COPYRIGHT NOTICE - we do not own the characters of this story, they belong to the wonderful author of Sherlock and the creators of the BBC show. But we do own the story line.. So without further ado, enjoy!
........................................................
Mycroft huffed as he walked up the dark staircase. He'd been forced to take a day off by his forceful mother and spend it with his brother. He got to the top of the stairs and entered feeling the eerie silence. Looking around he couldn't spot his brother. He stood in the doorway trying to figure out where he could be.
Suddenly, feeling a gust of wind enter the flat and hearing a soft tip tapping noise from outside his door, Sherlock sat up in bed cautiously. He could sense someone else's presence, waking him from his peaceful slumber. To investigate, he slowly sprang out of bed, wrapped his white, cotton bed sheet around his body and carefully tapped to his bedroom door, peeking to see who the intruder was. He saw a taut figure dressed in a suit, shuffling around in the flat and complaining at the sight of it. Mycroft.
Mycroft moved stuff with his umbrella and wrinkled his nose at the smell. Would it really kill him to tidy? He asked himself. But before he could continue Sherlock's voice interrupted him.
'Mycroft what are you doing?' Sherlock asked sleepily from the doorway.
Mycroft's eyes looked at him in disbelief
'Sherlock, for goodness sake put something on. I'm waiting for you'
He groan shaking his head at Sherlock. Then looking back at the living room he sighed.
It looked like a pig sty it was disgusting! He thought in pure disgust.
Sherlock's mind ran: My brother was looking at me like I was a dirty animal released into the wild. And he actually asked me to put something on, he barged into my house, insulted me then asked me it out clothes on. Why?
He peered at him closely, trying to deduce why he was here. Sherlock saw layers upon layers of finery, obviously dressed to go somewhere but his umbrella, he had a casual umbrella not a posh one like the one he usually donned. Questions upon questions.
So, he crept up to Mycroft and asked, 'why, why are you here and why should I change' he said flailing his arms in emphasis
Mycroft shook his head disapprovingly
'Would it kill you to clean in here?'
Mycroft asked distastefully moving into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. After inspecting his unspeakably disgusting cups, Mycroft decided not to make one after all.
'I'm going to get some coffee, get dressed while I leave'
He told him, heading to the door to go to the cafe below the flat.
After Mycroft had left, Sherlock thought for a moment. Yes it probably would kill him to clean in here, there were so much dangerous things in there that even he, himself didn't even know of, perhaps Mrs Hudson did.
While waiting for his prudish brother, Sherlock sank into an armchair- John's armchair- John had gone with Rosie for the week. The armchair was so soft, but red and frayed like John's heart, he had suffered so much after Mary.
It was my fault, I made a vow, I should've saved her, I could've, if I just moved!
All these thoughts flooded Sherlock's head like a train in an abandoned station, slamming into his brain. He couldn't control it. The pain was unbearable.
After settling for a latte Mycroft left the cafe. It was weird walking up the stairs not knowing what today would hold and even weirder getting to the top of the stairs and seeing his brother still not dressed but sitting in John's chair...was he stroking it? Mycroft frowned not making a noise.
Mycroft thought his brother looked so lost... Just like when red beard was- he shook the thought away roughly.
"Sherlock? What's going on" Mycroft asked concerned but not even making a big deal of making his way over to him.
Something harshly broke Sherlock's impounding thoughts. He had felt a hoarse shout, rocking his thoughts away. Sherlock snapped my head up to see the face of his brother looming above him.
Was that concern in his eyes? He thought, confused.
Sherlock shook the thought away and dragged his mind away from contemplation.
'what - oh sorry, I was just thinking about why you decided to come today' he forced a grin and levelled his voice to sound calm and collected, it was so calm even he believed it.
Mycroft frowned at his sudden change in facial expression and almost freaked when his brother sounded so calm.
"There's something wrong. Sherlock, please"
Mycroft said, cringing at the sentiment? No softness in his own voice. It sounded foreign but he let it roll off his tongue as he surveyed him.
Sherlock had gotten thinner, a lot thinner his eyes had lost any shine that they had before and he held himself differently.
It almost looked as if Sherlock was impersonating himself. Mycroft thought that this wasn't his brother though of course it was.
Sherlock felt he had to regain his cool façade, he couldn't break in front of his brother, that would ruin everything. So instead he laughed, a small chuckle, making it seem light and airy, to rid the air of tension. It didn't work but it was a start he thought.
To continue his cool composure he added,
'I'm absolutely fine Mycroft, now can you tell me what you are doing here. Aren't you supposed to be kissing babies or something, whatever the government does'
Sherlock asked lightly, with a small wave of his hand. If implied a gesture, to let the matter drop for now. While inside he was quite shocked to hear the fear and worry in Mycroft's voice, typical of him, but some part of it warmed his heart, in surprise to his own body.
Mycroft glared at his comment but let it slide. Instead he sat across from him sipping his coffee and looking at Sherlock
"Well there's something wrong and I'm not telling you why I'm here until you tell me brother dear"
He told him in a tone of sweetness with a tinge of forcefulness. He knew that it was going to be hard to get anything out of Sherlock but he knew whatever was eating him inside had to be important and even Mycroft had to admit that he didn't want him to spiral into depression like he'd seen him do so many times before and could now tell the signs from a mile off. It was happening again.
Sherlock sighed, knowing the look on Mycroft's face he had to tell him sooner or later, knowing Mycroft he'd stay in that spot till Christmas.
And then revealed the truth to him, reluctantly.
'Mary' Sherlock said, in such a breathy voice, one that he didn't even know he had inside him. There it was, the truth. It had snaked into the heavy air resting on now both their heads.
Mycroft sighed slightly looking at his face watching the façade break into pieces revealing finally his brother, and seeing the vulnerable side Mycroft had only seen once before.
It was rare seeing this and in the moment he knew something had to be done. Something never done before and something to shock Sherlock to make him forget it even just for a second.
Mycroft leaned forward gingerly and hugged him. It was odd but he had felt love? Mycroft rubbed his back slightly
'There was nothing you could do. She wanted it to be this way'
He said soothing Sherlock.
// Sherlock's POV
Sherlock halted, he had revealed himself, something he hadn't done in a long, long time, he had let himself fade in the eyes of the one who seemed to understand him.
Suddenly, Sherlock saw Mycroft leaning towards him. Was he going to hit me? Was this revelation too much for him? Sherlock thought maddeningly.
But then Mycroft did the unexpected, he wrapped his arms around him and whispered soothing words into his ears. He froze within his embrace, unsure of whether to accept it or not. However, Sherlock figured there wasn't much more to reveal anyway, so he let all hell break loose and slowly hugged him back, letting emotion drown him. Sherlock admitted to himself that, It felt nice, however it had also felt unreal as Mycroft poured lies into him, he had killed Mary, no matter what anyone said, he was adamant about it. But Sherlock didn't let go, for fear of losing everyone.
// Back to 3rd POV
'Your never going to lose me. No matter who you kill or injure or whatever mistakes you've made Sherlock, it doesn't matter it never did not to me'
Mycroft whispered, trying to reassure him by rubbing his back the way he did as children, whenever Sherlock had felt lost or unwell. Mycroft felt that It was odd hugging him but he knew that somehow it was helping them both.
They sat there, simply hugging for what seemed like endless hours of peace? Yes Sherlock felt peace, and it was wonderful. Then Mycroft gave him the words that changed it all, the words that actually warmed his hardened heart. As Mycroft said the glorious words, Sherlock looked up at him with awe and admiration, he hoped that showed his gratitude to him. He was forever grateful. Pulling away Sherlock sniffed the tears forming away and asked,
'Do you want to play cluedo?'
a sign of peace and thanks
Mycroft laughed slightly. He pulled out a cloth and wiped Sherlock's eyes with it still thinking of him as his baby brother.
'Cluedo? Why not'
He sat back handing him the cloth and drinking his coffee deeply. Mycroft never knew the feelings he had when he had hugged him but he had never felt them before and for the first time he actually wanted to do it again.
He still thought of him as his baby brother the one he had to protect.
Sherlock smiled genuinely at his brother, but looking slightly perturbed at Mycroft's latest action. Nodding he went to retrieve the board, he smirked that Mycroft actually agreed to cluedo. He bent down near the fireplace to get the board when something shocking happened.
As he bent down, his glorious sheet slowly slid down his back to reveal something to Mycroft that was never supposed to be shown. Never. Sherlock unfortunately, didn't notice what he had revealed and pulled the sheet up around his body as he walked to place down the board in the oak coffee table opposite his brother.
Mycroft shrieked a noise he didn't even know he could make and stood up and made an exit for the room. Unfortunately, he slid on the mess that Sherlock called a floor and fell face first. Mycroft didn't want to get up and he couldn't anyway. He was traumatised. He had seen something no man should ever see of their sibling. His eyes burnt as he screamed dramatically.
//What Sherlock saw
I nodded at Mycroft but also smirked at his complete acceptance of playing cluedo, he didn't know what was coming. I went to the fireplace, where I had hid the board away from anyone who might harm it, I bent down and closed my hands around the box, picking my sheet up as I walked back to Mycroft.
And then I saw him.
I turned around, mildly fascinated and intrigued but mostly shaking with a laughter at what I saw. I saw Mycroft inhumanely rolling in my papers head to toe on my floor, he looked like a round turtle who had landed on its shell and was trying to get up. Fatcroft. But then he was shielding his eyes, trying to grasp them out of their sockets it seemed, and then I realised what had happened. That unnatural tug I felt from my sheet as i bent down. I burst out laughing, my cackles filling out the room
'why brother, is something bothering you you look like you've seen a ghost'
I asked him, appearing confused, but shaking with laughter inside.
//What Mycroft felt
I continued to scream. I couldn't help it. There was a line when it came to relationships between brothers and this was it. Sherlock crossed the line and now I'll need something stronger than alcohol to get rid of the most horrible sight I had ever seen.
'Sherlock get dressed now!'
I shouted at him staying on the floor and putting my hands over my eyes
//Back to 3rd (let me know which you like better)
The cackles seemed to have awoken Mycroft from his state. As quickly as he could Mycroft ran to the bathroom locking himself in and refusing to answer Sherlock's question. He couldn't wrap his head around what he had saw only that he hoped to God that he'd forget about it and that they would never have to discuss it again.
He leaned against the door listening for Sherlock as if he knew he'd come after him.
After Sherlock had regained himself he trotted to the door and tapped on it.
'Are you ok in there?'
He called out to him, his voice still slightly laced with amusement.
'I'm not coming out unless you put something on you dirty scoundrel'
Mycroft called back at him. He could not believe Sherlock's cheek.
Mycroft thought: He found this funny? I want to bleach my eyes and hope I go blind in order to never suffer through that horrific sight again. I shudder just thinking about it.
Struggling to keep his calm after Mycroft had uttered 'dirty scoundrel' Sherlock vowed silently to annoy him further, this was too good a chance to pass. So again he shouted back to him and said,
'I have got something on and it's covering my WHOLE body'
emphasising on the 'whole' deeply. While in actual fact he had been still wearing the sheet, which he reluctantly ( and finally) secured into place, since he had felt slightly cold.
'Sherlock I'm warning you. The sheet doesn't count as clothes and if you don't put something on right now I will phone our mother.'
Mycroft called threateningly. He picked his phone out of his pocket and raised it slightly waiting on Sherlock's reply.
Calling their mother was a dangerous game and they both knew it.
Sherlock snickered further, if he wanted him to put something on other than the sheet he would.
'Fine I put something on, other than the sheet'.
Sherlock grabbed that darned deerstalker and placed it on his head, at least the infernal thing had one good use.
Mycroft opened the door and peered out. He saw that Sherlock was still wearing the sheet along with a deer stalker hat.
He slammed the door and locked it again.
'That's it!'
Mycroft pressed dial and put his phone on speaker so that Sherlock could hear that he was serious.
Sherlock huffed, thinking that Mycroft really was no fun.
'Alright alright, I will wear clothes'
He said and then added as a final triumph
'BUT NOT FOR YOUR BENEFIT'
And just so Mycroft could hear him, he stomped across the hall to his bedroom, looked into the closet and threw out a white shirt and trousers, which looked fairly reasonable. Sighing, he discarded his beloved sheet and placed it ever so carefully on the bed. Then reluctantly he pulled on clothes and went to lounge on the couch, waiting.
Mycroft really was a two-faced suck up.
Unknown to Sherlock however, Mycroft ended the call he made before his friend could answer.
Friend would not be the word perhaps ally is better, Mycroft thought evilly.
He ended the call snickering slightly because Sherlock had fallen for it and slowly went through to the living-room. Not quite trusting him, Mycroft made sure that Sherlock was at least wearing trousers.
'That wasn't so hard was it' he asked, grinning at Sherlock's anger
Sherlock rolled his eyes at him, still wanting to know the reason of his arrival
'Oh shut up, now tell me why are you here?'
He snarled, needing some answers.
Mycroft sighed at him.
'Mother sent me. She called my employer and made me take the day off and spend it with you. She made very violent threats'
Mycroft shuddered thinking about how forceful and scary his mother could be.
Sherlock cackled and thought, mother's little spoon.
'Ah so this is mother's doing, I should've known. So what do you want to?'
He leaned forward into my chair, anticipating.
Mycroft glared at him, hating the fact that he was being forced into this.
' This will be the most boring day of my life, I can clearly tell'
He huffed before heading over to the fridge to check if there was anything actually edible in (in his opinion) horrific flat.
Sherlock simply chuckled, Mycroft found everything boring - probably even himself.
'There's some cake in the fridge'
He called out to him, gesturing the fridge and going to the window, to try and deduce everyone that walked down the street.
Fairly easy, these people were like open children books, Sherlock thought.
Mycroft opened the fridge and met with the foul smell of festering flesh. Sherlock had put a disintegrating head in the middle of the fridge
'This is disgusting. You can't keep food in here!'
He yelled at him slamming the fridge door shut.
Sherlock turned from the window, to see Mycroft rudely slamming his fridge door in disgust, he realised that he had in fact seen his head.
Fueling his disgust, Sherlock called out to him,
'Where else am I supposed the food, the milk would rot'.
He looked out of the window, his face etched with laughter.
'You have no hygiene whatsoever. No concept of cleaning at all! And to make it worse you have no intention of cleaning.'
Mycroft thundered at him horrified
'And I know where I'd stick the head Sherlock Holmes!'
Mycroft stepped to the stairs looking for Sherlock's reaction.
However, Sherlock simply rolled his eyes,
'In my closet?' he asked him blatantly.
Could he be that stupid, the head needed to be in a cold place and what harm could it do, it was already dead, Sherlock pondered.
Mycroft shook his head.
'I'm getting some cake. I'd rather not get food poisoning from your rotten food'
He shouted angrily making his way down the stairs, umbrella in hand. He couldn't believe how unsanitary Sherlock was, he expected the flat to be messy but this had been beyond all and the fridge? That was a infestation waiting to happen. He thought just as angrily as he had shouted.
// Sherlock's POV
And then he left, just like that. It had been 2 hours since I had woken up, and nothing interesting had happened, well except for the sheet incident of course. I'd have that picture of Mycroft scared to death saved for ever.
But now I felt bored, even the window game was beginning to get old. The same people walked after each other, one over the other. The only interesting person I found was one who had an affair with his dog. Bonkers, as John would say.
So instead, I flopped down onto the sofa waiting for my incessant brother. As I turned my head on the surprising comfortable sofa, I saw a wonderful sight, beckoning me.
It was just lying there, on the mantel place. Waiting for me, calling my name. So I surrendered and ran to the glossy black object and I began firing it at the wall, twisting my body in different positions, to get a delicious expert shot. It was exuberating, shot after shot, I felt my boredom slip away.
//Mycroft's POV
I walked as slowly as I could muster up the stairs dragging my feet successfully killing five more minutes. Cake in a white box in one hand and texting a women in the other. Multitasking at its finest.
Then the first shot made my phone drop to the floor. I hastily picked it up and sighed in relief when it was unharmed.
'what the f-' I ran in the flat and looked at my imbecile of a brother shooting the wall. I swore loudly ducking behind the couch with the cake box and tucking my phone away.
'Sherlock put that away now! What the hell are you doing' I practically screamed at him. It was then I wondered what fresh hell I had walked in on
//Sherlock's POV
I felt heavy clunking on the stairway, Mycroft. I simply ignored him as he stumbled in. He wasn't going to ruin my fun today. However I gave him an answer to stop his whining and leave me in peace.
'bored' I said, now performing a beautifully executed flying shot: jumping off the sofa into the air, then shooting midway from me to the next chair. Deliciously, the shot landed perfectly in the hastily drawn, yellow target
Wonderful.
// Mycroft's POV
I stand up and dust myself off. This was it. He was either high or he'd officially gone crazy. As I looked at him, I erased any emotion from my face and sat comfortably on the chair I had been hiding behind moments earlier.
'I brought cake' I mumbled pathetically, setting it near him while beginning to sort through the papers on the table subconsciously.
//Sherlock's POV
In the crossfire, Mycroft seemed to be setting out, of what looked like cake. However, I didn't care about cake! Food is just unnecessary baggage designed to weigh you down, besides I was too bored for food. And I wanted to make that absolutely clear.
And the only way to do that, was to alleviate my voice.
'BORED!!!' I bellowed across the room, while hitting the wall in rhythm to a melody that was forming in my head, I noted it down for later. Hopefully Mycroft got the message, because my bullets were running out, and if I didn't get something to do soon, things were going to get very nasty.
//Mycroft's POV
I smirked at his immaturity. If he thought shouting at me was the way to get what he wanted. Fine. To get him back for scarring me, one thought came to my head. The briefcase I had brought with me. I excused myself and went to the bathroom where I'd forgotten it in a state of panic. I went back into the living room looking at my younger brother. As I sat down I set the breifcase at my feet and looked at the cake.
'if you're bored I have an Idea'
I told him carefully. I began to unbuckle the case slowly teasing him slightly.
'Let's play a game. My game'
I smirked at him darkly a look that only a few who did not live to tell, had seen before.
// Sherlock's POV
At Mycroft's statement I paused my murdering, and turned to look at him, intrigued. Mycroft's face was a dark one, one that I hadn't seen since...
OHHH he did have a game, and it wasn't a cake eating contest. Grinning maniacally, I jumped off the sofa and sat opposite Mycroft, waiting for him to open that inviting briefcase, tonight was going to be fun.
.................................................................
A/N - And it's here the first Chapter!! I hope you all like it and if you do, please hit that vote button for chapter 2.
Also if you like the characters individual POV's let us know, or if it is bothering also let us know.
Thank you,
With love from Inayah and Remi (aka Sherly and Myc)