Chapter Text
As their cab neared one of the many buildings on the Whitehall, Holmes drew in a sharp breath. “Damned, show-off!” he muttered. At Watson’s inquiring brow he explained, “Do you now see why I find him insufferable? He timed his arrival exactly a few moments before ours, to demonstrate how easily he can predict my behaviour.”
Watson looked up to search for the other Holmes but ended up with his sight tangled in the vision of seeing Mr. Scott in daylight for the very first time. Yes, it was he. He couldn’t hear a word of what was being said around him. Holmes led him up to the door where Mr. Scott was already turning to proceed inside. Did Mr. Scott work with Holmes’ brother perhaps? As they walked down long corridors and up some stairs Doctor Watson tried desperately to clear his head and pay attention to his surroundings. Damn! But he had most likely completely missed the introduction to Holmes’ brother. He couldn’t even recall another man on the kerb. It was unlike him to be so unsettled.
The entered a door where a man rose from behind a desk in greeting. “Good morning, sir. The countess has already arrived. I escorted her to your room and have ensured she is comfortable.”
“Thank you, Williams. Do make sure no one disturbs us,” said Mr. Scott. Perhaps it was Mr. Scott who was in charge then.
They turned towards a well-lit inner chamber. As they entered, the door was pulled shut. It was an enormous and uncluttered space dominated by a large desk with large windows behind it. Mr. Scott at once looked towards the comfortable sofa to one side and approached it saying, “Anthea, my dear.”
Seated on the sofa was one of the most prominent faces of London society. Lady Anthea Sherringford, the widow of the Earl of Sherringford, doyenne of both sitting rooms and politics, despite her youth. She had protégés lining up both sides of the parliament as well as the ballrooms of London. It was believed that she had both the Queen’s ear as well as the prime minister’s. She was feared and admired equally— most notably by the press. At a glance, Watson could say why. She was indeed beautiful.
She smiled now at Mr. Scott and gave him her hand and then turned to Holmes. “Sherlock, my dear, it has been ages.”
“And you look as lovely as ever,” Holmes said charmingly kissing her cheek. Watson was startled to note the sincere fondness on Holmes’ face as he continued, “May I introduce you to my companion and fellow lodger, Doctor John Watson. Watson, my cousin, the Countess Sherringford.”
Watson bent over the lady’s hand to murmur his greeting.
“A delight, Doctor Watson.”
“The pleasure is truly mine, my lady,” said Watson straightening up.
Holmes continued, “And this is my esteemed brother, Watson. Mycroft Holmes.”
Later, Watson would congratulate himself on keeping his wits together and merely shaking the proffered hand as he murmured polite greetings.