Chapter Four
"Mycroft"
Mycroft Holmes stood in the doorway of his little brother's flat, eyeing the men intangled on the couch. For once, he was actually at a loss for words. This scene explained the pained look Mrs Hudson had given him before waving him up the stairs. It was obvious something significant had happened. Mycroft was certain his brother hadn't been held like that since he was a child barely out of infancy. He was equally certain that Sherlock wasn't up to discussing the terrorist plot he'd been resurrected to deal with. He was in fact sound asleep in the arms of John Watson. The doctor was awake, his face a study in conflicting emotions and thoughts. Confusion and grief were evident, and anger hovered about his shoulders and mouth. Mycroft was confused as to why Dr Watson would be cuddling with Sherlock if he was mad at him, until he caught the doctor's gaze and realized the anger was directed at him. Surprise briefly moved the elder Holmes, and he broke eye contact to look about the room. The sensation of having Dr John Watson mad at him was somewhat unnerving. Dr Watson had been enraged at Mycroft before, but this anger was entirely new in its intensity. Mycroft had a hunch that it had to do with Sherlock's two year absence from Watson's life- and that the blame was being firmly placed on his shoulders. He looked again at the man who held his brother so protectively, and smiled slightly.
"As he seems to be otherwise 'engaged'", Mycroft stated softly, "do tell my brother when he awakens that I shall return in an hour. It's early enough yet for our appoinment."
John didn't reply, just bent his head in the direction of the door with a look on his face that clearly left no doubt that he wanted the elder Holmes gone. Mycroft turned and slipped quietly down the stairs. He pulled out his mobile and began typing.
Anthea, dear, please draw the car around. We shall be returning to Baker Street in an hour. Find us a suitable place to eat in this dreadful part of town, will you? -MH