Chapter Eighteen
"Mister Holmes! May I congratulate you on the exemplary conduct with which you handled this particularly delicate situation? I hear the success of this assignment was nothing short of a miracle in itself!" Mycroft smiled cordially at the bland-faced man addressing him and thanked him. He had only heard this particular speech dressed up in different words at least twenty times before.
He bored of these social gatherings quite easily and would usually excuse himself early on due to some unplanned 'emergency'. But, since the event was in his honour, this couldn't be one of those times.
"Mister Holmes." Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes and plastered a smile on his face, turning.
"Oh, Hoover, it's you." he almost sighed in relief when he identified the man addressing him.
"I'll take that reaction as a compliment." Hoover grinned.
"How is your end of the case coming along?" Mycroft asked.
"James Rylie admitted to being guilty of shooting DI Lestrade and sending an assassin to kill him in the hospital, but hasn't spilled anything concerning an organization, or anything..." Hoover suddenly seemed more interested in something just beyond Mycroft's left shoulder. "...yet."
"Mister Holmes, Sir?" Mycroft startled and slowly turned around.
His breath nearly caught in his throat. Lestrade was standing behind him, awkwardly leaning most of his weight on his left leg, both hands casually in his pockets. He was wearing the suit Mycroft left on his kitchen table and, if Mycroft was to be completely honest, he looked quite dashing in it. The dark fabric of his evening suit stood in stark contrast to the colour of his hair, tailored perfectly for his size and hugged all the right places, the top button of his dress shirt was left undone and his tie was too loose to be considered 'tied smartly', but it gave off a feeling of casualness and relaxation of the wearer. It was just so Lestrade. For a moment, or two, Mycroft was at a loss for words.
"I'm glad you accepted my invitation." Mycroft smiled at him when he regained power over his tongue.
"Thanks for inviting me." Lestrade smiled back tensely. "Do you think we can talk in private?"
Mycroft glanced back at Hoover who nodded at him. "This way." He led Lestrade out of the main hall and into an empty room. "What is it Lestrade?"
"We were wrong, Mycroft." Lestrade began. "Carter, he wasn't after the List."
Mycroft bit his lip. "We've been over this already, Lestrade. And I can't say the result of it was satisfactory." he said cautiously.
"Nevermind that!" Lestrade flailed his arms. "Yes, Carter almost killed me, yes, there might be another spy in the Yard, and I'm sorry for blowing up at you, I didn't mean to, but that's not important!" Lestrade suddenly stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, it was a bit important, but you get what I mean. We can settle our differences later."
"What is the point, Lestrade?" Mycroft inquired pointedly.
"We were wrong! We assumed the person who tried to kill me was the same person who broke into my flat and office!" Mycroft blinked at him blankly. "Don't you see? Carter tried to kill me and the person after the List took the opportunity of me being in the hospital to search my flat and office! Carter wasn't on the scene of your attempted drowning, and he has alibis for the times my flat and office were broken into. I'm guessing he hasn't given you any information on any organization that knows about the List because he doesn't know anything!" After a moment of thinking, he added. "Besides, Carter hates wearing boots." He looked at Mycroft. "You have the List, you might still be in danger."
"You really believe he knows nothing about the List?" Mycroft asked, Lestrade nodded grimly. "And you came all this way to tell me? Why?"
Lestrade rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Because I'm your friend! I'm always going to keep an eye on you if I think you might be in danger, no matter how badly you piss me off. I know you're probably thinking how useless it is to have friends, and I'm sorry, but you don't get to choose! Friends look out for each other, and they trust each other... it's just what friends do." A strange look overcame Lestrade's expression. "I'm explaining the concept of friendship to a politician... definitely going on my top ten weird things never to do again."
Mycroft blinked at him in surprise. "Very well, ... friend, what do you suppose we do about the situation?"
Here, Lestrade smiled slyly. "You have the USB now, yes?" Mycroft nodded. "And you're going to pass it along to some other guy after this event and it's going to get shipped off somewhere and locked up nice and tight, correct?" Again, Mycroft nodded. "So now is the last chance to steal it?"
A look of understanding came over Mycroft's expression. "Oh, so this time around, I'm the bait?" Lestrade shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "And you're willing to bet the lives of hundreds of undercover agents to catch our man?" Lestrade grimaced, was silent for a moment, ... and nodded. "Alright. And you came here to-...?"
"Keep an eye on you." Lestrade nodded. "After all, I'm a stranger in this sort of atmosphere and, being the one to invite me, it's your responsiblity to accompany me." Lestrade winked at him. "Counter-surveilance tactic, remember? You keep an eye on all the people who approach you, I'll keep an eye out for hostiles."
Mycroft stared at him for a moment before shaking his head with a laugh. "You've thought of everything, haven't you, DI Lestrade?"
Lestrade grinned cheekily as Mycroft led him back to the main hall. "Yes, well, it's a plan of action based on a conversation taken place in a coffee shop, it's not one of my best strategies."
They took a collective breath as the music from the main hall grew louder as they approached. "You ready to go out there, where a potentially lethal terrorist who has targeted us, might be?" Mycroft asked.
"No." Lestrade responded honestly, staring at the large double-doors that separated them from the rest of the guests. "Do you-... do you have that feeling when you're called in to investigate a body that's turned up with its flesh half-rotted?" Mycroft looked at him with a horrified look. Lestrade didn't notice. "You get to the scene and prepare yourself because you know what's waiting for you, the sight, the smell, the feeling... And then you open the door, recoil, and say 'Dear God, that's awful!' because it's much worse than you imagined?"
"No." Mycroft responded hastily. "I've never seen a rotted body in my life. That's positively disgusting."
"Oh, nevermind, then." A beat, then Lestrade and Mycroft glanced at each other and let out strained giggles. "Alright, lets go."
Mycroft and Lestrade braced themselves and pushed open the double doors.
"Well it's... not so bad." Lestrade said after about half-an-hour of mingling with other guests. "It's kind of bordering on boring, but that's a good thing, isn't it?" It sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself.
"I suppose." Mycroft nodded. They sat down at a table and watched several couples move out onto the dance floor.
"So," Both men jumped at the voice that interrupted them quite suddenly. "when are you going to introduce me to your date, Mister Holmes?"
Mycroft turned to see Hoover smiling at them warmly. "Oh, Hoover-..! He's not my date, this is DI Lestrade of the New Scotland Yard, he was an invaluable asset to the investigation and had a great hand in getting the List back. This is as much his success as it is mine, if not, more so. DI Lestrade, Agent Hoover from Homeland Security. He is the agent leading the investigation." he introduced them.
Hoover reached over and grasped Lestrade's hand eagerly. "So you're the famous DI Lestrade Mycroft's been talking about!"
Lestrade chuckled nervously. "He's said some good things, I hope."
"Never heard a bad word, except that one time that he called you 'tenacious' in a passing remark, although I think he meant it as a compliment." Lestrade raised an eyebrow at Mycroft who quickly avoided his gaze. "Well, now! This is a party, would you like to dance?" And suddenly, Lestrade realized that Hoover hadn't yet released his hand. The sly bastard.
Lestrade blinked, looked from Hoover to Mycroft's unreadable expression, and back. "Sorry, I don't dance." he smiled apologetically.
"Oh, don't be like that! You'll do fine!" Hoover cajoled, coaxing Lestrade out of his seat and onto the dance floor. "I'll lead you."
"You'll have to." Lestrade murmured, feet shuffling awkwardly. "Look at me, tripping over my own feet, and we still haven't even started dancing!"
"Don't sweat it! Relax!" Hoover encouraged with a light-hearted laugh, snaking his right arm around Lestrade's back and taking his hand with his left as he rocked them back and forth.
'Don't sweat it? Relax?' While there might be a psychopathic spy out there out to get the List? Not possible! Lestrade let out a shaky breath and smiled tensely at Hoover, all the while, repeating a mantra in his head 'Too close, far too close for comfort, far too close...'
Lestrade thought it was just a bit strange, there they were, two men attempting to dance and there was not a single whisper on the subject. Nobody was talking about who they were and why they were dancing together. Mycroft would explain to him, later, that this was a gathering of many people much like Mycroft. Nobody spoke because everybody was afraid of starting a shouting match. Everybody here had dirt on everybody else. Sum it up to say, everybody tended to turn a blind eye. Besides, it wasn't a secret that Hoover was homosexual. Hoover, as Mycroft told it, was a poof and proud of it.
Hoover just smiled at the nervous DI and turned them to the swell of the music. Lestrade took the opportunity to peek over Hoover's shoulder to look for Mycroft.
He wasn't where he had left him. Lestrade's heart nearly stopped cold. Then he felt something brush against his back and turned. Mycroft was twirling expertly to the music with the same woman who nursed Lestrade in the hospital. He sighed in relief.
"I take it, you're not used to attending parties like this?" Hoover leaned down a little to whisper with a kind smile.
"Can't even remember the last time I wore a black tie suit." Lestrade admitted, following Mycroft's progression out of the corner of his eye.
"It is a bit stuffy, isn't it?" Hoover chuckled. "Mister Holmes always fakes an emergency to get out of it early."
Lestrade laughed at that. "You're kidding! Myc-Mister Holmes does that? Who would've thought?" He smirked at Mycroft. Mycroft caught the look and responded with a confused one of his own.
"Now he knows we're talking about him." Hoover whispered with a snicker. "Probably thinks we're badmouthing him."
The smile on Lestrade's face grew. "He's only human, Agent Hoover."
"Jan, please." Hoover smiled, squeezing Lestrade's hand a little. "Call me Jan."
They twirled again and just as Lestrade's back was turned, Mycroft directed a scowl at them. Hoover just smiled back.