I adore Mycroft, just for the record.
Sherlock's catty, much to his brother's amusement.
Inconveniences
Mycroft was swinging his black umbrella as he strolled into the cafe. Spotting his brother, he ambled towards the window table where Sherlock sat and eased himself into the chair.
"What's gotten you in a huff?" he questioned the visibly irked young man.
"I want my barista back."
"Should have figured it was something petty with you," Mycroft chuckled. "Really, Sherlock, don't be such a child."
"I would just have to sit down and she'd know what to bring me."
"Now you have to wait in line? Tragic."
Sherlock's eyes flashed at the sarcasm in his brother's voice. Mycroft smiled.
Prompt was #9: black