The Hundred Year Wait (2 page)

“It looks like
each paragraph is a word,” she replied and smiled at him. He
ignored her. She was right, but that didn't mean he had to like her
or praise her for it.

“The second word
has an A and C in the middle and has four letters,” Sherlock
said.

“Four?” She turned
to him, a puzzled look on her face.

“Yes, there's a
fourth sentence.” Mycroft pointed to the smiley face reference in
between two colons. She shrugged.

“That's an
emoticon gone wrong, but I suppose it might be part of the
message.” She put the word in brackets in the list in the two
places the references appeared and then turned to his brother.
“Search for, I'd rather cry in a BMW, online and see what comes
up.”

Immediately
Sherlock obeyed and grabbed his laptop. Mycroft found himself
sneering yet again. This woman was telling them what to do when she
was evidently of inferior intelligence and even worse, his brother
wasn't even slightly put out. He'd thought Sherlock over this sort
of sentimentality after losing Watson, but it appeared he was even
softer than ever.

Twenty minutes
later they had one more letter and Mycroft continued to stand and
do nothing but stare at the message. The entire time he'd been
running through five letter words that fit with the E and N they'd
already found for the first word. With the I Mrs Jones now wrote in
he knew what it said.
Begin Lace Fri
was the full message,
but he wasn't about to say so and be pressed to explain further.
Even if Mrs Jones expressed no further interest, his brother would
and with his deductive reasoning might work out more than Mycroft
wanted either of them to know.

As he was trying
to think of some way to get rid of Mrs Jones she pulled a pocket
watch out, checked the time and gasped.

“I've got to go.
I'm meant to be signing books in less than half an hour.” She
grabbed her jacket and shrugged into it. “Sorry to run before we're
done, but I hate being late for anything.”

“I'm sure we can
solve this without you,” Mycroft said and gave her a smile which
didn't reach his eyes.

“See you tomorrow,
Sebastian, and it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Holmes.” She gave
him a half smile, meaning it far more than he would have, and
hurried from the room. As the sound of her rapid footsteps receded
down the stairs Mycroft relaxed.

“So, you've found
a new John Watson.” He looked intently at his brother but Sherlock
remained impassive.

“She's brighter
than John ever was, but she won't be around for long. She'll go
write her next book in a few days. Mostly she's a recluse, like
you, especially when in the middle of a book.”

“You're trying to
intrigue me by making me think we're similar, but it won't work.
She's not as intelligent as you even, so I have no interest in
her.” Mycroft walked towards the door, not wanting to continue this
conversation.

“She would have
been as clever as me had she grown up with you as an elder brother.
She's keen to learn from us and pleasant enough.”

“Mrs Jones won't
live long enough to ever get close.”

“Miss Jones,”
Sherlock said, looking smug. Mycroft shook his head at what his
younger brother had overlooked.

“There was a
wedding ring.”

“Yes, but she's
not married, not anymore anyway. She uses her maiden name on her
books and uses Miss in all her dealings.”

“Widow.” Mycroft
nodded. He should have seen it in her manner with Sherlock. No
woman in a solid relationship would spend time coming to London for
book signings and spend so much time alone with another man. At
least they wouldn't have when Mycroft had been younger. Society had
changed since then. He walked out, and called back, “Don't get
involved, brother of mine.”

“I'll let you know
when I've solved this,” Sherlock yelled after him.

“No need!” Mycroft
pulled the door shut. Miss Jones' perfume lingered in the stairwell
even stronger than before and Mycroft found himself thinking that
as far as perfumes went it could have been a lot worse. At the
least it smelt better than Sherlock's flat usually did.

As he walked back
to his car he messaged his assistant.

Project lace will begin
on Friday. Deploy operation clean-up. Also find all information on
the author Amelia Jones and forward it to me.

As soon as the
message was delivered he put his phone back in the inside pocket of
his jacket and stepped outside. The rain had stopped and Mycroft
smiled as he was driven back to his home, his mind already focused
on other matters.

A shiver ran down
Amelia's spine as she sat back in the taxi and allowed it to take
her to Sebastian's. She'd barely slept since the day before when
she met Myron. She'd known he was meant to be both the more
intelligent, and the more arrogant of the two brothers, but she
hadn't expected to be quite so intrigued by him. Ever since being a
young teenager she'd found clever men the most attractive and she'd
married the brightest man she could find the first time around.
Fate had robbed her of a happy lengthy marriage, however, and left
her to find someone else bright enough to gain her respect. A grin
spread, uncontained, across her face as she realised, she'd just
found him.

Myron Holmes
evidently didn't think much of her. He'd sneered at her on more
than one occasion but that only made the challenge of getting him
to like her more appealing. Sebastian spent time with her and
appeared to enjoy helping her despite his initial coldness. Myron
would be another difficulty level above, but not impossible.

As she travelled
through London she thought through everything she knew about Myron.
If she wanted to win him over before he shut her off completely she
needed to figure him, and his dislikes, out quickly.

He'd been
impeccably dressed in a grey suit and waistcoat with the shiniest
shoes she'd ever seen, so being well kept would be a priority. Her
best clothes would be needed just to get close to his level.
Thankfully she'd been smart and sophisticated in her choice of
attire while in London, and, just in case she bumped into him
again, she was equally groomed today.

Intelligence would
also be a key factor. His level of brilliance would feel so much
higher than hers so she would need to be careful not to say
anything that he'd find annoyingly stupid. She suspected being
silent and learning would be a safer way to handle him than
speaking when unsure.

With his arrogance
and commanding presence she imagined some flattery would help her
case as well as a slight subservient attitude. Both would need to
be subtle or she might come across as desperate or perhaps even
manipulative, but she could think on her feet. On top of that she
would need to show some sense of humour or wit, or she would blend
into the background like a secretary or doorman at a hotel. Someone
who was only meant to be ignored or talked at.

She'd spent hours
already, replaying their first meeting through her head and
analysing every word and gesture. So far she thought she'd probably
been too keen to help and forward with what she thought the answers
were, which may have annoyed him, although, Sebastian hadn't seemed
to care. Before she could satisfy the obsessive desire in her to go
through it all again, the taxi pulled up outside Sebastian's
flat.

As usual, Mrs
Wintern answered her knock on the door and ushered her inside.

“He's up and
about. I've heard the floorboards creaking as he paces back and
forth.” She waved Amelia up the stairs, making her grin. Sebastian
had only been in bed once when Amelia had arrived and only because
he'd had no clients for a few weeks and hadn't been expecting
her.

“You're early,” he
said as soon as she opened the door. He stood in front of the case
board. The overlay with her characters was back in place over the
one she'd written the strange email on, giving her no indication of
whether he'd finished solving it or not.

“I'm always
early,” she pointed out and took her jacket off.

“You're even
earlier than normal,” He switched his attention to her, running his
eyes over her, as he did every time they met, “and you barely
slept. What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.”
She went to stand beside him and stare at her characters, hoping he
wouldn't pick up on anything else.

“You've done your
hair differently. The French braid is very elegant, and the choker,
that's new. You're making an effort, but the perfume is less
obvious and you're still wearing your wedding ring so you don't
want it to be too noticeable.” He grinned and waited for her to
react to him, as he always did when he'd figured out something she
didn't want him to.

“Evidently it was
not
subtle enough.” She shook her
head in mock annoyance, all the while smiling.

“Well, he's a
lucky fellow, either way.”

“Hmmmphhh, you're
assuming he'll appreciate it.”

“Ah, so it is
brother of mine.”

She bit her lip
and stamped her foot, annoyed at being so easy to read.

“It is not an
obvious deduction. You mentioned you liked intelligent men and I
doubt you met anyone at the book signing yesterday who you expect
to see today.” She nodded at his assumptions. The book signing had
gone well but no one had stood out of the crowds wanting to be
photographed with her.

“My effort is
likely to be entirely wasted,” she replied, knowing the chances of
bumping into him again were slim.

“He is rather
reclusive.” Sebastian nodded once and fixed his gaze back on her
plot notes. For now the conversation on Myron was over. With a deep
breath she tried to join him in working out the best combination of
motives, character traits and circumstances to make the plot
gripping and unpredictable. Despite her best efforts, it only held
half her attention, while Myron's personality and traits held the
other half.

The two hours
before her next signing slipped by in a barely registered haze.
With the little they had left to work out they should have been
done before time ran out but the need to move on to the bookshop
came before all the details were finalised.

“You really are
distracted by Myron, aren't you?” Sebastian put down the pen. She
nodded.

“I don't expect
that it matters much. I'm unlikely to even meet him again, let
alone get him to like me, and
like
is only the first of many
stages.” She pulled her jacket on and neatened her hair.

“Of all the women
I've met, you're the first to show an interest in my brother that I
can believe in. You're also the first I've thought might interest
him.” He handed her the notebook she'd been jotting ideas down
in.

“There is still an
element of chance that may never go in my favour.” Sebastian raised
an eyebrow. “I may never meet him again,” she explained and gave
him a wry smile.

“Ah...” He scanned
her face as he trailed off, making her wonder if she'd said
something stupid.

“What?”

“His car has been
outside for the last ten minutes.”

“He's probably
waiting for me to leave.” Despite her brush off, every muscle in
her torso tensed at the thought of him being so close to her.

“No. He would ask
you to go if he wanted to talk to me. The only other possibility is
that he's here for you.” Her eyes went wide and she froze to the
spot while her brain tried to fathom a why. “Stay calm and go on.
Don't keep him waiting.”

“Thank you,
Sebastian.” She stood on her tiptoes to give his over six foot
frame a kiss on the cheek. With that, she rushed from the flat and
down the stairs, only checking her pace by the front door. Rain
pattered down outside but she'd not thought to bring an
umbrella.

When she strode
outside Myron's driver leapt up and opened the car door for her.
After exhaling in an attempt to calm herself, she stooped and got
into the car. Somehow she found herself sitting beside Myron Holmes
while managing the potentially undignified entrance with enough
grace that it boosted her confidence. A second later the car pulled
off and she could only assume they were on the way to the bookstore
she was scheduled to sign at.

“Good afternoon,
Mr Holmes,” she said, giving him her attention. Today he wore a
deep blue suit and, if possible, looked even better than
yesterday.

“Increased heart
rate, flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. Are you nervous, Miss
Jones?” Myron replied instead of greeting her.

“I always get
nervous before a book signing. I'm put on show for everyone to see
and fans are notorious for putting their celebrities on a pedestal
that's impossible to stay on.”

“Yet you chose
your profession.”

“For the most part
my profession allows me to stay in the comfort of a familiar place
and be paid to invent and solve whatever predicaments I want my
characters to face. Every job has a downside.” Mycroft blinked but
made no response. She waited for him to explain why he'd picked her
up as she definitely wasn't saying anything more about why she was
nervous.

“My sources inform
me that your next novel involves some, characters, of a North
Korean nationality, as well as a particular incident with them that
closely resembles a case my brother recently aided with.”

“The storyline was
his suggestion,” she said before she realised Myron wasn't the sort
of man to appreciate interruptions. He pursed his lips together and
waited for her to stay quiet.

“I cannot allow
you to publish it. Will you promise to never attempt to show it to
anyone.”

She looked away,
thinking about her response. Writing a novel took a lot of effort
and scrapping one entirely was a lot to ask of her. At the least it
could damage her reputation with her fans. On the other hand,
cooperating with Myron would be more likely to get her in his good
graces and maybe lead to a friendship opportunity.