Love is a Much More Vicious Motivator (Teenlock AU)

Chapter 16

Me again,

This is unforgivably late, because in several hard fought battles between writing and sleep, sleep won. I apologise, there's no excuse for tardiness, as we all know, but I needed sleep. I still do. But less so.

This chapter will be largely rugby based. We had to have Sherlock's first match at some point! But if I get too technical, please accept my advance apology, and feel free to ask if you don't get it, but I'll try to keep the jargon to a minimum. My delightful beta reader is currently devising a guide to rugby, so I'll link you that when (if) it gets done. Oh, and I wouldn't skip the chapter, the next one will be a continuation on the same theme.

Right, I can hear you mentally yelling, shut up and get on with the story, so I will.

Please comment. No one has for a while, and I'm getting kind of lonely... But thanks to @FictionCentral, @bubbleybear2000, @janaenaemusician9843, and @MadSherlockianHatter for all the votes ;)

Lots of love,

~The Effect

***

"Rugby match!" John danced around the room enthusiastically, Sherlock opting to remain propped on one elbow in bed.

"Yes, John, it is." Sherlock sounded deliberately sarcastic, but a part of his heart soared to see John so elated. This was why he'd taken up rugby, after all.

"Aren't you excited?" John asked, voice horrified that Sherlock wasn't as hyped as he was.

"Of course I'm excited, John, but I'm not going to express that emotion through the medium of dance, as you seem to be doing."

John laughed, swept a deep bow, then pirouetted into the bathroom for a shower. Sherlock felt a broad grin growing uncontrollably on his face, and was suddenly very surprised that he couldn't remember the last time he had smiled in the same way.

He rolled gracefully out of bed. Sherlock was normally awake before John, but the last night had been restful and peaceful, and Sherlock had only been woken by John placing tiny kisses on his neck at around nine.

As Sherlock collected his kit from where it was strewn around the room, there came a knock at the door. Sighing, Sherlock suspiciously pulled it open the barest of inches, expecting someone for John, but instead revealing a lean figure, taller than even Sherlock, immaculately turned out, as always. Sherlock breathed a world-weary sigh and rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" he demanded.

"Simply to wish you good luck, brother dear." Mycroft smiled a slightly uncomfortable smile, as though it didn't quite fit on his face. He clearly hadn't chosen to be there, so... that was when Sherlock became aware of another man stood slightly behind his brother. Lestrade, of course. Mycroft, seeing Sherlock had noticed, leaned a little closer, and lowered his voice. "He asked me to. Said it was the 'done thing'."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie with his brother, thanks to their combined ignorance of social convention. It sounded awfully like Mycroft was taking instructions from someone - someone who clearly meant a great deal to him, to get him to go around wishing people luck. He wouldn't do something so menial as wish Sherlock good look on the whim of a friend. Mind suddenly waking up and taking in the wider picture, Sherlock could see just how much Mycroft did care about Lestrade. Sherlock's smile grew, and he gave Mycroft a knowing look. John had clearly got to him - since when had he been so happy for his brother?

"Okay. Thank you, Mycroft, you may leave. Have fun with Lestrade." Mycroft blushed slightly, narrowing his eyes.

"I assume I should wish you and John the same thing." Sherlock felt the heat rise in his cheeks, and knew he wore an identical blush to his brother. They stood like that, almost identical height, challenge unspoken, brother matching brother in every way, suspended in time until Mycroft nodded curtly. "I'll be going, then. All the best, brother mine."