Chapter Text
Sophia Cartwright sat in her lab surrounded my computers and technology. Strewn across tables were various pieces of equipment, in various states of disassembly. Sophia was Scotland Yard’s newest digital forensic specialist. It was her job to perform forensic analysis of various technology found at crime scenes. At times she also assisted with research for investigations as it related to technology. Today she was backlogged and trudging through an encrypted hard drive working to access the information.
That was, until a voice called out from behind her. “You.”
She spun around and saw a tall, lanky curly haired man standing at the door to her lab. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the American that Lestrade has talked about. The one who is a supposed genius with computers.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. “And you’re Sherlock Holmes, the high functioning sociopath who runs around London solving crimes.”
“Not just London.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “I won’t box you in if you don’t me. I’m not just good with computers, Mr. Holmes. If it has a chip, I can hack it, trace it, read it… you get the idea.”
He grinned. “Perfect. I need you to hack into this phone.”
“Excuse me? Sherlock Holmes wants me to hack a phone for him? I thought you were the super-genius. Can’t figure out the password?”
“It’s more than just password locked,” he said, holding out the black smart phone to her.
She started to reach out for it, then pulled back. “Nope. I don’t think so. I’m not getting into the middle of one of your messes. Not without authorization.”
Sherlock hesitated only the briefest of moments. “This phone belongs to one of James Moriarty’s last living associates. The information on this phone is of vital importance to national—to global—security.”
She peered at him through squinted eyes a moment. “I think you’re lying.”
“I think you couldn’t hack it if you tried,” he bit back.
“You’re baiting me.”
“Is it working?” he asked.
She huffed and snatched the phones out of his hand, placing it onto a mat at her station. “Yes.”
Just before her finger touched a key on her keyboard another voice spoke up.
“If your finger touches a single key on that keyboard, you will be locked up for the rest of your life for crimes against the British government.”
She spun back around, as did Sherlock Holmes, who looked at his watch. “Forty-eight minutes. You’re getting slow.”
“You’re getting brazen—stealing my phone and bringing it to Scotland Yard to try and have it hacked? Do you have any idea what information is on that phone?”
“Juicy gossip, I gather, by the encryption,” Sherlock said with a grin.
Sophia growled, picked up the phone up, and marched it over to the man. “My deepest apologies, sir. Mr. Holmes led me to believe this phone belonged to an associate of James Moriarty.”
Mycroft huffed and snatched the phone from her. “Yes well, perhaps you shouldn’t be so gullible.”
Sophia scoffed and drew back in disgust at his attitude. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be so rude.”
“Perhaps the Metropolitan Police needs to examine it’s HR policies, allowing an American to work on the force.”
“Perhaps Metro Police needs to examine its entrance policies, allowing a pompous government jerk to walk in the building,” she snapped back, then cringed at her own behavior and squeezed her eyes shut. She had a policy of never fighting mean with mean, always kill them with kindness.
He frowned. “How did you know I worked for the government?”
She rolled her eyes. “Discreet, black, unmarked phone. Obviously heavily encrypted if Sherlock Holmes couldn’t break into it. Not to mention your pricey suit and tie. And there’s your pale complexion and dress shoes that haven’t been scuffed because all you ever do is sit behind a desk. And there’s the obvious threat that I’d be locked up for crimes against the British government. If you can do that, and whatever is on that phone is worth that penalty, you’re higher up on the food chain as well, I’d imagine.”
Neither of them could see that Sherlock Holmes was grinning from ear to ear behind them as they were too busy staring each other down.
She stared at him and took a deep breath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do, and you two will get out of my lab. You’ve wasted enough of my time.” She turned on her heel and marched back to her desk, ignoring as the two men looked at each other, then to her, and then left.
Two hours later she was still sitting at her desk, working on the encryption. Suddenly, she’d found the key and unlocked it. “Hah! Yes!”
“Congratulations on your victory,” a now familiar voice called from her doorway.
She spun back around and frowned. “What are you doing back here?”
“I came to apologize.”
Her eyebrow raised. “I’ve known you for all of two minutes and I already get the impression that apologies aren’t something you do.”
“They’re not.”
“Then why now.”
“Because—just because. My anger should have been directed at my childish brother, not you. I was rude, and disrespectful.”
She stood, mouth agape, for a moment, before making a decision. “Very well, apology accepted. You can go now.”
She turned back to her work, ignoring the fact she could tell he was still standing in the doorway.
“You could have done it, couldn’t you?”
“What?”
“Hacked my phone.”
She smirked. “Undoubtedly.”
“You should be working for me.”
She turned back around. “For you?”
“For the British government.”
“Me? An American?” she said, recalling his earlier statement.
“I apologized for that.”
“Not directly, you didn’t.”
He sighed. “You are obviously competent at your job. It was unfair of me to use your nationality against you.”
“Yes, it was. But I did say I’d forgive you. I apologize for biting back at you earlier. Even if you were rude, I don’t usually let it get to me. I have a strict ‘kill them with kindness’ policy.”
“I apologize for goading you into breaking your policy, then. I could tell it bothered you to be unkind. But about the job—”
“Did you come back here to offer me a job?”
“No, I came back to apologize. But a job offer seems a logical addition to the conversation.”
“Well, thank you, but no thank you. I’ve done government work before—for the US government. I believe I’ll stick to what I’ve got right here.”
“Very well. I’m not convinced that you’ve truly forgiven me, however.”
“I’m not convinced that you’re truly apologetic, so we’ll just both have to get over it, I suppose.”
The well-dressed man considered her a moment before making a calculated decision and approaching her. He stood a few feet away and extended his hand. “Mycroft Holmes, I occupy a minor position in the British government.”
She raised an eyebrow, but then stood and accepted his hand. “Sophia Cartwright, I occupy this lovely lab and a minor position in the Metropolitan Police.”
He gave a slight smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cartwright.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is,” she said with a smirk. “So, you are—Sherlock Holmes brother?”
“Elder brother, yes.”
“Minor position?”
“Pardon?’
“You said you occupy a ‘minor position’ in the British government. Surely you don’t expect me to believe that.”
“Indeed, I do.”
“Well, Mr. Holmes, as much as I’d love to continue this chat—I really must get back to work. I just unlocked quite a few juicy secrets, and though they won’t be nearly as enlightening as I’m sure the ones on your phone might have been—these might just give us the information we need to derail a drug ring in the city.”
“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your work.”
She nodded and turned back to her desk and heard him begin to move away. When she figured he was to the door, she called out. “It was nice to meet you too, Mr. Holmes.”
“Please, do call me Mycroft,” he said.
She smiled and continued her work.
*****
Over the next several days it was released that they had indeed brought down a network of drug dealers in the city of London. Mycroft had followed the news, and though her name was never mentioned—as people in her position rarely ever get the credit—he knew that it was because of her work. He, in his position, had ‘retrieved’ her phone number from the Metro Police database and was now staring down at a text message he’d begun to her number. The fingers of his free hand, the one not holding the phone, tapped at his desk for a moment before he finally tapped out a message.
Good job on the work you did to bring down the drug dealer network. ~M.H.
He set his phone aside and did his best to proceed with his work, going over several files before his phone vibrated against the desk next to him. He picked it up quickly.
Thank you. Do you often hack the police database to get employee mobile phone numbers? ~S.C.
Just this once. ~MH
I feel… honored? Or creeped out. It’s undecided. ~SC
I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. I shall leave you be, I merely wished to congratulate you again on a job well done. ~MC
Thank you. ~SC
****
And that was that—for two weeks. Sophia was standing at one of her worktables, bent slightly over a computer, wearing magnifying goggles to assist with close examination of the motherboard, when a familiar voice called out from the doorway.
“I was wondering if you might be able to assist me with something,”
She jumped ever so slightly and looked up. Mycroft smirked at the sight of her bright green eyes magnified through the goggles before she flipped them up and scowled at him. “You could knock or something.”
“Apologies.”
“You seem to do that a lot with me.”
“What’s that?”
“Apologize.”
“Indeed.”
“What does the British government need assistance with?”
He held up a laptop he’d been holding in one hand at his side.
“I’m not computer tech support, Mycroft. I’m not going to clean the virus off your laptop.”
He snorted. “Indeed, you’re not. This is not my laptop. Before I continue, you should know I’ve received the authorization of your superior that, if you accept, you may do the job here in your lab. But I am in a bit of a rush, so I’m afraid you’ll need to make your decision rather quickly.”
“How do I know—” she was interrupted by a text notification on her phone. His eyebrow raised and he gently nodded towards her phone that sat by her on the worktable. She picked it up.
Mycroft Holmes headed your way. You’re authorized to help if you want. You can also say no, if you want. I told him I wasn’t ordering you to do work for the government. ~RD
She raised an eyebrow. “You could have faked that text message.”
He looked at her incredulously. “Then call him. But please do hurry.”
“I will,” she said before tapping a button on her phone. He rolled his eyes as he waited. “Mr. Downey—just confirming that text was from you. Yes, sir. Thank you.” She hung up. “Alright, tell me what it is, and I’ll tell you if I agree to do it.”
“This laptop belongs to an enemy of the government—both the British and the American governments, I might add. I need you to hack into it and download the information on to a secure drive.”
“Why me? You have people that can do this.”
“Because you are better than the people I have.”
She blinked. “What’s the rush?”
He frowned. “My ‘people’ as you call them began the work and apparently did a pitiful job. They tripped something and now there is a countdown on the computer indicating that when the time is up, all data will be erased. We need that data, Mrs. Cartwright. It is vital.”
She looked between him and the laptop before sliding herself over on her rolling stool to an empty spot on the table and holding out her hand. “Here. Now.”
He handed it to her, and she unlatched it and immediately frowned. “Oy, this is ugly.”
“Can you do it?”
“You said I’m the best. Are you questioning me now?”
“Just checking.”
“Hush now, I’m thinking.”
Mycroft stood by her side, watching as her fingers began flying over the keys and gliding across the mouse pad. Exactly twenty-three minutes later, she was plugging in a hard drive. At twenty-eight minutes the data was downloaded. Thirty seconds later, smoke began to pour out of the keys. Quickly she snatched up the laptop and ran it over to an enclosure, threw it in and slammed the door shut, locking it tight. Within moments there was a popping sound and she looked in through a viewing port. “Well, the good news is, it wouldn’t have killed us, but it certainly killed the computer.”
“But you got it. You retrieved the data,” he said as he glanced between her and the hard drive that sat on the worktable.
She walked back over to the table and picked up the drive, about the size of her palm. “I did.” She started to hand it to him, then pulled it back. “What if I’d said no?”
“What do you mean?”
“My boss said I could have said no. I could have turned you down. What if I’d turned you down?” she said eying him carefully.
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have. There is no way you could have gotten back to your people with that laptop in the twenty-nine minutes we had to get it unlocked and downloaded. You could have been sitting on a bomb on the drive over.”
“It wasn’t a bomb.”
“Were you setting me up? Was this some sort of test? Are you still trying to recruit me? Was the laptop even real? Is that data actually important or is it your grandmother’s secret recipes?”
“My grandmother’s secret recipes are important,” he said with a smirk. “But that is not what is held on that device in your hands. I wasn’t lying. It belonged to an enemy of both the British and American governments.”
“Belonged? Past tense?”
“He was killed in the early hours of this morning.”
“So, you still haven’t answered my question—what if I’d said no.”
“I took a calculated risk. You accepted and performed exactly as I thought you would. Better than my own people.”
“I’m not coming to work for you, Mycroft.”
“That’s a shame. But I still thank you for your assistance. May I have the drive, now?”
She held it out to him. He took hold of it, but she didn’t let go. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just stopped by. Or called. You do have my number.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it back. She grinned and released the hard drive. “Have a good day, Mycroft,” she said before sitting back down on her stool and sliding back towards the computer she’d been working on before his arrival, flipping the magnifiers back down over her eyes.