"Do you know what´s going on?" asked John as the raised voices from the study wouldn´t stop. Although no words could be distinguished, it was clear that there were two participants to this ´conversation´- one a woman at first trying to appease the situation but now resigning herself to simply barking short phrases at her opponent, and the other a man seething his words as if they were throwing knives.

Sherlock shook his head. "She arrived about half an hour ago, not long before you two," added Lestrade. In the last few days, Sherlock and John moved back to 221B to help Mrs Hudson fend off the neverending stream of curious public, though they still visited Mycroft at least every other day.

As for the DI, his flat was subjected to destruction via broken plumbing in the appartement above flooding it, and he accepted Mycroft´s offer to stay in his guest room until the damage was repaired. Which would be, judging by the rate the workers were operating on right now, sometime in the next century.

Greg guessed Mycroft has grown accustomed to not being completely alone here. It was true Mrs Klubkova still came occasionally to check on Mycroft, but as he was getting better the visits were more and more sparse.

Finally, the oak door was opened by Anthea, who smirked at the three of them ironically and stated: "He says you should go inside before you combust out of curiosity. Also, we probably need your help."

The three men entered the room after her, trying to examine the room as quickly and covertly as possible - Mycroft´s study was the only room in the house they were denied access so far.

"Sit," ordered Mycroft, gesturing towards the two chairs in front of his desk. Greg iniciativelly moved another one from the coffee table in the corner, so now he was sitting alongside John and Sherlock. We must look like three curious sparrows sitting on a wire, perched here like this, Greg thought.

"Have you ever heard of Charles Augustus Milverton?" Mycroft asked slowly and moved his assessing glare from one to another.

Sherlock was the only one who reacted. A Mycroftian raised eyebrow later, he muttered: "Who is he blackmailing now?"

"I don´t know how Greg, but I´m afraid I´m gonna need a little more intel," announced John.

Anthea readily obliged, while a silent conversation took place between the two Holmes´. "Charles A. Milverton, 46. A graduate of King´s College..." "Don´t tell me he studied the ´Global Ethics and Human Values´programme," Lestrade interjected, trying to lighten the mood.

John barked a laugh. Sherlock smirked. Mycroft´s face remained impassive. "I would prefer if you didn´t underestimate him. He used to work for us on a capacity to do with Foreign Affairs for several years."

"Don´t worry. He didn´t start to blackmail people until after he was dismissed," Sherlock announced laconically.

"I am aware. I admit I was fooled by him and his... social capabilities... but I dare say we would have noticed if he did that while in our service."

"Why was he dismissed?" John asked. Anthea sighed: "There were... some things pointing to him being in contact with James Moriarty."

"We should have dealed with him a year ago," said Mycroft.

"There was nothing we could do, sir."

"You think? It could have been over..."

"Not even you are omnipotent, nor you should be! Because you could have shot an innocent man!" Anthea was shooting Mycroft glares again.

"He was not innocent," stated Mycroft calmly.

"There was no evidence whatsoever," stood Anthea her ground.

"I am sorry to interrupt," two glares fixed on John Watson´s face, "but could we focus on the issue at hand?"

"He´s right, brother," supported him Sherlock.

"Yes. Sorry," apologised Anthea. "It seems he used his contacts in diplomacy and press to obtain potentially damaging information on various people..."

"What people?" asked Lestrade. He was answered by Mycroft: "Oil magnates, celebrities, politicians, members of the extended Royal family, the only connecting factor is that they are able to pay large sums of money."

"Why doesn´t the police know about this? I´m sure even I would have noticed something like this going on the grape wine."

"Because, Mr Lestrade," smiled Anthea slightly, "none of the victims called the police."

"They all paid?"

"Yes. Milverton is clever and knows how to do business. As soon as word came out that once you pay you really recieve the proof of your misbehaviour and the whole thing is forgotten, they don´t resist much."

"What did the media guy do wrong then?" asked Sherlock lazily.

"Media guy? You don´t mean..?" John stopped once he recieved a curt nod from Anthea. "Well, apart from the other bad things he did and Milverton took advantage of, he was late with his payment."

"Late?"

"Well, once the bank charges were taken, there wasn´t enough money for the payment order which was supposed to transfer the money to Milverton. Rotten luck, really."

Sherlock shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. "What has he got this time?"

Mycroft smiled rather sadly. "He discovered a goldmine."

"I know you are fond of metaphors, but could you finally leave the gravy and give me some facts?"

"All right. Two months ago, a British diplomat - a senior one - enjoyed an evening in his villa in one of the Arabian countries."

"Which Arabian country?"

"A friendly one. Very much so."

"So Milverton has photos of your ´diplomat´ shagging his secretary. Fire him. How is that your problem?"

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably. "The man in question was not having anything with his secretary. He is gay. So is one of the many princes of the Royal family of this unnamed country. Who was invited for tea that very evening."

"So you´re telling me Milverton has photographs of a Saudi prince being fucked by British ambassador? I love that!"

"He has a video recording of the events and I can assure you there is nothing funny about it!"

Sherlock was no grinnig wildly one of his not-so-much amused but very much fascinated smiles, eyes gleaming. "He is a genius!"

Greg mulled the information a little longer, but than said thoughtfully: "So, Milverton is going to blackmail the man..." "He already did that," Anthea interjected. "...then the British Government and once we would pay he would spill the information to the Saudis and they would pay because once it got out they would have a whole lot of problems amongst the other muslim countries. Am I getting this right?"

"No one named the family in question, but basically, yes."

John Watson raised his hand. "Sorry to interrupt, but isn´t it a bit of a risk? I mean, he would have two secret services wanting to shoot him now."

"Unfortunately, he has played the events so that in case of his sudden demise the information leaks out." Otherwise he would be already cold on a hospital slab, thought Mycroft.

"What do you want of me?" smirked Sherlock.

"Well, you seemed to get a little bored..."

"You will give me carte blanche?"

"Obviously. Just do not cause the scandal we are trying to avoid."

"John is going with me. You, Lestrade," he glared at Greg, "are staying here. You will stop my brother from overworking himself," he glared at Mycroft, "as he is still technically recovering.

As Lestrade wanted to protest, John silenced him by: "And in case we get into trouble, we will need someone not involved within the police force to get us out of the soup."

"Exactly," agreed Sherlock and left the room swaying dramatically. John left two steps behind him, with a tired: "Bye." and long-suffering expression.

Mycroft got up and watched his brother cross the road. Then he turned with a sigh.

"Anthea, I swear to God, if this plan of yours was a mistake, if something happens to Sherlock... I will kill Milverton. Evidence or no evidence."

"Yes, sir."