Mycroft gave his brother a thin smile as he approached. He had been waiting in the garden for Sherlock's arrival. He had something to tell his brother and he had to admit, at least to himself, that he was a bit nervous. "Hello, brother mine. Thank you for coming."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. His brother never said thank you. Neither of them did. He ran his eyes over Mycroft from head to toe, taking in everything he observed about him. "Something's wrong. What is it? Is it your heart?"

At that, Mycroft scoffed. "My heart is just fine, Sherlock, despite your dire predictions over the years." He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and tilted his head back to look at the sky. "And nothing is 'wrong'." He brought his head back down and gave his brother a long look. "I've made a decision that I've been struggling with for quite some time. Gregory knows, of course, but I wanted you to be the next to know as it affects you, at least obliquely."

Despite his brother's words, Sherlock was still worried, not that he was willing to let it show. "What is this momentous decision, then? Have you decided to launch world war three?"

"Really, Sherlock. Do be serious for a bit." Mycroft took a deep breath and then plunged forward. "I have decided to retire." He smiled at the look that immediately found its way onto Sherlock's face. "Ah, you didn't expect that. How unobservant of you."

The detective resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his brother. Despite their improved relationship, Mycroft still brought out the child in him. "You're not old, Mycroft. Why retire? Why now?"

Mycroft started walking down the garden path. "The time is right," he said with a shrug. "You've fallen off the high priority watch lists. Have been off them for several years now, thanks to the grounding effects of John." He glanced at his brother as they walked to see his reaction.

"That makes me want to do something reckless," Sherlock said with a grin.

"Please don't," the government official requested. "I've enjoyed not worrying about you these last few years."

"Boring." Sherlock thought about the implications of his brother retiring. "What about Eurus?"

Mycroft let out a long sigh. "I've been training my replacements. Amongst them is Anthea. She will be taking over responsibility for our sister. I have her assurance that our familial visits will continue to be allowed. In addition, she will contact me should any issues arise with Eurus. There is no one else I would trust with her wellbeing."

"Ah." Sherlock nodded. Mycroft's assistant had been very reliable over the years. He approved of the choice. "What will you do with all your free time? You aren't accustomed to having any. You'll get bored." He could just imagine Mycroft shooting the walls of his mansion. Sherlock laughed. "You'll drive Greg mad."

Mycroft sniffed indignantly. "I'm not you, baby brother. There are pursuits in which I have always had interests, but never the leisure. I'd like to resume the piano. I used to love to play when we were younger. Do you remember?"

From deep within his Mind Palace, Sherlock heard the sound of a violin with piano accompaniment. "We used to play together. Yes, I remember. You gave it up when you went to uni."

"Yes," Mycroft said with a sad sigh. "That's something I have often regretted. I have so many regrets." He stopped, facing Sherlock. "You know I never meant to make you unhappy."

"Mycroft, don't. We've made our peace with all of that. There's no need to dredge it up after all this time. Besides, I didn't make it easy on you." Sherlock shrugged. "It's all turned out for the best. I wouldn't have the life I have if it wasn't for you."

"Yes, well-" Mycroft cut off in surprise as he found himself being hugged by his baby brother. He stood there, stunned for a moment, before hugging him back. "Thank you."

Sherlock gave his brother's back a hearty pat, then he let him go. "That's twice in one day you've said that. It must be some kind of record." He reached into his pocket, looking for his cigarettes, suddenly feeling awkward and trying not to show it.

Mycroft felt just as awkward at the outward display of sentiment, but he found that he didn't really mind the discomfort. It was worth it to feel so close to his brother again. "Perhaps... we could play together again sometime, after I've practiced a bit."

Having found his cigarettes, Sherlock offered his brother one. "I think I'd like that." He lit a cigarette for himself. He'd actually like it quite a lot.