The Syncode

Chapter 14: An Enigma Part II and A Little Romance

This last deepened the black look on his face as he savagely punched out the response. Mycroft looked up with a look of resignation. "Message sent."

Joanne was about to ask what was wrong, when he threw the phone down and abruptly rose from the table. "Excuse me."

She watched him jerk open the door and stalk out. "What's wrong him?"

Sherlock looked at her incredulously. "You don't know? It's quite obvious."

"No way! He's jealous?!"

"What do you think?"

He was right. Bits of memories during the dramatic rescue flashed through her mind. "Anna! Anna darling, can you hear me..." Soft but frantic hands stroking her face... "You're safe now... Don't leave us, Anna..."

"He is!" she gasped in wonder. "Mycroft..." It was enough to make her head spin. On some level she had known, and yet... Setting the files down, she also stood up. "Going to lay down for a while." Joanne flashed him an apologetic grin. "Too much reading too soon after the head trauma, I think."

"Hmm."

As much as she wanted to rest due to the recent surgery, Joanne knew she had to find Mycroft. She had no idea what to say to him. Joanne only that she wanted to see him smile again. 

It didn't take her long to find him. After a quick search of his quarters, there was only one other place he could be. She found him in the kitchen, helping himself to the leftover chocolate cake from the previous night's dessert. "I thought I'd find you here."

Mycroft looked up in surprise, in the middle of cutting a second slice. "Oh?"

"Well, you weren't in your bedroom; where else? Anyway, most people that have something on their mind want to eat, especially something sweet." She came to stand beside him and helped herself to a piece.

He paused, fork in the air. "Most people?"

"Ah well, you know. Most people. Though you are not like anyone I've ever met, it's true."

A small smile played about his lips as he tucked into the cake. "I'm sure."

"Mmmm. Mr. Rosini made this from scratch, didn't he? Not had that kind since I lived at home."

"How long has that been?"

Joanne gave him a sidelong look. "That would be telling, and a woman never gives out her age."

"I already know your age. You are for-"

"AH!! Don't say it!," she exclaimed, waiving the fork dangerously close to his nose. "Anyway, it's not fair that you should know mine. So, how old are you, then?"

Mycroft had never been asked such a question in that direct manner before. He hesitated, not quite sure how to respond.

Joanne forced his hand, knowing exactly what would make him talk. He wasn't above a threat. She put down the unfinished cake and turned toward the door. "Never mind, I'll ask your brother."

"The same as you! Forty six!" he blurted loudly, terrified of his age being discussed with Sherlock. His brother had enough ammunition against him already.

"Hmm. See? I always know how to get people to talk."

Mycroft set down his plate and walked slowly over to her. "Is that so?" He paused, studying her. "You would do well in Interrogations."

"Yes, I probably would. A little threat plus a lot of manipulation goes a long way, at least in my job. And the patient doesn't realize it, if its done right." He was standing close, the colors of cologne and aftershave permeating her senses as he towered over her, the cake forgotten. Mycroft's basilisk blue eyes rested on her lips as his hand moved towards her face. Joanne stared into them, hypnotized.