Without a Word

Caprice

       You had to admit it was the nicest vehicle you had ever ridden in.  Leather seats, velvet accents.  Even the inside door handles looked like they were made of real silver.  The windows were tinted black, and you could barely see outside.

        You look at the redhead, and you saw how she was nicely dressed.  Red sweater.  Black pencil skirt.  A long peal necklace.  An eagle ring, the eyes shimmering as the redhead picks up a glass of champagne in her hands.  She swivels the liquid around before handing the crystal glass over to you.  You raise your eyebrows.

        "Drink."

        "I'd rather not."  You shake your head, and immediately, your phone vibrates.

        Do all Miss Scarlet asks of you.

        You look back up and Miss Scarlet, you assume, smirks.

        "Do you have another glass?"  Her eyes turn a bit colder.

        "I said, 'Drink.'"  WIth a sigh, you take the glass and let the sweet, bubbly liquid trickle down your throat.  Within a few moments, you collapse against the seat, knocked out cold.

        When you come to, you immediately look outside, views of the countryside greeting you.  The driver turns, the car speeding into a secret underground tunnel.  It's not long until the car slows to a stop.  A moment later, the bald man opens the door for you once more.

        The first thing that hits you is the cold humidity of the tunnel you were in, making your body confused as to take off or leave on your cardigan.  The second thing you notice is that it's completely abandoned.  The third thing you notice is that the only thing, besides the car and its passengers, that make it not totally empty is a chair and a man, leaning against an umbrella as his legs are crossed over.

        "Hello, Miss Watson," the man says, his voice low and more rugged than Tom's.  "I've been watching you."  Your eyebrows furrow a bit.

        "Care to explain why you felt compelled to not only take me hostage but to also drug me?"

        "If you knew how to get here, then I would have to kill you.  And that would be to neither of our benefits, now would it?"

        "What do you possibly want with me?  I have nothing of value."  The man smiles more.

        "Ah, but you have.  You see, you have Sherlock's trust."  You study the man's face more, trying to hint any deception.  But you come up empty.

        "He does not.  And who are you?"  The man uncrosses his legs, standing up perfectly straight.

        "Oh, where are my manners.  Please, have a seat."  You shake your head.

        "I'm perfectly fine, and after that champagne, I'd rather keep my ground.  And you're stalling."  He smiles, walking closer to you.  You step back a bit in order to get into a more rooted stance, you not knowing the man's intentions.

        "I go by Mycroft.  That is all I am allowed to tell you."  You fold your arms.

        "Well then, Mycroft, you explained the champagne, but you are missing the purpose of my presence."

        "I can see why my younger brother hasn't kicked you out yet."  Your eyes widen.  "Does this make this conversation any more interesting?"

        "Yes, quite a bit.  If you had to go through all this trouble, there must be something going on between you."

        "You catch on quicker than I thought."  Mycroft switches the umbrella from his left hand to his right.  "But that will be revealed later in time.  Right now, I have a job for you."