Not A Thing You Get To Choose

The Spectre At The Feast

When Mycroft called Sherlock to dinner there was a large platter waiting for him on the table, with slices of bread with ground beef on top, some arranged in sandwiches and others simply open faced. It wasn't gourmet of course, however Mycroft was going on about how good of a source of iron it was, and so Sherlock obviously couldn't complain. Mycroft seated himself at his place at the table while Sherlock sat on the other side, nervously looking at the food for he knew it was going to be used as an excuse to capture Sherlock's attention into whatever meager conversation Mycroft was going to try to have. They ate in silence for a little while; however it was when Sherlock was moving onto his third sandwich that Mycroft finally began to talk.
"Do you know if Mr. Watson's party will be something of a dance?" Mycroft wondered finally, a fair enough question of course.
"Yes I'm sure it will be, we'll have to wear our nicest clothes and be on our best behavior." Sherlock insisted, to which Mycroft nodded obviously.
"Well yes of course, these are dignified people. I still haven't the faintest idea how you got tangled up with such elegant folks." Mycroft murmured, glancing nervously up to his brother before pretending to be focused on his food.
"We both know of course that I am far too beautiful to meddle with those in my social class." Sherlock defended proudly, to which Mycroft only rolled his eyes.
"Oh I should've seen it coming long before." he murmured, almost as if to himself, however it was enough to spark Sherlock's interest.
"Should've seen what?" Sherlock wondered carefully, knowing obviously where Mycroft was intending on bringing this conversation.
"Well you of course, you and your interesting choice of...lovers." Mycroft spat, as if that word stung his lips like poison as it passed. Sherlock cleared his throat proudly, sitting up just a little bit taller as if to remind Mycroft just how dominant he was growing to be.
"You say that as if my love is somehow invalid." Sherlock commented. Mycroft sighed heavily, abandoning his dinner so as to sit forward and lean his chin on his fingertips, studying Sherlock from across the table with the look any concerned mother might wear.
"It's valid of course, and yet how am I to be sure that it's genuine? Who knows that that boy might be plotting?" Mycroft insisted.
"And do you not think he has the same qualms as well? I may not be well educated, Mycroft, but I too know that it's a bit convenient for a poor man to suddenly fall mutually in love with a rich one. He may think my love isn't for him but for his money, and I assure you of course that is not the case. He may be doubted my love just you doubt his, and yet rest assured that our hearts have very much fused into one, despite the money, despite the law." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft nodded, his face looking quite somber as he looked away from his brother for the slightest moment.
"And so you did then, you allowed him to..." Mycroft cut his own sentence off, as if too afraid to utter such words, ones that he knew to be true.
"Yes." Sherlock agreed, knowing quite well what Mycroft was going to say. His brother nodded gravely, however he knew now that there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"You were not at a party then, that night?" Mycroft clarified.
"No, we were very much alone." Sherlock assured, surprised in himself for being able to admit these things to proudly. He was almost giving off the impression that he was prepared and ready to have this conversation. Mycroft almost seemed to be the awkward one, even while talking about Sherlock's love life and not his own.
"It seems, Sherlock, as though you are attracted to everything that might allow a noose to be tied around your neck. Born with magic, loving men, what are you going to do next, kill someone? My only job is to protect you Sherlock, and yet you make that much too difficult of a task." Mycroft muttered in an exhausted sort of way, as if he was just growing tired of chasing Sherlock around and trying to prevent him from being arrested.
"I am not in control of who my heart loves, surely you must know that? Born with magic, and born with love, it does not matter to which gender my love goes! It is a soul that attracts me, not a body." Sherlock scorned.
"And yet why could you not find a soul that pleased you in the body of someone who was not so incriminating?" Mycroft wondered with a sigh.
"Because I fell in love with him! Because he was the one who I am meant to be with, forever!" Sherlock defended quickly.
"Forever is quite a long time Sherlock." Mycroft warned.
"Exactly why I would like to spend it with him." Sherlock agreed with a sigh, to which Mycroft only frowned. Surely he understood that there was nothing he could do to stop this, whatever it was, however he seemed perfectly willing to try.
"I shall never understand any part of you, Sherlock. There was a time when I thought your heart was just as simple as mine, and yet now it would seem that my assumptions have come back to tease me about my inaccuracies." Mycroft sighed.
"Surely you have fallen in love, at least once?" Sherlock wondered in an almost sorrowful voice, for love was the most wonderful feeling on earth and for someone to not experience it, well it was just sad. Poor Mycroft, so bitter and so resentful of a feeling he could never understand. How would he ever realize how much John meant to Sherlock if he had never loved someone else, if he had nothing to compare it to?
"Sherlock I do assure you, my heart works only for pumping my blood." Mycroft murmured, and with that he got to his feet and took his empty plate with him, beginning to wash the dishes silently while Sherlock sat back and finished whatever he could of the food that was still spread before him, knowing of course that Mycroft's heart did care for at least one person. Surely Mycroft wouldn't be nearly as good of a big brother if he had no care at all for any other human being? He loved Sherlock, in his own funny way, and of course he was just looking out for what was best for him. What a curious man he was, so deprived of emotions yet so powerfully emotional when it came to his baby brother. Maybe it was the impact of raising him that had altered his personality, or maybe it was the pure fact of responsibility. Maybe he had successfully guilt tripped himself into loving Sherlock, because he could not think of a logical reason not to? And yet he claimed that his heart was simple, in all actuality it was the most confusing enigma Sherlock had ever been faced with. He had been able to crack his own heart rather simply; in fact its code presented itself to him that fateful day in the market, when he was first approached by John Watson. He had his solution come to him, while Mycroft was probably the one holding his own key. Maybe he was too afraid to open his heart up to others; maybe he was so afraid of heartbreak that he dare not test the waters. And yet there was only one way to know that the water was warm, that love could be legitimate and it could last, and that way of course was to jump right in.