i'm mycroft. mycroft holmes. i'm sherlock's brother. what happened between you two in london? oh, my god. i was in london. i didn't know he was gonna come here. you had sex with my brother. the key is to 221b. you belong there. not me. there may will come a time when it is right for me to return to london but, uh... it isn't now. he's decided to stay. i'm afraid we're gonna have to come at the problem a different way. so, you know, if you're asking about threats to my recovery... you have to talk about amy. (quiet laugh) it's good to say it out loud, since... i'm gonna see her soon and i should be ready.

i went to see mycroft today. this man's name is guillaume de soto. the dst in france have long suspected that he is a high-ranking lieutenant in le milieu. and their new york office, apparently, is now headquartered at diogenes. watson: this guy was eating with the man that you noticed. man (french accent): you take my picture, i take yours. (muffled screaming) (phone ringing) sorry i'm late. i was perusing the restaurant's wine cellar, then i realized... think. it will come to you. i crossed paths with a friend of yours earlier at a restaurant. for all our sakes, i wish i had not. watson (recorded): hi. you've reached joan watson. please leave a message. (beep) watson, this is my fifth message in as many hours. either you're engaging in a marathon lovemaking session with my brother, or you've realized that i was right about him and you just don't want to admit it. given his advancing years and no doubt flagging endurance, the latter is a virtual certainty. any kind of recognition or appreciation, even though i likely deserve both for saving you from