A short, but reader inspired! update. Enjoy the unfeelingness of Mycroft...and hints of Mystrade. You're welcome. :P
"Evening, brother dear."
"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock turns around, bow swinging from his hands, violin still in place under his chin, "Oh, wait, I didn't want to know."
"Security breach. Nothing that you would care about."
"Then I repeat, what do you want? Is the country going to be shut down for the next week, and you wanted to make sure that I knew?"
"Always so eloquent. Where's John?"
"Don't be coy. You know exactly where he is, considering the fact that its your partner he's with."
"Greg Lestrade?" Mycroft's voice drips with condensation, "Don't be ridiculous."
"Am not." Sherlock taps his temple, "Deduction. Simple, really."
The kitten, having just padded into the room, begins clawing at the bottom of Mycroft's pants and umbrella.
Sidestepping the persistent feline, Mycroft says, "You've acquired a cat."
"Wrong," Sherlock replies, "A cat's acquired me."
"You do know caring is not an advantage, Sherlock," Mycroft reprimands.
"It's a bloody cat!"
"Yes."
Silence.
"But," Mycroft says, "A rather cute one at that. Hamish, isn't it?"
And with a tip of his umbrella, the older Holmes leaves the flat.
Muttering to himself, Sherlock says, "Must be that new diet food."
Good enough for a review? I hope so!
Brenda xoxo