"World's Greatest Threat"
Prologue
"Boredom. It's always because of boredom."
Despite his job having him literally carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders on many an occasion, it doesn't mean Mycroft Holmes in completely immune to boredom.
There are days when nothing interesting happens in the office. There are no terrorist threats, Sherlock is, for once, being a good little London citizen and stays out of trouble, and his fellow politicians actually pull their weight without him holding their hands all the time.
Because of the sheer rarity of such days, Mycroft still hasn't figured out a proper way to handle them.
Which brings us to the present situation.
With the British Government siting at his desk, heaving a great sight and mindlessly toying with a pen he found on the floor on his way to work, looking about as thankful for the downtime as he would be if God just banned cake from ever existing.
In other words, he was bored and unhappy.
Very very very bored and very very unhappy.
The government sure is glad they got the more restrained Holmes brother, because if Mycroft was anything like Sherlock, he'd be starting wars and ending them at the same time, just to see the bewildered look on everyone's faces, as he announces 'I declare war' and then 'war over. I won.' right after that, with an upmost bored expression on his face and fiddling with a pen.
And those would only be the good days.
Luckily for the world, the Holmes brothers couldn't be more different, so that little scenario isn't going to happen any time soon.
That revelation, however, didn't help Mycroft get rid of his boredom.
"Anthea!" He called out, after another hour of 'lets-count-the-dots-on-the-sealing', quite desperate for something to occupy his mind.
The ever-faithful assistant appeared in his office not a full minute later, blackberry in hand and her brown eyes glued to it as per usual.
"Yes, sir?" She asked automatically, currently in the middle of completing the one hundredth level in 'Candy Crush' and only listening to her boss with only one ear.
"I am bored." The fox-haired man stated flatly, chin resting on the palm of his hand and looking more like a bored child in class than one of the most important people in the world. "The terrorists are having a timely vacation, Sherlock is doing the impossible and actually behaving himself, and my fellow politicians are not acting like complete children for once in their collective carriers, leaving me with nothing to do." Anthea had the decency to look up from her phone, giving him her full attention. "All those factors have made me decide that, since the risk of me getting kidnapped and drowned in alcohol in order to loosen my tongue regarding government secrets is relatively high, the best way to pass the time productively will be to gain vast immunity to liquor, in order to get rid of the unfair advantage said kidnapers would otherwise have over me."
Once the speech was finished, Anthea was staring at her, nearly always, ingenious and composed boss with her eyes wide as plates and mouth open agape.
She must be hearing things, surely.
Mycroft 'Iceman' Holmes didn't just ask her, albeit in a very Mycroftian-like manner, to provide him with the means to get himself drunk senseless to evade boredom.
There is no way that just happened.
She must have fallen asleep in her office again…yes, that's it. This is all just a stupid dream she's having, now all she has to do is close her eyes and when she opens them again everything will be back to nor-
"Don't just stand there, Anthea!" Mycroft's irritated voice, along with an agitated band on the desk, pulled the poor assistant out of thought. "There is a case of Russian originated vodka laying in the basement on the second shelf, which demands to be consumed today, if you please."
What the poor PA said next barely made its way thought her shocked throat.
"V-Vodka, sir?" She squeaked, surprised by his choice. As long as she knows him, which is all his carrier, he has never willingly touched the soviet drink unless on a delegation to Moscow, as he usually just drinks scotch or wine.
"Unfortunately." He snorts. "A bet has been made between me and Vladimir on our latest meeting. If the vodka he sent me rises to my expectation, I will not intervene in any of his schemes regarding the possession of a certain piece of land. However if it doesn't, I have the right to ask for the possession of a certain flying object he's been keeping hidden from the public eye." Mycroft then sighted. "I suppose now would be as good a time as any to find out who won this gamble."
Anthea has nothing to say, her mind baffled at the fact that he sounds completely serious about all this.
Was she warped into an alternative universe while asleep?
Was this an elaborate test set by her employer…
Or is he really just bored.
"Anthea." He growls lowly, eyes flashing dangerously. "Today is a very bad day to test my patience. My mind is in absolute chaos and if I don't occupy it or dull it with the sweet powers of alcohol, I fear for my overall sanity." His voice was full of dreadful foreboding as his eyes narrowed. "So please, be a good little PA and BRING ME THE VODKA ALREADY!"
Anthea didn't have to be told twice.
She went.
She came back with the liquor.
He drank…
And drank, and drank, and drank…
Until there was nothing left to drink.
That's about the time Anthea decided to place the nation on high alert and call for Doctor Watson.
Because a man as deadly and knowledgeable in the secrets of both his own nation and those around it, as Mycroft Holmes without the restrains of rational thought…
Is far more dangerous than a nuke.