Did You Miss Me?

Chapter 3: Mycroft's Office

"So..." Watson said as they got into another cab.

Sherlock pulled a pice of paper from within the pockets of his coat and handed it to John. There was a moment of silence as he read it.

"She's in on it...but not willingly."

"Precisely." Sherlock said, "someone blackmailed her--quite literally--and so she received the head somehow and brought it to a spot, called the police, and went on with her life."

"How'd you even get this?" John held up the piece of paper.

"When I went to the bathroom, I went to her bedroom instead. I also saw the box that the head was shipped in but it was a little too big to smuggle out."

"So where are we going?"

"The return address."

"Do you really think we'll find anything there."

"I don't know. It was Mycroft's office."

"You're kidding."

"I rarely 'kid', John. You should know that by now."

Sherlock's mind was running a mile a minute as it always did when on a case. Dates, places, times, trivia. It all floated around his brain, but in the back, was a voice.

"Hello Sherlock." The memory said. "Have you solved the case yet?"

"Shut up." Sherlock responded.

"Oh, come on. This is FUN!"

"Go away! You have nothing to do with this."

"Oh Sherlock. So nïeve. How do you know I'm not involved?"

"Because you are dead. I saw you die."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure!"

"Sorry, what?" Watson asked. Sherlock looked at his friend, realizing he'd spoken aloud.

"Oh...no... nothing. Unimportant."

There was a pause before John said skeptically, "Alright. You still never told me how you knew the earrings were put in after he died."

"I texted the husband and asked if Jacob had pierced ears." Sherlock held up his phone on which John could read the texts which confirmed that Jacob not only didn't have pierced ears, he despised all ear piercings.

"Right here is fine." Sherlock said, hopping out of the cab. John sighed, reaching into his pockets for his wallet. After paying the cabbie, John followed Sherlock into the building and into Mycroft's office.

As Sherlock marched confidently down the halls, a few people have them the odd glance or pointed the pair out to their co-workers. One person even pulled out pen and paper and began to follow them but Sherlock waved them off. Not only did he not want to waste any time, but he hated the day to day things fame brought.

Sure, he received some amount of authority, but he also had to deal with fans.

"John, remind me to throw away your computer."

"And why would I do that?" John said, hastening his place to keep up with Sherlock.

"You really need to stop blogging."

John grinned, knowing that he would write that into his next blog entry.

"Here we are." Without knocking, Sherlock burst into his brother's office only to find him not alone. He and Lestrade were both having tea.

Mycroft glanced up before returning to the drink in his hands. Lestrade on the other hand stood up rather abruptly.

"Oh do sit down, Greg." Mycroft said. "Have you never seen Sherlock Holmes before."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, his eyes narrowed.

"I...um-"

Mycroft interupted, "He needed information on Jacob Phillips. Classified information, that is."

"Why my brother?"

"Because the person they would normally send me to," Lestrade said, his confidence returning, "is out sick. So is there superior. So they sent me here."

"Whose 'they'?"

"The people at the blooming front desk." Lestrade said, sitting back down into the ornate armchair, looking peeved by Sherlock's questions.

"The real question is, dear brother, why are you here?"

"I need a list of all your employees. Including any janitorial staff and any contractors."

"Is this for the Phillips case?" Mycroft stood and walked over to his large wooden desk.

"No, I just like knowing every single name of everyone who works in your building."

"You are teaching him sarcasm, I see," Mycroft said to Watson.

Sherlock's brother opened the top drawer of his desk, rifled through various papers, and withdrew a tab folder.

"Here you are," he said, holding the papers out. Sherlock reached to take it but before his fingers made contact, Mycroft withdrew it swifty, "on one condition. You owe me a favor."

Sherlock paused for a few moments, debating the trade off. "Fine. Just give it to me." He said, hand still outstretched.

"Excellent." He handed over the folder and looked at his watch, "Well, I best be off." Grabbing his coat and walking to the door he didn't even turn around before saying, "Do put that down and behave like an adult."

Sherlock set the notepad down and joined John as they made their way back to the street and hailed a cab to take them back to their flat.