Sherlock strode to 221b, John quickly limping after him. Sherlock stopped abruptly at the door, "did you lock the door?"
"Yes. Since you never actually bother I took it upon mys-" John began to say but was cut off by a dismissive wave from the detective. The lock barely had any struggle, but there seemed to be some struggle with it, whoever was inside was a master of tricks. The scent of expensive cologne clung in the air.
"There's someone inside. Be ready." Sherlock whispered, opening the door. The two slowly crept up the stairs, both aware of the deathly that hung over the apartment. The living room door was wide open. John took out his gun from under his belt. "You still keep that?"
"Old habit." John shrugged. Feeling somewhat unarmed, Sherlock picked up a broom that was precariously balanced on the top step. The smell of cologne was much stronger now. Weapons raised, the pair ran into the room, but were surprised to see a young man sitting king-like on the red armchair.
"Oh." Sherlock gasped, dropping the broom. The intruder's icy bluish-green eyes made Sherlock's look dull and lifeless in comparison, and his smile gave an uncomfortable sense of mischief. He stood up to face the detective.
"Brother dear, long time no see!" Loki smirked.