"The most brilliant thing about being in charge, Sherlock, is that I get to decide what you do and do not need." A beckon towards John finds the human walking closer, only to blink, shake his head, and cross his arms over his chest.

Call everyone surprised at that. Even Mycroft's mouth hangs open slightly. At his age, for a human to be able to withstand a command-- Impossible. No one moves and no one breathes, not that John notices.

"I'm not going to be someone's midnight snack because of a coerced signature," he contends, having no idea just how special he is.

Or how dangerous.

Mycroft's mouth clicks closed. "Sherlock."