Prologue
Sherlock Holmes sat with his legs crossed, his hands pressed together as he stared into his own little world. Mycroft could almost hear his brain working, ticking and functioning to absorb every piece of information he can during the situation.
They met at an abandoned warehouse, little outside of London where no one could accidently wonder into. It's hidden from the public but perfect for their get to together. No smiles or tears or exclamations of love, the two brothers simply said each other's names and pretended like the past three years had never happened.
"We've successfully proved Moriarty was real and every case they had on you has been dropped." Mycroft announces, as one might announce the daily news to some strangers. Sherlock understood that his brother couldn't sympathize with him or show any emotion other than concern when it came to his little brother but something had been done to destroy Sherlock's name and it had taken three years just to prove his innocence. Oh yes, Sherlock though, Moriarty was good.
"When can I go back?" Inquired Sherlock in frustration, lowering his hands and turning quickly to face Mycroft.
"Soon. Have patience. " Mycroft snaps in annoyance, sighing and pinching his eyes together. Sherlock had aged in the past three years, his dark hair grown longer, his vibrant blue eyes somewhat dull as though the life was missing from within them, surrounded by little creases that aged him significantly. The same scarf hung around his neck, the black long coat turned up at the collar in his own little way.
"I need a case Mycroft. I need my flat in London, my J-"He stops abruptly, "My friends. John."
"You don't have friends." Mycroft bites nastily, a low blow for someone in Sherlock's situation. "Not anymore."
That wasn't exactly true, Sherlock knows that since he had left John had been given an 'informal' job working along Inspector Lestrade who both worked to clear Sherlock's name after his death. John had stayed living in the flat, preferring not to get a new roommate. Sherlock wasn't sure what to make of it; he hadn't inspected John to continue working with Lestrade and in detective crimes or that he'd stop blogging completely. Then again, John was a tricky one to predict. Even for the great Sherlock Holmes.
"How is he?" Sherlock asks moodily, uncrossing his legs then reclosing them in discomfort. The rough material of his coat rubbing against his arms. His brother hadn't changed a bit, staring down at him with a disapproving look.
"Who?"
"John. Who do you expect?" Sherlock jumps to his feet, pacing the floor angrily.
Mycroft runs his tongue over his lips, pursing them to breathe out in the long irritating sigh that Sherlock hates. "You'll see." There's a long pause when neither Holmes utters a word. "Soon enough." Mycroft finishes, just as Sherlock turns on his heels and walks away.
Hello again! Been a long long long long long time since I've posted anything so hello! This is just going to be a short sort of story about how I think the new series will go. Hope you like it!