#tyllup

You: John sat at the motion and the suggestion. It was odd how easily he could allow himself to be led around by Mycroft, when he wanted to be. "What do you do at home, read?" John asked. "Well, you cook, obviously. Fuck, this is a big kitchen," he said as he looked around, blowing out a breath. "I've lived in a flat this size before." He imagined it'd take some getting used to, living in such a large house, though for all he knew Mycroft could have been born there.

Stranger: He wondered at the fact that he was so pleased that John was impressed with his home already. "I like to have enough room to work in here when I get in the mood to." The Eldest Holmes moved to the fridge, digging out a Ziploc bag that contained a few chicken breast marinating in brown liquid. He grabbed a few vegetables to go with it and started pulling out pans. "I very rarely let myself have free time outside of work, but there are things I try my best to make time for." He replied as he started cooking, pulling spices down from the cupboards above the counter. "I take dance lessons on occasion and for a while tried my hand at learning piano, but it seems I'm rubbish at it. I don't have a knack for music as Sherlock seems to."

You: John quirked a brow and sat up a little straighter at the mention of dance lessons. "I don't have a knack for music either," he admits, "though I can sing a bit. And I can dance pretty well. Are you any good? You've certainly got a nice sense of...balance," he said a bit awkwardly. Mycroft did, though, really. It would probably feel amazing to dance with him, if he carried the grace he had with flipping through files or the handling of his umbrella onto the dance floor.

Stranger: Mycroft glanced back at John over his shoulder, glad that dance was something that seemed to interest the other man, as it was something he found he was rather good at. The prospect of having a partner outside of his instructor was a welcome one. "I like to think I've gotten rather good at it." Honestly, he was better than good, but had had little to no reason to to use what he'd learned. The contents of the pan had started to sizzle, amazing aromas wafting up from it and starting to fill the kitchen. His attention went back to what he was doing. "What do you do, John? When you're not off on a case or at work or running your blog."

You: "Watch telly, go to the pub with friends, spend time getting to know my girlfriend, if I have one. Chat up girls if I don't, I suppose. Help Sherlock with some of his experiments. Yell at Sherlock. Give Sherlock the cold shoulder. Blog. Can't think of much else, though I do read on occasion, if something happens to look interesting. I usually lean toward biographies and books about history, particularly wars. But you probably could have deduced that. Oh, and I like poetry. Not quite sure why."

Stranger: The poetry bit was a pleasant surprise, though the rest was a bit expected. The mention of girlfriends brought Mycroft back to the proposition of dating and he cleared his throat before speaking again. "You'd mentioned that you'd never dated another man before. If it's not to forward of me to ask, is this something that is just starting to interest you again or is it something that has always been a curiosity but you've just never acted on it?"

You: John was surprised at the question and sat thinking for a moment, considering the question. "Well," he said slowly, "when I was young, before I fought, I did have a crush or two on ridiculously intelligent, posh boys I knew from a distance, and I did kiss a friend of mine who was neither posh nor intelligent but a surprisingly good kisser." He grinned. "During the war, I didn't think much about romantic entanglements, beyond vague memories of old girlfriends and the hope I'd find another when my fighting days were done. And now here I am, dating women again, yes, but I've found a man who interests me like those boys did, only he's a genius and a mystery and undeniably a bit charming," here he licks his lip, "who my flatmate has called the most dangerous man I've ever met, and," he chuckles, "I've met Moriarty." He tugs at his bottom lip a bit in thought. "So, yeah, I think there was a period where I didn't consider it, but I was away from those attractive boys, wasn't I? And now, here's another one." He gazes at Mycroft silently for a moment.

Stranger: Mycroft couldn't help the pleased expression that slid over his features at the flattery. He hadn't been fishing for compliments, of course, but following another line of questioning that now seemed a bit silly. It was a little ridiculous for him to feel a bit self conscious, but when he'd gone so long without so even a single romantic prospect (not because of a lack of offers, but because the offers weren't exactly savory ones), he was a little wary of how perfect this was seeming. His main concern was that he might be just a substitute. John and Sherlock were terribly close, and he knew that Sherlock wasn't the most adept when it came to social expectations... But if John had a thing for clever 'posh' boys, then that made Mycroft his type, didn't it? Interesting. He gave a little nod, finding the answer to definitely be to his liking. "Mm... I'm hardly dangerous, John. Sherly does tend to have a flare for drama, though, so I'm not surprised it's something he's said." He turned the heat down on the food, moving to get some plates.

You: "Sherlock says a lot of things, a lot of them exaggeration, though I'm not sure that one was," John said. "You filled a plane with dead people you took from grieving families," he pointed out. It wasn't a judgment and it hopefully didn't sound like one. It was just what had happened. "The first time we met, you threatened me with your control over the cameras. I thought you were a criminal mastermind, remember? And although the criminal part isn't true, you're still a mastermind. Not just a genius, but a mastermind." His lip quirked as he watched Mycroft set up for dinner. "You're clever and you're powerful, but you don't overstep. You don't cross that line. Greg always jokes that Sherlock'll be a good man someday. But you, Mycroft, as dangerous as you are, as you really are, are already a good man. That's what I think." He felt a bit tingly with anticipation after saying all of it. For some reason, Mycroft seemed to appreciate compliments from him, whereas he'd probably brush them off from people he couldn't trust. John was being truthful with him, too truthful. But the tingle of anticipation made it feel worth it.

Stranger: He'd paused after dishing out the meals, setting the dirtied pan in the sink and moving over to lean his hip against the counter. He was watching John, expecting some hint of a joke or some tic that told him the words were a lie. But none came. It was all truth, all words that John -meant-, and Mycroft realised that he'd taken a breath and hadn't let it out, that his heart beat was a touch quicker than it should have been. His expression was unreadable for a moment, but then he was smiling slightly, moving closer to John only stopping when he was definitely in John's personal space. "My, but you do have a way with words, Doctor Watson." He reached a hand out, long slender fingers taking the other man's chin and tilting it up some. He leaned down and pressed the briefest chaste kiss on John's lips. It seemed over as soon as it'd started and Mycroft was a little disappointed he didn't have more reason to make it last just a bit longer. "Thank you." The words were nothing but a murmur as he pulled back slightly, dropping his hand away. "Hungry?" His voice was back to normal as he moved away, out of the other man's space.

You: "Starving. First food, then maybe some more of that," John said with a bit of hope in the tone. It really was lucky Mycroft had made that comment about taking him on a date. This could be the start of something really good, was pretty good already, if you asked John. "That smells lovely." Mycroft was a man of multiple talents. He didn't much look like he was used to being praised sincerely, though. His usual crowd probably wasn't known for its sincerity, was it? Being in such a huge house might not be bad, in the future, if the smell of Mycroft's cooking was going to fill it and whoa. Whoa, whoa. No, stop right there. That was a bit too domestic, wasn't it? Embarrassingly domestic. John wiped the stupid smile that had come across his face right off of it. He was glad Mycroft didn't know what he was thinking; he'd turn red and the mocking or the pity he'd receive for it all would sting a fair amount. How embarrassing. They hadn't even properly had a date yet, either. This only half counted.

Stranger: -Some more of that.- Mycroft was getting the feeling he was going to turn into a school boy again while dating if snogging was going to be something they did often which, if things went well, he fully intended. Not to mention the heavy petting that they'd eventually get to.. He cleared his throat, steering his train of thought to something safer as he went to dig out some silverware for them. "Would you like to eat here or in the dining room?"

You: "Where do you normally eat?" John asked him, betting the dining room was ridiculously huge.

Stranger: "In the study while working or in here if I'm not busy." He replied. The dining room was more for larger social gatherings. The table was impossibly long and the room was rather large. He much preferred the idea of something a bit smaller and more intimate feeling, though he wanted John to be able to decide. What was common place in the house could still hold some novelty for John after all.

You: "Then let's stay here," John said decisively, smiling. There was plenty of room in the kitchen too, actually. For a moment, a pang of sympathy ran through John as he realized a big house was better to live in when one wasn't alone. Maybe Mycroft felt lonely in his home. "Do you have a maid?" he asked. "I can't imagine the upkeep otherwise."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded, glad that John had decided to stay here. "I do." He replied as he grabbed the plates, sliding one in front of John, setting one up for himself and then going to get two glasses of water. After their drinks were sorted, he snagged one of the stools and settled in across the island from the other man. "It doesn't get terribly messy, but once a week I have a cleaning crew that comes in to take care of the dust and things. Usually while I'm at work."

You: "Ah, smart. That's how I'd do it, I think," John said approvingly. "I'd feel a bit awkward, having someone in to clean my place when I was still in. Aside from Mrs. Hudson, I mean. Though, the mess at ours is mostly Sherlock," John said fondly. "Did I tell you that once I opened the fridge and saw a head, just, you know, a head, bloody head just staring at me?" He picked up his fork and speared a few vegetables. "The stuff of nightmares, in the same fridge as the milk."

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled softly, no finding the tale all that surprising. "When he was a boy he did the same thing with little dead things that he'd find around. Eventually I gave up trying to stop him and got him a fridge of his own that he could put what he wanted in so he wasn't contaminating our food." He sliced into the chicken, placing it on his tongue and humming softly. It was perfect, as he expected, all tender and juicy, not overpowered by the spices he'd used, but still flavorful.

You: John went to cut a bit of the chicken to try. "I bet he was a brat, but an endearing little thing. Do you have pictures?" He pulled the piece of chicken to his mouth and tried it. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he savored it. Oh, that was good. That was very good. He opened his eyes again as he chewed and swallowed. "Wow," he said, tilting his head forward. "One more thing you're good at: chicken."

Stranger: "Food in general is a bit of a passion of mine." He was pleased that John approved though. He prided himself on his cooking. It was something he could do outside of work that he really knew he was good at. Of course, that was probably expected with how much Sherlock commented on his 'diet'. Not that he needed to diet now, but he was a bit heftier as a boy and his younger brother had never let him forget it. "I have old photo albums in the library and family portraits about the house." He'd paused for a moment, looking back to his plate. "Mother said she liked being able to see our faces even when we weren't here. I never saw a point in taking them down." He took a sip from his glass, giving a slight smile and looking to John again.

You: "If he was a brat, what were you like?" John asked, interested. "God, Mycroft, this is good," he praised as he continued to eat. It certainly beat anything they usually had at the flat, except whatever Mrs. Hudson might deign to make them.

Stranger: Mycroft looked a tad uncomfortable at having the discussion directed at his past, keeping his answer as concise as possibly. "You know, serious, always consumed in my studies. Being groomed for politics to follow in our Father's footsteps." He actually gave a slight shrug, smiling a bit at the compliment. "I'm glad you like it." He took another bite, directing the conversation back to John. "What about you, John? Since we're on the subject of childhood, what were you like as a boy?"

You: John tried to picture a young Mycroft. He wondered if he'd minded his father's grooming much. "Me? Oh, a bit stupid and innocent, really." John smiled. "I was constantly grinning about something. I...I didn't have a very nice home life, but I was still just really, very happy." His expression darkened slightly. "Actually, it was a rather bad home life, but I think I must have compartmentalized well. My sister Harry and I never got on, except here and there, and we still have our differences, mainly the drinking. I don't care for spending too much time around people who, ah, overindulge." His eyes were far away for a moment. "Anyway," he finally said, focusing on Mycroft's dinner and Mycroft himself again. "Basically, I was tiny, blond, and always smiling, if I wasn't at home, and often when I was."

Stranger: It must've been where John got his bravery from. To be a boy dealing with a difficult home situation but to be able to smile in the face of it... It wasn't surprising that John was such a strong person. "I'm sorry to hear that you home wasn't exactly easy to manage. It's even more difficult when you have a sibling that doesn't exactly agree with you." He spoke from experience. After all, Sherlock didn't exactly hold him in the highest regard, even going so far as to call them 'arch enemies'. Childish really. He finished up his meal, setting his fork aside and finishing off his water.

You: "I'll say that Harry and I work together well when we need to, for do-it-yourself projects or for taking care of clutter. She's not as, what was it, intransigent as Sherlock, I don't think. I mean," John joked, "we're not archenemies. I told Sherlock people don't have archenemies, in real life. People have friends, people they like and don't like, and people they date. Actually, he thought I was coming onto him." He frowned slightly. "Not so sure I wasn't, but we're better as friends. Much better off." There was no hidden longing there. John really believed he and Sherlock wouldn't have lasted long as partners, so it was nicer to be friends and last indefinitely

Stranger: Mycroft nodded slightly, glad to have his earlier suspicions assuaged again without him having to risk offending John by asking. -Much better of as friends- said it all. "We got along rather well when we were both boys, if you could believe it. It was when we both started getting older he started resenting me. I had to take on more of a parental role than a brotherly one, and it made him a tad bitter. So to him, I'm sure I'm as close to an archenemy as it gets. As I said before, he does have a penchant for drama." It tended to run in the family a bit if Mycroft's kidnapping of John was anything to go by, but his was a bit more subdued.

You: John nodded. "He does, so do you. But this beats a warehouse any day. Did you grow up here? Why would you want such a big house, if you're all alone in it?" he asked. It seemed a bit of an odd choice, especially for Mycroft, who seemed to be more sentimental than showy.

Stranger: "I'm glad you approve of the change in scenery. Perhaps I should start using this as my meeting location when I kidnap you away." He teased lightly. "The manor has been in the Holmes family for generations and was where Sherlock and I grew up. I really couldn't part with it."

You: "You can kidnap me any time, if we're dating," John joked, and then sobered. "Well, not any time, but I'm sure you'd be a better judge than...certain other Holmeses." John looked down, nearly finished with his meal. "What's the state of your childhood bedroom? Do you still use it? Did you keep it as it was? It's an awful big place."

Stranger: Mycroft's lips tiled up in a smile. "Sherlock's is untouched for the most part. Mine was emptied though. I took over the master bedroom when I came back from University and didn't see any sense in keeping most of the clutter that was in there." He slipped from his seat to start cleaning up his part of the mess from their meal as John finished up. The dishes could be left for later, but the rest he rather liked to go ahead take care of.

You: John was slightly disappointed to hear he wouldn't get to see Mycroft's childhood preserved in an old bedroom, but he could see Sherlock's. "You're right," he agreed, "that wouldn't have made much sense, would it?" Parts of John wish he could have more of himself as a child than he did. They'd barely taken any photographs, and there were bits of it that he'd lost to a blessedly hazy memory and to denial as an adolescent and young adult. John cleared his throat and offered, "Harry and I joke about going back to the old house someday. We don't. But maybe someday, if we're together, if we ask whoever's there if we might have a look around, it might bring...." What might it bring? Some kind of end to...a reign? Some kind of...perspective? He wasn't really sure.

Stranger: "Perhaps you should. It couldn't do any harm, could it?" He asked, moving to lean on the island slightly. "It may be a bit painful, but some times that's the only way you can truly heal and move past the worst life has handed you. "it might bring about closure." Mycroft finished for him, giving him an understanding look. "Are you finished eating, darling?"

You: John swallowed at the term of endearment. "I shouldn't have said all that," he admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm finished," he said quickly, offering Mycroft his plate. "But, yes, sorry. I just. I didn't mean to...." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I guess you've managed to act as some kind of therapist after all." He briefly bit his lip.

Stranger: ((Bah, sorry. That bit shouldn't have the quotations there. At 'has handed you. It might' etc. That was continuous dialogue. *face palm*))

Stranger: "Don't be ridiculous. If I didn't care I wouldn't have pried. I'm please you find me trustworthy enough to have opened up to." He accepted the offered plate, setting it in the sink and gathering their glasses so they could join the rest of the dishes. He rolled down his sleeves, righting himself again before looking at John. "Would you care for the grand tour?"

You: "I would love the grand tour," John said, smiling at the slight warmth that came over his chest when Mycroft pointed out that he cared, and that John apparently found him trustworthy. So, they trusted each other, and they cared. That was good, very good. They were already further toward a happy relationship than most of the women John started dating without having befriended them much first. He came to Mycroft's side.

Stranger: Mycroft slipped an arm into John's as he led him out of the kitchen, the first one they came to was the dining room, which was enormous and empty as was expected. After that was the drawing room which was decked out in plush furniture with a sleek grand piano settled to one side of the room and fire place on the other. Most of the furniture in the home looked to be very well kept antiques that were definitely expensive. The library was next which was about as large as everything else he'd seen so far, books packing the shelves to the point of near bursting, their contents including everything from biographies to fiction and everything in between. The Holmes-es were definitely readers.

You: John stiffened for a moment when Mycroft slipped his arm into his, but he soon relaxed, unable to help smiling just a bit. John was glad they hadn't eaten in the vast dining room. It would have been a bit awkward, with just the two of them. John eyed the piano, remembering that while he was never any good, his mum had been. She'd taught Harry a little something, but Harry had no sense of rhythm. Despite that everything looked imposingly expensive and that he should have been scared to have a seat in some of the chairs or set a drink on some of the end tables, it was oddly inviting at the same time. The library actually made his eyes widen and he stared, looking about. It was more full of books than 221B had been during the case with the Chinese smugglers. "Definitely a big house," John said.

Stranger: "And there is still more to go." He replied easily. There was billiard room that had been where his father had spent most of his free time after work. Mycroft hadn't had the heart to touch it and really hadn't spent much time in it at all. He was sure even Sherlock and Mother had avoided the room a good majority of the time when they had all still occupied the house together. The one after that had a keypad on it and when they paused at the door he looked to the shorter man. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of John's ears lightly before he murmured. "No peeking, Johnny." He pulled his head back a little, glad for an excuse to act out a bit a John's expense. He didn't even look at the pad as he entered in the code, instead he kept his gaze locked on the doctor's.

You: ((omg I love them lol))

Stranger: (( > u< ))

You: John flushed a bit when Mycroft kissed his ear, and he gazed into Mycroft's eyes dutifully, wondering what was in store. Mycroft being mysterious was lovely. John liked being swept off his feet by him; always had, if he was honest, even when he'd thought he was a criminal mastermind.

You: ((I should go to bed by :30))

Stranger: Mycroft hummed low in his throat, obviously pleased that John had listened. The lock beeped then made an audible click and Mycroft leaned away, turning the knob and motioning for John to enter. The interior was obviously where Mycroft did his work at home and was the 'study'. A desk was the main focal point, brimming with scattered files and papers. A couple of screens were mounted on the walls, on and showing some footage from unrecognizable streets or odd buildings, one even focused on a room full of people though the volume was off on all of them and what the people were saying couldn't exactly be heard. Some filing cabinets lined one of the walls, above them, paper work and black and white print out photos were tacked up. His work place away from work. It wasn't anything terribly impressive, but it's not some place he'd let anyone before. Really John was the first person to be able to step foot in here since he'd turned the study into what it was now.

Stranger: ((Oh, what time is it where you are?))

You: ((4:09. You?))

Stranger: ((5:10 XD Good to know our time zones aren't at much of a really dreadful difference or anything~ Will you be on tomorrow?))

You: ((yes at least a bit. I have some fic writing I need to be doing so I may be slow, and I did want to spend about an hour on my room, but, yes, at some points, and I'm glad we can keep in touch via tumblr))

Stranger: ((Absolutely! :D ))

You: ((i normally watch a baby during the day, but not tomorrow :-) ))

Stranger: ((Oh. :D Lucky you get some time to yourself then~))

You: John gripped Mycroft's arm slightly. "This is impressive," he commented. It was like being in the inner sanctum of Mycroft's house. With a keypad and everything, John did feel a bit special. It was large, it was a place of power and of the man good enough to use the power for good. It was a place where shit got done.

Stranger: "Not really. Just where I keep the work that comes home with me." He replied. He liked the feeling of John clutching in to him a little bit tighter and was loathe to have them move on too soon, but there really wasn't much of interest inside but files and papers. "Would you care to see the upstairs part of the house or the gardens next?" He asked, his gaze dropping to John again.

You: "Gardens. It's a nice day outside," John said after a moment. Before they could get going, he stepped in front of Mycroft a bit, their arms still linked. He leaned up for a kiss, letting his eyes close.

Stranger: Mycroft's free hand lifted to rest on John's hip as he leaned in to kiss the other man. He let this one last, letting himself enjoy it far more than he had the brief one in the kitchen. John's lips were soft, yielding, and he found it a bit difficult to stop himself from deepening it. He pulled his head back. "Mmm.. What was that for?" His hand lifted so he could trace a finger along John's bottom lip.

You: For one, Mycroft smelled amazing. Also, they were sharing secrets and Mycroft was offering to date him and sweep him off his feet, and...John's lip quirked a bit. "I just really wanted to snog you," he said. "You tried to hold back, though, didn't you?" He released Mycroft's arm, resting his hands on Mycroft's shoulders as he looked up slightly. "There's no rush, of course. Whatever you want." He chuckled slightly, hands still resting on Mycroft's shoulders. They'd both taste of Mycroft's chicken, wouldn't they? And Mycroft's eyes looked so blue.

Stranger: He was pleasantly surprised by the admission, a chuckled escaping his throat as he leaned down, speaking softly against John's lips. "I didn't want to go any faster than you were comfortable with... But I very much want to snog you as well, Doctor." He purred. He kissed John again, deeper this time, parting the other man's lips and getting to taste him. He groaned ever so softly, as his arms slipped around the other man's waist to pull him a bit closer.

You: John's lip quirked and he tightened his grip slightly on Mycroft's shoulders, encased in their suit jacket as always, giving a soft groan as they kissed more deeply. Oh, it was nice. It was very nice. No, he wasn't rushing Mycroft, and Mycroft wasn't rushing him. They were just snogging in Mycroft's study, and that was okay.

You: ((i lied let's do a little more

Stranger: (Mkay :D )

Stranger: "John..." Mycroft murmured the other man's name absently as he broke from the kiss to catch his breath which was already coming a bit quick. His fingers trailed up the other man's back, along his spine through his jumper. Funny how Mycroft had originally met with the other man to talk business and now here they were not but hours later in the middle of where he conducted business, wrapped in each others arms, kissing. He nipped lightly at the other man's bottom lip. "I didn't realise I'd be getting desert after lunch. Might I say, John, you are absolutely delicious."

You: John shivered at the cherishing touch, at the comment. He actually wasn't used to being very intimate in his relationships, but he did a lot of things for the Holmes brothers that he wasn't used to doing for anyone else, like ignoring decapitated heads or kidnappings. John licked his lips. "You are...incredibly sexy," he said, reaching up to stroke Mycroft's cheek. "We should probably go see the gardens before we, ah, take things too far, eh?" He tried to smile at the humor of it, but his eyes burned with the soberness of his body's preoccupation with more carnal things. He wanted Mycroft, but they were going to need to take it slow if they were going to be smart about things, right? John wasn't a smiley, giggling little boy anymore. He damn well knew better. "We better go, cause I don't want to ruin what we have with sex," John said, more than a little embarrassed. "Not just yet, I mean. Habit, for me, but I won't let that happen to you. You're more important to me than someone I'd just met and started dating. And I hope you believe me when I say that."

Stranger: Sexy. Not a word he had applied to himself very often, be he liked that John thought so. He could easily return the words. "Of course. Whatever you'd like." He hardly had a preoccupation with social hang ups when it came the physical acts, but that was most likely because out for all his social prowess, he really didn't have a lot of experience with intimacy, so he didn't get the hang ups on it. If John felt that it could cause a problem from them, he'd be more than happy to wait, though. "The gardens, then." He moved back from John, taking one of the other man's hands and lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to the other man's knuckles before leading him out to the back door.

Stranger: ((If you're alright with this as a stopping point, I think I'm done for the evening. I'm starting to get a bit tired, dear. ))

You: ((yep! great stopping point. I'll save it and post it again, shall I? man that was amazing))

Stranger: ((Awe~ I'm glad you think so! > u< I really enjoyed it. Hopefully we can continue some time soon~ ))

You: ((yes!)

You: )