"Don't be ridiculous, John," Sherlock said, making a face. "He doesn't worry about me, I'm rather sure he curses the day I was born."

John just snorted. Ah, sibling issues. He knew all about those. At least he wasn't totally in denial; he knew that his sister liked him. Most of the time.

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow at John. He knew the doctor was just trying to distract him, but he allowed it; John meant well and besides, it was working.

"Well then, why don't you text Mycroft back for once?" John asked, tossing the phone over. "I'm sure he'd like to hear from you yourself rather than just through me."

Sherlock blinked and caught the phone, just looking at it blankly. He didn't ever text his brother; it just wasn't done. He glanced from John to the phone and back again.

"Go on," John said with a little grin. "Tell him about this murder you stumbled onto. Or something."

"Why would he possibly care about that?" Sherlock asked. "He never has before, you know."

"I think you'd be surprised." John smiled. Because he'd caught Mycroft in a slip-up once that meant he read John's blog, and John doubted it was because of his personality.

Sherlock made a face and set the phone down.

"As much as I would enjoy bombarding Mycroft with a murder at suppertime, I can't imagine he would actually care what I do, so long as it doesn't reflect badly on him."

John knew he was wrong (to a point) but didn't push the matter further, instead shrugging and going to pick up his book. Looked like it was reading time for a while.

As much as Sherlock had protested, he found himself picking up his own phone and looking at Mycroft's number. Finally, he gave in and typed out a message.

Even in America, there are murders to be solved.

I'm not surprised, Mycroft texted back. I take it you're not enjoying your holiday but you are enjoying this murder.

Sherlock blinked. He hadn't quite expected a reply.

At least Lestrade listens to me. Americans are unruly.

The French are worse. They wouldn't listen to you at all. Mycroft somehow managed to convey his amusement in that one text.

How fortunate for me, then, that we have not been banished to France instead. Even Sherlock's face was rather dry and sarcastic.

Mycroft chuckled to himself. I shall keep that in mind for next time you neglect yourself too much and require a holiday.

I did not require anything. Sherlock was going to be stubborn on the subject. I have managed on my own just fine.

Yes, Mycroft allowed. But sometimes you become so wrapped up in your own mind that you forget your body needs things like food.

I was fine. Sherlock scowled at the phone.

Mycroft didn't grace him with a reply to that. He just snorted.

Sherlock snorted as well and put the phone down again.

"When can we go home?" he asked John.

"I think we've got a few more days here," John said, glancing at his watch. "Then we head back to London." Which he was kind of sad about.

"Good," Sherlock said. "We'll be back where the world makes perfect sense again."

John snorted at him and then blinked when his phone buzzed at him.

"It's from Elena," he told Sherlock. "She says the police are locating her boss to interrogate."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Perhaps then all of the errant puzzle pieces will fall into place." He snorted and shook his head. "Even the murders are backwards in this country, John."