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Summary
“You’re 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?!"
“Pregnant, Mycroft. Pregnant.” Anthea Hughes, his long-suffering assistant and second-in-command, said in a tone of utter bemusement.
He should have guessed, he thought savagely. Yesterday for lunch she had a scotch egg slathered with sriracha hot sauce - hardly a conventional choice, and not the type of thing Mycroft Holmes would usually miss.
“My replacement.” Anthea slid a worryingly thin dossier across the desk.
“I suppose she comes highly recommended?”
“Not really.” Anthea sniffed. “She’s inexperienced, poor, and a bit annoying, to be honest.”