Mycroft's brows furrowed, as he heard a knock at his front door. The older Holmes placing down his glass of cognac and reluctantly getting to his feet before slowly making his way to the door. He wasn't used to having visitors and liked the thought of one even less. Though he had to admit that he did like the idea of sending away whatever goldfish had come calling, with a flea in their ear.
"Brother mi..............." Mycroft began. Not sure what to think as he opened to door to see his brother. The older Holmes not getting to say any more before Sherlock pushed his way into the home. A sheepish looking John, slowly following after the consulting detective. Mycroft shaking his head before closing the door and making his way back into his lounge room.
"Sherlock. To what to I..................."
"(Y/n) came to see me.............." Sherlock interrupted, as he turned to look at his brother. Mycroft raising a brow before retaking his seat.
Mycroft knew that he should have expected something like this. (Y/n) was never a fool. Never a goldfish, and that was why they had been together in the first place. She was unique and inspiring. A breath of fresh air, compared to all the fools that usually surrounded him. A woman that he had been able to see himself spending the rest of his life with. So, for her to have gone to see his brother, was not really a surprise. Not a surprise that she would have realised that their accidental meeting and then the doctor's sudden competition on his vlogs, were connected.
But (Y/n) had not been the only one that had made a little visit. In his usual style, Mycroft had done some digging. Finding out where (Y/n) was now living and working. The older Holmes travelling from London up to the Cotswolds. Sitting in the car and watching the comings and goings. Finding himself smiling as he watched (Y/n) tackle a climbing rose on the side of her cosy looking cottage. Chuckling to himself, as she caught her finger on one of the thorns. Mycroft sitting up a little straighter in his seat, as he saw her son appear. The boy laughing as his mother showed him her blooded finger. (Y/n) joining in with her son's amusement, as she bumped him with her hip.
It was obvious to the older Holmes that the boy was very much like his mother, and that the pair shared a good relationship. A relationship that he had never shared with his own parents. A love that he had never experienced from his own parents. A love that he had only known when he and (Y/n) had been together. Not that he had appreciated it at the time. Not that he had really appreciated anything about her at the time. Not her kindness, not her care. Not her as a person or her career. Nor how she had put up with his neglect for so long before finally having enough. The older Holmes far too interested in himself and his own career to think about anything else. It shamefully being far too long before he had realised what he had lost.
"And...............?" Mycroft finally replied to his brother's comment. Shaking the thoughts from his mind.
"She knows that you are up to something as far as her son is concerned. That the competition that he won to meet us, was down to you............."
"And................?" Mycroft asked again, as he brought his glass up to his nose, inhaling deeply before taking a drink. Savouring the flavour as the liquid trickled down his throat.
"And............she wants you to leave her and her son alone." Sherlock replied sharply, as he dropped into one of the chairs. John left to remain standing awkwardly in the doorway. The doctor having no idea why Sherlock had dragged him further into this situation than he already was. Sure, that this should really be something that was just between the two brothers, and he was still not over the fact that (Y/n) had slapped Sherlock full in the face to get his attention.
"I need to know, Sherlock................." Mycroft simply replied, as he placed his glass back down on the table before looking at his brother. John giving his friend a warning look. A look that told him that he better not say anything. Hoping that for once in his life, the younger Holmes would be tactful and not blurt out everything that (Y/n) had said. The female doctor having told Sherlock that the truth would only hurt people. That it would hurt her and her son, and maybe even Mycroft if everything came out.
"And what if you find out your truth, Mycroft? What are you going to do? What if this boy is your son? What do you expect to do? Do you expect to be able to just walk into his life. Walk back into (Y/n)'s? That everything will be like it was before she left, and you can start from where you left off? Wouldn't it be better to just leave things as they are? You are happy with your life, and (Y/n) and her son are happy with there's......................" Sherlock enquired. John having to admit that he was quite taken aback by the fact that the consulting detective hadn't just blurted out that (Y/n) had more or less said, that yes, her son was Mycroft's. Taken aback by how he was treating her request with such respect, in complete contrast to how he would normally treat everything else.
"I don't think that you are exactly the one to talk to me about relationships, Sherlock. I mean, what is it that you actually know about women? Oh yes, that's right.............you know nothing. So, please forgive me if I don't take any advice on this from you. Please forgive me if I don't listen to your opinions on my life either." Mycroft replied indignantly. Giving his brother a look, before turning his attention back to the fire that crackled happily in the hearth, and his glass of cognac. Ignoring his brother as he got to his feet and made his way back over to the doorway in which John still stood.
"If you want it that way, but don't come to Baker Street when (Y/n) and her son are there, because you won't be welcome." Sherlock told him curtly. The younger Holmes pushing past John and making his way to the front door. The pair leaving Mycroft to his thoughts.