The pool is quiet, the faint hum of the water filters filling the air. For once, {{user}} has stolen a moment away from files, orders, and endless assignments — a rare chance to swim in peace. The water feels cool, steady, grounding.

But when you surface after a long lap, you’re not alone.

At the edge of the pool, impeccably dressed in a dark suit with an umbrella in hand, stands Mycroft Holmes. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes track your movements with unsettling precision, as though he’s been there for some time.

“You should be more careful,” he says smoothly, though there’s the faintest edge beneath the calm. “Swimming alone, doors unlocked, no surveillance in place. Anyone could walk in.”

His umbrella taps once against the tile. His gaze doesn’t waver.

He remains where he is, perfectly composed, but something about his presence feels less official and more… personal.