I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 32 : Friends

"Oh piss off !" a man's voice outbursted.
Mycroft was walking down the hospital corridor and he had no trouble guessing the voice belonged to his brother. It has been nearly three weeks since the French events and the doctors had finally gave their assent for the consulting detective to return home, probably for the nurses greatest pleasure, according to what was happening every time one of them tried to force the younger Holmes to do anything. When arriving in front of the right door, the official saw one of them exiting the room, mumbling to herself something about putting the breakfast tray down the black-haired's ass next time he complained, an idea that made the auburn chuckle while he was stepping in.
"Good morning brother mine ! So how many people have you roasted since this morning ?" he teased the young man sat back against the bedhead.
"They don't want to let me put my suit on by myself !" he exclaimed. "I am not disabled !". He was looking rather furious, as if the fact of the nurse offering her help was any kind of personal outrage to his integrity.
"So instead you prefer not dressing up at all ?" sighed the elder Holmes, glancing a disapproving look at his naked brother. "That's childish, even for you Sherlock.".
"I wasn't going to let her help me and she wouldn't let me do it myself !" he justified himself giving his brother a shocked look.
Without saying anything Mycroft threw Sherlock his shirt and suit, not willing to spend his entire forenoon arguing with him. Muttering to himself, the latter started dressing up while the official was collecting the miscellaneous consulting detective's belonging, putting them in a black sports bag. A few minutes later, they were ready to leave, the younger Holmes still looking offended and bored at the same time.

The auburn's car took about half an hour to bring them back to Baker Street because of the traffic, the black-haired looking away during most of the journey while the official was going through the morning news, smiling to himself when reading some informations he had himself tampered with before they were to be fed to the public. They were greeted on the doorstep by a very pleased Mrs Hudson.
"Oh Sherlock ! Look at yourself !" she hugged him, making the young man briefly smile, something he tried to hide to his brother by turning slightly aside.
"Mrs Hudson." the auburn nodded while passing ahead her and starting climbing the stairs to the famous detective's flat.
"I'll make you two a cuppa." the old lady proposed, not that she cared about the answer. Despite the fact of saying that she was a landlady and not a housekeeper, she always ended up cooking and cleaning for Sherlock, not that she really cares actually, the latter often bringing a little excitement to her quite drab life and himself being kinder with her than with any other human in a strange mother-son like relationship.
Three seconds after stepping in the living room, the younger Holmes was already back in his armchair, immersing himself in his mind palace. Mycroft put the black bag down on the floor near the couch before crossing the room to the desk before which John was settled, answering to his email. The two men shook hands, neither of them feeling really offended by the detective's rudeness, both accustomed to his often coarse behavior.
"Dr Watson." greeted the official.
"Mycroft." replied the doctor with a little smile.
The elder Holmes hadn'tgot the occasion to speak to John since his brother's first night in the hospital, just calling him quickly the day before to advise him that he was bringing Sherlock back home the next morning. By what he had deduced from his brother's behaving and the fact that Watson was still casually sitting in 221B and haven't moved out of the flat, he reckoned that the discussion had been if not well, at least not that badly, but he still wasn't sure of what to expect of the two men and was trying to think to the best way of finding out without seeming rude or indecorous.
"So how is Alden going ?" wondered the blonde, gesturing to the other one to take a seat.
The auburn grabbed a chair from the other side of the desk and cautiously sat down, slightly straightening his trousers, an OCD demeanor that ripped out a giggle from the army man. Looking curiously to the man in front of him, not understanding why he was laughing, Mycroft replied to him. "He is fine. He is starting to take piano lessons at the nursery."
"Piano ? Isn't that a bit tricky for a so young children ?" retorted John, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I've learned it at his age and Sherlock started violin pretty much at the same time. Plus piano is very good for coordination and memory."advised the elder Holmes, as if it was the most natural activity for a toddler.
"I guess that's a Holmes trait probably." smiled the doctor at the moment Mrs Hudson was entering the room, a tray with a teapot and her nicer china cups. She put down her charge on the coffee table near John's armchair and poured three cups, displaying one near Sherlock despite the fact she knew he wouldn't notice it and probably won't drink it, and handled the two other a cup each. "Thank you." both of the men told her.