The next day, Mycroft dressed in his favourite grey suit.
Today would be a good day, he was sure of it. There was a meeting to discuss the criminal population of London, which he was going to relay nothing of to Sherlock until he begged. That thought was enough to make him smile.
He picked out his new favourite umbrella, a black one with a gold spoke and handle.
He got to the office at the same time as his breakfast. Checking his watch, it was exactly on time. He ate the whole thing, than prepared for the meeting.
He walked in at precisely 10 AM, the scheduled start time.
The other board members had already begun.
"What is the meaning of this?" They'd started the meeting without him?
"We weren't sure if you were coming." The Prime Minister said. "We waited twenty minutes for you."
"I've waited all week for this meeting." Mycroft's voice was dangerously low. "None of you thought to call? Or text?"
The board looked appropriately abashed.
"I could ruin every one of your lives." Mycroft settled in his seat at the head of his table. "See that it doesn't happen again."
They'd started the meeting without him. Half his mind memorized the happenings of the meeting while the other half planned exactly how he would destroy these people's careers and reputations. And whoever had changed his watch.
As he got up after the meeting, feeling slightly better, the spoke on his umbrella fell off.
He carefully held on to sanity until he got to the privacy of his office.
Something or someone was out to get him.
Something deserved to die.
He functioned, barely. Every day, something horrible happened to the umbrella he chose. Breakfast came late, they didn't have his usual lunch.
He vented his frustration by annoying the Prime Minister and other board members. He gave the okay for several major building projects that were supposed to be in negotiating status for the next 5 years. He signed for a renovation on Downing Street. He pretended to have lost several documents that would have started World War Three.
It was enjoyable to see the expressions on their faces for the last trick, especially since one of them called in Sherlock.
Sherlock took one look at him and refused the case.
Mycroft 'found' the documents three days later.
_
It was bearable, until the day he stepped on a scale.
He'd gained five pounds.
This was the end.
Someone was going to die a very painful death.