Mycroft wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting in his chair, but he knew that despite his aching back and sore wrists, it really couldn't have been that long. Two hours, give or take a few minutes perhaps. In the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter. It was time he'd spent mentally working through the fallout, should he lose his life that very night.

The information at least was safe. He knew he could count on Anthea to at least ensure that. Everything else was, however, in flux. He simply wasn't sure. Who would tell his parents of his demise? Who would tell his brother? Or more importantly, who would look after him? It was odd to think that the more sentimental side of him was so thoroughly taking over his thoughts in a time that felt so close to death, but upon further consideration he decided it made perfect sense.

This was one situation he couldn't logically work himself out of, and so his mind turned to those matters he'd pushed to the shadows in favor of other things. Those matters made themselves known to him full force right then.

Anthea placed her Blackberry on top of Mycroft's desk once she'd ended the call with Sherlock and sat in one of the two chairs set up in front of it. The truly difficult part was what came next. Waiting for Mycroft's younger brother to arrive and for the kidnappers to once again make contact. Her usually busy hands fidgeted with the flash drive she'd readied for the exchange, turning it over and over while she stared at the empty leather chair behind the imposing wooden desk.

Not for the first time that night she questioned her decision to bring in the younger Holmes, but she was well past undoing what she'd done. If nothing else, she consoled herself with the idea that Sherlock would have the best and most discreet MI6 tactical team at the ready should he need it but it was still cold comfort at best. If anything happened to Sherlock, it'd be more than just her career on the line.

Her vibrating Blackberry prompted her out of her thoughts a moment later and she moved to pluck it up from the wooden surface just as the door opened behind her. "Sherlock Holmes is here," a male voice announced.

"Bring him in," Anthea replied, holding up one hand to signal silence before she pressed the mobile to her ear. "I've got what you asked for."

Sherlock walked into the room not a minute later, steel blue eyes intently focused on Anthea at the desk. His escort nodded once and then departed, closing the door on the way out.

Anthea spared him a brief glance as she put the phone on speaker and held it out so Sherlock could hear, she continued speaking. "I'm sending one man to bring the flash drive. No more, as requested, and not an intelligence agent." She said. "I'd also like another confirmation that Mycroft Holmes is alive and will remain that way."

There was some shuffling on the other side of the line, but eventually a familiar voice spoke from the other end. "Anthea," Mycroft said. "I'm alive and perfectly alright, if not exactly comfortable."

Sherlock did little more than nod, wanting to keep his involvement in this as secret as possible until he got there. Anthea caught his eye for a brief moment and then spoke again. "We'll be there soon, sir."

Mycroft's kidnappers didn't give him a chance to reply before the line disconnected and fell silent. Anthea held out the dummy flash drive to Sherlock and pocketed her phone. "You'll have a tactical team at the ready should you need it," she informed him. "Let's hope you don't."

"I won't." Sherlock said confidently, straightening to his full height as he grabbed the flash drive. "They're transmitting the location, I'm assuming?"

Anthea started for the door. "Yes, and as soon as they do I'll send it over to your mobile," she replied. "You'll take the car, but once you're there, the driver has orders to leave. Those were the terms."

"Got it. Any other terms?" Sherlock asked, following her as he turned the flash drive over in his hand. Fidgety, anticipation for what was to come.

"Come alone and unarmed," Anthea repeated the words they'd said to her before. "No vehicles of any kind except for the one they're allowing to drop you off." She pulled the door open and stepped aside. "No wires goes without saying, but they will search you upon arrival. Try not to anger the too much."

"You act as if I do that on a regular basis." Sherlock quipped, settling himself in the car after she'd opened the door for him. He sobered a moment later. "I'll endeavor to do what needs doing. This is the British Government after all."

"And also your brother," she added. "I'm sure you'll keep both things in mind while you're out there." She took a step back from the open-windowed door. "Be careful."

"Count on it." Sherlock said, turning forward and nodding to the driver. He didn't spare another glance for Anthea as the window rolled up and the car pulled away from Mycroft's driveway onto the quiet streets.