The Unseen Factor

A Left Hand into Coincidence

This is set some time before 'Almost Unexpected'. I brought in a character from the Enola Holmes Mystery and lifted a scene from the book, 'The Case of the Left-Handed Lady', and combined it with a few suggestions given to me.

The young Lady Cecily Alistair had been missing for the past three weeks when Mycroft Holmes arrived at the British Embassy in Madrid, Spain. That of course is not the reason why Mycroft was currently in Spain. He was dealing with a rather complex situation dealing with – best not get into that now.

The disappearance of the young aristocratic, who had been visiting the sights in the Spanish country side, was the current topic of hushed causal conversation when there was not a political crisis to be dealt with. Even his assistant, Anthea, got caught up in one such conversation when they were waiting for a meeting to begin. If there was anything of importance circulating in the gossip Anthea could tell him. Gossip could not be underrated as a source of information, especially when one wanted to gauge the general atmosphere of any situation.

Mycroft hated when his job required him to travel; granted it was not that many times that needed occurred but it still threw off his much preferred set schedule. He could not express how relieved he was when his assignment was finally over. He also could not express how surprise he was when he opened the door and was face to face with his sister, Enola. She had blood on her face and was supporting a very sickly looking Lady Cecily.

"She needs medical attention." Enola managed to get out after she got over the shook of unexpectedly seeing her brother. She was internally cursing herself for her stupidity; she got so caught up in finding Cecily that she became less cautious of her own person. It was as if the world decided to pull a cruel joke on her and set it up for her to run into her brother. Before Mycroft could say anything to her the people behind him shouted and rushed to aid the sick girl.

"How did you find her?"

"Where was she kept?"

"Is she still alive?"

Almost anyone and everyone was asking questions of Enola in regards to Lady Cecily. The only ones that Enola answered were ones that dealt directly with the health of the young aristocrat and the ones of the kidnappers. She explained that the kidnappers were hoping for an easy ransom but were not the sharpest minds in Europe. Also, she gave the address of where the kidnappers could be found bounded, gagged would still be unconscious if the authorities got there in the next thirty minutes.

Mycroft was only half listening to what she was saying. He was too focus on the fact that she had blood on her face and her hands had evidence of fighting. Between each question she would wipe away some blood from her face with a large white handkerchief. Facial wounds always bled worse than they actually were, but Enola still looked awful. She was beginning to show signs of lack of sleep as he had often seen on Sherlock and her skin had a sickly color. Mycroft had to resist the urge to have her seized and set back to England for her own good. But he knew that it was a fruitless effort. Enola could very easily escape and disappear which was the last thing he really wanted.

"Who are you?" Someone shouted over the chaos. The question caused Mycroft to tense. He was well aware of his sister's criminal activities despite the lack of physical proof. He wondered what would happen to his career if Enola's own career was revealed. It certainly would make the Prime Minsiter nervous and less trusting of Mycroft's advice. Mycorft's mind would have continued down that thought process if another thought got his attention. The fact that Enola was there at the Embassy with Lady Cecily recalled to his mind what she had said some years ago.

'I help people.' Such a simply phrase, but it got Mycroft thinking.

Enola, with regards to the question of her identity, allowed herself to be distracted by another question. Mycroft had to confess that he was impressed by how Enola handled herself and not once did she reveal anything about herself. He smirked thinking that many that worked under him could learn a lesson from his younger sister when dealing with the public. There would certainly be less messes for him to clean up and smooth over. It reminded him a little of their father, Siger, who had a great ability to control any conversation he was in to end favorable for him; not that he would ever tell Enola that little tidbit. Out of all the Holmes children, Mycroft got along the best with their father and even he did not like the man very much.

She was soon able to take the attention off herself completely and on to Lady Cecily who was now in the capable hands of the paramedics.

Mycroft was the only one to watch Enola leave and was a bit surprised when she paused to give him a small wave of 'hello' before disappearing into the streets. She wanted to do more, but thought better of it. Mycroft could be very controlling and Enola did not want to give him the opportunity to assert that control on her. When she was far enough from the Embassy Enola relaxed a little and laughed. She could almost hear Hatch quoting an old American movie saying 'Of all the gin joints in the world...'. Of all the British Embassies in the world Mycroft was in the one Enola went to. Well, that's life.

"Do you know her, sir?" Anthea asked back at the Embassy. Both she and Mycroft stepped aside to allow the paramedics to wheel Lady Cecily away to the waiting ambulance. Anthea had noticed that Mycroft was looking intently at the mysterious girl who had rescued Lady Cecily instead of on the young aristocrat like everyone else. She only caught a glimpse of the girl, but whoever she was it genuinely surprised her boss.

"Just another face in the crowd." He said nonchalantly as made his way to the door. He had a plane to catch and he did not want to miss it.

Mycroft relaxed a little after he got into the car. He wished he was completely happy at about returning to London, but the prospect of the continuing interrogation of James Moriarty dampened his spirits. Mycroft had a vague idea of what Moriarty might want from him. He was also fairly certain that his superiors would order him to give the consulting criminal exactly that without a second thought. This was one of those few moments in his life that he hated what he did, but when faced with saving his country and preserving one life – how was he to argue against that.

His phone vibrated announcing the arrival of a new text interrupting Mycroft's thoughts. It was from a number that Mycroft did not recognize. Curious as to how someone got one of the most secured phone number in the British government, he opened the message.

'Hope everything's alright. You look very tired. – EH'

Mycroft allowed himself to smirk and was about to put his phone away when another two texts arrived.

'Please do get some sleep. -EH'

'Don't bother tracing – burner phone. -EH'

The last text caused Mycroft to laugh. The fact that she knew that he would trace the number as soon as he could and her use of a burner phone impressed him. That was twice in one day. Since Enola reappeared Mycroft often wondered what Enola would have been like if she had remained at home. She certainly would not have been a criminal, but it was less certain if she would have been as confident as she was now. Maybe she would have been a bigger headache to him than Sherlock.

"Anything the matter, sir?" Anthea asked when she saw Mycroft's face deep in thought.

"When we get back to London I want you to call in a few favors of mine." Mycroft explained as he put his phone back in his jacket pocket.

"Business or personal sir?" She asked typing away on her own phone. She knew that look of Mycroft; it was the one that made Anthea almost feel sorry for those who went against Mycroft in anything – almost.

"Personal," Mycroft leaned back in his seat. "There's someone I need to find."

And a contingency plan he needed to form.

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