His Favorite Melody

Pip, Pip, Cheerio

It wasn't long after the pair woke up that Mycroft showed up with tea and chocolate. He discreetly handed it to Melody before encouraging both her and his younger brother to get changed out of their nightclothes.

When Melody left her flat to go upstairs, she was startled by John hurling open the door and unintentionally shouting at her. "Melody! Are you alright??"

She looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Uh, y-yeah. I'm alright, just a few scrapes. Sherlock is upstairs with Mycroft if you're wondering about him." She said, motioning for him to lead the way.

He stopped in the doorway to the sitting room to see Mycroft sitting across from Sherlock, who was plucking strings on his violin.

"I can't." The younger Holmes denied whatever his brother had requested.

"Can't?" Mycroft mused.

"It's impossible at the moment. Hi John."

"Are you ok? I saw it on the TV." John huffed.

Melody walked over to the Holmes boys, smiling at Mycroft as she sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair and put a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock placed his hand on top of hers and placed his violin in his lap. He looked up at her as he distractedly answered John.

"What? Oh. Yeah. Gas leak, apparently." He looked at Mycroft before speaking again. "The stuff I've got on is too big. I just can't spare the time."

"This is of national importance!" Croft argued.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock switched the subject.

"Fine ...." Croft looked at Melody in exasperation, then at John. "Maybe one of you can get through to him, John. Melody."

"What?" John questioned.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?"Sherlock pressed.

"No, no, no. I can't possibly leave the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so near -." He stops and smiles sweetly. "Yes, well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this. It requires...leg-work." He said with infinite and obvious disdain.

"How's Sarah? How was the li-lo?" Sherlock inquired.

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." Croft chided.

"Of course."

"How - ? Never mind." John shrugged off.

Mycroft looked searchingly at John. "Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you became...pals. What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine?"

"I'm never bored." John quipped.

"I find it rather entertaining. I quite enjoy having him around. I'm rather fond of him." Mel said with a smile.

"Good! That's good, isn't it? He's a real live wire, is Sherlock. Such a clever boy, but he really should get his priorities right. Like now." Mycroft held up some documents. "Andrew West. Known as "Westie" to his friends. Civil servant. Found dead on the rails at Battersea station this morning. Head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?"John asked.

"That seems the logical assumption."

"But?"

"But?"

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident."

"I very much beg to differ. Croft would be here in no time if I really needed. I daresay even if Sherlock needed." Mel countered.