Chapter Text
The first chirrup before the break of dawn disturbs Mycroft's already fitful slumber. His mind, dampened by the bodily sensations nausea, heartburn and migraines, remains reluctant to resurface.
So, this must be a hangover.
The preceding night must have seen excessive amounts of alcohol into his bloodstream. It's unlike him to miscalculate or indeed, to lose track of what he consumes. He may be under enough pressure to forget certain... episodes of the recent past that even Sherlock has been downgraded to The Least of His Worries, but that's precisely why he needs all his faculties more than ever.
Blindly reaching for the bottle of aspirin on his night-table, he goes over his mental day-planner. Mummy's birthday is soon, which adds the hassle of procuring a gift. He'll go with last year's choice, for the lack of options: theatre tokens. Suitable enough.
Instead of an aspirin bottle, Mycroft's hand meets with a smooth wall that should, under normal circumstances, not be there. Puzzled, he sits upright. The mystery of a misplaced bedroom provides momentary relief from the nauseating stabbing at his skull.
His mind takes stock: this is not his bedroom. He's naked. A woman – his professed girlfriend – is lying next to him, also naked. He has never checked whether she's on birth control.
Already, his day couldn't get any better.