WOLF | Sherlock X Reader |

Notes: Okay, hello! Not much happens in this chapter, but it is a pretty important chapter if you pay attention and catch on ;)) I hope you all enjoy this, and I'm sorry for the delay! Don't forget to vote and comment!

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Mycroft Holmes sat silently in a dimly lit room, once again looking through the black file he once showed his brother. He rubs his thumb over his bottom lip in thought, he was anxiously awaiting the arrival of a very important guest.

After three years and four trivial months of searching, they finally found him. Mycroft in particular, as well as the rest of his team were glad the search was over. They tracked him down a few days ago, he was always ten steps ahead of them. He's been able to slip through their fingers for a very long time now.

From where Mycroft sat, he could hear the soft thud of shoes coming up the hall. He closes the file, pushing it to the center of the desk where it sat neatly. He straightens his red tie and looks to the door as it opened.

Xavier Garrison eyes go wide upon seeing Mycroft, and Mycroft could tell that he was not at all prepared to see him today. He stood at the doorway, his hair a mess, and his clothes askew on his body and a bruise was blossoming on his left cheek. The dark haired man was pushed roughly into the room by the two agents that escorted him there and he stumbled over his feet before he stood straight. The door shuts loudly behind him and Mycroft motions to the chair, "Have a seat,"

Garrison glares at him for a moment before he walks slowly to the chair on the other side of the desk. He drops himself into the cold chair and sinks into it, all the while, keeping eye contact with Mycroft. "Before we begin, Mr. Holmes. I would like to ask a question."

Mycroft narrows his eyes at him, "By all means," he says, giving a painful faux smile.

"Hmm," Garrison hums, he chuckles and shook his head. "At least you have manners. Unlike your agents who broke into my house at three in the morning."

"Your question, Mr Garrison." Mycroft says, as glad as he was to finally get his hands on Garrison, he didn't want to spend all night sitting here with him blabbering on without getting what he wants from him. "I do have other things to do."

"Why am I here Mr Holmes?" Garrison's Scottish accent became thicker as he became agitated. He copies Mycroft, leaning forward he rests his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands together, intertwining his fingers.

"You know very well why," Mycroft replies. The recent murders that have been springing up in London has been more than just Scotland Yard's issue. Mycroft had reasons to believe that Garrison was some how behind this, if not, involved, despite being in hiding for three years.

Garrison smiles, "I have nothing to do with what's happening in London, if that's what this is about."

Mycroft's eyes narrow, "So you are aware of what's happening." He states matter-of-factly, watching as a smile curled on Garrison's mouth.

"Most are, Mr. Holmes."

Pursing his lips, Mycroft opens the file on the table, turning it towards Garrison who stared at it with a raised brow and clear lack of interest. Mycroft motions to the folder which held all of Garrison's past deeds that were kept under close surveillance in the years he was active. The black market scheme, WOLF, the rise and fall of his notoriety.

"Interesting thing you had going on there, Garrison, you were the top dog in the game, makes me wonder why you gave it all up."

"Empires burn faster than they were built, they crumble from within, you see." Garrison smirks, staring at the pictures in the file.