The Ambitious Orphan (11 page)

“If it's
necessary, then I have no problem,” Amelia said, as much to
convince herself as him.

“Good.” Sebastian
came to her rescue, handing Myron an adjusted diagram of their plan
of action once on the boat. As she looked over it, she realised it
kept her out of the most danger while also letting her play a part.
For her first official mission with the Holmes brothers, it was a
good start.

Myron took the
drawing and, a few seconds later, he nodded.

“We have a lot of
things to prepare. Take this list out to Daniels.” Myron handed her
two pieces of paper. “And get this from your hotel.”

She took the
offered items and hurried off to ask the chauffeur to get started.
Despite the car looking spotless, Daniels was still outside, with a
cloth in one hand. Amelia squinted and shifted a footstep to the
left as she was momentarily blinded by the glare off the gleaming
metalwork.

“Wow, you've done
an amazing job.”

“First good day
we've had for it this year, and it is new. I'll keep it looking
that way as long as I can,” he said, holding his head a little
taller at her compliment. She handed him the list.

“Our commander and
chief has some errands for us to run.” She waved her list in the
air as well, even if she didn't let him read it.

“I'll drop you
off.” Daniels opened the car door for her and she hurried inside,
inhaling the fresh smell of the cleaned interior. She could really
get used to being driven around by Daniels.

Mycroft sipped his
tea and allowed his mind to process the many details still to work
out. It was the middle of the afternoon, and both his younger
brother and Amelia had completely changed the plans he'd put in
place over the last thirty-six hours.

It raised his
chances of success, as long as everyone did what they were told,
but it also raised the chance someone other than Krylov would get
hurt. For him and Sebastian that mattered little, but for Amelia,
it could mean another occasion that she would need to recover
from.

Even after telling
her she could join him on this mission, he was considering leaving
her behind. If Daniels returned with all the equipment they needed
before her, he would probably do just that. He doubted Sebastian
would take much persuading, especially given how close they
appeared lately. The younger Holmes would be equally concerned for
her safety. At least, he ought to be.

There was a plane
booked to take them to the Caribbean overnight. It would give them
some time to see what the exact situation was over on Antigua
before night fall of the following day. Then they would remove the
threat to Amelia and the UK.

With any luck,
within forty-eight hours he would be back in his study with nothing
to do but mop up a few loose ends and get back to his usual work.
The sort of thing that didn't require travelling, interacting with
people face to face, or putting one's life in danger.

Sherlock was
sitting reading the morning's newspaper, making as much noise as
possible every time he turned a page. When the younger Holmes was
bored, it always fell to petty annoyances between the two of them.
While Mycroft could sit and wait for something for hours, churning
over ideas and theories in his head, Sherlock had to be busy or
would fidget, antagonise and otherwise make himself a nuisance.

When he heard the
front door open, Mycroft let out a small sigh of relief, but rather
than being followed by the steady tromp of Daniels' shoes on the
hallway wood, it was followed by the pitter-patter of Amelia's
shorter gait. Accompanying it was the sound of wheels of a small
suitcase. Mycroft rolled his eyes. She hadn't obeyed his requests
to the letter.

“I have everything
you asked for, Myron,” she said as soon as she came through the
door. “I brought everything else, as well. I figured there was no
point wasting money on a hotel room I'm not using for a couple of
days.”

Sherlock chuckled,
looking at Mycroft's reaction to the news.

“Oh, I don't plan
to bring it all with us. I asked Daniels to get me a much smaller
case for what I actually need. It will only take two seconds to
transfer it all since I've already separated it out. I assumed it
would be all right to leave the rest here. It's not like it will be
in anyone's way while we're all gone.”

“Well, that's
something, at least.” Mycroft nodded. It wasn't bad logic. Given
how used to saving money she was, it was something he should have
expected. Even if it was annoying for her to use his house in such
a manner, she'd rationalised it as the most considerate option in
her own mind. He would have to teach her to weigh the priorities of
others against her own first.

“I'd have
preferred if you'd just left it at the hotel. The money isn't an
issue. But it's here now.” Mycroft paused as Mrs Hunter appeared.
He thanked the heavens that his housekeeper always seemed to know
exactly when she was needed. “Can you take the superfluous baggage
Miss Jones has with her, and store it in the spare room?”

A few seconds
later the suitcase was gone and there was just a neat pile of
clothing and equipment Amelia would need over the next 24 hours.
Now they just needed Daniels.

Within the next
half hour, Mycroft received the final message he needed to give him
confidence in his plan. Krylov's wife and kids had just got in the
car to be taken to the airport. They'd be back in Russia not long
after he arrived in Antigua, safely out of the way.

When he passed the
news on, only Amelia reacted. Sherlock gave him a bored, not
interested look, and Amelia appeared more relieved. Given how much
compassion she'd expressed over Nesterov and the war they'd started
between Ukraine and Russia, it was consistent for her to respond
so. Within seconds, all of them returned to waiting.

Thankfully, Amelia
didn't add to the disruption Sherlock liked to cause. Instead, she
fetched herself yet another book from his extensive library and
settled in a chair by the fire to read.

After about ten
minutes, she shot Sherlock a look of annoyance that he didn't
notice, and moved to the window seat farthest away. Mycroft felt
the corners of his mouth twitch up. It turned out he wasn't the
only one irritated by the actions of a bored Sherlock.

As the minutes
continued to tick by, Mycroft also wondered what he could do with
himself. He was considering trying to engage Amelia in conversation
when Sherlock grew restless enough to give up on the paper. When he
got up and approached Amelia, it was evident he'd had a similar
idea.

“How are you
progressing with the latest novel?” he asked. She stuck her thumb
in the way to mark her page before giving the younger Holmes her
attention.

“Well, thank you.
I shouldn't take much longer to finish it.”

“Fabulous.”

Conversation
stalled and Mycroft would have smiled had he been naturally more
expressive.

Before it could
start up again, he heard the sound of a car pulling up onto the
driveway. Mycroft, very ready to get under way, got to his
feet.

Within a minute,
Amelia was fitting her possessions into the much smaller case
Daniels had retrieved for her, and the rest of the equipment was
gathered up to move to the car.

Less than ten
minutes later Mycroft sat in the back of his new Bentley, Amelia in
her usual seat beside him and Sherlock up in front, next to
Daniels. The best place for the still bored Holmes brother. There
was a chance Mycroft could get used to going on the occasional
mission when the company was well behaved.

An hour later they
were moving to the plane, and Daniels handed them the last of the
luggage. Somehow, no one had irritated Mycroft, and he'd even
managed to forget he had company for several minutes.

“Have a good trip,
sir.”

“Thank you,
Daniels. I'll let you know when to pick us up. Enjoy your day
off.”

“I will. Thank
you, sir.”

Mycroft nodded and
watched his chauffeur drive away, before following Amelia onto the
plane. As expected, Sherlock was already sitting in one of the
seats, tapping his fingers on the armrest. Mycroft was tempted to
point out how irritating it was but he knew this would only
encourage the younger Holmes. Instead, Mycroft sat himself in what
he thought was the best seat of the four. On the right and facing
forwards.

It left the
backwards seats as the only options for Amelia. She glanced at both
of these before settling into the one in front of him. A few
seconds later she lifted up her legs, leaving her shoes on the
floor, and attempted to curl up, avoiding looking at him as she
did.

After several
readjustments, she closed her eyes. Immediately, Sherlock stopped
tapping. A few seconds later he closed his eyes as well, and half
an hour after that Mycroft was the only one left awake. It was
bliss.

Mycroft watched
over them the entire night. It wasn't entirely necessary, but he'd
never found it very easy to sleep while travelling.

An hour before the
plane was due to land, Sherlock woke up.

“The older I get
the less I seem to sleep,” he said a little above a whisper. It
wasn't entirely true but Mycroft understood the sentiment. It could
often feel like they didn't sleep as well. The memories of so many
years weighed on the mind.

“She looks so
peaceful when she sleeps, doesn't she?” Sherlock motioned his head
towards Amelia. Although Mycroft didn't need to look to know – he
could picture it – he moved his attention to her face.

Both hands were
tucked under her chin, and her chest moved in a slow rhythmic
motion. A few strands of her chestnut hair had trailed loose from
her bun and were draped across her cheek. Still transfixed, Mycroft
leant forward and stroked them back behind her ear.

Sherlock chuckled
and she stirred. Mycroft shot his younger brother a glare and
slowly sat back so Amelia wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary
if she did wake. It wasn't long before her breathing returned to
normal.

“She's different,
isn't she?” Sherlock said, quieter than before. In response,
Mycroft raised his eyebrows; this sort of sentimentality wasn't
really like his brother either. “I think she might be good for both
of us.”

“How so?” he
replied, deciding to see just where the younger Holmes was
going.

“When you've seen
what we've seen and done all the things we've done it's easy to
become detached from the everyday. She reminds us to have some
compassion. To at least try to remember what it was like to fear,
to need to take care of ourselves.”

After letting out
a sigh, he gave a slight nod. It was a good point. They'd started a
war with no thought for the deaths it would cause. Living so long
made it easy for him to be selfish. He had no financial issues, no
health concerns, very little in the way of emotional conflict, when
Sherlock was behaving, and it made it difficult to feel empathy for
a world that might need their help.

“Despite all that,
we can't let her be a part of our world for too long.” Mycroft gave
his brother a look. Given that they weren't alone, neither of them
would say why, but the one glance was enough for the meaning to be
passed on regardless. Their secret mustn't ever get out.

“You don't think
she'd be loyal enough for that not to be a problem? She does seem
rather fond of you... for some reason.”

“You know some
risks are never worth taking.”

Sherlock sighed,
and he had to restrain himself from echoing the sentiment. It was a
shame, but they just wouldn't ever be able to take the chance. Just
one slip and their carefully built world could come crashing down
on them.

They lapsed into
silence until the plane started its decent to the airstrip. Before
Mycroft could shake Amelia awake, Sherlock leant forward and called
her name loudly enough she jumped and snapped her eyes open.

“We're almost
there,” he said, a slightly cruel smile playing across his face at
the wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, look frozen on her.

“Right.” She
recovered, but her breathing took a minute to settle while she put
her shoes back on and neatened her crumpled clothes, still not
looking at him. It occurred to Mycroft that being so close for
almost a week and then pushing her away had led to an awkward air
between them. By putting some distance between them she was doing
everything she could to guard her heart.

When she stole a
glance she didn't think he'd notice, he realised how badly she was
managing it. Maybe he did need her around to remind him to be more
human. But in keeping her close he'd only hurt her more in the long
run.

As he stepped out
of the plane, Mycroft pushed thoughts of Amelia's feelings from his
mind. He had a task to do, and it was imperative he focused. After
showing disdain for others letting their emotions cloud their
thoughts for so many years, he could hardly allow the same to
happen to himself.

It was only eleven
in the evening local time, but they would feel as if they were four
hours ahead of that. There was a risk it would adversely affect
their performance on the second night, but he wanted to get this
mission done in the smallest window possible. One night and day was
enough time to confirm the information they'd been given and make
sure their plan would work.

The airport was a
few miles north-east of St John's, where Krylov's yacht was meant
to be moored. A very eager taxi driver took them to the hotel
Mycroft's secretary had arranged for them in very little time.
Although he intended on doing very little sleeping, she'd booked
them a large family suite with two bedrooms.

Not even Amelia
reacted outwardly when the receptionist asked her which of the two
men with her was her husband, but Sherlock beat them to a
response.