Hello again my dear readers! I hope the wait was not too painful! I have to warn you that I might not be updating as regularly as with Mind Over Body, though there should definitely still be an update every couple of days :) If you are a new reader, please read that story first as otherwise you will have no clue what's going on! Here you go, first chapter, enjoy and don't forget to tell me what you think!

Mycroft

This was the fifth migraine that had tormented me in the last two days. They were always stress-induced, so it was no wonder that I was having them so frequently at the moment, though it certainly didn't help. I was at my desk in the Diagones Club, and my hands were cupped around my face from over exertion and a lack of good coffee. What I desperately needed was someone to give me some really good news, but unfortunately this was not going to happen, and so I was left alone in my office trying desperately to sort out the events that had taken place between the reversal of the effects of the machine on John, and last night.

Everything had only just returned to normal after the last few weeks, and for a few days I had been certain that there would be no problems for a while yet. I was wrong. At 3:30am this morning I had received a phone call from one of my advisors informing me that the machine was no longer in the possession of my top scientists, and that six of them had died in the attack that had occurred. Really, I should have seen it coming, and I cursed myself over and over for not putting up more security around the lab. I didn't know who exactly had stolen the machine, but it was safe to presume that Moriarty's father probably had something to do with it. There was still no trace of him anywhere, it was as though he had disappeared off the face of the Earth. However, there was still evidence of crimes he had organised that proved he was still alive and very much in business. It was very worrisome, and was no doubt the causes of my frustrating headaches.

Sighing, I began to rub my face in an attempt to clear away the pain, even though I knew it would not help. I desperately wanted to drown my troubles in a mouthwatering slice of cake, but I resisted the temptation knowing my brother would comment on my loss of control next time I saw him otherwise. This new development put everyone in danger, though especially Sherlock. He and John had been the main targets last time, who was to say The Man did not want to finish what his son had started? I decided that my dear brother would have to deal with extra protection until this threat was removed. I would need to ask my assistant to arrange this when I next saw her.

At that moment, Anthea burst into the room, mobile held limply by her side instead of up by her face like usual.

"Ah," I said as I looked up at her in the doorway. "I was just going to ask you to organise-"

"Something's happened," she interrupted me. My expression immediately changed and became cool and dangerous.

"What?" I said through gritted teeth. She began to fidget nervously as I trained my gaze on her, and she lowered her line of sight so that she wouldn't meet my eyes.

"He escaped." She said quietly, and I stood abruptly and began to pace around the room. I didn't need to ask who had escaped- there was only one man that up until this point had been detained in one of my custom built prison cells, and he was not supposed to ever see the light of day again. It was all too much, too many things going wrong for me at the moment, and I was sick of getting bad news. When I looked back at my assistant, she seemed to have regained her composure, and began to walk towards me, face devoid of all emotion.

"I've tripled the security regarding your brother and Doctor Watson," she said, and I relaxed slightly. "It looks like Moriarty had help from an insider when he escaped, so I've taken the liberty and had all his guards who are still alive taken in for questioning. Is there anything you need? A cup of tea, perhaps?" I nodded in agreement and she left to fetch it for me, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I couldn't shake the feeling that the machine going missing just a few hours before Moriarty's escape was no coincidence. Not for the first time that day, I wished that Moriarty had never invented that bloody machine. How much easier my life would have been if he had really died on the roof of St. Barts that fateful day.

I had just begun to imagine how much better life could have been when Anthea returned, holding my cup of tea, and she had kindly placed a biscuit on the saucer. I raised my eyebrow at her and she smirked at me, all traces of her earlier deference forgotten as I munched happily. She turned to leave, but I cleared my throat, which caused her to look back at me.

"Thank you," I said, which made her furrow her brow in confusion.

"What for?" She asked, and I gave her a small smile, not completely sure where I was going with this either.

"For... Everything," I finally said, and she returned my smile before leaving the room. I sat back in my chair, suddenly feeling a bit silly having come out with that. It sounded suspiciously like something John would say, and I wondered if he was rubbing off on me. Hopefully not, as I'm sure I would never be able to deal with that much sentimentality.

Why had I said it? It was a very vague answer, one that Anthea would not really consider much, when I had meant for it to be so much more meaningful. Life was just too complicated at that moment, and I returned to my earlier position of my head resting on my hands, eyes closed and mind drifting, trying to come up with answers that were just out of my reach.