This wasn't where he wanted to be.
In fact, this was the last place in the world Sherlock Holmes wanted to be.
Mycroft's office.
He sat in the chair, feeling uncomfortable. This was a rare occurrence for him, and he found it extremely irritating.
His eyes flicked towards his watch again, then to the clock on the wall, then the one on the desk. All the same time, to the second. And all only half a minute after he had last looked.
Sherlock was more than uncomfortable and irritated. He was bored. This time, however, he couldn't shoot a wall to ease his boredom.
Sherlock's eyes flickered back to the window, at the heavy curtains and the clear glass. He deduced that the window-cleaner had been there only a week previously, and Mycroft had kept the curtains closed during that time.
He looked back at the desk. Mycroft was busy, but the large amounts of papers on his desk were not all pertaining to work. Most of those in the larger piles were blank. He wasn't really in a meeting; he wanted to make Sherlock uneasy and intimidated before meeting him.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and closed them. He heard a door open behind him and he cracked one eye open, not turning around.
He heard a voice behind him. "Hello, brother."