Mycroft Holmes' Office - Whitehall

[Mycroft Holmes]

A wide, spacious room on the first floor with two windows looking out onto the street. Closed off from most of the public and facing away from the frequented tourist spot from which they take photographs of white building to bore everyone at home, and peaceful. As long as the bulletproof glass remains shut. An L-Shaped heavy wooden desk occupies on corner - not directly next to the windows of course, or near the door - one side bearing the weight of a computer, permanently on standby. The other contains a large amount of paperwork, and some rather nice stationary. And a plant. That can be explained away.

The rest of the office is devoted to seats and a monitor on the wall in case the situation requires it. Also, several large filing cabinets that require three keys to unlock. Copies of intelligence files can't be left lying around, after all...

-----

Mycroft seated himself in the smooth black leather chair and spun the ninety degrees required to flick the computer into wakefulness again. It was eight in the morning- Mycroft's work hours were typical and never-changing, albeit early- and the surveillance needed a brief glance over. Only on the highest level cases of course, Mycroft would not waste his time with petty government officials or journalists. His time was far too valuable for that.

While the computer gathered the energy required to cause the screen to flicker into a semblance of blue life, the elder Holmes turned briefly to the correspondence resting by his left elbow. He now understood the deliberate refusal to carry out intelligence missions unless the country's safety was in question; it did mean such an appalling amount of tedious paperwork. Lucky that he had several secretaries to deal with all the piffle not top secret.

He still couldn't help feeling that the words "top secret" were rather overused in society nowadays.

[Belle Mace]

Pulling her hair up into a high bun, Belle Mace wrapped her hair band around it, looking at herself in the mirror as she did so. Giving a smirk, she placed the glasses on her face, smoothing down the fabric of her suit dress and admiring the disguise she had carefully chosen. Today she was going to infiltrate Whitehall and get the information on all the notorious criminals that the government had yet to catch. She needed someone good to work with to create the biggest theft the world had ever seen. Not just anyone would do. She wanted the very best.

Applying the last layer of lipgloss, she pulled on her jacket and stepped out into the corridor, fluffing up her hair before walking down the highly polished corridor, her high heels clacking on the floor as she walked towards the receptionist. Handing her the ID card her freshly manicured hands had made only this morning, she was let through to the filing area. She couldn't stop the child like grin coming on her face as she was left in the room.

"Right, Holmes. Do your worst," she whispered, looking directly at the camera above her. She lowered her glasses and gave the camera a wink before pressing something in her pocket, blanking the camera out. "Now for the information." She pulled her hair out of the bun, pulling out two keys. "Three keys. Really? Childs play."

[Mycroft Holmes]

Mycroft was not in the habit of recognising everyone that entered the building-that would be extreme even for him - but at the wink and sudden lack of image, any doubts were abruptly dispelled. The childish grin should have been enough to warn him perhaps, he mused.

It would be easy to have her reason with security, but they were unbelievably incompetent. Almost unable to tell a criminal's next move by the angle of their left toe, or the distribution shown by their stance. Unobservant, slow and unsatisfactory. Perhaps it would be possible to come to some arrangement. The criminal showed some promise, after all. And Intelligence recruitment records were not great at the present moment. The present unrest in several underworlds of Europe was to blame, but he wouldn't get involved in that.

His omnipresent umbrella rested in it's usual place by the door, and with some muttered instructions down his personal phone line, the solid steel shutters slammed shut in the filing room. The only way out would be the corridor. But leaving her in the dark would be unsporting, so the lights burst on at the push of a button. No doubt security would just be waking up. Lazy, inane cretins.

Swinging his umbrella slightly as he walked, Mycroft trusted that his private security from Intelligence would have prevented her exiting via the corridor as he approached. With a slight knock at the door for irony and mild sarcasm more than anything else, he stood in the doorway, leaning on his umbrella as ever.

"Interesting reading material." His lofty tones echoed around the room as he fixed her with an evaluative stare. "Although the disguise is rather superfluous." A slight smirk was visible on his face for a second.

[Belle Mace]

In the seconds of blackout she had managed to steal from Holmes, she had managed to slip two of the five top secret files into her pocket, folding it over so that it wouldn't take as much room up. She picked up the third file as the light came on, a small smile coming on her face at the shutters holding her in. Maybe this man was worth getting on her side. He could supply her with contacts, after all. And, it's not as if the whole of the government wasn't corrupt as well. She knew that for a fact, without even needing to meet the man she had come to tease by slipping past his guards.

She turned to face the man, holding the file open as he looked at her from the doorway. She flashed him a smile, resting one hand on her hip and shifting her weight to that side as she glanced down at the file. "Moriarty. Oh, sounds interesting. He's your favourite, I see. Been read a few times, no? I can tell from the crumpled edges. And yet, you still haven't caught him. Tut tut. Not even your brother, Mr Holmes?"

She stepped towards him, shrugging her shoulders as she held out the file towards him. "My disguise got me through your guard. I think you need to get their eyesight checked out, Sir. Your security is slipping. I barely had to batter an eyelash," she teased, giving him a smile. "To what do I owe this tremendous pleasure to meet you yourself? Is your police force that useless, Mr Holmes?" She folded her arms across her chest. "Am I in one of these files or don't you have me on record?"

[Mycroft Holmes]

Mycroft walked a few paces into the room, moving slightly to the left to take in the slight gap in the files. Rather more than just Moriarty's file...He detected a crooked edge that suggested several files had been removed, bending another in the process. "Files are not like library books...They have to be put back." His voice had an edge of steel and he continued to lean on his umbrella, within easy distance of the door. He couldn't run like he used to. His job didn't involve much running; it was not a crucial skill. Speed of mind was far more important.

Nevertheless, she could be of use. And Mycroft had a suspicion he could be of use to her as well. She was looking for something amongst those files. He kept his face blank at the mention of Moriarty's name. It was true he often perused the file, if only to increase the information and plot how best to stop the childish game the man had entangled Sherlock in. "It is always beneficial to refresh one's memory. I would presume that was what you too were doing, but then you would not require the...loan of several files, would you?" He raised an eyebrow.

He took a step forward and removed the file, umbrella no longer resting on the floor, ready to defend himself should the need arise. Not that such mindless violence was his plan. That was far more Sherlock's domain. At the mention of his brother, he chuckled. "We do not need to have our hands held, by my brother or anyone else. Moriarty shall be in custody in due time." His voice was factual, confident and mildly unconcerned. Of course, she was right. The incompetence was no doubt due to the low-level applicants Intelligence had to accept due to the lack of decent pupils. Sickening.

He showed no visible reaction to her smile other than a sigh of mild irritation. "More and more, competent people seem to tend towards criminal activity." He watched her carefully. "I cannot understand why they would do so..." At her questions, he raised a hand slightly, a gesture of command he often used, rather effectively, to silence lower ranks. Lower ranks included nearly everyone, from the cabinet downwards. Mycroft was, to put it simply, the centre of government. "The police are not my concern." Not technically. That was the home office.

With another slight chuckle, he placed the file on the top of another cabinet nearer the door, his umbrella tapping along the floor with his footfalls, in perfect harmony. "I simply felt that security do not have the necessary...Intelligence." His eyes darted across to her again, observing in a calm, logical, deductive manner. That was the only manner in which he ever observed humanity. "That would depend which name you are hiding behind." His voice contained no real malice, simply stating facts.

[Belle Mace]

Belle rolled her eyes at his comment, pulling the two other files out of her pocket and placing them back into the file. She kicked closed the filing cabinet, resting her arm on the top as she looked back at the man. "Aw, really? Can't I just borrow them? Promise I'll return them. I don't ever forget to return things. No black mark against my name in this library, I can assure you," Belle told him, taking a step towards him and looking at his umbrella. "Nice umbrella. Is it your security blanket?"

Belle tilted her head at his response, tapping her lip as she thought. "Now, that would be telling. Why would I tell you what I was doing? That is my concern, not yours. Now Moriarty here is something special. He's a criminal mastermind, I would go as far as saying. Not to mention these other men. Which, you can't catch. But, where's the girls? Can't girls be criminal masterminds? I am hurt that you don't class me as a threat, Sir," Belle teased, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She was more than teasing him for fun. She was insulting him and he knew that just as much as she did.

Belle raised an eyebrow at his hand, looking at him. "Do you really think a hand gesture is going to stop me talking? I'm not your police officers, thanks," Belle told him, putting her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She shrugged. "My name is Isabella Maria Mace. You may know me as Belle. Not that you would know me, Sir. You don't know I exist because you've never caught me. Until now, of course. Now, you need me else you would have had me arrested by now." She took a step forward towards him. "What do you want? And what do I get in return?"[/blockquote]

[Mycroft Holmes]

"I'm sure." At the woman's attitude, Mycroft kept his face blank. It was to be expected. He might not be particularly pleased with the attitude, which was not one of obedience-although mindless obedience was incredibly wearing- but he did not have to be. He glanced briefly at the umbrella, a slight smirk forming on his features. "No."

At the insults, obvious as it was to him, Mycroft's face became impassive once more. They dented his pride minutely, and his eyes silently cursed her impudence. Suddenly, obedience and mindless awe did not seem so very wearing after all. At least she had backbone-if she was to be of any use to him, that would be necessary. He detached his ego from the equation for a moment, instead focusing on his plan. "Perhaps they simply have the good sense to back the right side." He inhaled deeply before continuing. "Of course you have the potential to be a threat, but does that really seem the wisest course open to you?" Carefully, he turned his head in the direction of the corridor, before reverting his gaze to her. A thinly veiled threat, as she surely recognised.

"Perhaps not." His hand resumed it's previous position by his side, unperturbed by her refusal to comply with his wishes. A lapdog was not going to be of any use in intelligence. And therefore was no use to him. "We know everyone exists." His tone was factual. "We know everything. There are always traces of life." He spoke, lofty and with a great deal of arrogance. But it was, in his eyes, perfectly true. All he needed was proof. That was all he was required to get. They already knew most of what was needed. He stored her name in his memory for later. Might be interesting.

He did not move as she questioned him directly. He cast a sweeping glance around the room briefly, for no particular reason, purely for observation, and adjusted the position of his umbrella slightly to make his leaning more comfortable. It reached the floor with barely a click, and he twitched his mouth into a smile for a second. Not a real smile, more of a leer. "You want information. I can give you all the information you could ever need." Looking towards the far wall, his face became apathetic, apparently unconcerned one way or the other. This was mostly true. There were always more people in the world. Always. "And in return, I would like something that I believe you can get."

[Belle Mace]

Belle just raised an eyebrow in response, looking at the umbrella. "It is your security blanket because without it you loose your power, don't you?" Belle asked him, leaning against the filing cabinet beside her and resting her head in her hand. "Although, I must say it is a very nice umbrella. Expensive, no doubt."

"You would be surprised. There are a lot of girls out there that are running your city amok and you don't even know it. However, I am top of the list, so I am surprised you do not know of me, Mr Holmes," Belle pondered, tapping her lip in thought. She smiled brightly at him, her eyes twinkling at the situation. Of course she hadn't meant to be caught by Holmes, but at the moment this may be to her advantage. He hadn't arrested her yet, so she may still be able to make a deal with this man. Now that she could live with if it got her what she wanted.

"You want me to get you something in return for me to have my information," Belle repeated to mull it over in her head. Part of her was fully against it. Working with the enemy had never exactly been a plan of hers and she was partly sure she could get the information without his help. However, unlimited access to the information without worry of arrest was tempting beyond anything. She looked up at him, saying nothing for a few seconds. "What do you want me to get?"

[Mycroft Holmes]

Mycroft kept his temper; irritation clouded the mind and impaired reason, and so it was dangerous. Far too precarious and uncontrolled for his liking. He adjusted his hold minutely on the umbrella, loosening his grip slightly to prevent muscles from cramping. "Your misguided reasoning in an attempt to annoy me is rather predictable." A slight smirk curved at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you. It was worth the price, I must admit." He abruptly returned to the matter at hand.

At her defiance of his knowledge, he chuckled quietly. "You seem to be mistaking me for the official police. Petty crimes in the city are not my concern." He stopped short of describing his real concerns, such as the continued stability of Britain, the government, Europe, gathering of intelligence, networks of spies and relations with other intelligence agencies worldwide. He did not give out information as freely as ordinary people. That was one of the reasons he had risen to the rank he currently held. "It is fortunate I have not heard of you; if I had, I would not be in a position to give you a way out, and we would never have had this charming conversation." A smile that was more of a smirk or sarcastic grin than friendliness, imprinted itself upon his features for the duration of this sentence, designed predominantly as sarcasm.

As she considered the offer, Mycroft was confident she would see fit to accept the offer; she would be a fool not to. And if she did not, the security crew were now less than ten metres away. One quick scuffle and it would all be over. At her question, he kept his expression blank and rather unconcerned. This was a ruse. A facade. The papers could do great harm in the hands of unfriendly intelligence services. He had run through the scenarios and methods he would employ against them many times, and he had to admit it would be far more convenient for them all if the papers could be retrieved now. One foolish politician writing notes in a notebook had caused this all to happen. Damn the Prime Minister's lack of vigilance.

"A notebook. It contains information we would prefer to keep clear of unfriendly influences. I can give you the location. Of course, you would have back up, and should you attempt to double-cross us, I shall not be able to offer you an exit again." His last words contained lashings of steel. Treachery was one thing he could not stand. He would not tolerate it, under any circumstances. Her question had already assured him she would accept the mission. Once it was completed, he could decide what exactly his next move would be. Sometimes the world seemed to be a giant game of chess, one move at a time, a giant strategy hidden by feints and choice sacrifices. Chess.

[Belle Mace]

"I'm sure it was. I know when to appreciate an expensive piece. I know value well," Belle told him, deciding that she would help him. After all, she needed that information and getting it by doing a small little task was better than breaking it out of her. She was fully concious of the fact that there were security guards behind her and she was definitely sure she couldn't outrun them in these shoes, let alone in trainers.

"Petty crimes? My crimes are not petty!" Belle insisted, feeling a little annoyed. "Just because I dont publicise everything I do, the rest of the lot get the higher rating." She sighed, rolling her eyes as she taped her perfectly manicured nails against the filing cabinet in a simple rhythm. "That's what you get for doing men's work in a man's world."

"A notebook? A partner? I don't really do partners...I tend to work alone. It's much easier," Belle told him, glancing back at the guards. "And I'm small and they...aren't. Unless you have someone small, I suppose." She paused, realising she was slightly rambling. "Alright, Mr Holmes. You have a deal if you give me the information I want when I come back with your notebook." She held out her hand to shake. "Only then will I do it for you."

[Mycroft Holmes]

Mycroft's estimations of her increased slightly. She was of more use to him, and to intelligence, if she could appreciate value. Appreciating value led to desiring objects of value, and thus, he was in control. He was aware of this; it was a shortfall that he had possessed since birth, near enough. "I should hope so." A faint hint of amusement lurked in his tones. "A very poor criminal you would make if you did not."

He shrugged his shoulder slightly in dismissal of her agitation. It was undignified, he always thought, to show emotion quite so openly. Not to mention a potential hole in one's armour. "It has been said that genius requires an audience." He replied calmly, his lips faintly containing the hint of a smile. Sherlock might be classed as a genius, he supposed, rationally and not solely out of some ridiculous brotherly faith- that would not be fact. That would be opinion. Yet, whether or not he was a genius, Mycroft was positive that Sherlock required his own little audience. He himself did not. At least, not from just anyone. He was selective about those he allowed into his audiences. For the moment, he was permitting Belle to be part of this...so to speak, and solely for his own ends.

His eyes drifted to observe her tapping, the sound echoing around the room, now seemingly made entirely of steel. "Whatever makes you think that criminal pursuits are solely male?" He raised an eyebrow. Several of the files in a separate cabinet might have been of more interest to her...Obviously, he had no intention of informing her until she had done as bidden.

At her words, his mind conjured files on all "small" people available to act as security, of sorts, on this project. As he had expected, she had accepted. She was not a fool, after all. If she was, he would not have bothered to make the offer at all. A smirk curled around his mouth, slightly menacing and more than a little smug. Success was what he enjoyed most. "I'm glad you chose to accept my terms." He drawled, although he was reluctant to shake hands. "And I'm sure we can find someone suited to accompany you- if you should require them that is..." He flicked his phone out of a pocket and tapped feverishly for a few seconds, although the swift typing still seemed dignified and almost apathetic-not particularly enthusiastic. Perfectly level mood. It was an occupation. Work. He thumbed through the results and replaced it in his pocket.

Mycroft shifted his weight from his leaning post on the umbrella, and briefly shook her hand, supposing that was perhaps the wisest course to take. "If you'd like to come through to my office, I can tell you all the details you will need." Without any further words, he strode to the door, umbrella's point clicking on the floor with every step, evenly spaced and perfectly regimented. He made the assumption she would follow. He was used to people doing exactly what he said. Therefore, there was no doubt in his mind that she would do so. Perhaps it was arrogance.