Mycroft set his bottle of water down at the knock on his door. He hadn't been expecting anyone. Going to the door, he looked through the peep hole and saw Sherlock. With a sigh, he opened the door. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, brother mine?"
The detective, who was holding a box, looked at his brother seriously. "I need to ask a favour."
Mycroft gave him a crooked almost-smile. "I'm sorry, little brother, but you're out of favours. Still, what do you need?"
"I need us to call a truce, just for an evening." Sherlock held his breath. He needed this more than he could express, more than he was willing to express. He needed an evening with his brother, like it used to be.
A wave of sentiment washed over and through the British Government. "I would like nothing more." He stepped back so Sherlock could enter.
The detective went straight through to Mycroft's dining room where he set the box down on the table. "Have a seat, Myc." From inside the box, he pulled out a chocolate cake and two forks. He tossed a fork to his brother. "We don't even have to cut it." With that, Sherlock used his fork to take a large bite out of the cake.
Mycroft took a smaller bit of cake on his fork and ate it. "What's the occasion?"
"I had to do something," the detective said. "John's not talking to me. If I were to turn to drugs right now and he found out... This seemed the better alternative."
The government official couldn't find it in himself to be jealous of the place John Watson held in his brother's heart. He was simply grateful that Sherlock had come to him instead of going to some drug den. He only hoped John came to his senses before his brother broke completely.