“Pregnant, Mycroft. Pregnant.” Anthea Hughes, his long-suffering assistant and second-in-command, said in a tone of utter bemusement.
He should have guessed, he thought savagely. Yesterday for lunch she had a scotch egg slathered with sriracha hot sauce - hardly a conventional choice, and not the type of thing Mycroft Holmes would usually miss.
“My replacement.” Anthea slid a worryingly thin dossier across the desk.
“I suppose she comes highly recommended?”
“Not really.” Anthea sniffed. “She’s inexperienced, poor, and a bit annoying, to be honest.”
Bookmarked by Nannecaen
28 Aug 2019