Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock quietly obeyed drinking the water slowly, with clumsy movement, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Mycroft a list of everything he’d taken.

“Don’t drink too fast” Mycroft warned his little brother trying to move away the glass of water from Sherlock’s lips before he coughed “Mhhh...is that all? Are you sure?” Mycroft asked taking a look at the list.

Sherlock could hear shouting distantly and was confused blinking as he saw his brother. “Myc” he mumbled vaguely trying to swat his hands away, “m'fine” he whispered closing his eyes again.

“I can see that” Mycroft replied, of course he wasn’t serious, his brother wasn’t fine and it was obvious. Mycroft let Sherlock push his hands away because he had to stand up and take a glass of water anyway. So he did so and came back “Drink” he put his hand under Sherlock’s head to help his brother drink.

@mycroftholmesworld

Sherlock was on his own he was falling apart as his mind spun out of control he turned to drugs to control it needing to stop it. He was scared and alone but hiding it from everyone. The needle fell from his hand as he injected the morphine smiling at the peace.

“Sherlock? Why aren’t you replying to my calls? It’s about our parents...” Mycroft stopped talking when he saw the needle on the floor. His heart sunk, even though people thought that he was made of ice, cold and without feelings. It wasn’t true. Mycroft felt like everyone else, he just reacted differently because he was intelligent enough to control his emotions. But it was different with his little brother “Sherlock!” he put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and shook his little brother’s body “Can you her me?!” he called for him.

Sherlock sat curiously in his favourite arm chair, not even bothering to use the sides of the chair, nor would he allow his feet to touch the floor. No, he sat wrapped under himself and almost like a human pretzel.

It was in this moment that he found himself lost within the day-time telly trash that seemed to always preoccupy his mind when he found that the rest of the world was just so boring.

“No, no, no!” He shouted, pulling a face and waving his arm exasperatingly at the screen. “He isn’t the father! Just look at him, the genetics and mannerisms are all wrong.” Sighing, irritably, Sherlock sat back up and readjusted himself when he heard the door to his flat open.

Sure steps, heavy steps… gained weight? No, third object used in walking… cane? No. Umbrella.

It didn’t take Sherlock much longer to know exactly who it was that had walked in, nor did it take his insufferable brother to open his mouth for him to know. Closing his eyes to prevent Mycroft from seeing him roll his, Sherlock spoke quickly in reply. “Yes, of course it’s Sherlock, who else would you expect to be in?” Opening one eye, he peered up at his elder brother. “Ready? Where are we going?” He went through his mind; mentally trying to search for any reason or promise he might have made for going anywhere with Mycroft that day.

“Why did you introduce him to those shows, Watson?” Mycroft though, exasperated, There were so many things that Sherlock could be doing right now than yelling at the TV. Although, maybe it was helping with his little brother’s boredom and Mycroft was grateful with everything that could erase the boredom away because Sherlock could do stupid things while bored like using drugs or shooting at the wall. 

Mycroft sighed, exasperated again. Of course he didn’t remember. Mycroft wished that he had forgotten too to be honest, but they had to go “The Christmas dinner, Sherlock” Mycroft explained while walking in front of the TV “Please, turn off the TV” he would ask before snatching the TV controller from his brother’s hands. They needed to go and Sherlock’s sarcastic attitude didn’t go unnoticed, Mycroft knew when his little brother rolled his eyes even without looking at him or even when Sherlock wanted to roll his eyes without really doing it.

“Go take a shower and put some decent clothes on. Don’t dressed up like last time and fake to be a woman justifying it by saying that you were training for a case, Mother knew what you were doing and she didn’t like it” Mycroft still remembered listening to mother complains all night, another reason why he didn’t particularly enjoy Christmas “Don’t ruin anything this time, you don’t want to get Mother angry, do you?” if there was someone who Mycroft didn’t want to anger then that someone would be Mother. Mycroft still stood in front of the TV, leaning against the umbrella.

When he didn’t reply to her, she regained her composure. Alright, he didn’t like being fawned over. That was fine. It was difficult to hide her excitement, but she would. If anything because she wanted to be a partner to Mycroft. Wouldn’t that be a wild thing to tell Rory about later?

Rory. Don’t think about Rory. Not now.

“What sort of dangers are you thinking?” she asked. She hated to look like an idiot in front of the literary icon, but she couldn’t conceive of what he meant. They were just harmless rotten apples, weren’t they? She was willing to listen to what he had to say, though, unless it went directly against something she felt was morally right.

She didn’t think he would. 

Mycroft wasn’t used to fans, Sherlock was the sort who had to deal with them and his little brother didn’t like them either. Mycroft didn’t like fans also because they liked him for his connection with Sherlock, something that Mycroft didn’t always appreciate because Sherlock’s actions could put the Holmes name into shame sometimes.

“Animals might have found this store because of the food” dangerous animals so it was better check before anything happened.

She surveyed the grocery store carefully; the apples and other produce near the front were, at best, very ripe. Brown spots upon brown spots. At worst, they were rotten, and Amy had to cover her nose with her hand in order to breathe properly. “This could probably serve as fertilizer…” she mused aloud, “Or we could get the seeds from the fruit and grow things…” Not that she hoped that they would be here long enough for that to become a problem.

She nodded as Mycroft suggested they inform the others. She agreed. She looked over to see him staring at her. She was unsettled before she realized what it was. Finally! She was being deduced by Mycroft Holmes. She knew who she was, but she always wondered if there would be some insight to her personality that she hadn’t noticed that Sherlock (or his elder brother) could deduce of her.

When he called her Amy and walked away, she giggled, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “How long have you known?” she asked, following him down the aisle. 

Amy said intelligent things about the apples and how to use them. Yes, they could be used that way, it was pretty smart. Mycroft appreciated smart. However, Mycroft couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Amy’s enthusiasm when he deduced her. He didn’t like her enthusiasm because Amy seemed like a fan who had just met her favourite book character and Mycroft wasn’t a book character, he was a real person.

So, he didn’t reply to Amy, but just kept walking down the aisle “We need to oversee everything before calling other people in, there could be dangers ahead” he stated hoping that Amy would follow his suggestion, after all he was used to Sherlock doing the exact opposite of what he said, even though mother the elder brother knew best.