English Breakfast

2.

'So the painting has been replaced and the original one is now in your vault?' 'Yes, that is the current situation.' Nodded Mycroft. 'When will we receive the original one?' 'after the exposition on the new Gauguin painting.' 'And how will I be sure the painting is safe in you possession? For all I know you could be a horrible caretaker of national treasures.' Mycroft chuckled lightly at the worried expression on Joanne's face. 'Madam, if you do not trust me, you can come and see the painting for itself, that way you can judge yourself if I am capable enough of taking care of the Turner piece.'

Joanne smiled, clearly content that she could go and see herself, she would never forgive herself if something happened to the painting. 'When and where?' 'I will send a car to retrieve you whenever you want. Let me know when you have some spare time and I will arrange everything.' He replied coldly. 'I suppose the sooner the better, is 6 o'clock tonight fitting? I will come and see myself and after that I will leave immediately for the grand opening.' Mycroft nodded, 'I believe we have a deal.' He shook her hand and left the office.

Mycroft cleared his throat, he was sitting on his sofa, waiting for the doorbell to ring so he could show Professor Livingstone that he was worthy enough to take care of the painting. Somehow he had felt a bit nervous, although he couldn't quite grasp why. His palms were sweaty and he had a slight tremble in his legs, what if she didn't like the accommodation of the painting? What if she thought that he was incapable of taking care? Maybe she would get angry at him for ruining a painting... Before his thoughts could wander any further his doorbell rang.

'Good evening professor Livingstone' 'Mr Holmes,' she nodded back at him, Mycroft gestured for her to come inside 'Do you want something to drink?' he asked her kindly. 'No but thanks Mr Holmes, I will only be here to check on the painting, after that I will have to leave.' She smiled, 'Of course,' answered Mycroft, slightly disappointed. He led her to the room that was specifically made for his art collection, from statues to paintings to small sketches and prints from medieval times, he could sense that she was pleased with what she saw, although he wasn't quite sure yet, somehow she was a little mystery to him, which made him uncomfortable. She had something that he couldn't understand and made him feel out of control, something that he loathed. 'Oh my, you have a large collection Mr Holmes! I truly didn't expect you to be this serious when it came to art.' She gasped, 'Thank you professor Livingstone, may I show you the accommodations of the Turner piece?' she nodded at him and let him enter the room before him, for which Mycroft was glad, since he had started sweating more and his hands were visibly shaking, although he doubted that she would notice it. What he did notice was her attire, she was wearing a beautiful grey suit, which fitted her perfectly and gave her a very professional look and it also made him more curious about her.

'So, what do you think? Is it safe for the painting to stay here with me for the next two weeks?' He asked Livingstone after exiting his Art room, 'Yes Mr Holmes, your art room is very suitable for the paining and has given me peace. Do make sure that you do not raise the temperature, that would be an awful large mistake and ruin all your works.' She noted critically. She looked at her watch and up again at Mycroft, 'I'm sorry to say that I will have to leave now, since I will be slightly late to the opening...' 'No problem at all Professor Livingstone, It was a privilege to have you here.' Mycroft said while they made their way back to the front door. 'Please Mr Holmes, call me Joanne, I do hope to see you sometime again in the museum, or maybe I could come by sometimes to check out your art collection? I feel that there is a lot to discover.' She asked him. 'Call me Mycroft Joanne, here I'll give you my number, so we can arrange this meeting.' He smiled at her, giving her his card. She took it out of his slender fingers, slightly touching his hand, which didn't go notice by either of them. 'Thank you Mycroft, goodbye.' Then she left Mycroft, who, once his door was closed released a deep breath he had held for the past 30 minutes. God what was happening to him, what was this woman doing to him?