Worst temporary position in the world
Sep. 12th, 2011 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solrosanNotes: Written for this MMAM at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sherlockbbc because I felt almost as stressed out as Anthea does in this very short fic. And yes, writing a fanfic about Anthea was a perfect use of my limited time. Didn't put two sticks together to re-read it and correct it though...and the things Mycroft considers important wasn't really a concern 48 h after the pool incident but rather the top news on the telly as I wrote this.
Summary: Anthea's attempt to stand if for Mycroft Holmes when he leaves to be at Sherlock's bedside after the pool incident is driving her to the brink of exhaustion.
***
Her Blackberry, the United Kingdom control centre these last 48 hours, slipped through her hands. The panic rose inside her, she heard a scream without realising it was her own and fumbled to get it under control again, to fetch it, to grasp it, to regain the control.
There were memos to send, fires to put out, tracks to cover up, lies to waterproof, records to seal, to open! Not to mention the tulip prices in Amsterdam and the shuffling of money for road improvements in southern Scotland and approving the new pesticides….And the clinical trial! She had forgotten about the clinical trial!
Mr Holmes's schedule was on that phone!
FUCK!
She hadn’t cancelled his meetings for tomorrow! But she had rescheduled all the already cancelled ones. She hadn’t forwarded the e-mail to Mr Brown though. Shit! Shit! Shit! It was supposed to go to Mr Cameron anyway. Right? He was the current Prime Minister, right? Was he even supposed to have that e-mail? Why had she got it in the first place? She had no idea! She needed the phone back!
“It’s all right, sir,” she’d said, “Go to your brother.”
“I’ll take care of it, sir,” she’d promised, “Don’t worry; I won’t forget the press release, who is always reminding you about that, sir?”
She needed her phone! She couldn’t keep her promise without her phone! She needed it, it was her last lifeline! Call a friend? Yes please! Just give her back the phone so she could do just that!
The Blackberry didn’t fall to the floor though, which was odd. Gravity was still working last time she’d checked. Christ! Had she fucked that up too? No, that was just silly thinking. She followed the Blackberry on its way up, trying so hard to get it back, and when it stopped it took her two seconds before she recognised the face next to it.
“Mr Holmes!” she gasped, “Give it back, sir! I’m almost done!”
“No,” Mr Holmes shook his head, browsing through the recent activities on the phone, “I’m cutting you off now.”
“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m almost done!” she said, getting up from the chair behind her desk, tipping over a pile of paper as she did so.
Mr Holmes seemed to hesitate, but closed the phone before holding it out for her to take again. When she closed her once well manicured fingers around it – she’d broken two nails in just as many days – he didn’t let go.
“Have you slept at all since I left you?” Mr Holmes wondered, looking at her in his all-knowing way. It was a long time since she had been on the receiving end of that type of gaze and right now it was almost unbearable. She’d tried so hard to keep everything going, keep the machinery running, so he could take some time and be with his brother after that terrible incident at the swimming pool. She hadn’t managed and he saw it. He saw her weakness and her inability to do what he did, even for just two days.
“Just two hours sir,” she sobbed. Sleep deprivation was as a pathetic excuse. She shouldn’t have to need sleep at all!
Mr Holmes wiggled the Blackberry out of her hands again and she didn’t have the strength to stop him.
“Go home,” Mr Holmes told her, twisting his lips into one of his softer smiles, “Get some sleep.”
“I’m sorry sir!” she actually cried now, couldn’t stop herself, and before she knew it she had a handkerchief in her hand and was guided to one of the huge leather armchairs.
“It’s not a punishment,” Mr Holmes said, looking down at her as a father looked at a daughter, “It’s a well earned reward….Not to mention a precaution, you were about to CC the security draft to Berlusconi. Wouldn’t have been the end of the world, but why risk it?”
“I’m sorry sir….I….I just tried…to….I’m sorry I wasn’t able to….” she wasn’t sure exactly what she was stuttering now.
“Greece hasn’t crashed yet, that was the most important thing,” Mycroft said encouraging, “And the Norwegian election is going smoothly, all things considered. Your work has been more than satisfactory.”
“But…but…but…but…”
“No buts,” Mr Holmes shook his head, “Go home. Sleep. Don’t come back until Wednesday. It’s an order.”
With those words he held out the phone again and when she reached for it he let go. She braced herself; made sure she didn’t sob anymore and got up; feeling beaten and embarrassed. To her best ability she straightened her clothes and put her hair together again. As a last step in her attempt to save her long lost face, she handed Mr Holmes his handkerchief back.
“I don’t understand how you do it, sir,” she admitted and Mr Holmes gave her an honest smile.
“I have you. That’s how.”
sherlockbbc because I felt almost as stressed out as Anthea does in this very short fic. And yes, writing a fanfic about Anthea was a perfect use of my limited time. Didn't put two sticks together to re-read it and correct it though...and the things Mycroft considers important wasn't really a concern 48 h after the pool incident but rather the top news on the telly as I wrote this.Summary: Anthea's attempt to stand if for Mycroft Holmes when he leaves to be at Sherlock's bedside after the pool incident is driving her to the brink of exhaustion.
***
Her Blackberry, the United Kingdom control centre these last 48 hours, slipped through her hands. The panic rose inside her, she heard a scream without realising it was her own and fumbled to get it under control again, to fetch it, to grasp it, to regain the control.
There were memos to send, fires to put out, tracks to cover up, lies to waterproof, records to seal, to open! Not to mention the tulip prices in Amsterdam and the shuffling of money for road improvements in southern Scotland and approving the new pesticides….And the clinical trial! She had forgotten about the clinical trial!
Mr Holmes's schedule was on that phone!
FUCK!
She hadn’t cancelled his meetings for tomorrow! But she had rescheduled all the already cancelled ones. She hadn’t forwarded the e-mail to Mr Brown though. Shit! Shit! Shit! It was supposed to go to Mr Cameron anyway. Right? He was the current Prime Minister, right? Was he even supposed to have that e-mail? Why had she got it in the first place? She had no idea! She needed the phone back!
“It’s all right, sir,” she’d said, “Go to your brother.”
“I’ll take care of it, sir,” she’d promised, “Don’t worry; I won’t forget the press release, who is always reminding you about that, sir?”
She needed her phone! She couldn’t keep her promise without her phone! She needed it, it was her last lifeline! Call a friend? Yes please! Just give her back the phone so she could do just that!
The Blackberry didn’t fall to the floor though, which was odd. Gravity was still working last time she’d checked. Christ! Had she fucked that up too? No, that was just silly thinking. She followed the Blackberry on its way up, trying so hard to get it back, and when it stopped it took her two seconds before she recognised the face next to it.
“Mr Holmes!” she gasped, “Give it back, sir! I’m almost done!”
“No,” Mr Holmes shook his head, browsing through the recent activities on the phone, “I’m cutting you off now.”
“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m almost done!” she said, getting up from the chair behind her desk, tipping over a pile of paper as she did so.
Mr Holmes seemed to hesitate, but closed the phone before holding it out for her to take again. When she closed her once well manicured fingers around it – she’d broken two nails in just as many days – he didn’t let go.
“Have you slept at all since I left you?” Mr Holmes wondered, looking at her in his all-knowing way. It was a long time since she had been on the receiving end of that type of gaze and right now it was almost unbearable. She’d tried so hard to keep everything going, keep the machinery running, so he could take some time and be with his brother after that terrible incident at the swimming pool. She hadn’t managed and he saw it. He saw her weakness and her inability to do what he did, even for just two days.
“Just two hours sir,” she sobbed. Sleep deprivation was as a pathetic excuse. She shouldn’t have to need sleep at all!
Mr Holmes wiggled the Blackberry out of her hands again and she didn’t have the strength to stop him.
“Go home,” Mr Holmes told her, twisting his lips into one of his softer smiles, “Get some sleep.”
“I’m sorry sir!” she actually cried now, couldn’t stop herself, and before she knew it she had a handkerchief in her hand and was guided to one of the huge leather armchairs.
“It’s not a punishment,” Mr Holmes said, looking down at her as a father looked at a daughter, “It’s a well earned reward….Not to mention a precaution, you were about to CC the security draft to Berlusconi. Wouldn’t have been the end of the world, but why risk it?”
“I’m sorry sir….I….I just tried…to….I’m sorry I wasn’t able to….” she wasn’t sure exactly what she was stuttering now.
“Greece hasn’t crashed yet, that was the most important thing,” Mycroft said encouraging, “And the Norwegian election is going smoothly, all things considered. Your work has been more than satisfactory.”
“But…but…but…but…”
“No buts,” Mr Holmes shook his head, “Go home. Sleep. Don’t come back until Wednesday. It’s an order.”
With those words he held out the phone again and when she reached for it he let go. She braced herself; made sure she didn’t sob anymore and got up; feeling beaten and embarrassed. To her best ability she straightened her clothes and put her hair together again. As a last step in her attempt to save her long lost face, she handed Mr Holmes his handkerchief back.
“I don’t understand how you do it, sir,” she admitted and Mr Holmes gave her an honest smile.
“I have you. That’s how.”
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no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 07:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-12 11:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-12 01:00 pm (UTC)I wish I could give you some good recs at least, but Mythea isn’t something I follow (if it isn’t ibelieveinmycroft’s (http://ibelieveinmycroft.tumblr.com/tagged/Mythea) gif- and photosets) and if you say that the fics are few, then I’m sure you’re right.
Good luck in your search!