Mycroft scanned through the newspaper, finding nothing worth his attention. Of course, his attention was elsewhere at the moment: international assassins were moving to Baker Street, and the jury was to decide Moriarty's fate today. He shut his eyes and drummed his fingers on his desk. The jury could be out for hours, or days, or-
Ring. Mycroft's eyes opened to the sound of his phone. Ring.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Not guilty," the caller said before hanging up.
Not guilty... The evidence was all there, but the jury found him not guilty. Mycroft put his head in his hands, sinking into his chair. The man was a criminal mastermind, for God's sake. There had to be something that was overlooked...
"Sir, this came for you," Anthea said as she walked into the office, a brown box in her hands.
Mycroft sat up. "What is it?"
"It's a thank you gift," Anthea replied, "Or at least that's what the card says."
The small card did in fact say 'Thank You'. Mycroft opened the lid and found a small spice cake. He'd been so faithful to his diet lately, but the cake wasn't that large. He would eat one piece, and only one.
Mycroft cut into the cake and took a bite. It was decadently delicious. It would be a shame to let the rest of the cake be wasted. Would it ruin his diet to eat a second helping? He cut off another piece, but before he could raise his fork to his mouth, he saw something white in the corner. He brushed away some of the cake, and the mysterious object began to look like paper. Mycroft rolled his eyes. This is something that his brother would do. Hide a note in a perfectly good cake instead of calling him like a normal person.
Mycroft unfolded the note and felt the air around him grow cold.
Thanks so much for all of your help. I couldn't have done it without you.
Eat your heart out. ;)
-JM
"Anthea! Arrange for Dr. Watson to meet with me at the Diogenes Club immediately!"