"Welcome, into my house." Sherlock opened his arms wide and smiled up at the ceiling. Harry reluctantly pushed him out of the way to separate him from the door so he could easily get into the room to place his stuff somewhere.
"Thanks-but you know I've already been here so let's not start the speech about how majestic this crappy apartment looks. In a succinct sentence, it's just not what Heaven looks like in my opinion. Sorry." Harry said and sighed as he sat down onto the couch. The room they were in wasn't exactly the most wonderful one, but Sherlock never required a luxurious one either. If he felt comfortable, then that's just what he needs. Mrs. Hudson kept him company sometimes, and that was awesome.
As assistant and co-worker, Harry had intended on moving in with Sherlock. It wasn't quite the best idea ever, but he didn't mind the mess around the apartement, as long as they were safe inside. Sherlock was playing violon for an hour and Harry was reading a book called 'How to kill a Mockingjay' . London was boring these days, so what else was there to do besides sitting with your ass down and blinking your eyes?
"Sher...?"
"Yes, Harry." Sherlock almost replied in a whisper, eyes darting out of the window as he paused his violon playing. The curly haired lad sucked in a deep breath before placing his book onto the table, glasses put just on top of the cover.
"Why do you like solving crimes so much?" He demanded the blonde haired man who still stood in front of the window, as Harry still faced his back. "What if one day, you'll die? Or get stabbed...or you know, poisoned?"
"Impossible." Sherlock responded as if it was a fact that everybody should know. It left Harry sometimes bewildered, the urge to dig a little deeper and do some research about Sherlock. Who was this man? The question wasn't going to be answered sooner or later nonetheless. Well, it all remained very mysterious. But mystery is perfect, both for Harry and Sherlock.
Before he intended on speaking up again, Sherlock raised his violon to his chin and started playing violently. It was as if he attempted to ignore the curly lad. But Harry, who untied the tensity from his body, relaxed back into his chair without any word escaping his lips. And that's how the room remained calm, silent...for the rest of the day.
The night was outrageous. A scandal, actually. The wind blew Harry's window open four times, despite that before going to bed he actually had made sure to lock the windows to be secure. Sherlock rested into another room, opposite from Harry's. He had to wake up Sher a few times for the difficulties, and that's how they both received issues at even living with each other at night.
"Dude, you sure that you locked the front door...?" Harry murmured as he entered the room of Sherlock - who was half-unconscious into his bed, leaving little snoring noises that was even loud enough to echo through the hallway. The blonde rolled to the other side of the mattress, retorting an affirming noise. "Look, I'm hearing strange noises over there. Shall I take a look?"
"Do what you desire. But as you leave, please Harry, quit entering my room. I'm trying to sleep here!" Sherlock mumbled into his pillow, hair into knots and a mess. Harry only rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, turning his heels and walking out before gently closing the door behind. That's when he went to take a peek into the living room, but seeing no unusual manifestations. Well, that's weird... He thought to himself as he pointed his flashlight through the dark in every corner of the room.
He shrugged, leaving to get back to his bed. But as he attempted to sleep, the creaking noises kept on going the entire night. It almost sounded as if someone was walking down the hallway, but since Sherlock slept tight, there was no way that it could have been him. Very weird...
In the morning, Harry walked into the kitchen like a Zombie. His face was pale, his eyes were blood red. Sherlock looked up and frowned instantly, "Well, seems like you were having a bad night." He said as Harry collapsed down like a whale onto his chair, he looked down at the eggs and bacon onto his plate, not even replying or blinking. "Well, breakfast will make it up to ya!"
"Your apartement is haunted." The young lad whispered in horror, "I've heard enough this night, and one thing is sure; I'm not going to sleep into the same room ever again. I'll be sleeping into your room, and if you deny then I'll sleep outside next to the garbage. But there is no way, that I'll ever put a single damn foot into that room ever again..."
Sherlock sat down properly and licked his lips as he stared up at his assitant, still in Zombie mode. Well, he couldn't possibly let Harry sleep outside, the blonde can't let that happen. But for all he knows, two men in the same room - let alone in the same bed...? Uhmm, no.
Harry didn't ate any his breakfast, and Sherlock decided to not either as they both remained silent for at least five minutes at table. The blonde was thinking of a solution to his assistant's issue, fiddling with his fingers. And Harry still watched his plate as if he was waiting for the food to balance out of the window by some miracle. How could Sherlock sleep into a shitty apartement like this one, and don't the noises bother him or is it just Harry?
Maybe he hallucinated this whole time...because, what if it was just Mrs. Hudson who was still awake? Sherlock told him once that she kept awake late into the night because she had work to do, but she hid it away because it was important and secret business or something.
"So, how did you desire to start the day?" Sherlock demanded kindly, pouring some tea into his cup. Harry shook and hung his head, not knowing what to say. "Alright then."
"What?"
"Well since you won't reply to me with a proper answer..." Sherlock sighed after he had taken a sip of his cup of tea. "I know what will keep you busy." He smirked up at Harry who's eyebrows were suddenly raised, bewildered. "Cleaning."
"Cleaning?" Harry questioned dumbly. "Yeah-no, thanks."
"What now, Styles." Sherlock chuckled lightly before standing up, taking both their plates and putting it onto the counter. "I'm willing to live with a roomate that's actually not as sleepy and boring. Do something instead."
Harry groaned in protest, but knew that the man was right. He was bored out of his mind, what was there to do? Like Sherlock advised him to do, cleaning-but no. He'd let that task over to the man himself who had been living here for probably a few years and hadn't been cleaning the apartement either. Harry wasn't his maid, just like Mrs. Hudson quoted earlier.
Suddenly, the phone in the living room rang. Harry blinked as his eyes darted towards the door in an instant, and Sherlock walked reluctantly into the room with a sigh of frustration. He heard the man pick up the phone, and a "Hello?"
"Oh, dear little brother. How are you doing?" A familiar voice floaded through Sherlock ear. "Not too busy this evening I hope?"
"Mycroft..." The man sighed and groaned out loud, infuriated. "I am not in the mood to talk. Why would you care if I'm rather busy or not this evening?"
"You know I don't like to be called that name..."
"Sorry Liam, you were saying?" Sherlock smirked as he raised his eyebrow when Harry came peaking into the living room to see what was going on, before ploffing down like a whale into his sofa. "Oh, yeah. Not busy this evening at all."
"Good to hear." Liam replied as if he was interested into something. "Well, then. How about we get a lunch with your assistant today? I'd like to meet Dr. Styles."
Sherlock glanced at Harry who had fallen asleep really quickly. Might've been because he had been with eyes open all night. "Yes, I guess that can be sorted out."
He almost could hear the smirk Liam was doing right now through the phone. "I appreciate that. Thanks Nia-"
"Don't you dare summon me like that."
"Still so stubborn, eh?" His elder brother chuckled, "Ah, whatever. You'll never change in any way. But I'm not disappointed in that. I'll see you at the Capital Yves at one. Bye little brother, take good care of yourself."
He hung up, and Sherlock put the phone back on its place. His eyes took a glance of his assistant who was purring like a cat, legs sprawled out on the furniture as a bit of saliva rolled down his chin.
"Gross." Sherlock complained, and chuckled afterwards before deciding to do some research onto his computer for any cases.
In the evening, Sher and Harry are walking down the streets of London, both arguing about the 'haunted apartement' they were living in. Harry was highly uncomfortable into his room, and he tried to push past Sherlock's limits just to get to sleep into the same room as him. Of course not the same bed, he could just sleep onto the ground or on a mattress.
"Please, just stop." Sherlock sighed out of frustration. "I don't care, but one thing is for sure and you're not sleeping into my room!"
"I hope you realise what pain you're giving me." Harry had puppy eyes on but it was useless, even the pouty lip. Sherlock wasn't going to accept, ever. "Ooh, fine you ass. I'll sleep in the living room, talk about discomfort." He scoffed once they stopped in front of a building. A restaurant, Capital Yves.
Harry didn't even know why they were here, 'cause Sher had dragged him around town since it was a 'surprise' and it sucked. Surprises, Harry found it disagreable. They walked straight into the building, and entered a wealthy and comfortable saloon with alot of people having lunch.
Sherlock's eyes squinted in order to search after his brother until they caught him out of the distance, sitting onto his seat with folded arms. He was looking down at his watch impatiently. Sherlock smirked and took a grasp at Harry's arm, telling him to come along as they made their way to the table.
Once Liam made eye-contact with his little brother, a smile flashed across his face and he pulled himself up to invite both of them. "Sherlock." He sighed deeply as Sherlock exhaled and straightened himself a bit. "It's nice to see you back, been a long time."
The blonde only nodded and put his hands into his pockets. Harry felt awkward and left behind-not that he cared anyway. They probably hadn't seen each other for awhile, and that was normal. Harry hadn't seen his own brother for four years straight, and he still missed him. Unfortunately, he lost his number.
"Dr. Styles, right?"
"Oh, yes." Harry shook out of his thoughts and grasped the foreign man's hand with a smile as they shook. "But you can just call me Harry."
"Well, Harry." He nodded and chuckled, inviting him to sit along witv Sherlock. "It's nice to meet you, finally. I've read in an article that you were my lil' brother's new company, correct?"
Harry startled and opened his mouth, then closed. He looked like a fish and it made Sherlock questioningly raise his eyebrow up. "Eh-indeed, I guess? I mean, yes. Company and Assistant, both? I dunno."
Liam chuckled softly, and then let out a small gasp. "Oh, sorry. I practically forgot!" He exclaimed apologitic. "My name is Mycroft, but I'm begging you, call me Liam instead."
"Nice to meet you, Liam."
A/N: Sherlock's big bro, everybody! Whatcha think? :3
A new case will occur in the next chapter, I think. Need me some conceptions, new ideas for one. So if you could help me out, that'd be fantastic. Of course, as I write your idea, the credit will be shown. ^__^
Just comment bellow, your ideas and your thoughts about the story so far. Sayonara my amigos!