Everyone always assumed that Mycroft did not do legwork, but only a few people knew of Mycroft's other role in the British government. It was true that he was part of the secret service, but the other role he upheld was one that required concentration and precision.
Mycroft arrived on the cold roof at around 23:19 GMT, approximately 11 minutes later his target would arrive at the Italian restaurant across the road. He pulled his beloved savage 110 BA sniper rifle out of its case and assembling it. He settled himself down, feeling the pressure of the butt of his gun against his shoulder. The familiar feeling comforting him in a way.
He used the sight to line up the gun so he would get the prime shot when the target arrived. His target was a wealthy Russian politician who had rubbed up the British government in the wrong way. Mycroft was hired to clean up the mess.
23: 29 GMT, 1 minute until target. Mycroft spots the black car pull into the road and stop outside the restaurant. Mycroft's finger found its way to the trigger; he steadied the gun on his shoulder and peered through the gun sight ready for his target. 23:30, target acquired. His finger squeezed down on the trigger and the gun recoiled against his shoulder. He watched as the Politian was hit, right between the eyes. A crack shot, Mycroft was proud. A scream was heard from the Politian's companion.
Mycroft started to pack up his gear, shivering slightly in the cold London weather. His job was done; he would let the rest of his team cover up the mess made. He wanted to get home and into bed with his long term partner Greg Lestrade.
When he arrived home, he quietly packed the gun case into the secret compartment in the cupboard before stripping his coat off and making his way into the bedroom. He could see Greg, his lover of 5 years snoozing on the bed. His work clothes scattered on the floor. Mycroft sighed and stripped his own clothes off. He got into bed and spooned up against Greg's back, kissing the older man's shoulder.
Greg stirred slightly and turned around in Mycroft's arms to kiss his partner on the lips.
"I'm glad you're home," he sighed sleepily.
"I'm glad I'm home too," Mycroft replied, kissing Greg again before settling into the cocoon of warmth and falling asleep. All thoughts of the evening erased from his mind.
