"John. The mail is here."

"I'll get it."

It was a week after I had talked to Mycroft about Vinson and I still couldn't stop thinking about him. What was wrong with me? Caring was not an advantage- Vinson's abduction was enough to prove that- and yet here I was; unable to stop thinking about him.

"Alright. What's wrong?" John asked, a few letters in his hand, one with my name on it. "You've barely talked all week and all you've eaten is a piece of toast on Wednesday." "I've just been thinking, John." I said "Nothing more." "Sherlock, I know you better than that." John said. "We haven't had a case that lasted longer than an hour in a long time. Normally you would be shooting the wall by now."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Just give me my letter."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Don't make me take it from you."

"Oh come on, Sherlock! Don't be such a child!"

"Fine! I'll tell you!" I snapped before looking down a my feet, expressionless. "I have a brother." John rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, I knew that." "No, John. I'm not talking about Mycroft." I said, looking up at the doctor. "I have a little brother. His name is Vinson and he was abducted twenty one years ago at the age of seven." I spoke softly and John stared at me, dumbstruck. "I'm sorry." He finally said, handing me the letter. "I shouldn't

have asked." "Actually I would have been disappointed if you weren't curious." I replied, studying the shaky handwriting on the envelope. "Well this is new. It can't be anyone we know but it's not a client either. Clients don't write letters." I opened the envelope and read the letter inside:

Dear Sherlock Holmes,

You'll be wanting to meet me at the abandoned music shop. We need to talk. If you want to know who I am you'll have to come and I know that you can't stand not knowing. You do, however like a good mystery. You always have. So, tomorrow, 3:00, abandoned music shop. I'll be waiting for you.

Signed,

Anonymous

"So?" John asked.

"I have to meet someone tomorrow."

"Who?"

"I don't know. And I don't like not knowing."

The next day I was standing outside the abandoned music shop at 3:00 sharp. "Alright, let's get this over with." I said as I walked in, my voice echoing throughout the building. I stopped in my tracks as I heard piano music coming from upstairs. It started off soft and gentle, like a mother's lullaby, then the tone changed, but whether it was now sad or joyful I couldn't tell. The song gradually gained momentum, becoming a fast paced, passionate song that told a story; one of fear, hatred and longing.

There was only one person who could play like that.

I climbed the stairs and found myself in a large room with windows on all sides. In the middle of the room was a young man playing a large, black studio piano. The man was in his late twenties, was tall and thin- possibly malnourished most his life- and had raven black hair, an unreadable expression and brilliant blue eyes that were fixed on his dancing hands.

The song changed one last time, this time seeming to tell of hope and a new beginning. The song finally ended on a hopeful G chord. "Hello, Sherlock." The man said, slowly looking up to meet my eyes. "It's been a long time." "Vinson?" I asked, recognizing his eyes more than anything else. "Excellent deduction, Sherlock." He said with a smile. He slid over on the bench so there would be room for both of us and I sat down beside him. There was so much I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, that I missed him for all those years, that Mycroft and I need him, that things weren't the same without him, and so much more. "Vinson, I-"

"I know, Sherlock. I missed you too." He said

"Where have you been?"

"Most recently? America but I've been all over the world. The woman that abducted me was part of some sick network."

"What kind of network?"

"Sherlock, as much as I want to tell you, now's not the time." He said. "There's someone I want you to meet." He stood and turned towards a corner of the room where boxes were stacked high. "Theek hai, Kaayara, aap ab baahar aa sakate hain." He said gently. Alright, Kyra, you can come out now. I translated mentally. Out of the corner came a small girl, no older than six, with dark skin and hair and a tattered dress. Indian parentage, taken from her family a few years ago, abuse victim, doesn't trust easily. I deduced.

I watched as Vinson knelt down, gently took her hands and talked to her softly in Hindi. I had almost forgotten how different Vinson was from Mycroft and I. He was just as smart but he didn't think of his emotions as weakness. He was much less closed off and passive than us too.

Finally, he stood and coaxed her to speak. "Hailo, Shree Homs. Vinasan mujhe tumhaare baare mein bahut kuchh bataaya." She said timidly. Hello Mr Holmes. Vinson told me a lot about you. I forced a small smile. "Krpaya, mujhe Sharlak kahate hain." I said. Please, call me Sherlock. She gave a soft smile before hiding behind Vinson's legs. "We're still working on her English." Vinson explained. "When I managed to get out of the network Kyra escaped with me. I promised that I wouldn't leave her." "Sentiment?" "Exactly." He confirmed. "Now, why don't we get out of here?" He took Kyra's hand and I lead the way down the stairs and out of the building. "I assume that you've already seen Mycroft?" I questioned, trying to find a cab. "Actually, he doesn't know I'm back yet. You're the first person I've come to." Vinson admitted. "Oh, this will be fun." I muttered.