Mycroft Holmes stood in the middle of his office, his hands on his hips and a frown on his face as his eyes shifted over every inch of the room that he had /already/ searched five times, to no avail. It was gone. Surely Lillian wouldn't have taken it...? She had her own, after all. Some strange contraption colored in an absolutely garish shade of orange, with little yellow mice and lightning bolts decorating it. Lillian loved the thing, no matter how much he protested. She said it was 'cute', and looked positively offended when he offered to buy her a nice, normal black one. Her retort had come with a glare and some scathing words about how he obviously didn't belong to 'her generation'. Whatever that meant. So Lillian having taken it was completely out. Unless this was some sort of joke on her half…His frown deepened as he considered the possibility that he could be facing another impending yet one-sided 'prank war', before he spoke aloud to the room as though hoping his assistant would appear out of nowhere and tell him what she had done with it, "Where is my umbrella?"