Three - Reena
John, considerably annoyed, left the flat and went out into the road to hail a cab. There were none in sight. As he waited, he thought about his friend.
John had known Sherlock for quite some time now, and believed (correctly, too) that he knew him better than anyone else. Sherlock may be cold-blooded and precise, but deep down John knew that he was capable of incomparable loyalty and unconditional love.
Not the sort of love that involved relationships and marriage – he hadn't even loved Irene Adler, the girl he so respected. No – Sherlock's love was true, like the sort of love one brother has for another.
Knowing this, John found it hard to believe that Sherlock – who had been there for him during all the hard times – would not bat an eyelid at the disappearance of his own brother. Didn't he love him at all? Didn't he even care a little bit? Finally, a cab drew up to the curb. John got in and leaned forward to speak to the driver.
"Where to, sir?" the cabbie asked.
John took a deep breath, "Take me to Scotland Yard."