"John, why you did that?" He was startled. He never looked at me as a runner. I was the one and I need to understand the consequences.

"I don't know why." I say with a clear sense of guilt. I stand up to leave, but for him the call isn't over yet. He comes to me and he grabs my shoulders. Secretly I hoped it were Sherlock's solid hands. Then I would do the same to him and we would talk for hours. Talking about us, our friendship.

"Go back and apologise."

"Apologise? Sorry, I cannot do that. He will hate me terribly. It's too late." I response sip. Nobody can move me, I am completely isolated of the outside world. I would rather retire in my attic, but there I would just cry and scream. That's how terrible it is.

"I think you should do it. Yesterday you did not know him, so it does not matter how, when and where. You understand?"

"No." I answer laconically. Whatever he says, I don't give a hoot. I want to sleep, cry and think.

He lets me go and I take the tea with me. I'm lying on my bed and I stare at the plafond. The white plafond, so smooth, like my thoughts. They say only one thing. Sherlock.

***

"Sherlock, you have a visitor." Mrs. Hudson calls. There are footsteps coming to me. Hopefully I stand up and I make sure I look dignified. I rub a hand through my hair and I take my confidential thinking position. It must be him. He must say it is a joke.

"Hai, Sherlock." It sounds near to the doorway. My happy facial expression faints to a gloomy smile.

"Hai, Mycroft. You intrude. You come inconvenient. Does it matter if you come back another time?" He nods and takes his umbrella with both hands. It doesn't even rain.

"Yes, I stay, brother dear." He decides bossy. He presses the tip of his umbrella against my tie. "I am here for you."

For who else...

'I don't assume a new case." I take a seat and I decide to answer rarely. He becomes easily bored because of me.

"It's about John." My eyes are wide open. I lose my tie and I swallow.

"John? You don't know him." I sigh indifferent. The words came out like vomit. Sore and exhausting.

"More than you do." He raises his chin and grins.

"Why?"

"I know he's in his room, waiting for your arrival. Like you did today."

"You spy on me?"

"Sherlock, Sherlock." He sighs. "You're too easy to penetrate." He stands up and he looks at me straight in the eyes.

"Don't prevaricate or you can go home. What do you mean, Mycroft?" I blow my noise and I rubs through my hair again. Mycroft hates it.

"If the mountain will not come to Mohammed, then Mohammed will come to the mountain." I yawn. He knows I don't understand proverbs or expressions very well. "Go to John, do not wait for his coming."

"You know I cannot. It's not that you can speak about it. The last time you were appreciated, was... never?" I tease him.

"You have to restrain your feelings."

"Shut up! Shut up! I can't handle it anymore. John is... a handsome, intelligent, serious, nice, funny man. And I am a lout. Come on, Mycroft, this will be nothing." I stand up and I nervously walk back and forth. "Mycroft, go away. I have to think." I turn my back to him and I gesture he has to go away. He is already used to my behaviour and sighing he stands up. "Do not forget your umbrella!" At every step he punches his umbrella on the ground. His footsteps are fading and my brain settles down.

***

"Are you coming for dinner, John?" Mike calls. He is already dressed and I wear a dressing gown. I don't want to see anyone, but I am hungry. I do not want to be like Sherlock and eat nothing.

Get Sherlock out of your mind, John.

"Are you already a bit better?" He asks gently. He puts rice on my plate and he pours sauce over it.

"Better for what?" I respond wisely. As predicted he stops about it and he starts to talk about his work. I don't care, but it is revulsive. I nod at everything he says and I let my hands hang. Next to the seat of nobody.

"You would not dress up?" Mike stares at my gloomy look. He stirs in his food. He feels sorry for me.

"I'm going to sleep anyway."

"Sure? I saw-"

"I'm tired, Mike." I slide my plate forward. I've eaten even more than Mike and that never happens. Mike knows what he says, but I cannot talk about my feelings. Sherlock either.

What do I expect? I do not take initiative, he doesn't take initiative. We are not made to be friends. Or more...

***

"Mycroft, what do you want?" I hold my phone between my cheek and shoulder. Meanwhile, I clear away some unnecessary things. I'm ready to leave for the battlefield. Literally and figuratively.

"I've got his address." He cheers.

"Thanks, but me too. If you are talking about the idiot-conversation-house, at least."

"Sherlock, shut up! You are going to visit him now! Without contradiction!"

"You command me over the phone?" I react to his stupid proposal. "Are you really sunk low? The ministry doesn't need you anymore?" He sighs loudly and I hear he smiles slyly.

"Keep your feelings under control." He takes off the phone. He, the one who said I had to avoid social contacts. He, my brother, who I hate some moments, but sometimes he has great ideas. I could imagine it too, but fulfil... He will not think it is strange? There are only a few hours past. And I meekly come back. No, he's wrong. I really have to do this?

Oh, Sherlock, why you fall among this?