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It should have been a split second. Mycroft long acknowledged that Sherlock knew every gap in the CCTV system; he hadn’t thought Greg would use them.
Greg knew about the gaps, but he’d never deliberately used them, even when he was arranging for surprises. Greg trusted Mycroft to know when not to watch – and sometimes, Mycroft didn’t.
Greg had been on Camera WEST45N, and should have appeared on Camera WEST53E a minute later, and did not.
Mycroft felt hours tick by. He walked alongside Greg in his mind, muscles tensed and eyes darting from storefront to alley, every pedestrian scrutinized. Mycroft kept his mind on the street and his eyes on the screen, waiting for Greg to appear while his heart beat out the days.
Greg was there, and then he wasn’t. Mycroft licked his lips and imagined Greg shoved into the taxi by the businessman; dropped into the rubbish truck; hit with a tranquilizer and roughly dragged into the alley by the unassuming mother pushing a buggy.
He opened his mouth, ready to fire the orders, to mobilize the instant-response units. Quickly, quickly, waste no time, anything could happen in a split second…
Greg appeared, walking calmly, jiggling the coins in his pocket. He glanced up at the camera and smiled at Mycroft, who once again remembered how to breathe.
