First of all, two big fat thank-yous to two (not big fat) special people:

1., Protector of the Gray Fortress, for helping me break through a very bad case of writer's block in general.

2., Endgegner07, whose lovely art woke my muse for this story from its coma. Check the epic awesomeness out via the link in my profile.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. --hugs--

Fragments from the desk of Mr. Mycroft Holmes:

Memorandum

Mycroft Holmes
August 8, 1914
5:45 p.m.

Sir:

Fort Barchon has capitulated. Germany declares all Liege forts to have been taken. Confirm or disprove this rumor immediately.

Kitchener
Secretary of War

--

Memorandum

Wilkins –

1. Re: attached Memorandum. Take care of this and inform Kitchener accordingly.

2. Inform the War Office that Berthelot was told by King Albert that the majority of German forces are going to strike at Flanders. Idiot seems rather unconcerned about the affair; Antwerp is too close to that area for comfort and our troops will be right in the thick of it if the rumor is well-founded.

3. Have the EF reached the Continent safely?

4. I need those telephones installed today. How am I to keep up with matters if I cannot communicate in privacy, without every gadabout in the War Office tying up the wires?

-MH

--

Re: Memorandum

Mr. Holmes –

The Expeditionary Forces arrived safely. The 'phones are being installed this evening after hours.

Remember your blood pressure, sir.

-W

--

Excerpt from the diary of Dr. John H. Watson:

It was after midnight when Holmes finally got back from seeing his brother last night. He let himself in with his key – I'd forgotten I had given it to him, to think he carried it with him for two years abroad! – and surprised me as I was packing up my personal belongings in my consulting room. I doubt seriously that Dr. Paynter would appreciate a picture of Holmes on his consulting-desk or case notes stuffed in all the drawers of said desk.

Unfortunately, my friend looked rather sick at the sight of me packing away all those many items, for he stood in the doorway and watched silently for several disconsolate moments before slowly moving into the room and helping, reaching up for the books I could not reach without standing on a chair, due to this bad arm of mine.

When he handed them to me, his hands were like ice, and it is the middle of August. I sighed and took them from him, placing them in the last box and then dusting my hands off. We danced around the issues at hand for several minutes, making small talk (something neither of us have ever been overly adept at).

Then he asked if I knew yet when I was leaving.

And upon his face when I told him in six days, the 14th, I saw what had to be a mirror of my grief and shock that night two years ago when he told me he was leaving the next day for America. Poor fellow, he was not expecting his return to reality to be quite so harsh. His eyes…I cannot forget his eyes when I told him, and I doubt I ever shall. He is too strong, has gone through too much in his lifetime, to be so afraid of something as I could see he was.

I was more touched than concerned when he, rather sadly, asked if he could spend the night here instead of returning to Claridge's, despite the fact that he had already paid for the room there. I am glad he did so, for his dreams were scarcely less disturbing than my own.

But we both know the work is far from done; only beginning, rather. I hope to heaven this war will not last for many months or, God forbid, years.

--

Fragments from the desk of Mr. Mycroft Holmes:

Memorandum
URGENT

Mr. Mycroft Holmes
August 8,1914
10:05 p.m.

Sir:

As you predicted, the situation in Africa has unfortunately grown nearly beyond our control. You shall meet with me and with Lord Kitchener in one hour's time to discuss the matter.

~H. Asquith

--

Mr. Holmes –

Erm…sir? Are you aware you have a meeting with the Prime Minister in a quarter of an hour?

-W

--

Wilkins –

Yes, of course I am aware of it! Why else do you think I have been making notes over the situation in Africa for the last hour and a half?

-MH

--

Mr. Holmes –

I refilled your bottle of aspirins.

-W

--

Fragments from the wastepaper basket under the writing-desk of Dr. John Watson:

My Dear Watson,

I am beginning this letter now, in hopes that I may be able to finish it in six days' time.

--

My Dear Watson,

I am writing this now, so that I shall have had time to phrase things properly and in logical sequence in the time remaining before you –

--

My Dear Watson,

By the time you are reading this, you shall probably be on the train for Southampton, perhaps you are even on the Continent –

--

My Dear Friend,

I have no doubt as you read this epistle, your thoughts are probably upon your duty at hand, rather than the meandering ramblings of an old man –

--

Dear heaven, I can't do this.

To be continued