Michael Monroe. Their information was two years out of date as the movement had originated in the US.

"It's on your desk, sir."

He grunted in reply and left quickly, slamming his door behind him. Glancing at the clock, Estelle saw that Watson should have been home from her shift at UC Hospital. It was time to do something.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joan stretched and pulled on her pajama pants, her King's college shirt and bathrobe. She was about to head to the sitting room when she heard a small sound. It was barely a shuffle of cloth but Joan's keen senses picked it up. She could feel her heart speed up, adrenaline sharpening her senses to where very little noise was deafening.

Tiptoeing around her bed, Watson carefully opened her bedside drawer and pulled out her gun. It's weight was a secure feeling in her hands. She clicked off the safety as her door opened and twisted, aiming.

"Seriously?"

Anthea, Cecilia, whatever the fuck her name was stood in her doorway, eyebrow raised in curiosity and slight amusement. Joan dropped her arm and the air left her in a whoosh.

"Dr. Watson." She greeted.

Joan glared and clicked on the safety on her sig and shoved it back into her drawer, shutting it with a bang causing her lamp to rattle.

"I could have shot you!" Watson snapped.

It was strange seeing the PA without her blackberry. Joan raised an arm and ushered her to the living room where the brunette sat primly, giving the doctor an intense look.

"You know? You people must love showing off your walking through walls skills." Shaking her head, she sat across from her and leaned back in her armchair.

"I would offer you tea since you made yourself at home but, as you see, I was about to go to bed."

The PA pursed her lips in irritation at the cool tone but otherwise remained unaffected. "I think it was time we had a talk."

"So, instead of spying we'll actually have a conversation?"

She rolled her eyes and stiffened. "Yes, doctor. As you know, the surveillance is for your protection. Like Hydra, in Greek mythology, even though the head of the serpent was severed, two more can grow in it's place. It's the same with Moriarty's criminal network and you are a prime target due to your association with both Holmes brothers."

She gave a tight smile. "Though, I must say, you are certainly creating a challenge for our MI-5 officers and improving their training skills."

Joan snorted and crossed her arms over her chest but couldn't help the small smile that crept up. Sherlock had taught her well.

"What I came here to discuss was my employer."

A tendril of worry crept in at the other woman's expression of concern. She was angry at the man but didn't want him to get hurt.

"What's wrong? Is he sick?" A thousand scenarios ran through her mind, everything from a cold to a heart attack, not even including the high risks associated with his job.

In her concern, she failed to notice the interested sparkle in the assistant's eyes.

"No. He's not sick, per se, but he isn't himself." She leaned back and crossed her legs, making Joan nervous.

"I came here to discuss a few things. I promise you that it was not our people that leaked your pregnancy though we were too slow in discovering it to stop it. On that count, we are guilty."

Joan's mouth tightened. God help her, she believed her. "It still doesn't excuse what he did to Sherlock. I know why he did it but the ends do not always justify the means."

Anthea's (or whatever she's calling herself this week) eyes went cold. "Contrary to popular belief, he is not a god. He is a man, just as flawed as any other. He is under enormous pressure. Perhaps even more so with the decisions he has to make daily and the rift between the two of you adds to that pressure."

A deep breath. "You lost your best friend but Mr. Holmes lost his brother. Do you not realize the enormous guilt he has over the situation?"

When it was put that way, it started to hit closer to home. Joan closed her eyes and took a slow breath, about to start but the brunette wasn't done.

"He wanted to talk with you, keep you safe and even be a part of your life. Especially, now that he has a niece or nephew on the way. It is a part of his brother, a part of his family and you pushed him away. He may act cold and distant, that sentiment and love are beneath him but if you got to know him then you'd see that he is not like that. It's a front to protect himself and others and he's acting the part more than ever since that day."

Joan could see the sincerity behind the woman's words but it was still hard to forgive him. The lines around her mouth tightened. "Okay."

She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Just...just set up a meeting."

The smile from her guest almost made her wonder if she'd made a deal with the devil.

Throwing a hand up, Joan halted her departure. "Somewhere normal for once, yeah?"

The grin widened. "Of course, doctor. Thank you for your time."

After she left, Watson wondered just what she had agreed to.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was another week before she heard anything from Mycroft's people. She had just finished setting a shoulder and was walking to the cafeteria when she saw him.

Mycroft Holmes was standing just to the left of the exit in the waiting room looking distinctly uncomfortable and gripping his umbrella with unnatural tightness.

The temptation to turn back around was overwhelming but when Joan looked closer she could see the tension in the man's frame, lines around his mouth and eyes and the slight tremor in his hands. Only her skills as a doctor and her time with Sherlock made seeing those things possible.

She wondered if anyone had talked with him about how he was doing. She'd had support from Molly, NSY and her co-workers. It would have been awkward for Mycroft to get support from his PA and other than her she'd never seen him speak with anyone else.

Watson knew he'd seen her but he was waiting for her to make the first move. Adjusting her lab coat, she walked over attempting to look friendly but from the expression on the elder Holmes's face, she wasn't that successful.

"Mycroft, did you need to see a doctor?"

He looked like he'd swallowed a lemon at her question. At least Joan could add dislike of check-ups to her knowledge of Mycroft.

"No, doctor. Apparently, a lunch appointment was in my calendar and this was the location."

Joan inwardly laughed at the idea of Mycroft's PA putting one over him.

"Well, it must have been a typo."

"Clearly." Mycroft growled. Watson felt bad for the other woman considering his reaction.

"Well, since you're here, did you want to get a bite to eat?"

Mycroft's eyes widened slightly in surprise and the small quirk of his lips made Joan smile.

"Don't think I don't know that this was meddling, pure and simple."

His glare had a glint of warmth and Watson led him to the doctor's lounge to grab her coat. She had a feeling that the elder Holmes wouldn't appreciate cafeteria food.

"I think she was concerned and I can see why." Turning, she could see closer the details that had been hidden in the poor waiting room light. He'd lost at least five pounds, dark circles surrounded his eyes and the way he held himself suggested extreme muscle tension.

"I'm sorry." Watson told him and Mycroft's shoulders loosened slightly.

Joan turned to her locker and opened it. The sight that met her eyes was strange to say the least. A bouquet of orange lilies with a single black rose in the center was in the space next to her coat. No note.

As she moved forward to pick up the flowers, Mycroft moved ahead of her, gently pushing her away. Lifting the bouquet, he looked it over with a frown.

"I know Halloween is in a few weeks but this is just silly." Watson's heart sped up at the look of concern from Mycroft. They were just flowers.

"Do you know what the meaning of certain flowers is?" His voice was quiet as he turned the bouquet slowly in his gloved hand, his eyes roving over the paper for something that Joan didn't understand.

Racking her brain, she couldn't think of anything but the meanings behind roses. "Not really."

He gently touched the orange lilies, his fingers feather-like in their scrutiny. "Orange lilies can have multiple meanings. Virginity, passion but in this case I think the meaning is extreme hatred and dislike."

Watson tensed, eyebrows drawn in skepticism. "I think that's a bit extreme, don't you think?" After all, the fall season was here. Oranges, yellows, browns and blacks were everywhere in decorations.

Mycroft tilted the flowers and pulled the single rose out. It's color was startling. What was more surprising was that it wasn't plastic. It was a true black rose. No hints of the petals being dyed or colored. "This is why I think the latter meaning. This is a Turkish Halfeta rose. Extremely rare and an endangered species. It blooms bright red in the summer but turns such a dark crimson, it appears black. To see one in bloom is a once in a lifetime circumstance. It is also believed to signify death."

His cool grey eyes slid up to meet hers and the intensity made a shiver of fear crawl down her spine. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to deliver this message to you."