Written: 2-3-13
Visit
It should have been a fair indication when Crafton more choked than announced that Mycroft Holmes had visitors. Even more indicative was the muffled yelp from downstairs just beforehand, but Mycroft had ignored it – some age-old habit kicking in?
Then came the knock on the door, and there stood the doctor – looking a decade younger, at least – and right at his side, the exultant, ever-mischievous form of his younger brother, Sherlock.
Even the elder Holmes could admit – in private, anyway – that he gaped for a full five seconds before inviting them in.
"So," he asked conversationally, "what took so long?"
