#denbiigh

“Q is failing in his duty,” Mycroft reported. In his hand was a half-empty scotch - an attempt to relax himself after the events of the day. It was not particularly working, but at least the drink would chase off tremors in his hands should the long night ahead of him prevent him from getting another glass later on.

He kisses Madeleine on the bridge, and it tastes like goodbye. She said it herself; she can’t come back to this life, and he can’t leave it. Like two ships passing in the night, they drift. She’s already out of reach by the time he crosses back over the bridge to stand next to M, looking down on a man who ought to have been a brother.

And then life somehow simply -- resumes. 

James isn’t certain he’s capable of having his heart broken, any more -- it certainly doesn’t ache to return to his job, to his flat, to his duty. For all that’s changed, everything is precisely the same.

That is, until he mounts the first stair to his flat and catches sight of a smear across the polished wood -- dark and faint, but unmistakably blood. He draws his gun. Step by step he climbs, soft and silent and head cocked to listen, and recognition hits the moment he rounds the corner, sees the dark-haired man slumped in the alcove of his door, like he’d been dropped there.

He stands over him, looks down critically -- one hand in his pocket, finger on the trigger.

“Take a look at the world... chaos... because people like you, paper-pushers and politicians, are too spineless to                                          do what needs to be done...”

                          Max Denbigh, head of the Joint Security Service.

     He stops entirely when Mycroft reaches for him, shoulders pinching up        faintly until he realizes that the older man has reached to adjust his        tie, tugging the knot about for a few seconds to get it to settle before        the hands move on to adjust his collar and then his jacket.

     “ I’m fairly certain my collar was alright.  Is there something you’re worried          about, Mycroft? “

“I am rarely worried, sir.” Unfortunately, this just happened to be one of those times. Mycroft was waiting on the results of a project that he had been working on for well over a year now. Usually he wouldn’t be nervous about such things but there had been some unforeseen last-minute issues, and those had added in a rather large risk of failure.

Fixing the other’s tie had been an impulsive nervous habit (though it had been just a touch off-centre, irritatingly enough). Thankfully, C didn’t seem too upset about it. Good. Mycroft would have hated to have annoyed the boss in addition to what he was already dealing with.

Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

[ txt ] ––> brother mine ; we’re not KILLING her. we need to keep her alive.( five minutes later ) [ txt ] ––> brother mine ; ignore that. 

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

Send 👀 to walk in on my muse in their underwear

How James had managed to convince Mycroft that it was a good idea to take photos of a more sexual nature from the comfort of his office didn’t matter. No, the only think that mattered was that the man had stripped himself of his clothes, taken a few photographs and a short video, and, after sending a selection of the material to his partner, had stood to redress again.

Unfortunately, that was also the exact moment that C had strolled into the room. Fuck.

“I, u-uh-” Mycroft stammered, brain uncharacteristically freezing for a moment. What the hell did he say? Oh, sorry you just walked in me almost in the nude? Yes, I was just using the time in which you pay me for to send him some lewd photos? Of course not!