"Why him?" the elder Holmes brother is watching the Consulting Dedective. "Why not?" Sherlock sits in his chair and looking at the violin in his hand "You was never interested in...men...well you was never interested in anyone" Mycroft smiles at his younger brother. "He...He's special...he is...you know...it's John..." A quick smile runs over Sherlocks lips as he thinks about his flatmate. "And I wondered about you as well, Mycroft. I didn't expect you to share your bed with a normal dedective inspector from Scottland Yard." Mycroft's face freezes for some seconds...of course Sherlock noticed it... Mycroft sighs. He plays with the black umbrella in his hands. "Dedective Inspector Lestrade isn't just a 'normal' inspector...and you don't have to think about my bed...or the persons in it..." "You didn't pull him in your bed yet, Mycroft?" Sherlock puts his fingertips beneath his chin, like every time he is thinking. "Oohhh! You didn't tell him! Why not? Do you think he could refuse? Are you afraid of his reaction?" Sherlock has to laugh. His brother...his cold brother...the ice man is afraid of something... Not just of something...of telling someone his feelings! His Mycroft sighs again. He hates to be blamed by his little brother. "And what about you, Sherlock? Did you tell John anything?" Sherlocks lips becomes a thin line. His eyes gets smaller. He stares at his brothers face. Mycrofts complacent grin. His ice blue eyes. Sherlock can read his feelings in it. Mycroft always trys to hidde his feelings and thoughts...but he'll never realised that you can see in somebodys heart, if you can read their eyes. He never thought about that...never understood how his brother can deduce him. Sherlock can see the pain of being blamed by his younger brother, the joy of blame him as well, the small but constant love to his brother...he'll always love Sherlock and care about him. And Sherlock loves Mycroft as well...somehow... But this time he noticed something new in the eyes of 'the british gouvernment'. Something new, something the dedective never expects to see in his brothers eyes. Love. True and deep love. Mycroft didn't lie to him...Lestrade isn't just a normal dedective inspector from Scottland Yard. Sherlocks lips are still a straight line. Mycrofts are still a grin. "So you didn't?" Mycroft asks innocent. Sherlock still don't answers the question. "You didn't." Mycroft says with a quick view on his pocket watch and exhales. "You know why I didn't tell him, Mycroft. It would be even harder for him, I think..." Sherlock says quit. He watches the teacup next to him. And this was the first time Mycroft notes how old his brother looks when he's sad.