The Rabbit Hole
Mycroft hurried Claire Watson on the sidewalk, wishing the people ahead of them were walking faster. Miss Watson was still in the dark, which was a good thing; he didn't want her to know until he needed her to.
"This way."
He pointed to his office in Whitehall where the government agents worked.
"Why are we going to that place? Is it a case for your brother, who is trying to be secretive by following us?" she yelled behind her, causing Watson to try and jump behind a bush in fright.
"Sherlock can't stand the thought of me conversing with you, Miss Watson, without some intent of using you," he explained to her as they ran across the street.
Claire wasn't surprised by Holmes's curiosity and how oddly his brother was behaving, but that didn't stop her from following a wheezing Mycroft into the bland building. Trying to be helpful, Claire let him catch his breath in the lobby before following him up the stairs to his office. With the door firmly closed, the portly man turned to her, his face streaked with sweat from so much exercise in one day.
"Miss Watson, the reason I pulled you away so hurriedly was that it came across my mind of a case that was entrusted to me concerning an old acquaintance of yours."
Claire sat down, visibly shaken, thinking it was the professor - or worse, Alexander.
The elder man read her appearance like a book.
"Don't beset yourself, Miss Watson, it has nothing to do with Professor Moriarty or his associates. It instead has to do with a man named William Gardner."
Claire's eyes narrowed in remembrance of that vile name, but before she could speak Watson and Holmes came through the door.
"Good to see you found your way, Sherlock; it's so nice of you to come," Mycroft said to an eye roll from Claire. "Doctor, sit down before you ask any questions, and the same with you, Sherlock. I shall explain my actions in due time."
The two men sat rather abashedly.
"This is a matter of social delicacy. William Gardner, the son of a cultural attaché is in trouble. He's supposed to be getting ready to marry a noble lady by the name of Gertrude Steward, but instead he's been kidnapped."
Claire scowled heavily at this statement.
"His father's only the cultural attaché of France, and his living shouldn't warrant such a thing to occur," Claire said before anyone else could reply.
Watson was surprised by this but he was starting to get used to Claire's foresight.
"How did you know that, Claire?" the good doctor asked her.
Claire tried to look at the window instead of anyone when she answered, "He was a former friend of mine, and I haven't spoken to him in some time," she said unapologetically.
"William Gardner was more than a friend; otherwise you would actually be looking into someone's eyes, Miss Watson," Holmes said statically.
Watson watched for a reaction but Clare's body refused to comply.
"So, Mr. Holmes, I assume the kidnappers wrote to you or did this Gertrude contact you?" she asked the portly Holmes, ignoring the question completely.
The elder Holmes watched his younger brother for a moment before answering.
"His fiancé did; she is supposed to come in to present the case in full to Sherlock."
He pointed to the open door with an open hand.
Claire sighed deflated already.
"It seems our doom to help the man - I suppose I can help with the case but no more questions about my relationship with William, I've had enough of it," she said professionally.
Holmes nodded in agreement.
"How diplomatic of you, Miss Watson I'm glad to see you have the strength to see the woman he had an affair with while he was courting you."
Watson's head turned instinctively to Claire's face, which had that marble look on it he found frightening.
"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Holmes, but I think you have said quite enough at the present," she said sharply to Holmes.
The detective seemed to agree and sat more at ease in his chair. Within a few minutes of celebrated silence the door creaked open to reveal a rather short lady with curly red hair and a lavish silk dress in the middle of July.
"Mr. Mycroft Holmes?" she asked in a low nasally voice.
The now comfortable Holmes stood up along with everyone else and welcomed her into the room.
"Please come in, Miss Steward, this is my brother Mr. Sherlock Holmes, his colleagues Dr. Watson and Miss Claire Watson."
Holmes and Watson bowed and Claire gave a small curtsy before returning to her seat. The noble lady returned the curtsy, and sat in the center of the room on Mycroft's small sofa.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Holmes, but I have no one else to turn to. William is the world to me and if anything should happen to him, I wouldn't know what to do."
Claire wished she could roll her eyes at this - as much as she hated William, this woman really loved him.
The detective leaned forward to observe her as usual.
"Give me the exact facts, Miss Steward, and I will do all in my power to find him."
Watson took out his trusty notebook, and Claire pushed her chair closer to Gertrude to get a better view of her.
"The last time I saw him was last Thursday afternoon, around four-o'clock. We were having tea in the sitting room in my house in Kent, when William got an urgent telegram calling him to London."
She blinked away tears. Claire couldn't help realizing why Holmes had such a narrow view of women, and most of them who he encountered were beside themselves or worse.
"William works for his father is the Cultural Affair's department here, and is often called away on urgent business so this was very commonplace."
She continued, not aware of the eight eyes observing her closely.
"I went about my day as normal, knowing that he would be back in time for supper which was at eight, so when he didn't appear I was taken aback. I rang his office to see if he was there or had left already and they told me that he never came in and that they didn't send for him."
At this Gertrude burst into tears. Holmes merely blinked quickly as Claire offered her a handkerchief.
"Now, Miss Steward, when did you file that he was missing?"
The crying woman shook her head, "I didn't go to the police because I was afraid that the kidnappers would kill him, I told his father Robert, who mentioned you, Mr. Holmes, and thought you could help me. I contacted Mr. Holmes two days ago about this matter and he arranged the meeting for today."
Claire leaned forward in her chair.
"Have the kidnappers been in touch with you at all?" she asked her quietly, making the woman blink in confusion.
"No, not at all - I've heard nothing so far," she said trying to decide whom to pay attention to.
Holmes snapped his fingers in thought.
"You will keep us informed once they do, Miss Steward?" he asked her, rising.
Gertrude was beside herself in joy, "Thank you for taking my case Mr. Holmes, of course I'll send you anything once I get it."
She curtsied a final time before departing.
As soon as the door was closed, Holmes turned to Claire, who was deep in thought.
"Miss Watson what did I tell you about asking clients questions?" he hissed at her.
Claire's head snapped up in recognition of hearing her name.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, but it seemed to me that you weren't going to ask that question so I thought I should for clarification."
Her response was businesslike as usual and she then returned to her pondering. Holmes wouldn't let this breach of etiquette go.
"Miss Watson, how did you gather that I was done with my questions?" he asked her, appalled.
Claire looked at him briefly before clicking her tongue in annoyance.
"There was the matter of your tone, and I misjudged it as ending instead of your merely catching your breath."
Her observance stunned Watson yet again into further silence.
Holmes looked at her with narrowed eyes, "Miss Watson, you are clearly still emotional about this William Gardner and it won't do anything but hinder our progress."
The lady stood up and walked until she was face to face with him, clearly angry with him.
"Don't assume, Mr. Holmes, that I am emotional over something I have spent enough of my time on, I am over William and I think its time for us to go."
Her tone had gone from wooden to stern in a flash. With that she stood up straight and glanced over at Mycroft, who was observing her.
"I did enjoy our walk, Mr. Holmes - I'm sorry that it had to end so soon," she said, trying to cover up the shame she felt because Holmes had exposed her anger at William.
"The pleasure was entirely mine, Miss Watson, and I wish you luck on the case."
He shook her hand quietly and with a small smile. Claire half-smiled back and with a second glance to Watson she walked out of the room and started walking down the hallway. Mycroft stopped Holmes before he could get out the door.
"Sherlock, you are going to have to be careful with this case; Miss Watson has stronger attachment then I previously thought."
His brother snorted, "She won't do anything too rash, brother of mine - as for her pervious romance, as she told us so bluntly Miss Watson has moved on from it and you should do the same."
His brother wrinkled his brow at his younger sibling.
"What are you getting at, Sherlock?" he asked him, wondering what he was thinking.
"You are paying particular attention to my assistant, Miss Watson, Mycroft; and I cannot help but wonder why you doing so."
Mycroft turned his grey eyes to his brother's and stared at him, "Unlike you, Sherlock, I find her company interesting and her background keeps me guessing on how she sees things."
He turned from him, facing the large window.
Holmes couldn't take this change of his brother's personality.
"You've never done this before, and how do you expect me to take this budding friendship?" he said to the larger man's back, unaware that Claire and Watson were listening to their conversation.
Mycroft slammed his hand on his desk.
"I expect you to stop acting like a child, Sherlock! People change, you have to realize that - not everyone can keep the same personality throughout his lifetime," he said sternly. "Before I met your assistant, I was a recluse, who delighted in observing others and working for the government."
Holmes looked at his brother with curious eyes, seeing this new man he wasn't sure he knew.
"What are you now, Mycroft? Just because some woman has come in your life, you are willing to throw away all that you hold dear?"
The elder shook his head.
"You know as well as I, Miss Claire Watson is not just some woman. You may not admit it but she intrigues you, because Claire does what you said what was impossible for her sex."
The silence between them was daunting, and the sound of their strained breathing was the only thing that could be heard. On the other side of the door, Claire slid to the floor, smiling to herself; she had found friendship with the brother of the man who doubted her skill. Watson looked at his cousin's satisfied smile.
"Aren't you surprised by any of this, Claire?"
She turned to him, her eyes shining from the sunlight.
"The only thing that surprised me is that Mr. Holmes used my first name. As for Sherlock, he has always held women as an inferior sex."
Claire's voice seemed to drift through the door she was sitting against into the door where the thinner Holmes was pacing about.