Three Makes a Set

I ran away six years ago, away from London, off his grid. Mycroft showed up at my apartment and now here I am, back in London. Sherlock is upset with me and I can't go anywhere without being badgered by one one of them. If only I wasn't a Holmes. Karissa Holmes, held against her will by overbearing brothers. I'm not safe here. I'm more vulnerable than ever.

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2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

            I cracked my eyes open to complete darkness. I was lying down, presumably on a bed. It was soft and had the feeling of mattress. I shifted slight, falling off the bed. A string of curse words flew from my mouth. My head pounded and all my bones felt heavy. What the hell did Mycroft give me? I pushed myself to my knees and felt around for the bed, using it to get to my feet. I teetered back and forth. The door opened and the light came on.

            “You’re alright, Karissa. The effect of the sedative should be wearing off.” Mycroft said. Grabbing onto the headboard of the bed, I turned to glare at him. The light hurt my eyes. Much too bright. I could barely see him. A wave of nausea hit me. I covered my mouth and dashed through the second door, assuming it to be the bathroom. I retched out any contents in my stomach.

            Leaning against the tub, I finally spoke. “Where I am?” Mycroft opened the medicine cabinet and took out a pill bottle. He then took the shining glass on the sink and filled it with water. I almost didn’t want to take it from him. Who knows what the hell it was. Hold on, I wasn’t wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants before. God, my head hurts.

            “It’s only aspirin, to help with the nausea and dizziness.” Mycroft rolled his eyes at me. I took the pill, gulping down the water. I didn’t realize I needed a drink that badly. “You’re in my house to answer your earlier questions. Get some sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

            Mycroft left me sitting on the bathroom floor. That was about as brotherly as he was capable of. I sat there for a moment. Was it even worth the effort to make it all the way into the other room? After a while, my back began to ache from leaning against the tub. I shivered and then crawled across the floor to the bed, settling under the covers.

            “Mycroft wants you downstairs.” A female voice woke me up. Anthea, his assistant. What time is it? I felt like it had only been minutes. The clock read 7:42. Mycroft had always been an early riser. I groaned and covered my head with the comforter.

            “It’s too early.” I complained. I, on the other hand, was not a morning person. I preferred to get up around say noon.  Anthea laughed. I couldn’t be sure if it was at me or something on her phone. She’s always on that thing. Sometimes, I think she’s simply texting Mycroft about some funny cat video that she’d found. I pulled the comforter down just enough to be able to look at her. That’s right, Anthea. I read all your emails to Mycroft about the cat videos because I got bored and hacked the account.

            As if she’d heard me, Anthea looked up from her phone. “I’ve been authorized to drag you out of bed if you refuse.” She had a playful smile on her face. Mycroft made it sound like I’m a high profile prisoner. Authorized. Against, my decision to make everything difficult for him, I got up.

            I ignored Anthea’s protest to put proper clothes on. Clad in the sweatpants and the t-shirt that is too big on me, I went to the dining room. Mycroft wasn’t alone. Another man sat at the table. He had on a solid black suit and was fidgeting with the knife on the table. He must work for Mycroft and they were waiting on me. Mycroft set down the newspaper and gave a frustrated sigh.

            “Have a seat.” He said. Damn, no comment about the clothes. I’d have to try harder. He must know what I’m doing.

            “I need some tea. Kitchen’s this way?” I asked. I walked behind Mycroft’s chair. He snatched my wrist, gripping it rather hard.

            “I’ve already had some prepared.”

            “English breakfast?”

            “Yes.”

            “Three cubes and a little milk?” I asked.

            “Yes, I do remember how you like your tea.” Mycroft replied. He gave me an annoyed, disapproving look. Oh so this man was a client’s negotiator. Someone Mycroft needed me to work with.

            “Is it drugged?” I asked. The man looked up from the table at me, clearly interested in my comment. I’d underestimated Mycroft’s ability to remain calm. He was good. No burst of emotion. The chair scrapped the floor as Mycroft stood. Without a word, he took me to the kitchen, shutting the double sliding doors. I opened three cabinets before I found the cups and the tea bags.

            “I understand you’re angry, but that’s no excuse to act like a child.” Mycroft said. Heating up the tea in the microwave, I turned to him.

            “Did you really think you could drug me and bring me back and I’d thank you?” I practically shouted. The microwave beeped and I put three cubes of sugar and some milk in it.

            “Don’t be so dramatic, Karissa. The British Government has a job for you.” Mycroft replied. I’d learned to make tea this way in America. I’d been so busy that I didn’t have the time to use the kettle.

            “I’m not working for you. You can do or say whatever you want. The answer will always be no.” I snapped. My shoulder hurt. I’d noticed it earlier but brushed it off, assuming that it resulted from the drugs. I felt it. Wait, is that stitches?

            “Oh yes, I’ve had a tracking device inserted. You can’t leave the house without my expressed permission. It’s my new security. I’ll always know where you are.” Mycroft smiled a bit. I almost dropped my tea. This is why I didn’t want to work for him. It’s never a choice. It’s his way or go through hellfire.

            “Then where I am supposed to run at? I don’t do treadmills. I prefer real workouts.” I said. It’s a jab at his so called diet. He must know that I’m not dumb enough to try to run away like that.  I have a much better idea for getting out of here.

            “I’ll consider it. It hinges on your ability to impress that man with your particular skill set.” Mycroft said. I forced a smile.

            “See, compromise isn’t all that hard.” I said. I took a sip of my tea. All I had to do was bide my time. It starts with my utter cooperation with just enough resistance to keep it plausible. It’s like he doesn’t realize that he can be beaten. He’s locked me in a house, believing that he’s covered every escape. He should know that finding the hole is my specialty. It's why he’d brought me back, after all.  

 

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