Chapter Thirteen: Even the British Government Needs a Wingman.

Greg:Booked the table for 8 at thatlittle Italian place off Piccadilly. Shall I pick you up or meet you there? – Greg.

Mycroft: I'm afraid I will be unable to meet our appointment this evening due to unforeseen nonsense at Downing Street. Sincerest apologies, Gregory. –M

Greg: Right. You could come over to mine when you're done and we could order takeaway? Or shall we just rearrange completely? – Greg.

Mycroft: As I will be occupied with this matter indefinitely, I do not think it fair of me to impose myself upon you without due warning. A rearrangement would be best. Would Wednesday be convenient?-M

Greg: Wednesday is fine – I'll call the restaurant now. But I reserve the right to be pissed off if you cancel again. Good luck with David! – Greg.

Greg: So, I'm sitting in the restaurant by myself looking like a sad loser. Please tell me you're stuck in traffic. – Greg.

Greg: They're offering me olives. Pity olives. Where are you?

Greg: fuck this ive judt drank a whole bottle of red you better have a fucking good excuse – nothing less than a world apoloclyps.

Mycroft: I'm so sorry, it's been a hellish day. I fell asleep at my desk and my secretary failed to wake me. I hope you are not too put out. –M

Greg: shall i come over? i'd bet money that you haven't eaten

Mycroft: No no. I'm exhausted – I'd be terrible company and I don't want to spoil your evening any more than I already have. –M

Greg: im coming over

Greg: mycroft this is bullshit! if youre not going to answer your door you could at least have the decency to pick up your phone!

Greg: i will sit here until you talk to me i have no problem with annoying your neighbours

Greg: now i know youre awake! very mature getting your PA to remove me

"Get in the car, Detective Inspector."

"No. Mycroft must learn to do his own dirty work."

"Mr Holmes is ignorant of the fact I am here. I have come of my own accord."

"Well, now you can leave of your own accord too."

"Get in the car Detective Inspector."

"Shit!"

"Here."

Greg accepted the takeaway cup with blatant suspicion. "What's this?"

Anthea shot him a withering look, slipping her blackberry into her handbag. "Coffee. Black, two sugars. It will sober you up."

Greg lifted the lid and sniffed, as though expecting to find traces of a sinister drug. He couldn't. "You know I strongly object to this," he pointed out, surrendering and raising the cardboard rim to his lips.

"As I said," replied Anthea sweetly, "Mr Holmes is entirely unaware of this meeting. And I would be thankful if he were to remain so," she added pointedly.

"He'll find out when he reads my texts."

"That particular message was never delivered," came the smooth response.

Greg thought it would be in his best interest not to argue with her. Crossing his legs, he sat back and turned his face towards the window, watching the flickering street-lamps pass by. "Where're we going, then?"

"Nowhere in particular."

"Right... I don't suppose you could just drop me home?"

"Eventually."

Greg suppressed a dark mutter by drinking deeply. For the right-hand woman of the most influential man in Britain, Anthea was one of the most unhelpful people Lestrade had ever come across.

The car took a left and began to head out of the city.

Once they had passed over the bridge leaving London, Anthea turned to address Lestrade. "What are your intentions towards my employer, Detective Inspector?"

"Excuse me?"

" Your intentions," Anthea repeated with exaggerated slowness. "Romantic or otherwise."

"None of your bloody business, that's what they are!" Greg snapped, in no mood to participate in this ridiculous conversation. "Does such a thing as a private life even exist to you people?"

Anthea did not seem fazed by Greg's indignation in the slightest. "As I am sure you will understand, Inspector Lestrade, my interference only stems from concern for Mr Holmes' wellbeing. And out of respect for you," she added, much to Greg's surprise. "Mr Holmes thinks very highly of you and his judge of character is rarely misplaced. However," there was a beat of hesitation, "I worry that certain... feelings may be impeding his ability to conduct himself as usual at present."

"Are you trying to tell me to back off because I'm stopping Mycroft from doing his job?" Lestrade demanded, pressing the plastic lid onto his cup with a little too much force. "Because, to be perfectly honest with you, I've got no fucking idea-"

"Inspector Lestrade, if you would allow me to continue?" Anthea cut through smoothly with a delicately raised eyebrow. Greg shut up. "I am merely trying to ascertain whether or not the distraction is worthwhile and, if not, to ask you to reconsider your relations. I am in doubt that you care for Mr Holmes and, as such, would wish to avoid doing any permanent damage."

Greg sincerely wished she would speak plainly. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I know you will do what you believe to be right," Anthea replied, her tone as close to friendly as it was ever likely to be. "But it wouldn't necessarily follow that it would be the right thing."

"Is this not a conversation Mycroft can have with me himself?"

"No," Anthea said simply. "Mr Holmes is... not particularly well acquainted with affairs of the heart, particularly his own. And even the British Government needs a wingman."

Despite the young lady's poker-straight face, Greg was pretty sure that was almost a joke. Almost.

"How am I supposed to know these things if Mycroft doesn't tell me?" he pointed out. "I've tried to have a discussion with him about this, which was hopeless. He's stood me up twice for dinner. I'm not the one who's not trying here."

"No, I believe you," said Anthea earnestly. "As I said, I know that you will do what you believe to be the right thing. What I am asking you is to be sure of yourself before leading Mr Holmes on."

Greg bristled indignantly. "I'm not-"

"Not like that. I mean, it would be wholly unfair to encourage feelings of a romantic sort if you are uncertain that that is the road you want to follow. Similarly, if that were something you would seriously – and I mean seriously – you must be prepared to be infinitely patient. Either way," she inspected her nails in the weak light of the car, "you must be certain yourself first."

"You seem to know a great deal of information about Mycroft's personal life for a PA," Greg observed frostily, although her words had certainly given him a great deal to think about.

"Do you know what 'PA' stands for, Detective Inspector?"

Wincing, Greg turned away with a muttered, "Point taken."

"And the rest?"

"Yes, also those," he conceded with a nod.

Anthea gave a slight smile and leaned forward to speak to driver. "We can return the detective inspector home now."

As they headed back towards the city, Greg carefully contemplated Anthea's advice. He had never imagined that this would become so serious, but she was right – it couldn't be treated superficially. He glanced sideways at Mycroft's young assistant, who had returned her attention back to her blackberry. Whichever way this went, one thing was certain – Anthea would be scrutinising every move he made and it would definitely be more beneficial to have her as an ally than an enemy.

She caught his eye and smiled reassuringly. "If I thought you were going to be damaging, I wouldn't have even bothered to have this conversation with you. I believe we were on the same page, certain things just needed to be established."

"He likes you, you know," said Anthea just before Greg closed the car door. "Just so that you are aware of the facts."

Greg gave a short laugh. "What are we, thirteen? Good night."

But despite his dismissive words, he couldn't pretend that the little flip his heart did, as he put his key in the lock, hadn't happened.