"Sherlock?" John turned to his flatmate, his eyebrows raised.
The dragon glanced carefully at his sibling then looked back and gave the barest of nods.
"Um… I'll be up in my room if you, er, if you need me."
There was silence as he ascended the stairs, yet as he opened his bedroom door he heard a low growl.
"What were you thinking of brother? Have you run mad?"
Mycroft's voice was unmistakably angry, and John was tempted to listen in, but another growl showed him the wisdom of retreat.
He lay back on his pillows, head resting on his hands and watched dust motes fly.
A wry smile flickered across his face as he mulled over all he had learned. John wasn't sure how long he had laid there thinking when his reverie was interrupted by crash and a snarl. He leapt off the bed and bolted down the stairs.
The two dragons were standing facing off. A chair in the kitchen was lying on its side, having been knocked over by Mycroft's long sinuous tail, his clothes fallen to the floor as it tipped.
"What the…"
Mycroft drew himself up, puffing up his chest and turning his head bared his teeth.
"You…!" it was half accusation, half curse, chilling the blond doctor with the force of Mycroft's freezing breath.