Mycroft Holmes was very professional. Even when he was conducting what most would call "illegal" political procedures, he was professional. However, his reaction to seeing his "dead" (he'd very well known that Sherlock wasn't dead; he was too conceited and intelligent to jump off a building as a means of death) brother was the exact opposite. Then again, he'd considered the way he'd fainted graceful, and applauded himself for waking as quick as he did. Secretly, Mrcroft had missed his little brother, and seeing him was quite a shock. He hadn't expected blonde, though. It washed him out too much. However, he looked quite well considering his "death." Sherlock wasn't just a dead man walking; he was an entirely new man. Mycroft- with the help of Molly Hooper (a very pleasant medical examiner friend of Sherlock's)- had helped Sherlock "die" just to save his loved ones. He knew it was a huge risk, Sherlock actually jumping off the roof of a hospital and not fracturing his skull, but with some quick tricks, they pulled it off. Mycroft had been unsuspiciously sending Sherlock money from his trust fund for the past year, however, he knew it was depleting. Fast. He knew it'd be a matter of time before Sherlock showed up, however, this was quite unexpected. Then again, Sherlock was known for his surprise visits.

Mycroft sat across from Ms. Jessica Monroe, a delightful young thing he'd met at an international affairs conference a few months ago, drinking a cup of herbal tea. It wasn't his favorite, but the palace was waiting on an incoming shipment of earl grey, so it'd have to do. Currently, they were discussing recent events involving North Korea and America (England and the States were ridiculously close allies, closer than Mycroft liked). Mycroft was trying hard to wait until his expected guest(s) arrived to explain why he'd called her up. She'd been staying in downtown London for over a week now, preparing to make a guest appearance at both Oxford and Cambridge Universities within the next couple of days. Ms. Monroe, however, was smarter than she appeared (she was blonde), and wouldn't stop asking why Mycroft had invited her for tea (though she was drinking coffee). Finally, she'd had enough.

"Mr. Holmes, I'm not so sure if you'd noticed, but I'm engaged. So unless this is your peculiar way of telling me you're interest- in which case, the feeling isn't mutual- I'm sorry to say I have to leave." She took another sip of her coffee and pushed her chair out as if to leave. Mycroft smiled.

"No such thing, Ms. Monroe. You see, I've been trying my hardest to keep you at bay until my guests arrive. However, seeing as it's past the hour I was told to wait, I'm afraid I must explain this situation to you myself."

"You have my attention." Ms. Monroe scooted back in.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "As you know, my brother is the late Sherlock Holmes." Pause. "Well, there is a... third party, if you may, that's claiming he's back. As an 'evil' mastermind."

"I thought he declared to Dr. Watson that he was a fraud?" Ms. Monroe took a sip of her coffee. Mycroft shrugged.

"Sometimes when we're under duress, we say things we don't mean. It could've been a ploy to throw off someone else. However, he is dead. That's the problem. This 'imposter' is threatening to dig my brother's name into the dirt even further. And, once my guests arrive, I'll have evidence."

"How is this imposter getting in touch with you?"

"Through text message via another party's phone."

"Have you seen this evidence?" Ms. Monroe seemed skeptical. Mycroft nodded. He even had a bruise on the crown of his head to prove it. However, he wasn't about to tell her that.

Suddenly, the door to the room flew open, causing a rush of cool air to fill the room. Ms. Monroe shuddered, turning to see three people, all clad in dress clothes, entering. "Sorry we're so late, Mycroft, but the traffic across the bridge was horrific. Oh, hello." A tall, lanky man with dark blonde hair stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Jessica with wide, clear blue eyes. They were so light they were almost gray, and Jessica felt the breath rush out of her. He. Was. Gorgeous. "And you are?"

"Mr. Harrington, this is-"

"Ms. Jessica Monroe. I'm an international affairs officer in the U.N. It's a pleasure to meet you." She stuck out her hand. Sherlock shook it, smiling.

"Pleasure's all mine." He turned to the two people behind him. "This is Ms.-"

"Abigail Moriarty." Jessica stood starstruck. She was beautiful. The stance she held said she was powerful- too powerful- and that she had everyone, even Mycroft, under her finger. Her turquoise eyes shone with fire and ice all at the same time. She looked familiar, but Jessica just couldn't place her. "Purple's definitely your color, Jessica." She nodded towards the purple dress Jessica was sporting.

"Thank you."

"And this is Dr.-"

"John Watson." John shook hands with Jessica, smiling. "Mr. Harrington asked me to come alone since it seems that someone's impersonating the late Mr. Holmes."

"Well, that's what I've been told."

"Ah, Mycroft, you decided to explain without me?" Sherlock glared at his older brother. Mycroft smirked.

"I'd threatened to leave, so he had no choice. I'm sorry if that ruined your plan."

"Oh, not at all." Sherlock had an edge in his voice as he stared at Irene out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't too happy with her- Moriarty? Really?- but he had to play his part. They hadn't discussed alias's on the way over; that wasn't for the cabby to hear. "So, Ms. Monroe, do you think you'd be able to help us?"

"How exactly?"

Sherlock handed the phone to Jessica, and she took it reluctantly. "Well, we were hoping you'd be able to influence the American authorities to trace these text messages."

"Why American? We are in London..."

"I was in America when I started receiving these texts. Apparently, this person seems to believe I'm some Adler woman, and wants to recreate Sherlock Holmes. I'm not sure if they expect me to go to the authorities, but I'm not afraid to. I have a lot of things on my plate, and this is not one of them. I honestly don't have time to play games." Irene shook her head, eyes narrowing. Despite the fact that she was upset with Sherlock's behavior towards this "Jessica Monroe", she wanted to get to the bottom of this. And if going through this woman was the only way, then she'd have to deal with it.

Jessica shrugged. "I mean, Mr. Holmes should be able to get it traced without me."

"Ms. Monroe." Irene took a step forward, lowering her voice. "I don't think you understand. I'm not well liked around the world because of my relation with the late Mr. Jim Moriarty, but I do have a long list of people under my finger. Your President included. Well, I know what he likes." She smirked at Sherlock's huff behind her. "And if this doesn't get fixed, you can kiss your job good-bye. The Chancellor's of both Oxford and Cambridge won't ever smile towards you again."

Jessica swallowed. She knew what the Moriarty family was capable of. And this woman didn't look like she was messed with often. "I.. I'll see what I can do."

"Good girl." Irene straightened, stepping back between Sherlock and John. "I trust you'll do me justice and get this all taken care of."

Jessica noted the small half-smirk on her face, and wondered if she really was part of the Moriarty family. She didn't know much about them except their power. She'd never heard of a daughter, niece, or female cousin in the mix, though. And Jessica Monroe dipped her finger in a lot of different cookie jars. She turned to face Mycroft. "Well, I'll take this back to the U.N. office here and see what can be done. I'm glad to know I was your first pick." She turned to the other three. "I'll be in touch." She grabbed her coat and purse, walking out, heels clicking on the tile. After the doors shut and everyone else in the room knew she was out of earshot, they began speaking again.

"It's good to see you're in good health, Dr. Watson." Mycroft shook hands with the man, and John nodded. "And Ms. Adler, I'm surprised with your alias."

Irene chuckled, sitting on one of the sofas behind her, pouring herself a glass of champagne and crossing her legs. "I thought it'd be amusing. You know I do love a good power play." She winked at the three men.

"I didn't think it was that hilarious," Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes and jamming his hands into his pockets.

"Oh, come now, Sherlock dear, what did you expect me to do? Be 'Mrs. Harrington'? You'd already established yourself as an eligible bachelor towards her. Didn't you see the look in her eyes?"

"Her pulse was quite high," Sherlock admitted, knowing Irene would get upset. However, all she did was chuckle and smirk.

John turned to Mycroft. "Thank you. For helping us."

"He's my brother. I have to make sure he stays dead."

"I'm surprised your job wasn't threatened."

"Oh, it was. Especially after Interpol got a hold of Sherlock's old phone and listened to the phone records. They thought I was a fraud, too. However, a bit of confirmation from an elderly woman who used to take care of us got them off my case."

"I never said my name wasn't Sherlock Holmes. I just said that the things I did were lies." Sherlock shook his head, sitting across from Irene.

Mycroft shrugged. "Well, you know how smart people are these days."

"Obviously." Sherlock stared at Mycroft. "How's you head?"

Mycroft grunted. "Better now that the pain's subsided." He turned to Irene. "It's so interesting to see you, Ms. Adler. How've you been?"

"Terrific, now that the British government's not on my ass."

"That's good to hear." Mycroft took a sip of his tea. "Well, lady and gents, it's been great socializing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet the Prince in less than an hour. My secretary will show you out." He paused at the door, turning back around. "And Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock took his eyes from Irene's (who was presently texting rather quickly on her phone).

"Don't die again."

Sherlock smirked as Mycroft shut the door behind him. It was his way of telling him to be careful- he didn't want to lose him again. As much as the two fought, Sherlock knew the toll it took on Mycroft to know that his baby brother was in hiding and at any possibly moment could be gone forever. There was no set time as to when they'd ever see each other again, but Sherlock had made sure Mycroft would be okay. And vice versa.

John jammed his hands into his pockets, looking around. "So... When are we leaving again?"

Sherlock stood, brushing off his pants. "Now sounds good." He outstretched his elbow to Irene, who took one look at him, huffed her annoyance, and walked out the door. "Guess I annoyed her."

"I wonder how. You never annoy anyone, Sherlock." John rolled his eyes as he followed Irene out the door. Sherlock shrugged in response, shutting the door softly behind him.

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