A/N: I technically wrote this before I finished chapter 2, so I'm uploading it now...god, I never thought I'd ever upload two chapters in one day. Please review, I spent two hours on this garbage.

Mycroft didn't bother to hide his irritation when his PA, Anthea, knocked on his door and told him he had visitors.

"Tell them to come back later," he snapped, staring at the floor tiles as he paced agitatedly around his office. "I'm busy."

Anthea smiled ruefully. "But sir, it's Doctor Watson and two of his friends."

Mycroft paused, a little surprised. Wasn't John supposed to be back at Baker Street? Had he discovered a new clue?

"Should I let them in, sir?" Anthea asked.

"Yes, all right, you…go get them."

Anthea nodded, smiled again, and walked dutifully out of the door. Mycroft could hear her talking in the hallway, no doubt informing John and his…friends that they were allowed to go in. He braced himself as the door sprung open.

"We've got a clue!"

Predictably, John charged into the room first, a letter clenched in his right hand. Two men, one in a haori, one with his pink hair in a braid, followed, casting wary glances around the room.

"A clue, Doctor Watson?" Mycroft said as calmly as he could. "Are you sure?"

John nodded, practically throwing the letter at Mycroft's face. "Absolutely! Read it, I'll give you the specifics later."

Frowning slightly, Mycroft took the letter and unrolled it. The wet, inky smell showed that the letter had been written recently…how, then, had it been delivered? And the smell of gunpowder…

Brother dear, you're getting slow. Don't tell me you need 25.97 seconds to figure this stupid letter out.

Mycroft smirked, secretly grateful for the mental distraction. Slow? Him? As if. Setting his unease aside, he began reading the letter, Sherlock's voice still resonating in his brain.

Dearest Phil:

Sorry for not replying to your letters, I was sort of busy with the war. I really think we'll win—we outnumber the Manberg bastards two to one, at least. We already agreed that when we reclaim L'Manberg—that'll be any day now—we'll host a giant party. If you and Techno can come, that'll be great.

I'm writing to you because something a bit weird happened today. I sent Tommy out to get more diamonds this morning and he returned with two blokes. He told me their names were Greg and—I may have misheard—Sherlock, and he'd met them when he was wandering around in the woods, looking for a cave. Tommy insisted we let them stay the day. I had to agree, it would've been rude if I refused. I suspect they're spies from Manberg; Sherlock's been watching me through the entire lunch period. Still, I might've been mistaken.

How's it going lately? Has Techno arrived yet? If he has, give him a shove for me, I still haven't gotten revenge from the time he accidentally snapped a string on my guitar.

Visit ASAP!

Wilbur

"You're Phil, right?" Mycroft asked the man in the haori. "Who's this Wilbur, and what's this war he was talking about?"

"Wilbur's my son," Phil said, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "He's…abroad."

"I see," Mycroft said blankly. "And where was this letter delivered from?"

Phil swore under his breath. "From…from…" He glanced desperately at the man with pink hair—Techno, according to the letter. "Um…"

"Maybe we should tell them the truth," Techno whispered, barely moving his lips.

"No!" Phil whispered back, a note of panic in his voice. "I promised Kristin—"

"It sounds like you're hiding something from us," Mycroft said, watching as Phil paled and hastily stepped back. "I promise you, we will find out sooner or later, so maybe you should clue us in now before we have to resort to…certain drastic measures."

Phil and Techno traded alarmed glances. "We…"

"Please," John put in. "The lives of our friends are at stake. If they get involved in this war…" He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"We…" Phil sighed and gave up. "Fine. We'll tell you the truth. Wilbur—and probably Sherlock and this Greg guy—is in a parallel world."

Silence.

Then—

"Mr. Minecraft, who do you think you're kidding?"

"I'm telling the truth!" Phil said heatedly, not even bothering to ask how Mycroft knew his last name. "Seriously! We've been keeping it secret since it was discovered half a year ago! Wilbur and Tommy went in July and Wilbur's been sending me letters every other week up till now!"

Mycroft stood there, thunderstruck. What Phil was saying made sense—logically. It would explain why Sherlock and Greg disappeared so abruptly, and why no one had a single clue where they were. But…a parallel world…was that even possible?

When you have eliminated everything else, brother dear, the only remaining possibility is—

—the truth.

"Fine," Mycroft said, breathing through his nose. "I believe you. How do we get to this parallel world?"

"Mycroft!" John yelled in utter disbelief. "You can't possibly—"

"Oh yes I can!"

The two glared at each other for a few more seconds. John was defiant, but Mycroft looked so angry that the former army doctor did not dare argue back.

Phil cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure if he should speak or not. "Uh…so about the portal…"

"Yes?" Mycroft asked in a strained voice.

"We need to summon my wife Kristin."

"Well, summon her, then," Mycroft said coldly. "You have a phone, don't you?"

Phil swallowed. "That's the problem. She's the goddess of death; if we want to get her attention, someone has to die."

The tension in the room soared. John crossed his arms and stared at the floor, muttering obscenities. Techno looked matter-of-fact, if not bored, as if he had witnessed this conversation many times before. Phil looked a little reluctant at sharing this information, but stayed in his position, trying to make eye contact with everyone in the room.

"How…how do you propose to do that, Mr. Minecraft?" Mycroft asked, his voice trembling slightly. He did not want to see anyone die in front of him again, especially not so soon after the Sherrinford incident.

"I…I have a sword." Phil drew a blade from somewhere Mycroft couldn't see and held it casually in front of him, like he was preparing for a fencing session. "So…"

"Oh, don't bother, I'll do it," Techno said, unzipping his coat.

Phil shook his head. "Sorry, Techno, we can't risk the Blood God getting wind of this again. It'll have to be someone else."

Techno tilted his head to the side. "Can't you…"

"I'm the Angel of Death, Techno. I can't die." Phil turned to Mycroft and John and smiled apologetically. "So. Which of you…"

"I'll do it," John said before Phil could finish the sentence.

"No you won't," Mycroft said through clenched teeth.

"England doesn't need me like it needs you, Mycroft," John said, a tiny note of sadness in his voice. "We can't afford for England to get overrun by criminals before we get you and Sherlock back."

Mycroft wanted to protest, but found that he didn't have the words. Both Phil and Techno were staring at him, waiting for the decision to be made. "Thank you, Doctor," he managed.

John smiled back, just a little. "My pleasure." He turned to Phil, his face set. "How can I find Kristin and get her attention?"

"Well…you have a few hours, I guess, before your soul starts drifting off towards the Afterlife. Kristin will definitely come over, she loves unusual deaths. Just explain the situation to her, and…and she'll revive you…I think."

John did not look reassured, but he nodded and stepped up so that he was standing face-to-face with Phil, the sword between them. "Okay. Make it quick."