Mycroft knocked sharply on the door of Sherlock's flat. Three quick raps. Sherlock answered the door after a few moments.
"What is it Mycroft?" He questioned tiredly. Mycroft leaned on his umbrella.
"We need to talk."
It was almost a month after John's death, and Sherlock was looking slightly better. He had started eating again and his breath no longer smelled of alcohol. He poured a steamy cup of tea for his brother and handed it to him.
"How are you doing?" Mycroft asked, sipping his tea. Sherlock shrugged.
"Better." He replied, taking a sip of his own tea. "And since when do you care?" Mycroft set his cup down.
"Despite our…troubles, I do care about you. I don't want this getting out of control." Sherlock scoffed.
"You don't want what to get out of control?"
"You know what. I'm glad to see you looking better today."
Sherlock set his own cup down and clasped his hands together. "Looks are deceiving Mycroft, you of all people should know that." Mycroft smirked.
"Yes of course. Well I was just checking in on you. I have a meeting to attend to at three. See you later, thanks for the tea by the way." Mycroft stood up, grabbed his umbrella, and walked briskly out of the flat. Sherlock watched him go and sighed.
Sorry super short chapter woah. Working on next one, it will be out before Sunday. Thanks guys 3