The Unexpected Coincidence by Amelia Price Page A

himself raising his eyebrows at her. A smirk flitted
across her face. She was mocking him. He wasn't sure anyone had
ever mocked him, except Sherlock.
    “I'm still not
happy you're staying at Baker Street,” Mycroft said, changing the
subject.
    “Why ever
not?”
    “My younger
brother is more easily charmed, especially by someone of such
intelligence. I would hate for him to think you have more of an
interest in him than you do.” His words were met with laughter. He
frowned at her lack of seriousness. As soon as she saw his face she
stopped.
    “Myron, your
brother is in no danger from me. He knows where my interests lie
and has even encouraged me in them. It's quite amusing, really.”
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure he wanted to know what
she found entertaining. “This conversation is the first time you've
expressed a sort of jealousy over my intentions. I didn't expect
you to be worried I might prefer another to you.”
    He hmmphd his
distaste at the idea, but she didn't stop talking.
    “There really is
no need to worry, Myron. Sebastian is well aware of my feelings. I
consider myself to be yours. Claiming me is entirely up to you.”
She smiled up at him, but he avoided her gaze.
    “Now. I should get
this shopping back before the milk gets too warm and the ice-cream
melts. Thank you for your concern, Myron. Have a good evening.”
    Without so much as
a backwards glance, Amelia wandered off, leaving him standing in a
stranger's doorway. Despite the brush-off, he kept his under-cover
act and followed her at a distance back to Baker Street. The whole
way, she continued her obsessive checking, even though their eyes
met a couple of times. He wasn't sure if he felt pleased she was
being so careful and trying to observe the people around her, or
annoyed that she wasn't leaving it to him.
    It was evident
that she knew he was there. When he stopped on the corner of Baker
Street, she walked up to the flat door, smiled and mouthed a thank
you in his direction, but she'd been checking for her stalker
anyway.
    He was just as
wary as he headed back to his car, on the slight chance her stalker
was clever enough to notice Mycroft and hang back, but he saw no
one suspicious. The streets were filled with people as normal as
London usually was.
    Daniels knew
better than to ask how the trip had gone when Mycroft got back into
the car. A frown was fixed on his face until he sat down behind his
desk and found his housekeeper had pre-empted his desire for tea.
She'd even placed two of his favourite biscuits on a plate beside
it.
    While he munched,
he put his awkward conversation with Amelia aside. It wouldn't take
much longer to figure out who her stalker was, even though he
hadn't shown up that afternoon. His analysis of the letters,
combined with the research he had the police doing, would pinpoint
the man in a couple of days.
    In the meantime,
he had a watch out on the Russian ruble coins. Apparently a whole
cache of them had gone missing two years before. The Russians had
hushed it up. Mycroft had noticed it at the time, but they'd
resurfaced in a container in a US dock about six months later.
    He'd forgotten
about it and assumed they had been returned to Russia, but it had
recently been brought to his attention that the crate had been put
on a very interesting ship. The Lyubov Orlova was misplaced in
February on its way from Newfoundland in Canada.
    At the time, the
Canadians had assured him it was deliberate. They wanted to monitor
Ireland after some interesting remarks they'd made at a previous
diplomatic meeting. A storm conveniently helped cover the
Canadians' tracks, and the newspapers focused on the rats aboard
rather than any possible cargo.
    Knowing he had to
find out what had happened to the ship, Mycroft put his best
research agent onto the task. Wherever that ship had travelled
after, it wasn't Ireland. He suspected it was deliberately sunk and
then divers smuggled the contents out over the next few