In the tempo of a waltz, in the rhythm of a scherzo, it seems that the heart is beating. The streets of London are gradually falling under the power of thick snow, hiding the sunlight behind it, which gradually gave way to glimpses of moonlight.

It was getting quieter, the gloom was replaced from time to time only by the hum of cars and the echo of silence. For Mycroft, this had been commonplace for a long time. But the peace was replaced by melancholy, and gradually made itself known somewhere distantly, each time pressing harder. However, now everything was different. Completely different.

Time flew by while doing business. But more importantly, the main distraction was missing. The man's gaze involuntarily darted to the clock. Probably, the one he was waiting for was late at his work. In general, not surprising for the inspector.

A quiet sigh escapes his lips. Minutes pass one after another. The snow outside the car window slowly moves along its own course, until the road to a familiar place is barely noticeable.

"Finish your work. I'll wait for you at the exit."

Mycroft almost forgot when he could take care of a completely different person than his brother. But now it was a part of his life, so he got used to it. And so he patiently waited for an answer.