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The calendar alert tone was a subdued one, but the vibrations were felt through every fibre of Mycroft’s soul.
GL Retirement presentation 05.05.23 6pm onwards
Another key event that he would not be able to attend due to Affairs of State.
This week would be judged as the very pinnacle of his career by his peers and apparent superiors. Planned to the last microsecond in week-long meetings which ensured that all of the writhing limbs of government knew their places and fell into the dance demanded by the Palace. Co-ordinating the security arrangements for a nine-hundred year old abbey filled with the great and apparent good whilst ensuring that the broadcasters had a clear view of events with no idea of the effort taken to ensure their safety. No official credit would be coming his way if all went to plan, but he knew that any mishaps would be attributed to him. He would not be sad to leave the current nest of Westminster monsters behind.
Perhaps it was just as well that he had no visible personal life. Not that his heart was empty, merely hidden beneath a carapace so thick that few chose to consider what it concealed.
Anthea materialised at the edge of his gaze, a small cream envelope in her hand.
“That time already?” He slipped it into his pocket.
She nodded. “The final rehearsal went without a hitch although the weather remains uncertain.”
“And what of our most fleeting visitor?”
“Arrived safely. Richardson in attendance, with the blessing of Thames Valley Police. Crieff and I will be on the return flight to California.”
“Is that how you always refer to your husband?”
Her eyes glinted. “Only in the office. After all, you taught us both how to hide a relationship in plain sight.”
“Discretion brings its own rewards. “ He reached into the desk drawer. “And this is for you and Martin. To be opened once the seatbelt sign goes off tomorrow and no sooner.”
“Understood, Sir. And thank you.” Outside, the world’s most famous clock tower chimed the half hour. “Shall we ?” She flicked off the light and set the electronic lock.For all of the trials of recent months, she would miss this office and its secrets. Her phone buzzed.
Twenty five hours to go... MC
Counting down every minute. AM-C
---
Another phone buzzed in the function room of The Clarence.
Sending congratulations upon your retirement. Apologies for not being able to attend. MH
No worries, sweetheart - Fully understand. My shindig is very small fry compared to the Abbey ceremonials. GL
All seems to be going well from this perspective, if you ignore the media prattle.GL
Indeed. But now duty calls, alas. MH
See you on the other side. GL
I sincerely hope so. MH (Text not sent)
**
Perhaps it was just as well that Mycroft had trained himself to operate on less than four hours sleep a night. The circus of upheavals which had scarred the last twelve months had clawed every minute of his time. But not for much longer.
He took his assigned seat, suddenly glad that the dress code was more akin to a society wedding than a state occasion. The more ludicrous hats provided a suitable distraction for the blasted cameras. But just a few more hours and then he would be stepping away permanently. He’d spent long enough at the beck and call of those who had failed to take his efforts for granted whilst keeping himself above their machinations.
Now it was time for a change.
I saw you lurking by that pillar…GL
Never took you for a Royalist..MH
Not as such, but the people watching was priceless. GL
Plus I was doing a long-distance fashion commentary with Elvie via WhatsApp. GL
How is your talented niece enjoying her stint in Paris? MH
Massively, by all accounts. Might even be a job for her there after she graduates. GL
Excellent. MH
Almost done here. A certain individual is on his way home, accompanied by agents Milson and Crieff, before they go on leave. MH
Aha. The much-delayed honeymoon? GL
I could not possibly comment beyond the fact they will not be back for another fortnight. MH
And then what? GL
Crieff and Richardson will be joining the London Air Ambulance as funded pilots. Ms Milson-Crieff will transfer to the Sigerson Institute as a co-opted director. MH
All funded by a significant private donation? GL
I couldn't possibly comment…MH
Your ellipses have a meaning all of their own… GL
As do yours, I hope … MH
---
Mycroft walked through the deserted lobby, pausing only to drop his pass into the dropbox at the security desk. The weight of thirty years slipping from his shoulders left him somewhat unbalanced. But the rest of his life was his own. And he would spend those years in the fashion that he saw fit.
Escaped the empire’s clutches yet? GL
As subtle as a house brick, Gregory. Anyone would think that you had an issue with authority. MH
Only when it is poorly enforced. GL
And you can rule over me anytime. GL
Gregory Emile Pascale Lestrade, I am shaken to my very marrow…MH
Oh, Mycroft Rathbone Sigerson Holmes, I am glad to be of service…GL
My reaction depends entirely on the situation and company. And propriety is everything in public. MH
So glad that you clarified that situation. Now look up. GL
“There you are. All done, darling?”
A blush heated Mycroft’s face. “Entirely.”
“Follow me. I have something for you. Well, several somethings…”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.“ Greg led him up a side street where a sleek Land Rover waited.
Mycroft raised a brow. “Traded up?”
“Not as such. A leaving present from the team. Got this beauty for a week.”
“Nothing wrong with your own four-wheel beloved, I trust?”
“She’s undergoing an extended service at a garage who specialises in making old Jaguars purr. Besides, this is way more spacious in certain areas. With tinted windows to boot…”
“Whatever might you be suggesting?”
“That privacy is something we’ve most missed out on.“ The headlights flashed briefly. “Hop in. Get yourself comfortable.”
“Now there’s an invitation…”
---
Mycroft had fully intended to stay awake, but his body had other ideas before they had even left the London suburbs. He awoke with sunlight striping his face. They were driving through a forest with barely another car in sight.
“Feeling better?”
“Infinitely. Didn’t intend to drop off..”
“The body knows what it needs. You’ve had a bloody awful twelve months.”
Mycroft wiped at his eyes. “Indeed. And now it’s someone else’s problem.”
He was fully awake now, and able to fully take in their surroundings. The trees were thinning and the soil was graduating from loam to sand. They passed a neat row of flint-faced cottages which struck a faint chord in his memory. He glanced at the clock. They had been travelling a little over two hours. The coast could not be too far…
“I didn’t realise that you had Norfolk connections, Gregory…”
Greg grinned at him via the rear view mirror. “Not directly, but Adam, an old friend from Hendon, put me onto it. “
“The recently ennobled Lord Dalgliesh of Larsoken - the best Commissioner that London never had?”
“The very same. Heard I was retiring, and recommended the place. Run by a retired Protection Squad officer and his husband. Fully vetted by Anth, before you worry. Seems she’d been out here with Martin a while back.”
Mycroft gave a soft, amused huff. “One might even think that this was not entirely your own idea.”
“Perhaps... they both thought you might appreciate the place.“
“How long are we here?”
“Three nights in the first instance, and then we’ll see. Lots of gorgeousness to explore …”
There was no avoiding the innuendo in Greg’s tone. Mycroft’s hand drifted over to stroke a path up Greg’s denim-clad thigh.. “Oh, I am very aware of that...”
“Amazing what escaping the shackles of responsibility can do for your libido...”
“Indeed. And I am fully looking forward to you coming for longer than you can imagine.” Greg’s smile made him seem thirty years younger. “Death by shagging? I can think of worse ways to go..”
“But not for a very long time yet, I hope dear heart. This time is ours now, and I want to spend it all with you.”
“Oh, I think that can be arranged…”