SH3-2

He was feeling giddy. He hated it. When did he become such a sentimental slouch? Well, he knew when. It was five months, three weeks, two days and four hours ago, when he had to listen through the phone to the ragged and strenuous breathing of his injured brother, waiting for him to be rescued, far away on the other side of the world. Those minutes had changed him. He had noticed that immediately but hat dismissed it as a temporary thing. He had been so sure that he would be able to delete those feelings once Sherlock was safe again. But that turned out to be a fallacy. Yes, he had always worried about his younger brother, but this now was different, so very different. So now here he was, waiting for his brother to arrive at his townhouse, to see him for the first time since that damn day. He had taken some stupid paper work home to be there early, but he was too giddy to concentrate on anything. Instead he paced up and down in front of the window, like a tiger in a cage.

Finally a black car drove up to the front door. With the lights outside turned off, he could only see a tall dark figure hurrying up to the door. Mycroft could barely keep himself from rushing into the hall. Instead he forced himself to sit down at his desk and wait for his brother to enter his study. When that happened he just wanted to do one quick glance to take in the current appearance of his brother, then make a snide remark and return to his paper work. He failed miserably. When Sherlock entered the room Mycroft just stared. His brother was remarkably different, tall and still thin, but also definitely more muscular. His usually pale skin had a nice and healthy looking tan. His hair was short and had a strange light red-brownish color. He looked good, overall, but years of practice enabled Mycroft to see beneath the façade that his brother was so adept to put on. And what Mycroft saw was not good. Sherlock was tired and worn out.

"Hello, Mycroft." Sherlock said, still standing in the door frame. He waited for the snide remark that always came when the brothers met. But it didn't come. Mycroft just looked at him with an intense stare.

"Don't you want to say something?" Sherlock inquired.

That brought Mycroft out of this torpor. "You look tired."

Sherlock flinched at his brother's clearly worried voice and just looked at him. Just now he really took in his brother's appearance. He was really worried. This wasn't a show, wasn't something he pretended to mock at him. And just like that the last five month suddenly made sense, the help he got from his brother's minions, the way his actions were monitored, the calls and text messages from Anthea.

"You don't need to worry. I am fine." Sherlock said, not with the usual indignation but with honesty, while making a few steps into the room.

"I know. I just …" Mycroft trailed off, not quite sure what he wanted to say.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Both brothers didn't know what to say and they both wondered why they were so incapable to deal with emotions, even in this situation, even with only the two of them present. It hadn't been this way when they were kids, but then it somehow changed.

Sherlock didn't want to deal with this right now. "Yes, I am tired. I guess some sleep in a comfortable bed instead of a sleazy hotel bed will do wonders. Do I have my room?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Everything is prepared." Mycroft answered hastily. "Do you want to eat something?"

"No, I will just retire." With that Sherlock turned around and walk away, but he stopped in the door frame. "Let us talk tomorrow."

Sherlock hasn't slept so well since he had jumped off that damn roof. Hunting down Moriarty's associates and henchmen was much more difficult than he had expected. He was exhausted, truly exhausted. And the worst thing was that he knew that he was far from finishing his task. When everything started he was sure that it would take him merely a couple of month but now he was dead for a year and there were still so many people to track down. He lay down awake for a couple of minutes, lost in thought, before he dragged himself out of the bed.

When he went down to the kitchen he was sure that his brother was no longer at home as it was close to noon. He surely would be at work. But to his surprise Mycroft was in the kitchen, making pancakes. Sherlock couldn't hide a sound of surprise escaping his mouth which let his brother to turn around, frying pan in his hand.

"You make pancakes?" Sherlock asked with a smile on his lips.

"Yes. You want some?" Mycroft answered, already busy again.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sherlock shrugged, not quite sure what was going on. But he sat down at the table and immediately Mycroft placed a plate with a heap of pancakes in front of him. Only seconds later a mug with coffee appeared in front of him as well.

"Are you sure, you are okay?" Sherlock asked after they both have eaten nearly all pancakes.

Mycroft felt the urge to get up to avoid the question, but instead he just sat there and kept silent.

"I mean, you are at home midday and make pancakes." Sherlock said, raising one eyebrow.

"I usually don't do that." Mycroft replied fast. "But we haven't seen each other for a while and I …" Again he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. Damn emotions, he thought.

Sherlock just nodded and then he smiled. "I know what you mean. It is about that day in Chile, isn't it?" He didn't get an answer, but he saw his brother giving him a tiny nod. "I am fine. Everything is okay."

"I know, it is just. I could have lost you." Mycroft said. There he finally admitted it, his greatest fear.

"Yes, I know, but I am still here." Sherlock answered. "And with you minions all around I am quite sure I will be in the future." He couldn't help but put a little bit of annoyance in his voice.

Mycroft just nodded. He didn't want to look his brother in the eyes. He waited for a snide remark about how he, the ice man, could fall for sentiment, how he, who always lectured his brother that caring was not an advantage, couldn't help but care, but those remarks never came. Instead Sherlock dropped the topic.

"How is he doing?" Sherlock asked.

"Better." Mycroft answered, quite relieved that he didn't have to talk about his emotions any longer. "Better, but not good. He mourns you, but he has to hide it from everybody."

Sherlock nodded while biting his lower lip.

"But he has been reinstalled in his position four month ago. Being back in his job is good for him." Mycroft explained. "And we nearly cleared your name. I will give away the last evidence when you are ready to return just as we had agreed on."

"Yeah, good." Sherlock answered, deep in thought.

"You don't consider telling him, do you?" Mycroft asked.

"No, no, that would be too dangerous. He is still being watched, right?" Sherlock answered.

"Yes, they still watch all three of them, Greg, John and Mrs. Hudson. They watch them and we monitor them." Mycroft explained.

Sherlock nodded again. He wished he could finish his task soon.

"You want to see some observation material?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes." The answer came fast, even though Sherlock wasn't sure if he would be able to bear watching Greg, or even John or Mrs. Hudson.

"I thought so. I put a notebook with the material on the drawing room." Mycroft said. "And now I will have to work." With that he got up and was about to leave the kitchen. "How long will you stay?"

"A couple of days." Sherlock answered.

"Don't do something stupid. Stay here, please." Mycroft said with a small voice that made Sherlock turn around to face his brother. Of course Sherlock knew what Mycroft meant with something stupid. Something like visiting his own grave like he had done after his funeral, putting everything at risk just to see the people he loved once more.

"I won't, don't worry. I will stay here. Sleeping and probably eating those leftover pancakes." Sherlock said smiling after he finished the last sentence.

"Do so." Mycroft said and smiled as well before finally leaving.

Something had changed between them and both of them liked it, even though neither of them would really acknowledge that openly in front of the other. But with both brothers' ability of deduction they both knew it.