December 14
From W. Y. Traveller: Mycroft converses with Dr. Watson regarding an important matter
Watson examined the fine etching on the envelope. The seal was unmistakeable. And yet, he found himself puzzled. Then again, whenever the enigmatic older Holmes was involved, he had to admit he was usually confused. The man oozed mystery.
"I wonder what he wants this time," he mused. It was late and he was alone in his surgery.
Just then he heard the familiar rumble of a carriage stopping just outside. Doctor Watson's heart skipped several beats. What terrible catastrophe would bring The British Government himself to his surgery? A thousand scenarios, each worse than the last and all ending in the death of Sherlock Holmes, came tumbling into his brain. He hurried to the door to let Mycroft into his office.
"Please, come in. I'm so sorry..." Watson anxiously hovered. "If I'd known you were coming…" his voice trailed off.
Mycroft sat down uneasily in a chair. He turned and motioned for Watson to do the same.
"I must apologise for this sudden intrusion. I did not mean to upset you." The man's keen eyes observed Watson's trembling hands.
"Is it Sherlock? Has something happened to him?" Watson feared the worst.
"No, no, my younger brother is in fine form – at least as far as he is concerned. He is not in any danger."
Watson remembered to breathe again.
"So, what prompted this visit then?" If the younger Holmes wasn't in trouble, he couldn't imagine what might bring Mycroft to his doorstep.
"I need your help, Watson."
The doctor blinked in surprise. "Me?! Are you sure? I mean, your brother has occasionally mentioned that I am a reflector of light and stimulating to his grey cells; but, if it's a case… " His voice wavered. "He is far more capable."
He gulped.
"I am well aware of my brother's talents – and weakness." Mycroft gave a wry smile. "No, it is most certainly your skills I have need of, Doctor Watson. Will you help me?"
"Of course."
"I want to get my brother a Christmas gift this year."