Hello once again all you wonderful people of the world! It's Daemon, back with another chapter. Terribly sorry it took so long to post another bit, but there was no really good stopping point once my wonderful co-author and I broke through our writer's block, and couldn't type until weekends, since we're both dealing with school. So, please forgive us, enjoy this small piece of story, and don't forget to R&R my lovelies!

When the two men arrived home, they were greeted by a puzzled Mrs. Hudson. "Boys, there's someone upstairs looking for you."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock crossed his arms. Barging in uninvited sounded just like Mycroft.

"It didn't look like Mycroft..."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"Not a problem dearie."

John followed as the detective went up to their flat. "Who do you think it could be?"

"If it's not Mycroft, it could be my younger brother or an enemy."

"Younger brother?"

"Yes John, do try to keep up. He was taken away when he was about six to hone his technological skills."

"That's... tragic." John became solemn. "Did you know him well?"

"Fairly. We spent whatever free time- which was very little- we had together."

"That's good." The two men arrived in the living room of their flat, where, in a comfortable chair, sat a man, casually dressed, with rectangular glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose.

"Aragorn." Sherlock inclined his head slightly as he shifted his weight to one foot. He seemed to be genuinely surprised it really was his brother there in his chair.

"Hello, Locky." The right side of Aragorn's lips curled upward, and he ran one hand casually through his straight, chin-length hair. "It's been a while."

Sherlock seemed to cringe a little at "Locky", but he mostly ignored it. "Indeed. Approximately ten years now, correct?"

"Actually nine years, seven months, and eighteen days."

John bit back a smile and a chuckle.

Aragorn's eyebrow raised. "What's so funny with you, mate?"

"Sorry." The tailor composed himself. "It just... you two are exactly alike."

Sherlock and Aragorn looked at each other, and burst out into laughter.

"Me, like him?" Sherlock could barely breathe.

"And what are you on?" Aragorn couldn't contain himself.

John blinked. "Was it something I said?"

"We're not as alike as we may seem to you," Sherlock started to calm. Aragorn agreed with his older sibling.

John shook his head and smiled. "Whatever you say. Meanwhile, I'm going to start on that coat." The tailor started out of the room. "Good day, Aragorn."

"Good day."

John turned and walked away to the sewing room, leaving the two brothers alone.

"So, what have you been up to these days, Locky?"

"Please, Aran, don't call me that."

"Oo, being polite now, are we?"

"Oh, shut up."

"There's the Sherlock I know."

Sherlock folded his arms. "Why did you come here?"

"I'm in need of assistance."

"With what? You have practically all of the technological world at your fingertips. Why would you need help?"

"Well..."

"Well...?"

"This problem... isn't purely technological."

"That explains it." Sherlock's expression screamed, "aha".

Aragorn drew out a laptop from the satchel at his feet and opened it, turning to the internet for the latest news. "Sherlock, there have been people killed, recently."

Sherlock's face was sarcastic. "Really?"

But Aran continued seriously. "There's a pill, a strange pill that has never been discovered 'til now. People have been taking it, and dying. You'd think suicide, right?"

Sherlock's head tilted from side to side in consideration.

"Well, I think they're serial murders, not suicides. I've tried to tell the Yard, but they won't believe me."

"And you need my expertise in crime solving to prove you're right."

Aran nodded, face grinning. "Right!"

"I'll think about it."

Aragorn's grin fell. "Sherlock!"

"Why do you care so much about those victims? You don't know them."

Aragorn jumped out of his chair. "Sherlock, these are people! Human beings! And they are dying! How could you not care?"

Sherlock was silent.

Aran calmed himself a little, taking a deep breath and running another hand through his hair. "Also, my friend is one of the victims."