Knock, knock, knock…
In the morning, the sound of someone rapping at the door interrupted Russell's peaceful sleep. He frowned, raised his head, and looked toward his bedroom door. After a moment, the knocking sounded again.
Knock, knock, knock…
From the sound, he realized it wasn't his door being knocked on—but Charlotte's.
Well, just let it be.
He yawned, turned over in bed, and prepared to fall back asleep.
Once he woke, he'd go downstairs, buy a newspaper and a double bacon and ham sandwich, and enjoy a delicious breakfast. The malice points he'd earned had indeed been deposited into his account last night. A perfect score of 600 points. Then there was the malice from the icebreaker party, plus what he could expect from The Times and from Mycroft.
This operation would net him at least 1,000 malice points. That was more than enough to upgrade himself from head to toe.
Life only kept getting better.
Lying in bed, Russell hummed quietly as he watched his malice level slowly climb. But then, the knocking rang out again. This time, the sound was more urgent, and obviously stronger than before.
Knock, knock, knock!
If this kept up, he could forget about going back to sleep.
Having no other choice, Russell reluctantly got out of bed, pulled on his coat, and headed to the front door.
Standing at the door was a man in a neatly tailored suit who exuded an air of refinement. Hearing the door open behind him, he turned around and offered Russell an apologetic smile.
"Sorry for disturbing your rest."
"It's fine, don't worry about it," Russell replied, shaking his head before glancing at the closed door next to them. "Are you looking for Charlotte?"
The man nodded. "Is she not at home?"
"I'm pretty sure she's still sleeping rather than having gone out early," Russell said coolly.
Raising an eyebrow, the man nodded lightly. "I have the same suspicion."
"Did you come to ask her to take on a case?" Russell asked. "If you'll leave your name and contact, I'll tell her when she wakes."
"I dislike trouble, but thank you for your kindness." The man smiled and shook his head. "I'm Mycroft Holmes—Charlotte's older brother."
"Mycroft Holmes…?" Russell echoed—he was still groggy. Suddenly he froze, eyes wide as he stared at the man. "Wait—you're Mycroft Holmes?!"
"Did you hear Charlotte mention me?" Mycroft asked with a small smile.
"More or less… she said you are the British Government itself."
"Not so surprising," Mycroft shrugged helplessly.
"I'm Russell Watson," Russell introduced himself.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Watson. And Mrs. Hudson—thank you very much for looking after my hopeless little sister," said Mycroft.
How did he figure that out…? Russell thought.
Does she really need looking after?
Russell and Mycroft exchanged glances—and both broke into laughter at the same time.
"Anyway, back to the point. She's always like this…" Mycroft pointed toward the door. "Is she asleep?"
"Last night, she went to Imperial College London's icebreaker party. The party ended at 8 pm, and we were back at Baker Street by about 8:30," said Russell. "I can't say when she went to bed—you're her brother, you know her peculiar sleep schedule…"
"She just does as she pleases."
"Exactly. That's a perfect summary." Russell nodded, glancing toward the door. "I don't think she'll wake soon. Is it something urgent?"
"Nothing urgent. I'm just a brother visiting his sister," Mycroft replied.
"I suppose it's rare for you to have a day off, huh?"
Mycroft simply gave a faint smile, as if knowing what Russell was thinking.
"Even machines need a little oil now and then, to keep from rusting."
They stood in the doorway chatting absently. Russell had to admit that Mycroft's presence exuded an indefinable sense of reassurance. Maybe this was what was meant by conversational skill.
Ten minutes passed.
Charlotte's door remained tightly shut, and their expressions gradually grew awkward.
"Is she really... just sleeping?" Mycroft looked at Russell.
"Honestly... I can't really say. Mrs. Hudson should have a spare key. I'll go look for it."
He was about to leave when suddenly, both of them froze—they heard a doorknob turning.
Charlotte's door, which had been firmly closed, abruptly swung open. Charlotte stood in the doorway in a bathrobe, her gray-blue eyes chilly and annoyed.
"Charlotte, you're awake?" Russell stopped, turning to look at her.
"I woke up half an hour ago," Charlotte said coldly.
"So what were you doing?" Mycroft asked. "I knocked three times."
"Watching you two stand outside the door gossiping about me," Charlotte answered, arms folded, leaning against the frame, lazily staring at them.
Russell and Mycroft glanced at each other and both read the same embarrassment in each other's eyes.
"Ridiculous." Charlotte snorted and turned to walk back to her room, deliberately leaving the door open for them.
Mycroft motioned for Russell to go ahead, and Russell shrugged and followed him inside.
The room was as messy as ever, but Russell was used to it. Mycroft, though a little surprised, seemed mentally prepared.
"So, why did you spend your precious vacation days inconveniencing me?" Charlotte asked, leaning against the table, picking up a cup of hot coffee, blowing on it, then taking a sip.
In response, Mycroft calmly found a seat, sat, and asked, "Did you read today's paper?"
"No, because nobody bought it for me." Charlotte glanced at Russell. "Along with hot coffee and breakfast."
"And why do I have to buy that for you?" Russell raised an eyebrow.
"Isn't that an assistant's responsibility?" Charlotte replied flatly.
"?"
…
Bonus chapter at 100 PS