Dr. Watson

Mycroft Holmes was seven years older than Sherlock, and some said he was superior in powers of observation and deduction.

No, no, no, young fellow, my lad.

Holmes himself was the first to admit it.

In fact, if it hadn't been for his incurable laziness, Mycroft could have been his formidable rival to his younger brother.

However, Mycroft did hold a position of considerable importance at the Foreign Office, and it was there that tonight's story begins.

It was in the winter of 1899...

And Mycroft Holmes, after Gourmet's lunch, was reclining full length on a leather settee.

His eyes were closed, his hands were folded across his stomach, and his breath came rhythmically.

A cynic would have declared that Mycroft Holmes was taking in after lunch and snooze.

But Mr. Holmes' secretary, a gentleman by the name of Gardner, was a realist.

He tapped on the door discreetly.

Then he rapped on it.

And still there was no response, so he opened the door and entered it.

After a moment, he gave what he thought was a discreet cough.

Mycroft Holmes opened his eyes and folded his hands and said... Found it, Gardner.

Must you come in here and bark at me so soon after lunch?

I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, but I thought... You thought that as I was lying down with my eyes closed that I must be bored, and so you came galloping in.

Well, what do you want?

Very good, sir.

Undoubtedly a message from young Sherlock.