Disclaimer: don't own.
To Sidney :)
Without a word, Mycroft opened his umbrella, shielding his brother from the light spray of not-quite-rain that had started, and handed him the file, filled with the embassy contacts he might need.
Sherlock nodded, without meeting his brother's gaze, "You didn't have to."
He stood next to him, shoulders almost touching. He didn't tell his brother to be careful. He didn't tell him not to go to Switzerland. He also did not tell him that he loved him, that he would miss him and that, God, he was so terribly sorry.
He didn't need to.
"You're built like a rake, you should eat more."
Sherlock smiled, making that little hm-like sound at the back of his throat, so familiar that it almost hurt to hear it. The smile turned into a grin.
"You should eat less."
Mycroft cherished the routine, sending his brother a glare. That would do.
The drizzle had turned into a real spring shower, raindrops rhythmically drumming the surface of the umbrella above their heads. They stood in their odd cocoon, silently observing London passing by.
Sherlock lowered his gaze and breathed in, breaking the silence that had been blanketing them.
"You should leave."
Looking back, he let his eyes linger, just for a second, on the slender form of his younger brother, still staring off into space and already soaked by the rain pouring down without any mercy whatsoever. His long fingers clenched around the umbrella, as he cursed his own blatant inadequacy.