You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Empty Hearse: Chapter 2

"Yes. You two got yourself in deep there..." Mycroft raised the file slightly as he glanced briefly down at it. "... with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme." You watched them talk, in silence, taking interest in an article next to Sherlock on the barber's small supply trolley. You studied it, seeing some skeleton case had made the front page. You couldn't help but wonder if Lestrade was helping lead it.

"Colossal." Sherlock agreed, his eyes vacantly scanning the ceiling. Mycroft sighed, folding the file shut and tossing it aside as he looked ahead.

"Anyway, you're both safe now." His words sounded rehearsed and his body language mirrored his speech. Mycroft was always proper, his face deadpan. He didn't seem to care that either of you were safe, in fact you were nearly positive he could've supplied you and Sherlock with help a long time ago and never stepped in. Thanks to him you had to live with the guilt of not being quick enough. You scoffed at his meaningless words as you turned to Sherlock.

"Hmm." Sherlock hummed lowly in response. He was obviously mad at his brother too, and for all the right reasons. Mycroft paused, looking off at nothing in particular as he held his classic prissy smile.

"A small 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss." He said after a moment of silence. You looked over to him, your eyebrows furrowed in true confusion. The audacity this man had to even think he had done you the smallest favor.

"What for?" Sherlock spoke in a low voice. You were interested in what Mycroft thought the two of you had to thank him for. Thank him for watching Sherlock almost get killed? Sure there was one.

"For wading in. In case you'd forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu." You pushed out of your seat at that having to really bite your tongue to hold back the words you wanted so badly to vent. When you realized your hands were aching from being so tightly held in fists, you released them flexing your hands slowly. Sherlock sat up at that, holding up a hand to tell the barber to give him a moment. He grunted in obvious pain as he sat up, his face stitched in discomfort. Upon seeing his brother's snide look his pain quickly transferred to anger.

"'Wading in'? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp." Sherlock's eyes darkened as he lowered his head angrily at his brother.

"I got you out." His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he looked calmly at his younger brother. You outwardly groaned at that, eyeing a specific glass paperweight that you envisioned smashing on the floor into a million pieces. You paced up to Mycroft's desk, placing both hands shoulder width apart as you leaned down to look him in the eyes.

"No, Mycroft. You didn't get Sherlock out and don't act as if you did. You sat there not intervening for god knows how long until I showed up." You thought for a moment before you added: "You should stick to office work." Mycroft scanned you, his snotty look not dropping. And people said Sherlock was the annoying brother.

"Well, I couldn't risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything." Mycroft explained, sitting comfortably in his chair. How could he just sit back and live with watching his own flesh and blood get tortured for hours?

"You were enjoying it." Sherlock's voice dropped an octave lower as he gave his brother the definition of a death glare.

"Nonsense." Mycroft denied the statement as he shook his head in the slightest. You scoffed at him, your mouth dropping open. He continued to shock you everyday.

"You were definitely enjoying it." You shook your head as you looked at him in disbelief.

"Listen, do you have any idea what it was like, going 'under cover,' smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The noise, the people." Mycroft leaned forward, clasping his hands together as he looked from you to Sherlock being genuinely serious. You couldn't believe he was actually being serious.