"What are you doing!?!"

Watson shouted as he pulled the black-haired man's shoulder away from Sherlock Holmes.

"Wat ..." Holmes blinked. When he saw the silver-haired man, the feeling of relief was so overwhelming that he could not speak. He tried to call his partner's name, but the other man's cries echoed everything.

"Ouch! Ouch. Ouch. It hurts. Hey! Let go of me."

The black-haired man screamed, trying to remove Watson's hand. But Watson used both hands to pull the ends of the scarf on both sides. The scarf that he wrapped loosely. When it was pulled, it became like a rope.

"Who are you doing here!?!"

"Ugh ... that your ... question ..." the black-haired man asked with a distorted face. Actually, he wants to shout that the person who suddenly attacked, tried to kill, strangled him is the one who should have answered those question, but now his eyes were completely blurry.

"Watson, let go of your hand now!" Holmes was shocked by Watson's actions. Hold Watson's two hands to release the scarf.

"He is ... my brother!"

Watson looked at his partner, Sherlock Holmes. Immediately, his mechanical brain was able to process it. Watson's hand slowly loosened from the scarf.

"So ..."

Watson looked at the person Holmes called 'Brother' and pondered for a moment and then began to see both have a similar face. Watson turning to look clearly at Sherlock Holmes again and saw more critical things.

"Holmes, the red bruise on your face. What happened to you?"

Sherlock Holmes looked up at Watson, the partner who turned to ask him for symptoms. Even though he was so worried about Watson that he hadn't slept since last night. Holmes looked at the man Watson brought with him. A foreign man who was wounded entirely. The detective made a complex expression as if he was guessing where to start talking first.

Of course, the first thing to say is

"Welcome home, Watson ... We seem to have a lot to ask and answer."

………………………………………………………

"I would like to introduce you to my brother. Seven years older than me. Name ... Mycroft Holmes."

Watson only realized for the first time that his partner had a big brother. He stared at the man who remembered seeing the bank robbery. And at that time, Watson thought this man had a speech and a critique similar to Sherlock Holmes. But when he saw the face clearly, he found this face was a mustache and looked older. Still, the facial contours were modeled after Sherlock Holmes.

"Mycroft ... He is my partner John H. Watson; you can call him 'Watson'. '"

"Heh, I really hate your partner's quick act but not think." Mycroft Holmes grumbled at Sherlock, sat with a sullen face. His eyes narrowed, looking at Watson impatiently. His neck, which was strapped by his own scarf, was still burning. The shoulder that was pulled at first still felt a throbbing pain. Without a doubt, if he opens the shirt, he'll probably see a hand-shaped bruise. His neck was completely red.

"Before this you said you met someone like me at the bank. At that time, Mr. Griswald arrived, so I haven't told you yet." Sherlock Holmes told his partner the story of his brother with a smile.

"Mycroft works in government service. He is good at accounting and numbers. And also, better inference skills than I am. But my brother doesn't like things that are chaotic or troublesome like going out to investigate a case ..."

"And a noisy place with a lot of people," Mycroft hurries added with a bored expression. Eyes look at Watson. And another man, who does not seem to understand English, but is dragged by Watson, is forced to sit in the chat area.

Sherlock shrugged at Mycroft's words in agreement, then continued.

"Oh, and there is also a No Talking Association locate between his home and his office. My brother is one of the founders. The main rule of the association is to prohibit any interaction. Strange, isn't it?"

"I don't think it's strange," said Mycroft. Long, slender fingers tap rhythmically on the chin.

"Think so, okay?" Sherlock laughed a little, as strange people said they weren't strange.

"It's admirable because this association is more popular than you think. And although Mycroft rarely meets with anyone, his abilities are evident. So often, people come to ask for help. If the story beginning to have to step out of the house to check. Mycroft will bring the case to me. For example, this time sending the case of missing people ... well ... um."

Sherlock paused and poked his partner in a whisper, calling when he saw that his brother was in a bad mood.

"Watson."

Watson thought for a moment and realized Holmes wanted him to apologize to Mycroft.

"... I'm sorry for being violent," he apologized quietly and continued to question. "But what were you trying to do with Holmes just now?"

Watson referred to when he came in, he saw Mycroft open Sherlock Holmes shirt and press his palms on Holmes's chest.

"Do you have to explain?" Mycroft looked at Sherlock because he didn't want to explain. But his little brother nodded,

"Hmph. You look at your partner's movements. Don't you even know that Sherlock is injured?" Mycroft turned and spoke annoyingly with Watson. "Being crowded that much, you have to check if the ribs are still in good shape."

"Holmes, let me examine your condition. If receiving impact on the chest, it could affect the bones, lungs, or heart. If left, it would be hazardous," Watson said to Sherlock Holmes immediately returned the conversation about his injury.

"I'm fine. Just bruised Mycroft checked. The ribs are not broken. I don't feel any pain when I breathe. It's gone for a few days," said Sherlock Holmes.

"Let me check it one more time," Watson insisted in a stiff voice. "If it is very serious, you need to go to the hospital."

"Okay, okay, I understand." Sherlock Holmes nodded. Then lift the shirt again. "If it will make you more at ease."

Watson saw a bruise that began to turn purple from the abdomen to the chest. He tried to press carefully, shifting his weight. There was nothing wrong with the 12 ribs. Still, he urged his partner to go to the hospital in earnest again.

At that moment, Mycroft, who was watching quietly, spoke.

"Sherlock, this guy ... Watson. Not human, right? " Mycroft's question made Sherlock Holmes and Watson paused, turned and stared at those sharp black eyes. Except for Behrouz, who didn't understand what the three were saying.

"Well ... Mycroft, it is, kind of complicated ..."

Sherlock didn't know how to explain. He did not want to lie to his brother, knowing that he would be caught immediately. But if possible, he doesn't want to tell about the Watson doll project, the top-secret of the Free Man Hand organization.

"If about 'Your association' doesn't have to be told. I'm lazy to keep a secret." Mycroft saw his brother's distressed expression and waved his hand. He had an association that went a long way and knew that his younger brother had it, which he didn't want to be too intrusive, to mess with himself.

"Why are you asking like that?" Said Watson. He chose to use the word 'ask', not 'know', because it will be accepted. But Watson had no idea how Mycroft knew he was not human.

"I have noticed since the moment you collected the coins. I think you're someone who 'can't read'. I can't see how old you are, what career or where you come from, err sigh ... I'm too lazy to talk long. Let's say you don't blink. There is no human like you."

Watson recalled the bank robbery incident. It wasn't just him who kept an eye on Mycroft's behavior, but Mycroft kept an eye on his behavior as well and can do better. Mycroft came to the conclusion that he was not human since then but pretend like he knows nothing. How many ordinary humans will have seen the thing that 'Not a human' can generally go on with life without feeling anything.

"When you know that, don't you feel anything?" Watson continues, "Humans are always afraid of things they don't know. Or don't you have any idea to announce my story?"

Mycroft frowned, acting as if he had just swallowed a pill, bitter at Watson's strange question.

"So what are you going to make me feel? Already knew that you weren't human. It may only be another species. Even if I bring your story to the newspaper, what will I get? It's a hassle. Hey, Sherlock, are you with him and being asked this kind of psychological question every day?"

At the end of the sentence, Mycroft turned to the younger brother. He asked, telling the answer on his face and in a voice that if he encountered this in less than half a day, he would definitely blow himself up.

"Hahaha, I kinda like it," said Sherlock and turned to Watson. "See, Watson, as I said. Mycroft is extraordinary."

And turn his eyes on foreign man, which was ordered by Watson to sit all the time quietly.

"Next one, should I ask about your missing. Or the story of this man first."