"He died," Berk said happily, snatching a roll of parchment out of Mycroft's hands and unrolling it to take a quick gander. "Food poisoning. And I'll tell Moody that I went to check out the scene to see if it was a murder, but Booth told me that his bird's already got the body in the lab, so I'll tell Moody that Booth didn't tell me, and Booth has the memory of a goldfish so he won't remember actually telling me."
Berk rapped his own head with his knuckles, handing the parchment back over before Mycroft could snatch at it and end up ripping it.
"Steel trap, my brother. I could say that I wanted to take my partner down to the scene with me, but if you'd rather keep your head stuck in paperwork, then be my guest." They'd come up in front of the lifts, and Berk leaned on the space between the two, finger hovering over the button as he waited for Mycroft's answer.
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