Scandal Management part 1/9
Title: Scandal Management 1/9
Pairing: “Anthea”/Irene Adler
Warnings: A bit of violence that gets almost non-con, but doesn't quite make it there, sexual content
Rating: R
Summary: “Anthea” meets quite a lot of interesting people in her line of work. She usually doesn't meet ones this infuriating this frequently, though. And she usually doesn't enjoy it so much.
Spoilers for A Scandal in Bohemia, although I've taken my own twist on it. I'm only speculating and taking liberties in regards to the BBC's interpretation. Also, Lara Pulver is not as tall as I've written Irene in here. Watch me care.
Disclaimer: not mine, although goodness I'd like them to be
Dahlia's thumbs hurt. It had been a busy day, and she suspected that she hadn't stopped texting for more than five minutes since eight o'clock that morning. Between the Libyan situation and some car accident a few miles away, the day had been packed. Of course she didn't question any of the information she sent, even when it seemed trivial. It was probably encoded, anyway. That was why she was so good at her job. She was proud of that fact.
“Do put that down, Dahlia.” Her employer said from his desk. She glanced up from the Blackberry.
“Sir?”
“Mr. Norton is here. And I don't think there's anything else we can do for Mr. Kwan.”
“Very good, sir.” She deleted the day's messages and punched in a few security codes. There was a knock on the door.
“Come in, Mr. Norton.”
The door opened to admit a tall, handsome man, dressed almost as well as the man seated at the desk in front of him.
“Mr. Holmes. Always a pleasure.”
“Sit down, Mr. Norton. I believe you had something of a trying day.”
“You would have a better idea of it than I do. You grew up with him.” Mr. Holmes smiled as Mr. Norton sat.
“Mrs. Norton is on her way, I trust?”
“She's in a cab as we speak. She said she wanted to stop off somewhere before coming. There wasn't much I could do to stop her.”
“She's quite clever enough to avoid any unfortunate sightings.”
“True.”
“Coffee?”
“I'd love some.” Mr. Holmes tapped three times on his desk. Dahlia rose.
“Right away, sirs.” Her heels clicked as she exited the room for the staff kitchen. She returned to her texting once the coffee-making was underway. Policy stated that she had to be present during food and beverage preparation, but she wasn't about to stand and stare at the coffee-maker. There wasn't much going on that she could check up on, so she turned to the surveillance data from Mr. Holmes' brother. Perhaps he'd finished his latest case. Bored of browsing after a few minutes, she started a sudoku game. She froze when she heard the click of a shoe behind her.
“Can I help you?” she asked, turning. A young man stood in the doorway, a smirk across his oddly feminine face. He was dressed exquisitely in a tailored suit. A messenger bag was slung over one shoulder. He wore a fedora, which added to the old-fashioned appearance. He reminded Dahlia of an American gangster film.
“I'm a bit lost. I smelt coffee and thought I'd investigate.”
“I'd offer you some, but this is for a meeting. Limited supply.” She motioned to a tray with three mugs arranged on it. The man took a step towards her. She recognised the smile he wore. He had clearly noted the low-cut nature of her blouse.
“That's fine. I just thought; where there's coffee, there's people, and I need directions.”
“Where do you need to go?”
“Where are you off to?” he asked as she began to punch at the keys of the Blackberry again. She smiled at him and rolled her eyes.
“Busy, are you?”
“Quite.”
“I didn't realise that the government paid its employees to play sudoku.” He grinned, revealing straight, white teeth that would have made a toothpaste commercial envious. Dahlia wondered if he did any modeling. She put the Blackberry away and poured the coffee. She took the tray and turned to leave the room. She found her way impeded by the stranger.
“Excuse me.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Uh, Dahlia.” It was Wednesday, wasn't it?
“Your real name?” He stepped aside, but kept his eyes trained on her.
“No.” She brushed past him and strode away. She heard the clacking of his feet, but they turned a corner. She wasn't being followed. She arrived back at the office to find Mr. Norton in conversation with Mr. Holmes.
“You'll have to ask her about it, but it's a brilliant story.”
“I'll make a point.”
“Your coffee, sir.” She set the tray on the desk. She didn't sit down immediately, in case she had another task to do.
“Do sit down, Dahlia. And thank you for the update.” She'd texted him some new information regarding his brother's case. Dahlia took her seat and watched as the two men added the appropriate amounts of milk and sugar to their coffee. There was another knock at the door.
“Ah! Come in, Mrs. Norton.”
“Oh, please,” said a familiar voice as the door swung open. It revealed a tall, angular woman dressed in a man's tailored suit and carrying a messenger bag. She had grown about twelve inches of wavy dark hair, and a respectable bosom since Dahlia had last seen her. The fedora was gone. “don't call me Mrs. Norton. It'll get old so fast. Irene is fine.” She had lost the upper-class accent in favour of an American one. East coast, if Dahlia's judgement was correct. The woman swept into the room with incredible grace. She caught sight of the PA.
“Dahlia, was it? It seems I'll get some coffee after all.” Dahlia smiled her professional smile and said nothing. After so many years in the service of a Holmes, nothing could surprise her.
“Irene” sat next to Mr. Norton and took the remaining cup of coffee. She drank it black.
“So good to see you again, Miss Adler.”
“I've told you Mycroft, it's Irene.”
“If you like. Godfrey here has been telling me the most amusing story. I take it you met my brother?”
She laughed.
“Oh, yes. I've just arrived from his flat, in fact. I thought I'd bid him farewell before returning to New Jersey.” Mr. Holmes smiled.
“What do you think of him?”
“I found him charming enough.”
“That's not a word I often hear in association with Sherlock.”
“To be fair, he was pretending to be someone else on both occasions that I spoke with him.”
“Did he really set your carpet on fire? Really, I thought he'd been brought up better than that.”
“No, that was his...associate. The doctor. I didn't get a good enough look to determine their exact relationship.”
“I doubt if anyone has. Even Sherlock.” She laughed.
“Anyway, there was no actual fire, just a bit of smoke. But I think that's a story for another time, Mycroft. We have business to discuss.”
“Indeed. These are for you two.” Mr. Holmes handed Irene and Mr. Norton a manila folder each. They pulled the contents out and read. Irene scowled.
“Really, Mycroft. I'm not exactly incompetent.”
“I'd noticed.” Mr. Holmes replied. “However, what I've outlined here is quite necessary. I apologise if it offends you, but I assure you that it can't be any other way.”
“I don't need a babysitter!”
Mr. Holmes smiled at her. “Everyone needs a caretaker now and again. That's why I exist, you know. Dahlia.”
“Sir?”
“You will accompany Irene to her hotel. Make sure that she's settled. Details to follow.”
Dahlia nodded and made to stand. Irene looked outraged.
“A babysitter and an escort?”
“Dahlia is hardly a babysitter. She is a trusted colleague.”
“I can get there myself! For god's sake, it's just a hotel.”
“Ah, you are a bit reminiscent of my brother, aren't you?” Irene seemed to choke on her anger. Mr. Norton looked bewildered.
“Ms. Adler,” Dahlia began after glancing at her latest text. “I will merely be ensuring that you arrive safely at your destination. I will be at your service for the rest of your time in London, even if that requires my absence.” Irene stared at her for a moment. She slapped her hands on Mr. Holmes' desk.
“Well, I think we're done here, don't you?”
“Quite done. Good evening to you, Irene.”
“And a shitpile of one to you, Mycroft.”
They smiled at each other pleasantly, and then Irene rose and walked to the door. Dahlia was already up and holding it open for her. She continued texting one-handed. Irene winked as she passed.
They did not make conversation in the car ride to the hotel. Dahlia reviewed her orders as they drove, and then returned to the Zimbabwean embassy. An urgent text from her employer came through just as they pulled up in front of the hotel.
“Change of plans, Ms. Adler.”
“What?” Irene's hand was already starting to push her door open.
“There's been an unfortunate sighting via our surveillance here. It will be quite impossible for you to stay.”
“Oh, is that all? I can avoid whoever it is.”
“Mr. Holmes' orders. He'd rather you weren't in contact with Mr. von Ormstein or his fiancee.”
“Ah. I see. Where are you taking me, then?”
The car had already started to move away from the hotel.
“A safe place.”
“That's all I'm getting out of you, isn't it?”
Dahlia just smiled.
The mysterious location turned out to be Dahlia's own flat. It was smallish, well-furnished, and very very dull. Not that Dahlia spent much time there. She deftly unlocked the door while sending off a text to Mr. Holmes to notify him of their safe arrival. Irene stood behind her, watching. The chauffeur was taking care of her bags.
“Toilet's just down there,” Dahlia pointed once they got inside. Irene strode further in and looked around.
“Nice place.” she remarked. Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Not really, but thank you.” Irene grinned.
“Don't get much vacation time, do you?”
“Your room for the night is down there.” She pointed to another door.
“And where's your room?” Irene waggled her eyebrows.
“Surely you don't think I sleep?” Dahlia teased and then went to the kitchen to make coffee. She could hear Irene moving her luggage into the guest bedroom. She reappeared in the kitchen a few moments later.
“So, what's the plan for the night?”
“I didn't realise a plan was necessary.”
“Well I sure as hell am not spending the evening in this dive. No offense.”
“None taken, however I am under orders to keep you here. Sorry.”
“What? He's not letting me go outside?”
“Unfortunately there's too great a risk that you'll be seen by the wrong people. There are several parties with eyes and ears all over the city even Mr. Holmes can't control.”
“That's bullshit.”
“Regardless, that's orders. Coffee?”
“Nah, I'm fine. I suppose I'll just read for a bit and then turn in, shall I?”
“That would be advisable, Ms. Adler.” Irene sighed heavily and trudged out. Feeling that she had been freed for the evening, Dahlia settled into a chair to draw up a few sports charts. Though he was loathe to admit it, Mr. Holmes did have his allegiances.
Dahlia woke to the sound of her mobile buzzing. Checking the time, she saw that she had been asleep for almost an hour. The flat was silent; Irene must have gotten to sleep. Or not. The text that had woken her was from Mr. Holmes: CCTV: Your guest sighted. Please retrieve. The message was followed by a grainy CCTV still - featuring what was clearly Irene in a long auburn wig - and an address.
“Dammit!” Dahlia bolted upright. She was out of the flat in seconds, thumbs flying furiously over the Blackberry keypad.