The Hundred Year Wait (4 page)

Once sitting at
his desk he could easily survey the whole room from the light of
the large bay window to the left. It had a box seat for sitting and
reading the many shelves of books that lined every other possible
wall space, and dated back as far as the mid eighteen hundreds.
Floor to ceiling proudly displayed the leather-bound volumes in
stark contrast to the brightly covered paper book in his hands. It
didn't fit in.

For the next few
hours he read, only interrupting his past time to move to the
dining room at the usual time of six and back again half an hour
later. Once he'd reached the end of the story he sat back and
stared at the front cover. The plot had been predictable and the
happy ending was a little unrealistic, but Amelia Jones had been
quite clever with her character's reactions. It was a murder
mystery but the detective had noticed all the right details. Plenty
of them had been hidden in the text to make it easy for him to pick
up on the clues and solve the crime.

He found he had
enjoyed reading the story. It was refreshing to read a book where
the criminal was caught in a clever way, and even more refreshing
for the main character to be intelligent. Mycroft wondered how much
Sherlock had contributed to the plot.

Despite liking the
novel it didn't help him with his decision concerning her strange
request. A hundred years had passed since John Watson had been part
of Sherlock's life. He'd seen the effect the relationship had on
his younger brother, but he'd always been a little bit curious.
Perhaps Mycroft could see what fascination Miss Jones held for
Sherlock. As long as no one else knew about it, Mycroft wouldn't
need to have a solid reason why, and Amelia Jones herself didn't
appear to care about his reasoning as long as she got to learn.

Mycroft pulled a
blank notebook from a desk drawer and wrote down this requirement,
along with several others on the first page. If he was to use his
time to teach her, he expected her to work through things in a
sensible manner, and she definitely wouldn't be allowed to get any
help.

For the rest of
the evening Mycroft put together a list of basic tasks he could
make her work through, starting with coded messages since she'd
already shown some flair in that area. As the minutes ticked by his
ideas grew more elaborate until he realised he had a six phase plan
that could take years to complete. He doubted she could hold his
interest for that long and knew she would struggle to solve the
last few phases anyway.

With more than
enough challenges thought out, he pulled a blank sheet of
stationery paper towards him and wrote out the first coded message
to her.

39 3 3 36 1 3 6
2 41 2 39 1 41 7 7 42 3 2 37 7 26

41 40 33 10 37
36 37 35 41 36 37 36 8 40 33 8 7 37 8 8 41 2 39 13 3 9 35 40 33 44
44 37 2 39 37 7 1 33 13 4 6 3 10 41 36 37 37 2 3 9 39 40 33 1 9 7
37 1 37 2 8 8 3 34 37 11 3 6 8 40 1 13 37 38 38 3 6 8 26 34 9 8 8
40 37 6 37 33 6 37 7 37 10 37 6 33 44 6 9 44 37 7 41 11 41 44 44 41
2 7 41 7 8 9 4 3 2 25 34 6 37 33 43 33 2 13 3 38 8 40 37 1 26 33 8
33 2 13 4 3 41 2 8 26 33 2 36 3 9 6 44 41 8 8 44 37 39 33 1 37 11
41 44 44 35 37 33 7 37 33 44 3 2 39 11 41 8 40 33 44 44 35 3 1 1 9
2 41 35 33 8 41 3 2 25

15 28 13 3 9 27
6 37 2 3 8 8 3 8 37 44 44 33 2 13 3 2 37 33 2 13 8 40 41 2 39 33 34
3 9 8 3 9 6 33 6 6 33 2 39 37 1 37 2 8 25 8 40 41 7 41 2 35 44 9 36
37 7 13 3 9 8 33 43 41 2 39 33 44 44 4 6 37 35 33 9 8 41 3 2 7 2 37
35 37 7 7 33 6 13 8 3 37 2 7 9 6 37 2 3 3 2 37 37 44 7 37 38 41 2
36 7 33 2 13 35 3 1 1 9 2 41 35 33 8 41 3 2 25

16 28 13 3 9 27
6 37 2 3 8 8 3 6 37 35 37 41 10 37 40 37 44 4 7 3 44 10 41 2 39 33
2 13 8 33 7 43 25 8 40 41 7 41 7 33 8 37 7 8 3 38 13 3 9 6 35 44 37
10 37 6 2 37 7 7 33 44 3 2 37 25

17 28 13 3 9 7
40 3 9 44 36 3 34 37 13 33 2 13 41 2 7 8 6 9 35 8 41 3 2 7 33 7 7 3
3 2 33 7 4 3 7 7 41 34 44 37 11 40 37 6 37 8 40 41 7 36 3 37 7 2 27
8 35 3 2 38 44 41 35 8 11 41 8 40 6 9 44 37 15 25

18 28 38 33 41
44 33 8 33 7 43 33 2 36 3 9 6 33 6 6 33 2 39 37 1 37 2 8 11 41 44
44 35 37 33 7 37 33 44 3 2 39 11 41 8 40 33 44 44 35 3 1 1 9 2 41
35 33 8 41 3 2 25

19 28 6 37 38 9
7 33 44 8 3 36 3 33 7 41 2 7 8 6 9 35 8 37 36 11 41 44 44 34 37 7
37 37 2 33 7 33 8 37 6 1 41 2 33 8 41 3 2 3 38 3 9 6 33 39 6 37 37
1 37 2 8 25

20 28 41 6 37 7
37 6 10 37 8 40 37 6 41 39 40 8 8 3 35 37 33 7 37 8 40 41 7 33 8 33
2 13 4 3 41 2 8 11 41 8 40 3 9 8 37 12 4 44 33 2 33 8 41 3 2 25

21 28 33 44 44
1 37 7 7 33 39 37 7 11 41 44 44 34 37 4 44 33 35 37 36 41 2 37 2 10
37 44 3 4 37 7 33 2 36 7 37 33 44 37 36 11 41 8 40 11 33 12 25 13 3
9 27 6 37 6 37 7 4 3 2 7 41 34 44 37 38 3 6 33 35 5 9 41 6 41 2 39
8 40 37 2 37 35 37 7 7 33 6 13 7 8 33 8 41 3 2 37 6 13 25

22 28 1 13 2 33
1 37 26 3 6 33 2 13 3 8 40 37 6 41 2 38 3 6 1 33 8 41 3 2 8 40 33 8
35 3 9 44 36 44 37 33 36 8 3 1 37 34 37 41 2 39 41 36 37 2 8 41 38
41 37 36 26 41 7 2 3 8 8 3 34 37 9 7 37 36 41 2 33 2 13 35 3 6 6 37
7 4 3 2 36 37 2 35 37 25

41 38 13 3 9 7
8 41 44 44 11 41 7 40 8 3 4 6 3 35 37 37 36 26 6 37 4 44 13 9 7 41
2 39 8 40 37 7 33 1 37 35 3 36 37 34 13 44 37 33 10 41 2 39 13 3 9
6 1 37 7 7 33 39 37 41 2 13 3 9 6 40 3 8 37 44 6 3 3 1 3 6 41 2 13
3 9 6 4 3 35 43 37 8 11 40 41 44 37 8 6 33 10 37 44 44 41 2 39 26 1
33 6 43 37 36 11 41 8 40 15 6 3 2 8 40 37 37 2 10 37 44 3 4 37 26
33 2 36 33 36 37 5 9 33 8 37 44 13 7 37 33 44 37 36 25

6 37 39 33 6 36
7 26 13 3 9 6 8 9 8 3 6 25

The letter took
half an hour, although Mycroft sped up as his brain got used to
writing it in a different sort of alphabet.

As soon as he'd
finished he placed it in an envelope and melted some wax over the
flap. With this done he pressed his ring into the liquid and waited
for it to cool down enough that it would keep its new shape.

The moment to
think almost resulted in him ripping the letter up and chucking it
into the fire, but after staring at her name on the front of it for
a moment he got up and called for his car.

“Going out again,
sir?” Daniels asked when Mycroft met him at the front door. He gave
his chauffeur back the signed book and nodded.

“I have business I
need to see to. Take me to my brother's.” Mycroft had no intention
of explaining his real intentions to his driver or anyone else.

Once outside
Sherlock's, he dismissed Daniels and told him not to worry about
picking him up. If his driver thought this was odd he made no
comment but drove the vehicle back the way they'd come. Knowing
Sherlock liked to keep a watch by the window, Mycroft hurried
inside and up to the flat. He found his brother playing the violin
in his dressing gown and flannel pyjamas, with a lit pipe
nearby.

“This is a late
visit, brother of mine,” Sherlock said as he put the instrument
down and tended to his pipe. “Is it concerning this lace operation
that's happening tomorrow?”

“You solved it
then?”

Sherlock nodded
and offered Mycroft his spare pipe. Mycroft curled his lip up and
kept his hands in his pockets.

“Don't look so
disdainful. It's not like it will kill either of us.”

“I need some extra
eyes tomorrow at the Millennium Wheel a little before noon. I've
got a full team but I want to be careful. Watchfullness from some
of your discreet
friends
would be appreciated.” Mycroft
changed the subject before Sherlock could wonder why he was
there.

“It will cost
you.”

“It always does,”
Mycroft said as he pulled several twenty pound notes from his
pocket and placed them on the side table. “There's one for each
person I need.”

“Consider it
done.”

“Good.” Mycroft
nodded his thanks but his brother got up before he could continue
with his plans.

“Anything else I
can help with?”

“No, that's all I
needed,” Mycroft replied, knowing his brother was fishing for
something.

“You sent your
chauffeur away.”

“I have other
business to deal with.”

“Oh, brother of
mine, always so secretive... How did everything go with Amelia? I
assume she took your decision to prevent her publishing well
enough?” Sherlock's direction of enquiry resulted in Mycroft
raising his eyebrows. He hoped Miss Jones hadn't been stupid enough
to say anything. “She posted a message to her fans apologising for
delays with her next book because of some necessary and complicated
re-writes. No mention of why, but right after seeing you is
evidently not a coincidence.”

“She was
remarkably cooperative.”

“She's a clever
woman.”

“Next time I'd
appreciate it if you didn't encourage her to use real events,
especially when neither of you should know about them.” Mycroft
walked out of the flat before Sherlock could say anymore. He had no
desire to hear Sherlock talk about Miss Jones and didn't want to
give his brother any opportunity to notice the game they'd already
begun to play. For the second time Mycroft considered destroying
the letter and going home, but his feet led him onwards to the end
of the road and he hailed a taxi cab before he could act on the
alternative desire.

Mycroft didn't
tell the taxi driver to take him to the hotel Miss Jones was
staying at, but gave him the name of a road a few hundred metres
away instead. Walking the final distance would help ensure his
activities went undetected by anyone.

It had been a
while since he'd had to use transport other than his own
chauffeured car but the driver noticed his desire to be left to his
thoughts and concentrated on his task. So close to midnight the
traffic was light and only ten minutes later Mycroft stood on the
pavement, alone in the dark. He walked the few streets to his
destination in no great hurry. The early September night air was
still warm from the summer and the later it was, the more likely
Miss Jones would be fast asleep. He wanted her to be undisturbed by
him dropping the letter off.

As he got closer
he reached into his jacket pocket and turned on the device he
always carried with him. It gave off a small electric distortion
which scrambled the feed from any camera that might be looking his
way.

When Mycroft
strode into the lobby the female receptionist looked up from her
book. She was chewing gum, resulting in an irritating lip smacking
noise, and the perm in her hair didn't suit the shape of her face.
He took a deep breath and decided this wasn't the sort of place
where he should use his natural accent.

“Evenin'” he said
as he approached the woman. “I know it's late but have you got a
room goin' spare? I need a place to kip for the night.” He leant
against the counter and smiled.

“Let me just
check,” she replied, talking around her gum.

“I stayed in room
three six eight recently. If it's free, I'd find it easier to sleep
somewhere more familiar.”

She sighed at the
extra information and continued tapping at the keyboard. Eventually
she nodded.

“It's not taken.
One night's ninety-five pounds.”

Mycroft handed the
cash over along with telling her a fake name, before taking the
key-card she offered him. He hurried away to find the right
floor.

As he got into the
lift and heard it clank into life, the stench of cheap perfume and
stale sweat hit him. Miss Jones needed to stay in a better hotel in
the future and he made a note to have more internet traffic
directed to her books. An increase in sales would hopefully lead to
an increase in her budget.

The ting that let
him know he was on the sixth floor couldn't have sounded soon
enough, but instead of heading towards his own room he wandered
down the hall looking for the maintenance cupboard. It only took
him a few minutes to find it and another couple to pick the
lock.

Inside was a
little cart full of bleaches, clean sheets and the small bottles of
shampoo and conditioner that they stocked the bathrooms with.
Hanging up on a hook beside it was an apron. He reached into the
front pocket and pulled out the master key-card for the floor.

With it in hand he
made his way to Miss Jones' room, number three six seven, opposite
the room he'd just booked. After checking no one was about he put
his head against the door and listened. No noises came through, not
even running water or the TV.

Without hesitating
any longer he used the master key-card in the door and stepped
through. It closed behind him with a soft-click.

The room was dark
with a strip of pale light at the bottom of the curtains from the
street lamp outside. It was enough illumination for him to tell
Miss Jones was in bed and breathing softly. He didn't move for a
minute as he concentrated on the sound of her inhales and
exhales.

Once he was sure
she wasn't going to wake up he moved over to the dresser and placed
the letter where she couldn't fail to notice it. After taking
another look at her sleeping form, curled up under the hotel duvet,
he made his way over to his own room. With his work done he found a
wave of satisfaction roll over him and paused to grin.

Mycroft set to
work making the room look used, messing up the bed a little and
pouring quantities down the sink from the shampoo and shower gel
bottles. Just before leaving he grabbed the complimentary
chocolate.

Once back outside
he made his way back down to the ground floor, choosing to use the
stairs this time. Instead of going back through the lobby he turned
down a side corridor and found a fire-exit, out of the way of
prying eyes. After going through it he put a small stone in against
the door jam so the bar couldn't fully click back into place and it
could be opened from the outside when he returned in the
morning.

He walked back
towards the busy roads where he would be able to get transport
home, but less than a minute later his phone vibrated. He tucked
himself back from the road's edge and answered the call.