Sherlock has been back in London for a few weeks now. He tries to distract himself with anything, though he avoided drugs as much as he could. It wasn't easy what with having no crimes to solve. His phone rings and what with his death there was only one person it could be. His brother.

"Brother." Sherlock says.

"You're going to drive yourself mad."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asks though he knows Mycroft is referring to his idleness.

"Just tell John you're alive."

"I will when it's safe."

"It is safe. That's the whole point of your death and these past nearly two years."

"This is Moriarty we are talking about Mycroft. It's never safe."

"Yes, it is. You've double checked. No triple checked. And so have I and my people. He deserves to know that you are alive."

"Yes. I'm sure he'll be so happy to see me." Sherlock says sarcastically as he looks out the window of the car. He sat several houses down from John's current house that he shared with a woman called Mary. There was something fishy about her but he couldn't figure it out. One thing he knew for sure was that John didn't need to know he was live.

He hangs up promptly.

"He's doing just fine without me." Sherlock mutters to himself.

As if on cue the rain starts to fall to reflect his mood. Or maybe it was just London. The fact that he could even think it was anything but it being London only showed how John's thinking infected him. It might be better for both of them if Sherlock continued to stay out of his life.