Your Brother is Dead

Part 1 - Departure

     He arrived late, just as Mycroft suspected he would. It would not have been worrisome in any other circumstance, but given the current state of affairs...
     He heard the door click, and the low trill of his brother's voice exchanging expected, non-descript formalities with the maid.
    "I see you made it alright." Called Mycroft.
   "Quite so. I was delayed by taking-"     "The backroad behind Templeton street." Mycroft finished. It was the only still muddy dirt road  that would account for the stains on the rim of Sherlock's pants. His steps and breathing were a bit uneven, and it was clear he had run sporadically the whole way there. He collapsed into a chair across from his brother, lighting a cigarette, and letting out a deep sigh.
     "You didn't run into any trouble on the way over?"
     "Fortunately not." Sherlock replied. He stared intently past his fore and middle fingers on his temple. "I will need to send my bag off soon if it is to get to the station in time."
     Mycroft nodded and let his eyes fall shut.
     "I trust you imformed your friend Watson of the matter." He said.
     "Everything I could safely tell him." Sherlock murmured. "He insisted on taking notes on the matter." A slight smile danced on his lips for a split second when he thought about it. But he didn't seem to notice, and Mycroft didn't see it, so it was as if it never happened at all.
     Another silence fell over them. Mycroft shifted heavily in his armchair, Sherlock restlessly in his.
     "Is there anything else you're concerned about?" Mycroft pried, lifting an eyelid slightly to look at him. "You're extremely preoccupied, even given the circumstances. You set this up meticulously. Besides, you've been in danger of the sort before."
    Sherlock either didn't hear him or decided not to answer him. He took one last, long inhale of his cigarette and crushed it into the ashtrey.
     Mycroft decided not to press the issue further and closed his eyes again.
     "In all likelihood, in a few more days this whole business will be done and over with."
     "Indeed." Said Sherlock. His voice was low and somber.
     He stood up and moved to leave the room. "You will have your servants send my bag to the station?"
     "Of course."
That was the last they spoke before Sherlock and Watson left the next morning.

Note: I'm trying to keep this as in-character as possible, so feedback is appriciated. The next part should be done in a few days.