"Elizabeth?"
"Mm...?"
"Elizabeth." Sherlock gently laid his hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly.
She lazily buried her head under her blanket, "Five more minutes?" Came her muffled question.
"Mycroft will be here in fifteen."
The thief rapidly pulled the blanket off of her face again and blinked at Sherlock, the time limit to get ready having shocked her into the land of the awake.
"What time is it?"
"8am."
"8am?! Well," She paused, sitting up on the sofa, "I did sleep early, didn't I?"
"Yes. You did."
She sighed, "I guess I shall need to get ready then but first - "
"Tea?" Sherlock presented a mug to her.
"Can you read minds?"
"No. But I do acknowledge routine. And you always start your day with tea."
"Well, thank you, sir. Your service is impeccable." She teased in an overly stereotypical British voice.
"Don't start." He said, a smile upon his lips again as she took the mug from him.
Sherlock left for the kitchen again. He had his microscope out and various things (ranging from what looked like finger nails to random chemicals) were laid upon the kitchen table also. Experimenting would always be a favourite pastime of his.
Elizabeth followed after him, her eyes briefly lay upon a full, severed finger and she grimaced, "I'm just not going to ask." She shook her head as she continued to Sherlock's bedroom, "Be out in a few. Just getting changed." And with that his bedroom door shut.
For a moment, Sherlock stared at the door, more so staring after her. Her minor freak out yesterday was still on his mind, still worrying him. Would she be fit enough to take on this operation that Mycroft had organised for her? Although, he knew if he questioned her about it, she would lash out. It seemed like a sensitive topic but it wasn't good to sweep things like that under the carpet.
A low rumble could be heard outside the apartment as John made his way down the stairs and turned into 221B.
"Morning." He nodded to the detective, "Elizabeth alright?"
The detective had confessed his worries for her wellbeing to the doctor, of course. He wasn't going to treat it like nothing had happened but John agreed that they could only wait until she came to them for help. All they could do was sit and wait and be available to listen when she was ready.
"Yes. She is just getting ready." Sherlock nodded, "She pretends like it never happened..."
"She will, Sherlock. Especially if she's not yet that comfortable with admitting she has a problem...a bit like you and your drugs - "
"I am a user. Not an addict."
John shrugged. The example was given and his point was made.
Elizabeth appeared from out of the room, looking a little brighter and more awake than before. She held her now empty mug in her one hand and waved at John with the other.
"Morning. How was the evening shift yesterday at the practice? Sorry I fell asleep before I could ask."
"No, yeah. It was alright. People being - sick. I helped them best I could. Less people than in the day."
"Less stressful then?"
"Oh yeah, definitely."
"Tea, John?"
"Please." The doctor took a seat at the kitchen table, despite there being little space.
"You too, Sherlock?"
"Still finishing my first."
"Okie doki." She popped the kettle on and then turned to face the two men, "I'm sensing a really awkward and/or tense atmosphere at the moment. Why?"
"Just anxious as yourself, I guess, to find out what Mycroft has to say." John answered.
"Yes. What John said." Sherlock agreed.
Of course it was a lie.
Elizabeth frowned, not really believing what they were saying, "If it's about yester - "
The shrill ringing of the doorbell dragged her attention away. The men were saved by the bell, quite literally. Mrs Hudson could be heard letting Mycroft in and the older Holmes soon appeared in 221B.
"John, Brother, Miss Parrish." He greeted as the kettle finished boiling.
"Mycroft." Sherlock stood, "Perhaps we should sit in the living room?"
Looking at all the clutter on the table, Mycroft nodded, "Yes, I think that would be best."
Minutes later, the four of them were sat down together, with Elizabeth sat in John's seat, which he had so kindly offered to her, and John and Mycroft sat in kitchen chairs both facing the other.
Mycroft picked up the briefcase he had placed next to the chair and rested it on his lap. As he opened the case he spoke:
"I won't beat around the bush - what do you know about Charles Armistead?"
"I don't do politics." Elizabeth answered dismissively.
"He's not a politician. Mr Armistead works with finances and we have been given reason to suspect him of embezzlement. It is believed that he is helping several others within the government siphon money and is transferring it to an offshore bank account."
"Ooo, white-collar crime. I thought you didn't investigate that kind of stuff."
"We're not. Not officially."
"Ah, I'm a secret weapon." She nodded, playing with her ring as she said, "Let me guess, if I get caught, you'll pretend you don't know me."
"Yes, Miss Parrish, that is exactly what will happen and exactly why I believe you and your accomplice won't get caught."
"Accomplice?"
"Yes. An agent will be assigned to you also."
"Why do I need them?"
"To ensure you don't try anything."
"Forgodsake..." She slumped in John's chair, sharing a mildly annoyed look with Sherlock.
"I will require you to retrieve solid evidence about these offshore accounts and the people involved."
"Easy. I could do it tonight if you really wanted unless 'my accomplice' isn't available."
"Mr Armistead lives in a manor, not too dissimilar to my own, however, he is paranoid and has far more security than I. On the 22nd of September, he is having a party to celebrate his 40th birthday. I will be in attendance, as will many others, and therefore I believe it is an easier way in than the alternative."
Elizabeth looked at him blankly, "So undercover, get into his office or where ever he may keep said information, get said information and then I'm done?"
"No, there will be future operations we may require your assistance with."
Elizabeth sighed, "What if I don't like my accomplice? Who are they?"
"Agent Victor Echo."
"Not his real name, I'm guessing." John muttered.
"Confidentiality is everything though, wouldn't you agree, Doctor Watson?"
John gave a small nod.
"You will attend the party as a couple. I've written more about your position in the file I'm giving you, along with the plans of the house." Mycroft said this while handing said folder over to her.
"Will he slow me down? The agent? Because, you know, I'm more accustomed to working alone."
"The agent will be there as part of your cover and as a guard."
"So he's a prop basically." She stated, folding her arms across her chest, "When will you be able to just trust that I won't run? I've been here for, near enough, four months. I've had opportunities to disappear but guess what - I didn't. I could have left Sherlock to die in Scarlett's hands but - guess what - I didn't."
"But you have stolen on numerous occasions and have worked with Moriarty. We've learned since our last few run-ins with Moriarty and his network that the people who work with him aren't always to be judged by their cover."
Elizabeth scowled at him. Mycroft was always so defensive and paranoid about her. Sherlock was annoyed with his brother - to get trust, you have to give trust. That's what he said and that's what Mycroft still wasn't doing. John genuinely felt for Elizabeth. He could see that she wouldn't ever feel fully welcomed until Mycroft trusted her.
The folder was quite thick, she found, "Right, well, just letting you know that the last party I attended didn't exactly go to plan either. Someone ended up dead."
"I am aware of the events that happened at the Masquerade, Miss Parrish."
"Great then. As I said, just making sure, you know."
John and Sherlock shared a guilty look with each other. While all three of them had eventually agreed that it was no one's fault, they each still felt guilty in some way or another. Mycroft closed the his briefcase and placed it beside him.
"Any other questions?"
"Yes." Sherlock was quick to answer, "Why aren't John and I attending the party with her? Why an agent?"
Mycroft gave them both a tight-lipped smile, "Given your tabloid fame, the both of you will be too recognisable at the party."
John frowned, "But Mycroft, Elizabeth's been in the papers too."
"Not as much as the both of you. And you'll notice less now as well. You can thank me for that, Miss Parrish."
She nodded, mumbling a sarcastic: "Thanks..."
"Why does she have to do this, Mycroft?" Sherlock questioned his brother again, "You have other people that could do this exact job. Why her?"
"As I told Miss Parrish before, Sherlock: She has a debt to pay and this is how she will pay for it." Mycroft stood, picking up his case, "Miss Parrish, I expect you'll study the files for the best outcome possible. I'll organise your outfit for the evening. Victor's contact information is within the file if you wish to liaise with him beforehand. I wish you all a good day." His trademark forced smile crossed his lips as he exited the flat.
The three stayed silent, deep in thought.
John wondered about Sherlock. Didn't take a genius to see that Sherlock was getting rather attached to Elizabeth and he could also tell that his friend was itching to go on this operation with her. Although, he did think Mycroft had a fair point what with their self-inflicted tabloid fame. They would be too recognisable.
Sherlock, of course, being his mischievous, erratic self, was considering the ways in which he could persuade his brother to let him go with Elizabeth instead of the agent.
While worried for herself, Elizabeth had now accepted the fact that she would be doing these things whether she wanted to or not. So why not try to enjoy them? But not too much. Didn't want to be reliant on them as form of release from her thrill-seeking attitude. She called it thrill-seeking because then it made her problem sound less like a problem. Event though it was one.
"Imagine making your 'supposed to be cool' agent name out of the phonetic alphabet." Elizabeth said this aloud.
Her statement garnered a bewildered smile from the two men. Of all the things she could have said and thought, why was that it?
"How do you feel about it then?" John asked.
"Oh, I hate it. But there's no getting out of it so might as well get on with it."
"You don't hate it." Sherlock scoffed.
"Okay. Fine. I highly dislike it then. I would probably like it more if I was being paid and not forced to do it but I guess we can't have everything." Elizabeth stood, making her way back into the kitchen, "Tea, then, you two?"
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A/N - if you took a drink every time I mentioned 'tea' in this book you would probably be very drunk already 😂😂😂