The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 37: Love that Didn't Last

The man appeared at the door of the Diogenes about a week after the story called "The Greek Interpreter" was published, or so I'd been told. He asked for Mycroft Holmes; asked if she was still a member, or if they had her address if she had left long ago.

How he'd remembered the location of the Diogenes was beyond me, and probably always will be. I'd never understood him really, and I still didn't. And I didn't pretend to; no, Chris Rogers was always sort of an enigma to me anyway.

But Chris Rogers was there at the Diogenes Club, on a day when I was sitting in the sanctorium, completely unaware that he would appear once more in my life that day. He was ushered into the Stranger's Room by a bellman, who then walked up to my chair in the sanctorium and whispered softly to me that there was someone in the Stranger's Room who wanted to see me, but refused to give his name at the door.

I didn't know who it could be, and the bellman told me in that soft voice that I could easily refuse the man and force him to leave. But I did not. I stood from my chair, brushed off my suit pants, and walked with the bellman up to the door of the Stranger's Room. He opened the door, and allowed me to look in at the man.

"Do you know him?" he asked me.

"I do," I responded when I saw the familiar outline of Chris, sitting in a chair that I often sat in myself. I closed my eyes for a second, and thought back to a time when I would have walked up behind him and grabbed his shoulders playfully, and he would have turned around quickly and pulled my face to his over the chair and kissed me.

The corners of my lips turned up in a way that the bellman had never seen before from his Senior. He looked at me as if to ask me if I was alright, and I realized how odd this must have seemed to him. I laughed silently, and told the bellman to leave.

But then, I also thought back to the day when he had appeared to me in the door of 221B with Sherlock, and I had realized that it was just as easy to love as it was to be heartbroken. The burning feeling in my chest had given way to another one which I was much more familiar with.

Ice.

And I regained my senses and walked into the room, closing the door behind me and leaving me alone in the room with Chris.

Chris looked up when he heard the door close and the pattern of my shoes landing on the floor, walking toward him. He smiled at me, and stood. I continued walking, not returning this smile except for one furtive glance paired with the right corner of my mouth extending higher up than I would have liked.

"Mycroft," Chris said, and I knew he hadn't seen me smile at him. I was generally glad, but in a part of my mind I had yet to reconcile with, I kind of wanted him to have seen it.

"Chris Rogers," I responded, sitting across from him and not returning the handshake he extended out to me while he stood. He sat back down, anxiously. He held out a roll of papers to me.

"The Greek Interpreter..."

"What about it?" I coldly returned without any expression. I was doing well so far; better than I thought I would do.

"You are exactly the same, Mycroft..."
I felt uncomfortable with the way he was staring at me. Was I really still in love with this man? Ugh.

I felt my face get hot, and I was blushing. Don't you dare lose it! I ordered myself. My restraint was nearly legendary in Government circles; how could it be failing now, when I actually needed it.

"Why are you staring at me, Chris?" I asked my old friend. Now, he knew what I was thinking. I awaited the deduction with sweaty palms and a look of devastation on my face.