Back at your own flats. You and Sherlock were now currently on his living room, peering at the wall behind his sofa.
Your homeless friends already gave you and Sherlock the list of suspicious people around the area.
You picked up the paper and steps onto the sofa. You stick it up together with maps and pictures.
"Sometimes it’s not a question of Who?, it’s a question of Who Knows?" Sherlock said
Ypu look at him and nodded. You pinned at picture of a man sitting on a park bench while eating his sandwich, "If this man cancels his papers, I need to know." You said.
"If this woman leaves London without putting her dog into kennels, I need to know." He said, pinning another picture.
"If they start to move, we’ll know something’s up – like rats deserting a sinking ship." You said to him while pinning the rest of your so called rats.
Time flies and after a few hours of discussing, linking and crossing out some of the pictures on the wall, you and Sherlock finally decided to rest.
When we say rest, meaning you're going to your own Mind Palace as Sherlock called. You don't mind calling your that too since you don't have any names for yours.
So, you were currently on your 'Mind Palace' whilst lying down on Sherlock's sofa, but then got distracted by ticking of shoes.
Trying to deduce the person, you listen to the sound they make and you know it's Mycroft with his umbrella.
The sound stopped at the middle of the living room, still not opening your eyes, "What do you need?" You said.
Mycroft rolls his eyes and hit the chair of Sherlock with his umbrella, "I need an update, Sherlock."
You heard Sherlock make incoherent sounds before standing up. Without speaking a word to his brother he went straight to his room to retrieve something.
Few moments later...
"All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to Critical." Mycroft informs him.
The two of them are sitting opposite each other in front of the unlit fire, whilst you were still lying at the sofa.
Sherlock sits back from his chair as he make a move, with his eyes locked onto Mycroft’s, "Boring. Your move." Sherlock said.
"We have solid information. An attack is coming." Mycroft said as he glances down towards the table between them.
"Solid information." Sherlock repeated, "A secret terrorist organisation’s planning an attack – that’s what secret terrorist organisations do, isn’t it? It’s their version of golf."
Mycroft knits his eyebrow, "An agent gave his life to tell us that."
You internally rolled your eyes before speaking, "Oh, well, perhaps he shouldn’t have done. He was obviously just trying to show off."
Mycroft looks at you and appears to hold back a sigh, "None of these markers of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously?" He said as glances down again at the and makes a move, "Your move."
"No, Mycroft, but you have to trust us. We’ll find the answer. It’ll be in an odd phrase in an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts ad." Sherlock said, moving a piece. "Your move."
Mycroft glances down briefly before raising his eyes to Sherlock’s again. "I’ve given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you’re on the case."
"I am on the case. We’re both on the case. Look at us right now."
On the table in between them, there’s a loud buzzing and a red light flashes. "Oh, bugger!" Mycroft angrily drops the small tweezers he was using in their game of “Operation.”
"Oopsie!" Sherlock said while Mycroft returns the piece to the board. He looks at the piece which Mycroft had failed to remove. Sherlock successfully removed it and smirks at his brother, "Can’t handle a broken heart – how very telling."
You sat up and chuckle in Sherlock's opinion.
Mycroft glared at you before looking back at Sherlock, "Don’t be smart." He said.
"That takes me back." Sherlock said, then he changes his voice like a kid, “Don’t be smart, Sherlock. I’m the smart one.”
Mycroft glowers at him, "I am the smart one."
"I used to think I was an idiot." Sherlock said.
Mycroft leans his back to the chair, "Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on ’til we met other children."
"Oh, yes. That was a mistake."
"Ghastly. What were they thinking of?" Mycroft said.
"Probably something about trying to make friends." Sherlock answered.
"Oh yes. Friends. Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now." Mycroft said, then he looks at you. You raised an eyebrow at him mouthing 'what?' at him.
Sherlock seems not to care, and just look at Mycroft closely, "And you don’t? Ever?"
Mycroft looks back at him, "If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I’m living in a world of goldfish."
Sherlock steeples his fingers in front of him and looks at his brother, "Yes, but we’ve been away for two years." He said as he point his finger at you then him repeatedly.
"So?"
Shrugging, Sherlock said, "Oh, I don’t know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a ... goldfish."
"Change the subject – now!" Mycroft said looking appalled as he stands up and walks over to the fireplace.
"Rest assured, Mycroft – whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre." You said.
Just then, Mrs. Hudson, carrying a tray of tea things, walks into the room with her traditional, “Ooh-ooh!”
"Speaking of which ..." Mycroft said.
You and Sherlock smiled.
She puts down the tray on the dining table happily.
Mrs. H said, "I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it! Him – sitting in his chair again!" She looks at Mycroft. "Oh, isn’t it wonderful, Mr Holmes?"
"I can barely contain myself!" Mycroft answered sarcastically.
"Oh, he really can, you know." You said smirking.
"He’s secretly pleased to see you underneath all that ..." she said.
"Sorry – which of us?" Mycroft asked.
"Both of you." She said then leaves the room.
You just shrug as you continue to watch the siblings.
"Let’s play something different." Sherlock said.
"Why are we playing games?" Mycroft said with an exasperated sigh.
"Well, London’s terror alert has been raised to Critical." He said as he flails his legs over the table in front of him and stands up. "We're just passing the time. Let’s do deductions."
Sherlock walks over to the dining table and picks up a woollen bobble hat which has earflaps and a dangly woollen pom pom hanging from each flap, "Client left this while I was out. What d’you reckon?" He said and tosses it to his brother.
Mycroft caught it and said, "I’m busy."
"Oh, go on. It’s been an age." Sherlock encouraged.
Mycroft lifts the hat to his nose and sniffs, then looks across to Sherlock. "I always win."
"Which is why you can’t resist."
"I find nothing irresistible in the hat of a well-travelled anxious sentimental unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis ..." He stopped, realising he already started to deduce tha thing, "Damn." He said and throws the hat back to Sherlock.
"Isolated, too, don’t you think?"
"Why would he be isolated?"
"He?"
"Obviously." You joined, walking towards them.
"Why? Size of the hat?" Sherlock asked you.
"Don’t be silly. Some women have large heads too." You said, getting the hat on his hand to examine it.
Sherlock flinches slightly, possibly at your insult to his intelligence.
"No – he’s recently had his hair cut. You can see the little hairs adhering to the perspiration stains on the inside." Mycroft said.
You handed the hat back at Sherlock and he looks down at the hat, pouting slightly. "Some women have short hair, too."
"Balance of probability." You said, smiling at him.
"Yes, balance of probability brother mine." Mycroft said.
"Not that you’ve ever spoken to a woman with short hair – or, you know, a woman." Sherlock said to Mycroft.
"Stains show he’s out of condition, and he’s sentimental because the hat has been repaired three, four ..." Mycroft said.
"Five times." Sherlock said and he throws the hat back to his brother. "Very neatly."
You point the hat from Mycroft's hand,
"The cost of the repairs exceeds the cost of the hat, so he's mawkishly attached to it, but it’s more than that. One, perhaps two, patches would indicate sentimentality, but five? Five’s excessive behaviour. Obsessive compulsive." You said in quick fire.
"Hardly. Your client left it behind. What sort of an obsessive compulsive would do that?" Mycroft asked.
He throws the hat back to you, and grabs it with an exasperated grimace.
"The earlier patches are extensively sun-bleached, so he’s worn it abroad – in Peru." He added.
"Peru?" You asked.
"This is a chullo – the classic headgear of the Andes. It’s made of alpaca." He said.
"No." Sherlock said smirking.
"No?" Mycroft asked.
"Icelandic sheep wool. Similar, but very distinctive if you know what you’re looking for. I’ve written a blog on the varying tensile strengths of different natural fibres." Sherlock said.
Mrs. H coming back into the room with a teapot "I’m sure there’s a crying need for that."
Sherlock pauses for a moment, then turns back to his brother. "You said he was anxious."
"The bobble on the left side has been badly chewed, which shows he’s a man of a nervous disposition but ..."
"... but also a creature of habit because he hasn’t chewed the bobble on the right." You said talking over him.
"Precisely." Mycroft said.
Sherlock snatched the hat from your hand and sniffs it before grimacing.
"Ew, why did you do that?" You said to Sherlock with a sour face.
"Brief sniff of the offending bobble tells us everything we need to know about the state of his breath." He turns away. "Brilliant!" Sherlock said sarcastically.
"Elementary." Mycroft said.
You smirked and looks closely to Mycroft, "But you’ve missed his isolation."
"I don’t see it." Mycroft looks at you quizically.
Sherlock seems to understand what you mean so he speaks, "Plain as day."
"Where?"
"There for all to see."
"Tell me." Mycroft almost begged.
Sherlock sharply turns to face his brother again, "Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn’t in the habit of hanging around other people, is he?"
"Not at all. Maybe he just doesn’t mind being different. He doesn’t necessarily have to be isolated." Mycroft answered.
You smiled, "Exactly."
Mycroft looks at you and then to Sherlock apparently confused. "I’m sorry?"
"He’s different – so what? Why would he mind? You’re quite right." Sherlock said looking at him. He lifts the hat and perches it on the top of his head, then looks pointedly at his brother. "Why would anyone mind?"
Mycroft stopped for a moment, finally realising what you were pointing out, "... I’m not lonely."
Sherlock tilts his head down and looks closely at him, then steps nearer with an intense expression on his face. "How would you know?"
Mycroft looks at you awkwardly, "Yes. Back to work if you don’t mind." He turns to leave, "Good morning."
You watch him disappear before slumping down your body on Sherlock's chair. "Right. Back to work."