Chapter Text
"Christ, I miss the old M." Mycroft pours generously from a somewhat dusty bottle into two crystal snifters. He hands one to Gareth Mallory.
"I miss her, too, Mycroft," Mallory replies as they raise their glasses.
"But you're stuck with me at the moment, and I cannot authorize this one, regardless of how very much I want to," Mallory continues.
"Just send in a double-0 and be done with it. Isn't that what they're for?"
"Not in this case, I'm afraid. He's too high-profile. We can't afford to leave this one up to a blunt instrument like Bond."
"It'll have to be Sherlock, then. But Gareth, I cannot control all the variables on this one. I cannot guarantee . . . I cannot be certain . . . of the end game."
"I know, Mycroft. But desperate affairs require desperate measures, however painful it may be."
"I won't have any more brothers left to sacrifice for Queen and country, you know."
"I am sorry, Mycroft. I wish there were some other way, but Magnussen must be stopped." Mallory rests a hand on Mycroft's slumping shoulder and squeezes briefly.
"If wishes were horses," Mycroft says as he sits heavily and pours himself another glass of M's Scotch.