Flowers are so cliched aren’t they?
Just another little SEDDI SFW fic. Set during the Emma Peel era 1965-1967. Enjoy!!
Steed stood in a small flower shop along the fashionable side of town named, “Bloomin’ Marvellous”. However the obviously gay attendant was getting more and more agitated trying to serve him, as he really didn’t have the time to argue it was almost five o’clock closing time.
"I don’t think she would like those." Steed said.
"But sir, they are the finest variety of flowers we have in the store." The man dressed in a flowery shirt pink shirt and a dark purple suit, said as he pointed to a pre-arranged bouquet.
"That may well be, but I know she won’t like them." Steed replied.
"Then how about a single red rose, sir?"
"Nope, too obvious I think." Steed said, shaking his head.
"A bouquet of carnations?"
"Those are my favourite, not hers."
"How about pink lilies?"
"I hardly think that they are appropriate, she’s very much alive." Steed said grimacing.
"What about those?" Steed raised his umbrella to the vase containing a bunch of the tall variety of flower he liked.
"Yes, I’ll take a dozen pink and white."
"But they’re quite expensive sir, three times as much as roses."
"Perfect, just what I’m looking for."
"Very well sir, she’s a lucky lady."
"No, sir, I’m a lucky man." Steed replied, as he rested his umbrella on his shoulder.
Steed left the shop holding proudly the dozen blooms in his hands. He knew they represented her character perfectly. Tall, beautiful, and expensive. He knew that would cheer her up. She’d been extremely busy at Knight’s Industries for a few weeks, she’d been to France and Belgium twice during that time. Even unable to assist him in one or two cases. She’d been back in the country for less than twelve hours, but had gone straight to Knight for more meetings. He’d missed her terribly, and wanted to show her exactly how much. He climbed into his Bentley and drove off in the direction of the John Knight Building.
He parked up the Bentley in the nearby car parking bay. Then he carefully took out the bouquet from the front passenger seat, and walked into the main reception area.
"Mr. Steed, how nice to see you again. She’s upstairs in a meeting, if you don’t mind waiting that is sir? Are those for her? Oh, they are beautiful, she will appreciate them, sir. Go on right up." Harrison, the security guard said.
"Thank you Harrison. I just hope she can spare the time to see me." Steed replied sombrely.
"I’m sure she will, sir." Harrison replied.
Steed entered the lift and straightened his tie, and tapped his bowler to correct the angle in the mirrored glass of the lift. When the lift arrived at her floor, he then walked down the long corridor to her personal assistant’s desk. He stood holding the bouquet on top of the large desk, as he peered down to speak to Miss Dobson.
"Mrs. Peel free yet?" Steed enquired, as he smiled at her.
"I’m most terribly sorry Mr. Steed, but her meeting will take quite some time. Would you like me to take those for you? And maybe pass her a message?" Miss Dobson explained.
"Oh, that’s no trouble. I’ll just borrow your pen there if that’s ok?" He said, as he took out the small card situated in between three stemmed Orchids. He wrote something intelligible and replaced the card back into the bouquet, then handed the pen back to Miss. Dobson.
"There, now any idea how long she’s likely to be?" He asked, smiling cheerily at her.
"I’m afraid not Mr. Steed. They’ve been in there an hour already."
"Ah, well, I’ll just wait over there then until she’s finished." Steed pointed his umbrella over to the other side of the room.
"Are you sure Mr. Steed?"
"I never lie Miss. Dobson, unless it’s utterly necessary." He said, as he then strode over to the long leather sofa.
He lay the bouquet across one side of the long dark wood coffee table in front of the him. He picked up a copy of The Times, opened the pages, and flicked it in the middle then began reading. A few moments later he casually stretched and crossed his legs on top of the coffee table. He sighed as he occasionally looked at his watch.
Two hours later the large door to her office opened and out walked six smartly dressed men holding briefcases.
"Thank you very much gentlemen. My company and I will look forward to doing business with you. Have a safe journey back to Brussels." Mrs. Peel said, as she shook each man’s hand that left the office.
"Merci, Madame Peel." Said the last man as he left the office, shaking hands with her a little over eagerly.
"Merci, Monsieur Renauld." She said, bowing her head to the man.
As she then watched him and the other men walk down the long corridor of her offices.
"That will be all Florence, I’ll close up tonight." Emma said to Miss Dobson, who was sitting looking up at her from behind her desk.
"Erm, Mrs. Peel." Florence said.
"Yes, Florence?" Emma’s head leaned over the desk to speak to her assistant more clearly.
"You have a visitor."
"Oh?" Emma said, a little shocked.
"He’s over there. Behind a copy of The Times."
"Shhh, I think he’s asleep."
"Oh." She chuckled to herself, as she turned to see two shined brown shoes that crossed one another, which were attached to the brown suited gentleman behind the newspaper.
She walked carefully towards the man sitting quietly on the leather sofa. She then noticed the large beautiful bouquet of pink and white orchids that lay on the coffee table next to his shoes. She saw a small white card positioned in the middle of the flowers. She bent down and squinted at the writing it read,
"Flowers are so cliched, but I couldn’t resist these tall, beautiful blooms for a tall, and very beautiful woman. - JS."
"Steed?" She gently whispered.
She carefully moved the newspaper down and saw his nuckles were red and bruised. She saw his bowler positioned over his eyes as it rested on the tip of his nose. She also noticed a large bruise on his chin, and his lip was cut.
"Steed? Steed?" She gently moved his bowler from over his face and saw his eyes blink to life, as his body jumped to attention.
"Ah, Mrs. Peel, there you are, I thought you may have forgotten I was here." He said, as he smiled wistfully, as his pain in his chin and lip didn’t allow him to make a full and personal grin just for her.
"Oh, this damn lip." He added, as he touched it with his free hand.
"Oh, dear, you have been in the wars haven’t you?" She sombrely smiled down at him.
"No more than usual, but it is quite sore." He grimaced.
"Well, what brings you here so late?" She said as she handed him his bowler.
"You." He said, looking up at her.
"Me?" She smiled, as she placed her hand on scarf around her neck in emphasis.
He rose from the sofa, carefully folding the newspaper and placed it back onto the table. He placed his bowler back on his head at a jaunty angle.
"I thought we could have a spot of dinner."
"It’s a bit late for dinner."
"Not if I cook it for you it’s not."
She smiled at him.
"And the flowers?"
"Oh, those. They reminded me of you."
He picked them up from the table and looked up at her.
"Of course, tall, beautiful, and expensive." He said, as he handed her the bouquet.
"Only the best for you my dear." He looked into her eyes, and she bit her lip.
"So are you free at all this evening?"
"Actually I am."
"Wonderful, I have a bottle just for the occasion."
"Shall we go then?" He offered her his arm.
"Lets". She grasped his sleeve as they walked off down the corridor together, as she held her bouquet in her other arm.