A second part of this imagine for CaptSHolmes. Sorry it's taken so long, but it took me some time to get the story right.  I am contemplating a part three. But until I decide, I hope you all enjoy this part.

"What can I get you, Colonel?" Mycroft asked, as he pulled out a stool at the bar for her to sit on.

"I'll take a single malt. No ice. And it's (Y/n). Mister Holmes." (Y/n) replied, as she took a seat. The barman dutifully making his way to get the drinks as Mycroft ordered his own.

"You know, Mister Holmes, you're definitely not quite what I expected." (Y/n) chuckled, as the barman handed her a drink.

"And what exactly were you expecting, (Y/n). And it's Mycroft, please." Mycroft replied, as (Y/n) brought her glass up in a salute, before taking her first sip.

"Well, I had heard a few things. A few horror stories from my predecessors. And you most certainly have that English stiff upper lip they all spoke about. Or was it that you had a stick up your ass. Either way, I wasn't quite expecting you to dance like that. I had been told that you were a cold intellectual, that thought little of others. That in fact, looked down on others. But a man that can dance with a woman in such a fashion, I believe, has a hidden fire." (Y/n) explained, as she moved a little closer. Mycroft coughing slightly, as he tried to hold back the blush that was creeping up from under his stiff shirt collar.

"So, tell me, Mycroft. Is there a secret passion simmering under that finely tailored suit of yours?" (Y/n) continued, as her fingers brushed down the collar of his tuxedo.

Mycroft had to admit, that for once in his life, he wasn't quite sure what to say. Wasn't sure what to even think. It wasn't every day that a beautiful woman asked him whether he had hidden fires. It wasn't every day that beautiful women asked him anything, full stop. In truth, he viewed most women, most other people in fact, as inferior. Particularly when it came to intellect. Yet here before him was a woman that was not only beautiful, but from what had seen through their correspondence and her work for the conference from her side of the pond, she was not the goldfish like so many of her fellows were.

"You know, I have always had a thing for British men. I really don't know what it is. Maybe it the accent. The way they hold themselves. Those cute bowler hats and umbrellas that you guys carry. Or maybe it's just that they.........."

"Colonel. The President would like to see you ma'am." A voice suddenly said. (Y/n) reluctantly moving away from Mycroft. and turning her attention to the black suit clad security guard, that had made his way into the bar.

"Thank you, Donaldson. I'm on my way." (Y/n) told him, as she got to her feet.

"Well, I am afraid duty calls. And as much as I would like to get to know you better, Mycroft. I am afraid that the President just won't wait. Perhaps tomorrow, when he and your PM are talking, we might be able to catch up over coffee. And we can further discuss this possible hidden passion of yours." (Y/n) chuckled. Kissing Mycroft on the cheek, before grabbing her bag and following the security guard back towards the ongoing function. Leaving a quite shocked and stunned, Mycroft behind. The usually detached and calculating older Holmes, who prided himself on having a high degree of self-control. Finding his current demeanour, really rather quite interesting.

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"Where is she?" Mycroft enquired disdainfully, as he stood before one of (Y/n)'s subordinates that he had seen buzzing around her the day before. The young man looking up from the clipboard in his hand. A bemused look on his face.

"Er......who would that be, sir?"

"(Y/n)! Colonel (Y/l/n). You cretin." Mycroft hissed in reply. The young man now almost cowering under his icy stare.

"Oh......er........well you see.......(Y/n). I mean the Colonel, ma'am, was asked to make some calls. There are one or two issues at home that needed to be fixed. But.......if you're Mister Holmes, she asked if I would give you this, should you ask for her." The now very nervous man replied. Pulling a note out from under the clip on his board and handing it to Mycroft. The British government official, rolling his eyes before turning and leaving the confused goldfish, to whatever unimportant job he was deemed fit to do.

After (Y/n) had left him in the bar the night before, Mycroft had found himself thinking. Found himself intrigued by the way (Y/n) had made him feel. He had once told Sherlock that caring was not an advantage. Yet he already found that he, well, that he seemed to care for (Y/n). That he had been disappointed when he hadn't seen her during the day. And he couldn't help but wonder if she had actually been able to ignite a passion in him, that he himself didn't know was there.

Quietly, Mycroft made his way into one of the vacant rooms. Making sure that the door was firmly secure before his long fingers slipped under the seal flap of the envelop. The paper ripping wildly as he pulled out the letter from inside. Mycroft finding himself smiling as he read the words on the embossed piece of paper.

Mycroft,

I am sorry about not being at the conference today. But as you know, business comes first. And as I told you last night, the President just won't wait.

If you would like to catch up for that coffee I mentioned. And possibility give me a chance to uncover that inner passion of yours. I will be at Winfield House this evening. I have spoken to the Ambassador and have told the guards at the gates that you might be calling, so just give them my name.

I hope to see you tonight.

(Y/n).

Mycroft re-folded the piece of paper neatly. Placing it in his waistcoat pocket. Ah, Winfield House. He had been to Winfield House before. It was the official residence of the United States Ambassador to the UK. Mycroft not surprised that (Y/n) would be more than welcome there, given who she was, and who her family were. And as the President was residing at Buckingham Palace during his stay, it was only right that the Colonel would be housed in the beautiful townhouse in Regent's Park. The short three mile journey between the two stately residences, making it easy for (Y/n) to be by the President's side, if he should have need of her.

Looking down at his watch, Mycroft saw that he would just have enough time to return to his home and change for the evening. The government official wanting to make sure that he made as good an impression as he had done the night before. The older Holmes finding himself hoping for much more than just coffee.

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"Ah, Mister Holmes. Such a pleasure to meet you again. (Y/n) told me that you might be coming to see her this evening." The Ambassador greeted. Shaking Mycroft firmly by the hand, as he was escorted into the large sitting room.

"You seem to have made quite an impression on my beautiful god daughter. She has been telling myself and Martha, my wife, all about you..........."

"Uncle Andrew, please." A groaning voice interrupted. The two men turning to see (Y/n) walking into the room.

"My apologies. I have been embarrassing this girl since she was a child. I think that it's become a habit. Well, why don't I leave you two alone. Have a good night, won't you. The place will be all yours, we are off to have dinner with the President." The Ambassador chuckled. Kissing (Y/n) softly on the cheek, before he left the room.

"You'll have to excuse Uncle Andrew. He and my father were in the forces together long before I was even born. I swear that my mother and father paid him to embarrass me in front of every man that I ever introduced to them. And it would appear that he's carrying that on, even now." (Y/n) chuckled, as she gestured for Mycroft to take a seat on the large sofa in the middle of the room.

"You know. I realised that I was a little disappointed last night, that I only got to dance with you once." (Y/n) began, as she sat on the chair next to him. Mycroft finding that he was enjoying her closeness, just as much as he had done the night before.

"I don't suppose that you would like to make up for that would you? Perhaps you would like to show me a little more of that passion yours that we spoke about? We do after all; have the place all to ourselves." (Y/n) asked with a chuckle, as she got to her feet and offered Mycroft her hand. The older Holmes taking it and getting to his own feet, as the large room was suddenly filled with the soft sound of music. Mycroft getting a feeling, as he pulled (Y/n) into his arms and held her close, that not only could this evening turn out to be interesting. But also, that his America cousin could make the rest of his life interesting too.