I was glad when Mycroft came back. But the first thing he asked me to do seemed odd. He asked me to go to the Diogenes Club with him. I was surprised by this, seeing as he'd never invited me, so therefore had never been. Despite the odd nature of his request, I went with him. When we got there, Mycroft took me to his office and asked me if I could get him two coffees from the coffee machine around the corner. Obviously, I said I could, and went, but I couldn't help thinking that all of this was very odd. I got the coffee and made my way back to the office.
"I got the coffee, Mycroft," I told Mycroft. "Not sure why you wan-"
I broke off when I saw the other man. Putting the mugs on the desk, I turned to look at him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded. "You're dead!"
I hugged his tall, slim figure.
"No, I'm not." Sherlock replied, his slender body rigid as a pipe.
Smiling, I kissed his prominent cheek.
"I'm glad you're not." I told him.
I noticed Sherlock smirking over my head. As I turned and saw Mycroft's, betrayed, distant and hurt face, I instantly remembered his paranoia over me and men (obviously including his own brother). Letting Sherlock free from my arms, I went to approach Mycroft from his right. I felt his tense shoulders loosen at the touch of my left hand.
"Feeling left out?" I gently teased, before standing on my toes and kissing Mycroft's cheek and the corner of his mouth.
He completely relaxed, and I smiled at him. He only looked at me in response, relief in his grey eyes. I felt Sherlock's icy eyes on us, judging every move we made. Taking my hand from Mycroft's shoulder, I gave the brothers a mug of coffee each, before going back out to get one myself. When I came back, steaming coffee in my hand, Mycroft and Sherlock were standing opposite each other. I sat on the edge of Mycroft's desk, and asked if Sherlock had seen John yet.
"No, I was brought straight here," Sherlock replied, glaring at Mycroft, before smiling to himself. "I thought I might surprise him."
"Well, surprise or no surprise, he won't be very happy to see you." I warned him.
He looked at me.
"How do you know?" he asked.
"I'm his sister," I told him. "Of course I know."
Sherlock grunted.
"So, what's he been doing?" he casually asked.
"He's been getting on with his life." Mycroft replied.
"What life?"
"The life he would've lived if he hadn't met you." I said.
Sherlock fixed his piercing eyes on me.
"What about you?" he asked me, judgingly.
"You're Sherlock Holmes," I carefully replied. "Surely you can figure that out."
Sherlock left it at that and asked for his coat.
"Do you know where I can find John?"
Mycroft and I shared a quick glance, before Mycroft looked to his younger brother.
"I believe he has reservations at a place in the Marylebone Road." he answered.
By this time Sherlock was at the door, but he stopped and pivoted on his heel. Seemingly hesitant, he looked between me and Mycroft.
"Congratulations." he said, before leaving.
