A/N Again, I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
The blunt statement caught me entirely by surprise. I knew that something serious had to be bothering the man, but I was expecting it to be a case that had touched a particular nerve, not the abduction of his brother. "Holmes, is there nothing you can do?"
"At this point, there is absolutely nothing. I do not know where he is or who has taken him captive." He paused again, and I waited for him to talk the case through in my presence, as was his practice. I did not have to wait long, for he stood and began to pace as he continued his narrative. "As you know, Watson, Mycroft is a very powerful man. In his mind, he holds knowledge that could overthrow governments or even start wars. He's done a relatively decent job of keeping himself hidden from the public eye, but I knew it was just a matter of time before someone found him. Although he is my senior by seven years, I have always kept an eye out for him as he has for me. But now he has been taken and I know not how to retrieve him.
"Mycroft is a strong-willed man and I am not afraid that he would willingly share his secrets. But I am not stupid, and I know that Mycroft is human and he has his weaknesses, just as you and I do. All his captors need to do is discover those weaknesses and exploit them, and Mycroft will be as clay in their hands. Watson, if I am unable to find him, it could mean the end of the British Empire as we know it. God, Watson, how could I have let this happen?"
"Holmes, you could not possibly have known that someone was planning to abduct your brother-"
"You don't understand Watson; I have connections that reach throughout the criminal world. If someone is planning something this significant, I generally have a vague idea beforehand. But I knew nothing of this. Either this is the work of someone new, or of someone who has been so far removed from the criminal world so as to be forgotten…" As his words faded into unintelligible mumbling, his pacing increased in fervor. I could tell from the look in his eyes that something had come to him. After a few minutes, he abruptly stopped pacing and stood motionless before me, staring at his window as though the answer was just on the other side of the closed curtains. "Watson, there is only one man who could possibly have the audacity, perspicacity, and resources to perform such a feat."
I tried in vain to follow his train of thought. I knew that there could only be one man who fit the description that he had put together. "But Holmes, I thought..."
He looked me in the eyes, and I could see that there was a spark of life there now, where there was none before. "What did you think Watson, that he died at Reichenbach? If I'm not mistaken, you thought that I had died at Reichenbach as well. Yet here I am before you. And I firmly believe that Moriarty is alive and well, planning something that could bring England to her knees. And at the center of it all is my brother, Mycroft, an unwilling agent in a villainous crime." He had resumed his pacing, and my head swam as I tried to sort through the information that my friend had disclosed to me.
"Holmes, if you'll excuse me for asking, how can you be so sure that Mycroft is missing in the first place?"
Holmes slowed his pacing until he had stopped. He sighed, and lowered himself into his chair. "I fear that I have left out some key information in my haste to work through my thoughts. I apologize. As to your question, I am absolutely positive that my brother is missing.
"I had made plans to have dinner with Mycroft yesterday evening. We were going to meet at Michael's so that we might discuss various cases, voice ideas to one another, and have a friendly chat. We get together every so often, and in doing so, we remain abreast of issues and problems that could possibly arise in the future. Mycroft is a man who keeps a very tight schedule, so I became uneasy when he was late in arriving. I waited at Michael's for three hours, Watson, and he never arrived. And then, when I returned to Baker Street, I found a telegram awaiting me. It was sent by Mycroft. He apologized for missing dinner, and went on to say that something had come up and he was unable to avoid it." Here he paused to see if I was making the connection, which I obviously was not. "Mycroft very rarely sends telegrams. In fact, I can only recall one instance where he sent me a telegram, and that was in a very urgent situation. His tendency is to write letters. He finds them to be better representations of himself, and whatnot."
"But Holmes, what if he didn't have time to write a letter?"
"The telegram does not portray the sense of urgency that would be required for him to avoid a letter. In instances like this, he tends to write short letters to explain himself, and as to the matter of getting the letters sent, Mycroft has his ways of getting things to me.
"But what bothered me the most was not the fact that it was a telegram, not a letter, which awaited me. What bothered me the most was how he signed his name. He signed it Mycroft Aidez Holmes." Again, he paused to see if I was making the connection, but I was not. "Watson, Mycroft's middle name is Sherrinford. 'Aidez' is a French form of the word for 'help'."
A/N If you read this and you liked it, let me know. It makes me smile when people take the time to review. And God knows, with the classes I'm taking, I need all of the smiles I can get. And if you didn't like it, let me know and I'll see if I can improve.