The American Fire that Melted the Ice Man (Mycroft Holmes x OC - BBC Sherlock)

Chapter 2: A Date?

Sophia Cartwright laid back on her sofa with a deep sigh, allowing herself to sink into it and fully relax. It had been a long week, but she'd finally caught up on all her work. It was at the beginning of the week that she'd had her exciting visit from Mycroft Holmes. She wondered about the data she'd downloaded to the hard drive for him. As if on cue, her phone chimed from her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was from Mycroft Holmes. She had saved his number into her contacts. This message was a photo. She pulled it up and saw a photo of a newspaper article. The headline read. "10 British citizens, 5 Americans, rescued after being held by terrorist for over six months" A text quickly followed.

You did that. Good work. ~MH

She swallowed. He hadn't been lying. She let out a breath and calmed her heartbeat before texting back.

Still not coming to work for you. ~SC

She jumped when her phone rang in her hand and Mycroft's name appeared. She swallowed. "Hello?"

"Why not?"

"Pardon?"

"Why won't you come to work for me?"

"Because, despite what you say, I have to believe that there are equally talented individuals working for the British government. Between MI5, MI6, and whatever alphabet and numerical combinations there might be—I am sure the talent is there."

"Not nearly as easy to get along with, however."

"Your opinion of me has changed drastically from our initial meeting."

"It has. And I apologized."

"I didn't say I hadn't forgiven you. Just stating a fact. But you know, you've revealed your cards, Mycroft."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Easy to get along with? You simply want to have me close by so that you can see me more often," she said, making sure the hard swallow that followed was silent. She wasn't giving away that she was terrified by her own bold flirtation in this moment.

She was met with silence. It worried her even more. Perhaps she'd read his cards wrong. Finally, he spoke. "You're absolutely certain that you will not come to work for the British government."

She couldn't deny she was disappointed that he hadn't taken the bait and admitted he liked her and/or her company. She supposed now that she had read him incorrectly. But she was still certain of her answer. "I am positive."

"Good," he stated.

"I'm confused, now."

"If you are firm in the decision that you will not be coming to work for the British government, then what I'm about to ask cannot be viewed at all inappropriate," he explained.

"And that would be—" She was trying to keep up but was still confused at his turn of opinion on her working for 'him.'

"Would you join me for dinner this evening, Sophia?"

Her mouth dropped open and she sat up, swinging her legs back off the side of the couch. "Come again?"

"Would you join me for dinner? Tonight. Seven o'clock."

She blinked, then a smile grew on her face. She had been right. Mr. British Government, Mycroft Holmes, did like her. Her grin grew even wider before responding. "How do you know I'm not married?"

"You don't wear a wedding ring, have a tan line or imprint where it would be, or wear any jewelry of significance. You aren't married."

"Perhaps I'm dating someone."