Mycroft was going over some old plans for the next election. Well, mostly. I am not lonely/How would you know? Loneliness was being unhappy while being alone, it was being isolated and lost, it was not being able to hold on to who you care about, it was white, white, white and…
“Sir?” His dear assistant, named Maria today, had updates on his revised plans with her.
“Yes, thank you Maria.” She placed the revisions onto his desk, smiled at him, then quickly squeezed his hand and turned to leave his office, her gold necklace glinting as she exited.
'I am not lonely,' he thought as the corners of his lips turned every so slightly upwards.