John stared at his hands. Mycroft was sitting opposite him sipping his tea. John hadn't invited Mycroft, he had just turned up. It had been a week since Sherlock had jumped off Bart's and that was why Mycroft had come to see John. Mycroft cleared his throat making John jump.
"John..." Mycroft sighed. "It'll be hard getting used to not having Sherlock around but it will get easier." John looked up at Mycroft.
"That doesn't make anything any better. Sherlock is dead. He jumped off the building and he is never coming back." John startled himself with how blunt he was being. He didn't mean to be. He'd been like this with Molly, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. He guessed it was just grief. "Sorry." He muttered.
"I know he's dead. I know that things are different because of it but don't blame it on other people John." John sighed and stared out the window, past Mycroft's shoulder.
"John, I couldn't do anything. Nor could Mrs Hudson or Molly or Lestrade or you so can you stop feeling sorry for yourself because you're not the only one who wishes Sherlock was still here." Mycroft was trying to be sympathetic but he was getting annoyed. John slapped him.
"You think I don't know that? The reason why I feel so bad is because I left him so I could check Mrs Hudson was alright and he left while I was away. I could have made him come with me. In fact I should've."
"I'm sorry John." They were silent for a few minutes. "Just try to-" Mycroft was interrupted by his phone. He stared at the text. "But that's not possible." He murmured.
"What? What isn't?" Mycroft looked up but he wasn't looking at John. Instead he was looking past John, at the door. John tried to turn around to see what Mycroft was looking.
"I have a feeling Mycroft just got my text. Am I correct?" said the man in the doorway.