"Sherlock," The latter paused, hearing the familiar voice, and shut the door slowly, before turning around.
"Mycroft," he said it equally tolerantly as his brother had
"I'm so glad you came out to meet me." Mycroft was being sarcastic, of course.
"Actually, I was going to buy some milk." Sherlock retorted, turning left and walking quickly away.
"The shop's the other way." His voice followed Sherlock down the street.
"I was going the long way round."
"Smoking will kill you."
Mycroft looked up, "Just passing the time." He took a long drag and quite deliberately sighed, causing smoke to cloud around his face and then disappear.
"Mind if I join you?" Sherlock asked as he drew out a cigarette and lighter.
"Not at all."
It was an interesting sight, two brothers usually so distant standing together. However the moment was short lived, interrupted by a strange metallic thrumming coming from inside the flat.
"That's our cue," Mycroft said, dropping the cigarette and stubbing it out. Sherlock did the same, pretending to know what he was talking about.