Mycroft clawed his way to wakefulness. His head swam and nothing he saw made any sense. He didn't recognise his surroundings and had no idea how he had arrived at his present location. A face appeared in his frame of vision. It was alarmingly familiar and made his already racing heart pick up its pace. Rough hands reached out and manhandled Mycroft to a sitting position. He was so tired and the shift in position caused a wave of dizziness to sweep over him so he tried to lay back down.

"Ah, no, no, no, Mycroft. It's time to wake up now."

The captive government official tried to focus on the face before him, but his vision had doubled. He felt as though he might pass out. Considering that he was undoubtedly in danger, the prospect was oddly comforting. Mycroft's vision started to go black.

"They gave him too much. The idiots."

Ah, he thought, that explains it, then he sank beneath the growing darkness once more.

The next time Mycroft woke, it was with far more clarity of mind. He was aware of his arms bound painfully behind him and the seam of a sofa cushion pressed into his cheek.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens."

Mycroft recognised the voice and tilted his head in its direction. "Walsh." The captive government official's voice came out as a croak - his mouth was dry. Rough hands hefted him to a sitting position as he struggled to focus on his captor.

Alexander Walsh brought a glass of water over and pressed it to Mycroft's lips. "You must be thirsty. The drug my people used is similar to ketamine in its affects, but without the distinctive flavour and it does tend to leave one parched."

The government official drank deeply. If Walsh wanted to drug him, he would, depriving himself of hydration would serve no purpose. As soon as he had drank his fill, Mycroft pulled away from the glass and murmured, "Thank you." He might as well be polite.

Alex stepped back and sat in his chair, crossing his legs. "You have questions." He sat the glass of water down with a click and picked up a glass of scotch. He swirled it around. "Ask."

Clearing his throat, Mycroft obliged him, "Why now?"

"That's what I like about you, Mycroft. You skip over the trivialities and go right to the heart of the matter." Walsh took a sip of his scotch. "It's the fault of that psychopathic brother of yours. His little stunt forced my hand, so to speak. I would have thought that was obvious. I need him so that I can tear you apart."

Mycroft's mind latched onto one word: need. That meant Walsh had plans for his brother. "You have me. You can get anything you want from me, you don't need Sherlock."

"Listen to yourself, Mycroft. Your very words tell me that I do need him. That's why I set up the Moriarty charade."

It didn't matter anymore, but Mycroft now understood how the Moriarty broadcast had been done. He had eliminated his colleagues early on as possible perpetrators of the broadcast. That had obviously been a mistake.

Walsh's next words interrupted Mycroft's thoughts. "Besides, I owe a dead friend a favour. I'll make dear Shezza bleed, I'll rip his heart out, and that will destroy you. Then when you're both broken I'll cheerfully kill you, but only after making you watch him die."

Mycroft sneered. "You sound like Moriarty. I take it he was your friend." If he could just goad Walsh into killing him now. "You're nothing compared to Moriarty. He was a genius. You were nothing but his goldfish. Only Moriarty could have hoped to trap my brother you..."

"I'll have him!" Walsh shouted, then calmed himself. "My man will have him in custody soon. He's walking into my trap as we speak." He sipped his scotch. "Moriarty taught me many things, Mycroft. He taught me how to manipulate the security database. When you die, all of your authority will be assigned to me." He gave Mycroft an evil look. "Even better, he taught me how to play with my toys." He placed his glass on the table and stood, walking to stand in front of Mycroft. "This is so brother dear will be properly distressed when he arrives." Alex drew back his arm and landed a blow on Mycroft's cheek. The captive government official fell to his side. Walsh gestuted to one of the two men who promptly lifted Mycroft to his feet and held him there whiile Alex rained down blow after blow on his still drug-weakened body.