27th March at 00:04 am
Breaking in was easy, he knew all the passwords, where the 'hidden' motion sensors were, even the camera's blind spots. In no time at all he was inside the vault. Feeling calmer - now the thrilling sense of adrenalineand the theme tune to Mission Impossible had died down - he strolled past the silver shelving units towards his destination. In the end it was too easy. Open the drawer, pick up the box, hide it in his rucksack, and just walk away. He felt a glowing sense of pride as he exited the vault soundlessly, retracing his steps to escape undetected. Once outside, feeling the cool breeze of the March evening he chuckled briefly, enjoying imaging the havoc he would wreak on the world.
Mycroft
29th March at 09:42 am
It was raining. It was always raining. His breath fogged up the glass as he overlooked the bustling London thoroughfare from the safety and comfort of the government headquarters. As usual the streets were full of activity despite the clouds' repetitive onslaught. Looking down, he was able to see the limitless chaotic crowds of people moving through the capital. Confused tourists frantically darted from place to place in frenzy, trying to assert their bearings. Hectic shoppers paraded their purchases from shop to shop whilst exclaiming loudly that; "It was raining!" Meanwhile, in the center of this commotion, taxi drivers tried to persuade pedestrians with relief from the rain. Mycroft sighed. The British public never ceased to both frustrate and amaze him. Below him they scuttled about their business, like ants, unaware that just above, a serious meeting was taking place. A meeting that could mean life or death -
"Mr Holmes? Shall we resume our discussion?"
At the sound of his name, Mycroft turned to face the speaker and replied; "Of course." And then hurriedly added; "My apologies, sir." The last thing he wanted to do was irritate Firth. He stepped away from the window, cursing himself for letting his mind wander, and returned to sit opposite the imposing and impeccably varnished oak desk, on the other side of which sat his superior.
The entire office was furnished in luxury and good taste. The heavy drapes that bordered the windows helped to highlight his boss' lavish lifestyle whilst his prosperous preferences became apparent through the pricey portraits placed at exact angles on the wall.
On the other hand, there was not a lot known about Firth, except for what you could see. The man sat across from him was in his mid-fifties, wearing a professionally tailored suit and expensive-looking shoes that – in all likelihood - had never met with the pavement below. His haircut emphasized his affluent aspects as it was trained to lie smartly, in strict regiments, atop his head. Apart from one or two grey streaks, his hair had remained the same as long as Mycroft could remember; formal and controlled – much like the man himself. His skin was pale and lacked a healthy glow, revealing how he'd spent most of his life indoors. Even his eyes embodied exacting levels of formality; they were flat, grey and appeared lifeless. His gaze was icy and hostile but Mycroft was forced to hold it whilst they talked.
"Now of course I must accentuate the importance of conducting business as usual these coming weeks," Firth began in his usual curt and direct manner. "Of course there will be some slight alterations to the way things are done but it will be for the greater good, after all."
"Yes sir, I agree entirely." Mycroft responded absentmindedly, only half paying attention and really wishing he was someplace else.
But Firth obviously had more to say because he cleared his throat and added, almost as an afterthought: "I have also agreed to welcome a new member of staff to our ever expanding personnel, that you may be pleased to hear, will be employed as your new personal secretary."
This time, Mycroft could only nod.
"It'll finally help you to organise that ever expanding archive of documents, collecting dust in your office" Firth continued, oblivious to Mycroft's discontent, "Providing, of course, she passes the test. Although I personally hand-picked her from her references; so she's certainly a very promising candidate. She's American; top of her class at Oxford, fluent in at least five languages at least and by all accounts a lovely lady, judging by her references - an excellent addition to our staff."
"Yes, sir." He responded reluctantly, unsure why he was only being told this now. Firth reached across the desk, hand outstretched. "Excellent. I'll ensure she finds her way to your office soon. Perhaps you should go and tell reception where to send her when she arrives. It was wonderful speaking with you again, Mr Holmes." He gestured for Mycroft to leave.
Mycroft left feeling far worse than he had when he came in. A secretary, he thought, why would he need a secretary?
