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“I want John Watson,” Mycroft says, and Anthea huffs, frowning.

“He’s not well known; he’s barely written two scripts altogether. What makes you think he can write this?”

“He’s got the skill, he just needs the enthusiasm. He’ll be fine,” Mycroft says, and Anthea shakes her head but makes the call.

 

“What do you mean, Mycroft Holmes wants me?” John asks in disbelief.

“He wants it to be his own film, Mr Watson,” Anthea says, “He’s tired of producing things that the studios tear to shreds, so he’s going indie.”

“And he thinks I’m indie,” John says, realising. “Oh, god. I’ve written two films and only one got considered for Sundance, you realise.”

“We do,” Anthea says, “But it’s you or nobody, John, he’s insistent.”

“Fine,” John says. They both knew he was going to accept: working with Mycroft Holmes is a dream job. The film is certain to get noticed due to the director’s name alone. “But he’s not allowed to make fun of my typing.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Mr Watson,” Anthea said with amusement. “We’re all professionals here, I’m sure.”

 

Gregory Lestrade does not consider himself a professional, and when he walks in, both John and Mycroft look at each other in disbelief. This is who Anthea decided will be their leading role? John watches Lestrade flop sideways across a chair and holds his eyebrows in place by sheer force of will, despite wanting to raise them at the man.

“Right, then, they wouldn’t tell me much, only have half the script,” Greg says, grinning at them both, and Holmes leans back, lacing his fingers.
“Well, we’re still very much in the planning phase,” he says, and John, frowning, remembers to finish his sentence, pecking slowly at the laptop keys.

“’s alright. Gonna be brilliant, this, couldn’t believe I got the part. Always wanted to play this sort of bloke, always –” Greg paused, reaching up and making a face, “This close to what he needs.”

Mycroft blinks and considers that. “I rather thought it was more -- he’s not sure what he needs at all. Blown about by the wind more than charting a straight path.” His fingers wave back and forth to illustrate, and John glances up, slightly surprised. It’s rare for Mycroft to take someone else’s idea of their characters into consideration, let alone take up a conversation about it.

“Well, he thinks he’s charting a path, doesn’t he?” Greg challenges, sitting up slightly and crossing his legs, still relaxed but more alert than before, and John carefully closes his laptop, slipping out of the room before looking at Anthea in the hallway.

“He really is a very good actor,” she says, grinning.

“But that’s not why you hired him,” John says in return, and her eyes sparkle.

“Don’t tell Mr Holmes,” is all she says, as the conversation in the room continues behind them.