When Sherlock came out of the shower, it was just in time to hear a knock at the door. The footsteps were not those of Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock at least was dressed for the day, Sofia having seemingly been asleep again when he went in to get his clothes so he let her sleep.

"Go away, Mycroft." Sherlock bit out toward the door.

John sighed a bit, knowing that the comfortable atmosphere from this morning couldn't last. But ever the polite, kind man, he walked over to the door and opened it, revealing the tall man in the smart, three piece suit, umbrella ever present.

"Ah, Dr. Watson. I see my brother is being as moody as ever." Mycroft says smoothly as he steps through the door, looking around the flat, taking it in and analyzing it the same way Sherlock does. "Hm. I had hoped to meet your guest. Pray tell, where is she?"

John knew this was going nowhere good and yet he had no way to prevent it. So he closed the door behind Mycroft and went back to the kitchen. "Tea, Mycroft?" If he was a little short in his question neither of the other men decided to point it out.

Sherlock, having taken up his position on the couch, stretched out with his hands folded in front of him, glowers at his brother. "She appeared to be sleeping." A glance at the clock and he signed. "John, you really should wake her up. Weren't you worried about her food consumption? You always are.." He grumbles the last under his breath, annoyed at John's interference in his own eating habits, but he would not say anything more with his brother standing there.

Mycroft's eyebrows go up. "Yes, she should be eating, good of you to recognize that, Sherlock. How unlike you." His tone was pleasant, but there was that underlying edge to his voice that seemed to always put Sherlock on edge. "And no, thank you, Doctor."

With a sigh, John nods. "You can call me John, I believe I've said this before." He points out to Mycroft before looking at Sherlock. "And as usual, you're right, Sherlock.. I'll be right back, just let her know the shower's free." He says as he walks to the bedroom, leaving the two brothers to glare at each other. Luckily the bathroom is close enough to Sherlock's bedroom to only give Mycroft a glimpse of Sofia before she disappears into the bathroom, especially since John walks out ahead of her and somewhat blocks the hallway.

However, it didn't escape Mycroft's notice that she was wearing a men's t-shirt as her pajamas, and it makes him raise an eyebrow. "Honestly, have you two been so preoccupied that you have not been properly able to care for your guest? I had thought my gift might prompt you to think of her needs, but it seems you still have not gotten her clothes?"

This comment did not sit well with either of the residents of 221B, but John was the first one to speak up. "Thank you for that.. gift. But we were more worried about her physical health than her choice of clothes." He points out in a stiff tone, back straight from where he had settled in his chair by the fire, sipping his tea. "Thank you for the doctor, by the way, she's in good health, all things considered. Thanks for asking." He couldn't help but put that little jab in there.

Sherlock was close on his heels as far as comments go. "Lestrade only just found out her flat had been burned down. It seems that she has nothing. She will have to completely redo her wardrobe and Lestrade has not located her financials as of yet."

Apparently Mycroft plans for everything, because neither comment fazes him more than an arched brow at how defensive they both are of their charge. Oddly enough, the news of the flat being burned down surprises him the most, though neither of them would know it to look at him. It was something that he hadn't known about this little project. And him not knowing about this is unacceptable. Still, he pulls a long, elegant wallet from the inside of his coat pocket. "It's time I returned this to you, Sherlock. Five years.. I believe that is long enough, and with Dr. Watson living here, I feel much more secure that you will not slip." He says as he holds out a black plastic card toward his brother.

This is perhaps the one thing that could have brought any sort of reaction out of Sherlock, and his eyebrows go up as he sits up slowly. He's still waiting for this to be a trick as he reaches out and gently takes the card from his brother's fingers.

"Wait.. what do you mean, five years? What is that?" John asks as he looks between Sherlock and the card, and then up to Mycroft's face.

"I must be going. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask, brother. I do worry." Mycroft says before he turns and lets himself out of the flat, umbrella swinging a little.

"Sherlock? What did he mean?" John almost demands after the front door closes downstairs.

"Drugs, John." Sherlock says bluntly. "This is for my trust fund. I was cut off when I began using the money for drugs and Mycroft found out. He promised he would return the money to my control when I had proven that I was clean, and would not go back to my old habits. He said that during my rehab, five years ago." he explains quietly as he looks at his doctor. "I thought Mycroft would keep it from me as continued leverage." He's still holding the card in front of him as if he can't quite believe it, frowning briefly before he gets up to tuck it into his wallet.

John considers. Trust fund. He thought that Sherlock came from money given how he acts and dresses, and how Mycroft dresses, but he never had confirmation of it until now. "So.. you've got a bit of money, then. Now, I mean."

"John. Don't be tedious. I am not ever leaving Baker Street. However, now you can stop working your ridiculous job, as I no longer require your monetary assistance, merely your friendship and your assistance with The Work." Sherlock says in annoyance as he walks over and flops back down onto the couch, always having hated that John went off to work instead of being around to help him.

He should just be happy that Sherlock admitted that he needed John's friendship as well as his assistance. And that it actually ranked first. Because Sherlock always thought about everything he said, so if he said friendship first, that means it ranks more importantly in his mind. John sighs a little, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, it's nice not to have to worry about that, but I need some sort of escape from your madness once in a while, more than just going down to the pub for a drink." He points out, shaking his head a little before he opens his eyes to look at Sherlock. "I know it's terribly inconvenient for you, but I happen to like my job." Still, he knows that he could be clear he could only do things part-time from now on, but he wasn't about to suggest that.

A sigh came from the detective, the overly dramatic, put-out sigh he often did when something didn't go his way. "Boring." he muttered, then waved the card a bit. "More importantly, this means that we can provide for Sophia."

Whoa. Wait. 'More importantly'? John just stared, dumbfounded, at Sherlock, feeling more than a bit gobsmacked and with the distinct need to pick his jaw up off the floor. "Yes. Right. Clothes." He chose to say instead of pointing out Sherlock's phrasing of 'provide for Sophia', not 'provide clothes for Sophia'. For a man who was very precise about his wording, it made John wonder if he realized his slip-up.

-oOo-

A/N So? What do we think of Mycroft? Also.. Awww. Sherlock is being sweet! Even if he doesn't really realize it. Poor guy. Reviews welcome!