No Call for Alarm

"Doctor," Mycroft Holmes said, engulfing my hand in his own. "You have not heard from Sherlock." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, from Wiggins," I said. "He thanks you for the book, but he's had no more word of your brother than I."

"Sherlock is keeping his head low. The only news I've had is a laggardly bill for the tuition of a dozen boys at a small school in Yorkshire." Mycroft waved me to a chair and offered me snuff, which I refused. "Do not worry overmuch, doctor. Bad tidings I would have received entirely too quickly."

No Call for Alarm

"Doctor," Mycroft Holmes said, engulfing my hand in his own. "You have not heard from Sherlock." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, from Wiggins," I said. "He thanks you for the book, but he's had no more word of your brother than I."

"Sherlock is keeping his head low. The only news I've had is a laggardly bill for the tuition of a dozen boys at a small school in Yorkshire." Mycroft waved me to a chair and offered me snuff, which I refused. "Do not worry overmuch, doctor. Bad tidings I would have received entirely too quickly."