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Opposites Sometimes Don't Attract
The complacent look on the waiter's face at the Royal Café was absolutely destroyed when Claire strode in with Mycroft Holmes looking like he was coming down with heatstroke beside her.
"How may I help you Madame?" his voice squeaked at them, almost afraid of what the man would do.
Mycroft drew out his handkerchief and wiped his beading forehead before answering.
"My guest and I will have a table near the back, please," he said, trying to fit into whatever role this young man was thinking of.
The waiter nodded in agreement and led them to a table near the kitchen which was nice and cool. Claire sat down with mixed feelings, not really sure why Mycroft brought her here instead of staying in the Diogenes Club.
"Miss Watson, in continuation of your background - my brother told me you were in the Royal Theatre orchestra for two years after your job for the government?" he asked her, somewhat aware of her bare hands drumming on the table cloth.
Claire nodded.
"That is correct, Mr. Holmes. I was a second row violinist. I liked the work because I didn't have to really lie to people and the best part was there was no red tape to withhold me from doing what I felt like," she added with a ghost of a smile.
The waiter reappeared as Mycroft took a long drink from his water glass.
"What shall you have today, sir?" he asked Mycroft, eyeing the menu eagerly.
Mycroft snorted, "I will have the turkey cutlet sandwich with more bacon and a side of fruit please."
His eyes turned to Claire, who briefly looked at the menu, answering before the man could address her.
"I will have the chicken salad sandwich with a side of melon please," she said politely before handing her menu to the man.
The waiter nodded his head hurriedly before setting off in the direction of the kitchen.
"Why did you leave such a freedom-giving environment?" Mycroft asked, picking up where he had stopped.
Claire shook her head.
"Well, as much I as would love to say it didn't involve yet another man in my life I've come to abhor, it was," she said ruefully, going back to drumming her fingers on the table.
Mycroft peered at her. Sherlock had been right - when you thought you had found everything of consequence to know about Claire Watson she threw you another twist.
"Are you going into detail or are you going to just pretend I never asked you that question?" he asked her with a touch of rudeness.
The lady sitting across from him only blinked, her face remaining like set concrete.
"I think you've heard enough of my romantic intrigues to fill up a few books, Mr. Holmes. I'm saving this tidbit for our next encounter," she replied pleasantly as the food arrived.
The food was very refreshing, and the pair ate in comfortable silence. As Claire was poking her melon with a fork, Mycroft looked at her as if he was in the presence of a maze rather than a woman.
"Miss Watson, is there anything else I should need to know about you?"
Claire looked up at him, her eyes moving from warm and friendly to silent and cold.
"Yes, next time you see my employer do not tell him about my mention of the professor's true feeling towards me. If he knew about those he would be inclined to distrust me," she said before rising. This outing had been fun, but she had work to do.
Mycroft nodded in agreement.
"Yes, Sherlock still retains his high degree of standards and I don't blame you for not telling him," the large man said in a neutral tone as he stood up to follow her out.
As the pair walked to the front of the Diogenes Club, Claire couldn't help but feel like she was being examined by the grey eyes of Mycroft, and it reaffirmed her suspicions that he was just as cold and calculating as his brother. Mycroft turned to face her when they reached the entrance of his club of choice.
"Thank you for divulging your information, Miss Watson, and for the company. Please give my regards to my brother and your cousin," he said with an informal bow.
Claire retuned with a curtsy and a handshake.
"The pleasure was mine, and Mr. Holmes I'll be sure to pass your greetings as soon as I get back to Baker Street."
Mycroft smiled slightly before turning and disappearing behind the doors. Claire shrugged her shoulders as she waited for a cab. All in all she liked having lunch with Mr. Mycroft Holmes and giving him more information than his brother but there was something about him she didn't quite like. The cab ride was quiet and the view of apartment 221b seemed to have weathered her short absence with no change whatsoever.
Mrs. Hudson was glad to see the nice young lady who had been in Mr. Holmes's employment for the past few years and to see her face was always a nice burst of fresh air.
"Good afternoon, Miss Watson," she chirped as the young lady smiled and walked up the stairs towards Mr. Holmes's rooms. Claire opened the door stiffly and marched into the room with an air of normalcy.
Watson looked from the clock to his cousin; she had only been gone an hour and a half and Claire seemed to act like it was a pleasant visit.
"So, how is Mycroft doing, Claire?" he asked her after she sat back down and began sorting through the pile of mail.
Claire looked up slightly.
"He's dealing with the heat remarkably well for a man of his stature, and he took the time to try and be a gentleman towards me," she said as she opened a thank you letter from Holmes's last client.
"Looks like the Brooks family is holding a luncheon in honor of your services, Mr. Holmes," she said to the thinner of the two Holmeses.
Holmes shook his head impatiently.
"It was nothing remarkable, just the simple case of the stable boy trying to impress the daughter of a wealthy man by stealing a painting from the study. Send them an acknowledgement of their gift but tell them I'm far too busy to travel out to Kent."
Claire nodded as she began to write out the declination of the invitation. Watson wasn't going to let Claire's lunch with Mycroft pass him by and he was surprised that Holmes wasn't asking her anything yet.
"So, what did Mycroft want from you, Claire?" he asked her while writing down Holmes's last case.
His cousin snorted in response.
"He wanted more information about my background with the Yard - apparently Mr. Holmes didn't tell him enough about me," she said sarcastically.
Holmes didn't stir from his position by the unlit fireplace.
"So, my brother asked you more about Professor Moriarty? That is typical of him, wanting to find a weakness of former spies and see where it leads him."
Claire's eyes flashed from her position at the desk.
"Yes, in a matter of fact he did Mr. Holmes; as for my weakness, that comes from Moriarty since it leads to the conclusion that I have to live in fear of the vile man killing me when he gets the chance." Her voice had the wooden quality that warned Watson and Holmes that they were entering uncharted and dangerous waters.
Watson was surprised at Claire's ease in anger.
"What else did Mycroft mention that has put you into such a foul mood?" he asked her, worried that Mycroft offended her at some point.
Claire exhaled sharply.
"It wasn't what he said it was how he said it, he made me feel like a fly being dissected."
She shook her head as she finished the letter and prepared it for postage.
"I don't like it when people examine me without my consent, and he just made me feel small and a bit irregular," Claire sighed as she turned to the next letter.
Watson was confused, wondering what she meant by not liking it when Mycroft examined her. Holmes thankfully explained her answer.
"Miss. Watson is saying because of my brother's very intense interview, she felt like he was looking at her as an example of women spies gone wrong. And she did not wish to be seen as only a former spy; Miss Watson wants to be seen as a whole, not just parts of her interesting career."
Claire nodded in agreement.
"You have it exactly, Mr. Holmes. When I first met your brother I thought he would be more perceptive to my situation, but now I think he just sees me as a typical former female spy who has been in too many entanglements," she said with another sigh.
Watson seemed to understand. Poor Claire thought that for once she wouldn't be hassled by memories of the past but it seemed not to be.
"If it's any consolation Claire, I think you are a singular individual whose past should be respected and dealt with accordingly," he said supportingly.
Claire smiled slightly, "Thank you, John, but I don't need any more apologies at the present." Her tone was tired and more than willing to move on. "I did warn you, Miss. Watson that Mycroft may seem to be nicer to your kind but in reality he can be just as judgmental as I." The thin Holmes told her coldly. The young lady seemed to understand, "Yes, of course Mr. Holmes I had forgotten myself when I got that letter and came to the wrong deduction. But it won't happen again, I assure you." This time Claire's tone had gone from deflated to persuasive. Watson's confidence of Claire striking up a friendship with Mycroft Holmes was beginning to crumble and he began to worry that Holmes might be right after all.