Oneword: CapMore Like This
A creak of the stairs alerted Sherlock to a visitor. The hard soles against the wood sounded out the oxford shoes. The slower pace revealed a tall but not-fit man. Sherlock met Mycroft at the door before he could knock and wake the doctor sleeping on the couch. The elder Holmes glanced at John's curled form with a curt smile, and let himself be ushered into the kitchen, where he spoke in hushed tones to his brother.
"I'm sure you've heard about Mummy."
Sherlock snorted and nearly raged before he remembered to reign it in. "You know I don't keep tabs on family. Unlike some of us."
"She's dead, Sherlock." Mycroft's fingers tightened imperceptibly around the handle of his umbrella.
The detective was silent then. He scowled at the burns and scrapes in the kitchen table. He fidgeted and glanced around, anywhere but at Mycroft, until the overbearing silence forced him to look up. "Well what do you want me to do about it?"
The elder Holmes sighed softly. "Come to her funeral this Friday. You