A/N: Now, technically, the timeline I'm using says that Mycroft and Watson haven't met when this takes place, because The Greek Interpreter hasn't happened yet. But let's pretend, and just say that they are still very new to each other. Wilkins, by the way, is KCS'. I'm only borrowing him.
The cab driver sped away as soon as our feet touched the pavement, but I paid him no regard. I had more pressing worries. Most importantly, the limp figure hanging off my side.
He was fairly lucid, and doing his best to walk, though it was admittedly not much more than a stumbling gait.
Mycroft's house was nearly in the street, thankfully. We had but to stagger up the steps and bang upon the gigantic double doors. The banging was not a task I looked forward to. My brother was grumpy when I visited him in daylight, he would be a veritable monster when awakened spontaneously in the middle of the night. Colossus followed a strict and patterned schedule each and every day. I usually enjoyed irritating him by showing up impromptu, but at the present I had no time for his crotchety ways
To my surprise, the door was opened promptly upon my knock by a disheveled and slightly frightened looking young fellow; whom I recognized as Mycroft's secretary. His name- it started with a W, I was sure- Walton or something of the sort.
"Mr. Holmes!" He exclaimed, seeing me supporting Watson. He was about to blither on, before a tremendous shout found it's way downstairs. There was the mammoth himself.
"Wilkins, whomever it is, inform them I'm busy!"