Basically, my take on the end of 'The Great Game'

How will Sherlock and John get out alive? ... Here's how I think.

Mycroft Holmes was bored, at least he thought he was bored. He wasn't entirely sure what being bored felt like. He sat comfortably in his armchair, right leg crossed over his left. He held a glass of whiskey in his left hand, swirling it in circles every few seconds.

Every so often he would glance over at the bookshelf to his left, eying up the books as if he could ever find one that would entertain him during his eventless night.

Placing his glass on a placemat beside him, Mycroft stood up and walked gracefully over to his desk. Loading up his computer he briskly typed in his desired web address.

www . thescienceofdeduction . co . uk

Sherlock most likely had no idea that his older brother was a regular visitor to his website. Mycroft thought it best that it stayed that way. It was no secret to anyone that Sherlock's head was filled with ideas that Mycroft was a secret agent and had nothing better to do in his spare time than spy on his 'darling baby brother'.

Scrolling through the 'Case Files' page, Mycroft made a mental note to take some time and read the blog of Dr John Watson. Seeing as the doctor was living with his brother, it was sure to make for interesting reading.

After glancing over the 'Case Files' page, Mycroft decided to browse another section of the website. 'Hmm,' he thought to himself, 'The forum should be interesting.'

Clicking on his desired link, Mycroft's mind came to a halt when he came across a worrying post which had been left by his brother less than half an hour previously.

Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight.

"That little…"

Mycroft cursed to himself as he pulled out his phone a dialled 'Sherlock'

After there was no answer, Mycroft rolled his eyes 'Of course he would be ignoring me.'

Mycroft decided another means of communication was necessary, maybe texting?

I saw your post on your website, Sherlock. I want those plans back immediately. MH

Only after ten minutes of no reply was when Mycroft really started to believe that something was wrong. He swiftly dialled 'Anthea' on his phone and waited less than ten seconds for her to answer.

"Good evening, Sir."

"I need a car," was Mycroft's abrupt request, "Have it pick me up from home in ten minutes."

"Of course, Sir."

Mycroft returned his phone to his trouser pocket before slipping into his jacket.

'Of course,' he thought to himself, 'Of course it would come down to me to save my darling baby brother.'