Six - BelinasEgg
John took a moment outside of Scotland Yard to calm himself. He couldn't believe Lestrade. The man had seen Mycroft before.
He'd actually talked to him! Was this all a conspiracy? In the world of Sherlock Holmes, anything was possible. He was half tempted to just give up on the the whole venture.
But John Watson did not give up on things, and so he resolved to find Mycroft. Partly just to spite Sherlock. He would do anything to get the better of Sherlock. He had no idea what the insufferable git was doing right now, and he didn't care.
It was with only a barely detectable trace of hesitation in his step that he wound his way back to 221B. Just because he was going to find Mycroft, it didn't mean he had to do it on the streets. The flat was silent when he entered, and there was the hope that his heartless flatmate had gone out.
It was not the case.
Sherlock hadn't moved a single inch, a smirk on his face as he watched John enter the room. John didn't look at him, and hence didn't notice the detective sliding his phone from view.
There was that comfortable kind of silence which often occupied the flat. Sherlock continued to lie like a corpse, and John thought long and hard about where Mycroft might actually be, sending resentful looks at Sherlock.
It was the consulting detective that broke the silence.
"Did you write up the triple murder case?" he asked.
John recognised a peace offering when he saw one.
"No."
Silence.
"How did that date with that woman go?"
Two amiable comments in one day. That must be a record.
"Fine."
Sherlock huffed, glared, and rolled over so his back was to John.
Silence reigned again.