The British Government

“Yes. Everything except from my name.”

"Frustrated would be a more fitting word, I think."

Lisbeth looked closely at the man in front of her. “Something of grave importance …. at first you have to tell me who is your boss or who was.”

boss? Mycroft couldn't help smirk slightly at that. "Ms. Salander, I'm the highest up on the food chain. For what you'll be needed for, at least, you will come to me." he knew he had to convince her, and that he wouldn't have a second chance to do so. "It pays well and it's simple enough. You're in, you're out, and we will never contact you again, and you will never have the slightest possibility or chance to contact us either."

Gotta run.

Mycroft had promised himself he wouldn't. He'd let Sable have her morning run and wouldn't disturb her. She needed peace from everything at home, needed to find herself and what she truly lived for every morning.

“Why is that so? You sound like you did a lot of things for me. Mind to mention what are those? Though I must say, the percent of me believing it all are very low.”

"You really have forgotten all of it..." 

“Another Holmes ? I did not know that he spreads”

if you can think of a ship, i will answer either of these sets of questions for them:

Someone is here

"Well I suppose all you really need to know is that I'm your older brother and despite everything I've done for you, you can't stand being in my presence. "

A pregnant pause at the question that still haunted Sherlock’s thoughts, everyday John asked that stupid question and each day Sherlock would answer with a blunt ‘fine’ but in all truth he was far from that. Aches and pains daily, fears of loosing control over his basic functions or waking up on the floor after fitting. No, fine was not a term to be given lightly and he only said it to ward the Doctor away. Sherlock and John were no longer friends, they were patient and Doctor. Tedious, depressing and rather a serious turn of events. A month ago Sherlock would have been prowling round the flat and solving cases but now it was a miracle if he could remember his own bloody name. Stuck in doors with a cold and people just looking at him with such a pathetic look about them, it made Sherlock sick.

Mycroft sighed. His brother didn't like being pampered or treated like a child...even if he had brain cancer, Sherlock would always be his own person, and Mycroft knew that John was careful enough and pampering enough for Sherlock not to want his brother around if he was going to add to those actions...so Mycroft started to make some tea, but tried to seem as bored as possible.