House Of Memories

- XI -

Two months had passed in a flash before the real game began and Sherlock was beginning to be referred to his first case as, The Reichenbach Hero according to news paper tabloids that had nothing better to do.

Meanwhile Mycroft allowed Elina into The Diogenes Club for the second time present since his dear godfather passed away and they heard as John Watson broke the vow of silence with his jolly sarcasm. "No takers? Right. Am I invisible? Can you actually see me?" He rose his voice louder resonating off the walls along the way.

"God, he's as bad as your brother, sir." Elina ran her hand along the side of her face in a tiresome bother. "You sure they aren't gay?" She rhetorically stated to joke. "I would not know, Miss Hooper." Mycroft charmed. Elina stuck her tongue out at him in return as he passed her to place some files away in the conjoined room behind her.

Seeing it as nothing more to do, Elina collapsed in his chair sat poshly behind his desk and crossed her ankles over the polished wood just as two agents shoved John through the room and briskly shutting the doors behind him. Swearing under his breath, he analysed the room before his gaze landed on the pinstriped suited woman with unruly curves cascading over her shoulders. Elina, now with a fountain pen in her hand, twirled the object around each finger on her right hand just as she looked over the solider. "Afghanistan?" She asked sweetly in terms of his terrific background.

John made the expression as if to ask her how before rolling his eyes and peering further. "Aren't you that opera singer?" He asked as if he vaguely recognised her. Elina sighed indignantly just as she placed the pen down and brought her feet back on the floor. "Opera singer, government officials assistant..." She listed offhandedly before her eyes seemed to gleam. "I'd like to think that I'm the brains behind the country, I could probably give Mother Nature a run for her money." She joked passively just as Mycroft walked back through. "Xena, play nice." He offhandedly reprimanded earning a glare from her in return.

Elina did nothing but salute him in jest just as he poured himself a drink out of his crystal decanter on the other side of the room. "Tradition, John. Our traditions define us." Mycroft stated instead of greeting. "So total silence is traditional, is it? You can't even say, pass the sugar?" John answered back just as Elina graciously laughed softly. "You're a funny man." She complimented in the silence of the room before Mycroft carried on to lead with conversation. "Three-quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley."

"It's for the best, believe me. You don't want to be in a scuffle with Lord Wilmer before he's had his cup of tea with a secret splash of whiskey in it." Elina explained carefully in order to add to her bosses factual statement.

John looked back and forth between the Holmes brother and the assistant and watched as both of them smile before turning eerily grim. "They don't want a repeat of nineteen-seventy-two. But we can talk in here." Mycroft explained whilst offering the chair across from him for John to sit in. Getting settled, John catches onto the the newspaper on the table beside him and Elina stands from Mycroft's desk in order to make a tea and stand beside the window looking down at the goldfish humanity. "You read this stuff?" John questioned across to Mycroft.