sherlock sat in a coffee shop, sipping at his coffee (black, two sugars) as he furiously scribbled down a message on a napkin. he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye, let alone thank her. he looked out of the window to see a black car pull up beside the curb. he quickly finished writing before stepping into the car. he asked his brother to make sure the letter arrived safely into the hands of the recipient. mycroft did not say anything in return, a smirk simply gracing his lips.

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