"Oh, boys, good you are back," said Mrs Hudson (she was standing in the hallway, obviously going to her flat), Sherlock's and John's landlady – not their housekeeper – as they went throught the front door of 221B Baker Street. "There's a young man waiting for you, Sherlock. He's waiting for two hours already. I'm just about to make him some tea; I couldn't find any in that mess you call a kitchen..."

As soon as the detective had been told that in his flat there is another potential client who will pleas his mind with a nice problem he can solve, he did not wait for anything and rushed immediately upstairs.

When the flat door clicked shut after him, Mrs Hudson turned to John, finishing her thought: "It's more of a lab, isn't it?"

He nodded in agreement, and halfway up the stairs admitted that sometimes he also couldn't find tea in their kitchen – or anything he needed actually.

. . .

John took of his jacket and went to the living room.

There he was greeted with a bewildering sign: his friend, Sherlock Holmes – the Sherlock Holmes – was being hugged by someone. And moreover: he was not resisting or looking any uncomfortable.

What the fuck? John thought, and with a puzzled face stared at that miracle.

The both men noticed the doctor's presence, and stepped aside from each other.

"You're Sherlock's flatmate," the unknown smiled. He was thin, brown-haired, with glasses sitting on his nose. "Nice to meet you, I'm Alastair."

John accepted an outstretched hand and shook it. But even before he could introduce himself the man had already turned away from him, asking the detective: "Is he also your boyfriend?"

At that John only rolled his eyes, and remained silence (after all, that question wasn't addressed to him).

Sherlock – as always when it comes to the relationship between him and his blogger – didn't answer to it, and made a reply by his own question: "What are you doing here?"

"First you'll introduce us properly," the young man said in an uncompromising tone of voice.

"As you wish," the detective agreed unbiassedly. "This is my friend and flatmate Doctor John Watson. John, this is my younger brother, you know his name already."

Now John was the one who forgot about the other man, and instead of giving his attention to Alastair, he put a question right to his flatmate: "Your brother?"

"Yes."

"How many brothers do you actually have?" he wondered with a surprised smile.

"Two – as far as I know," the youngest Holmes answered him.

"Right," he nodded, absorbing the new information about his friend. "Any... sisters? No? Well then, nice to meet you too."

. . .

This was short I know (I'm sorry). But still better than nothing, right? No? Well, the next chapter should be longer so... wait for it :D
Anyway, thanks to everyone for reading or following this story - you're great and I love you endlessly.