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musingsofmyown · 2 years

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Missing Case #006

“Sherlock?”

“Go away Myc.”

“Sherlock I’m not here to antagonise you,” He picked up the bedskirt to reveal a teary-eyed little boy,”I’m here to listen.”

“Nobody ever listens to me!” The small, thin hand yanked the fabric back down,”Why would you?”

“Because I’m your brother, and brothers listen to one another and their problems,”He sat down, back against the side of the bed,”I won’t force you out, but I would love to hear what’s wrong.”

A sniffle and tiny hiccup came from under the bed,”He punched me…”

“Who did?”

“That older boy who walks in the same group as we do, Friday when you were out.”

“Jason?” The name came out of his lips like venom.

The small hand gently slid out from the bed Mycroft’s and held onto it like it was the only thing keeping him alive,”... ya.”

“And why did he punch you?”

“I-,”the hand trembled, threatening to pull away,”He-he was talking bad about you- so I told him to ‘piss off’ because you’re the best big brother ever…”

“And he punched you for that?”

“Ya…”

Mycroft’s blood positively boiled,”Well, Sherlock, I am so proud of you for sticking up to a bully,” He held his brother’s hand reassuring him,”He had no right to hit you, and I promise you that he will never lay a finger on you ever again. Be wary next time you fend for yourself, or me, pick and choose your battles wisely.”

“... why didn’t mummy and daddy believe me?”

“I don’t know...” It was strange for their parents, usually when a situation like this came up, they would be right on it, contacting the school,”Thank you for telling me though. I love you Sherlock, so much.”

“I love you too Myc.”

Sherlock stayed home the next day, faking a stomach ache. He even went as far as spending the night with Mycroft because his big brother made him feel safe. The day without him seemed to creep along, and he was still awfully sad about what had happened, not even daring to leave his brother's room.

His attitude changed for the better when Mycroft came home with a split lip and bruise on his knuckles, smiling at Sherlock. He kept his promise.

End-

(I wrote this little piece with no intention of sharing it but it was too sweet not to, and I knowwww it's not technically a case, but still)

(also important to note: tomorrow's 'case' is about John/Harry's past with their father, there is some graphic content but it's all in the tags and there is a forewarning. if you would like to be taken off for that case in particular then please let me know asap so I can edit the tag list ahead of time, thank you)

^^Previous Case!!^^

@atomiccollectorcreation-blog @train-mossman @tjlcarchives @neverquiteeden @rhasima @bisexual-confusion @whatnext2020 @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @jobooksncoffee @safedistancefrombeingsmart @iwannahavefrecklessodamnbad @7-percent @timberva @everyonebeatmetothegoodnames @erinswriting @myfirstisthefourth

(let me know if you want to be added or taken off!!!)

#Sherlock Holmes #John Watson #The Missing Cases of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson #original writing #original fanfiction #johnlock #bbc sherlock #ficlet #johnlock ficlet #mycroft holmes #mycroft being a good brother #kidlock #they used to be buddies #john watson #sherlock holmes

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darkkitty1208 · 1 year

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I've been in the Sherlock fandom for a long while now but have only recently realised that 'Mycroft Holmes's Umbrella' is an actual, canonical character tag.

#honestly why am i even surprised 😂#given i dont read much of mycroft other than the occasional hurt sherlock & mycroft comforting and being a good brother --#and even if a fic i read is tagged greg/mycroft its usually a bg/side ship --#but still. how have i not known this before??? XD #sherlock #bbc sherlock #mycroft's umbrella

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johannadc · 2 years

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Sherlolly Fic Rec - Toy Reviews!

I’m not a Sherlock/Molly shipper, but the people I know who are are so nice that when I stumbled across this story, I thought I’d give it a shot, and I’m glad I did.

“Come, If Convenient” by eloquated and sherlock221Bismymuse (21K, T) https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939218

In which Molly has a secret sex toy review blog, and Sherlock emails it anonymously (as “[email protected]”, heh) for help with a case. It turns into a lot more, though. I started reading it because I was rummaging through stories where Mycroft is a good big brother, and he’s supportive here (plus, there’s a hint of Mystrade).

Lots of email, lots of texting, and a sweet uncertainty.

#sherlock fic rec #sherlock holmes x molly hooper #mycroft is a good big brother

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meanderfall · 2 years

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this video game ending gonna make me cry

#i get EMOTIONAL over the parting of ways #and the reflection of the journey we took together #also. cant fucking believe this game is gonna make me want to write sherlock and mycroft brother fic #LET! THEM! BE! BROTHERS!!!!!#hate this hostility. stop it #it's esp wack bc they always put mycroft as like. a well-meaning protective older brother but is too controlling #or lies or whatever.#and it just. bro #if nothing else i GUESS it's a good explanation for why in the books #they dont appear to talk much #with sherlock never mentioning him and mycroft respecting his boundaries and keeping out of his life. mostly #HOWEVER #let them be neurodivergent weirdos #who don't recognize the passage of time #after they meet mycroft watson's like 'we havent heard from mycroft in a while is he ok?'#sherlock: ??? what are you talking about #watson: it's been a couple of months.....#sherlock: has it????#sherlock: the british empire hasnt collapsed upon itself yet so im sure he's still alive #sherlock writing a letter to mycroft completely bemused #under watson's eye bc he really is kind of concerned #mycroft takes three weeks to reply and he's just as baffled

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myriath · 2 years

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"Even though he had always warned his little brother about feelings, or rather what it does to a person, he was not free of them himself. He loved Sherlock, more than his own life."

#writing Mycroft #he's a romantic by heart #outside cold inside fluffiest fluff #mycroft is a good brother #mycroft holmes #sherlock fanfic

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freckles-things · 2 years

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So, I am sorry for my obsession with Mycroft and Sherlock's, relationship atm but:

There were snipers set to kill the three people Moriarty thought meant the most to Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson, D.I. Greg Lestrade and John Watson.

No sniper for Mycroft. And we know that Moriarty knew that Mycroft existed, so it couldn't be as simple as "no-one knows that Sherlock has an older brother that looks out for him". Because let's be honest, Mycroft might be Mr. British Government himself, but he's not exactly subtle in his caring for Sherlock.

And we know that Moriarty knows that Mycroft cares. He was far too clever to not realise that during all their interactions.

So the question is: why did he not threaten Mycroft? Did he think that it would be too difficult? That Mycroft was and is far too well protected? Or did he simply think that Sherlock doesn't care?

And is it one of his mind games which is supposed to sow doubt? Does he know that Sherlock does care and simply wanted to imply that he didn't? Did he intentionally plan it like this, so Mycroft would think about the mistakes he made even more? So he would continually berate and doubt himself?

Or maybe is it Sherlock's plan all along? Because he knows that Mycroft will always protect him (in his lovely unsubtle subtle way), but is also aware that Mycroft has the necessary resources (we all know that Mycroft would use them) to do so. And Sherlock is aware of the enemies he makes. He's also aware that he has a few resources, but nowhere near enough to protect his brother with the important position that he has. So his way of protecting his brother is to act like he doesn't care. So that his enemies would never think to get a gain by threatening or hurting his brother. So they wouldn't realise that he has a weak spot that people could use against him.

So maybe Sherlock's plan was successful. Moriarty believed the ruse. The question is, does Mycroft know that it's just a plan/ruse. Or did he think that he was even less important than his brothers Landlady (nothing against Mrs. H, I lover her)? Did he think that his own death was something that wouldn't have motivated Sherlock to jump off that roof?

Apparently yes, going by his surprised reaction in S4e3 when Sherlock doesn't just shoot him.

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #mycroft holmes #holmes brothers #sherlock and mycroft #sherlock s4e3 #the reichenbach fall #good brother sherlock #good brother mycroft

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marta-bee · 2 years

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This fic has such a lovely tone and sense of humor all throughout. In which John is a special operative in Afghanistan skilled at rescuing kidnapped people and Sherlock is the kidnappee who has need of rescuing entirely too often. How fortuitous!

#sherlock holmes #johnlock au #johnlock fic rec #marta fic recs #different first meeting #mycroft is an interfering prat but still a good brother

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lilmoonbunny · 4 months

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Denial; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).

John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.

Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.

A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.

“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.

“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.

“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.

“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.

“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”

“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.

“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”

“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”

“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”

“Don’t care.”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.

“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.

Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.

There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.

“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”

“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.

“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”

As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.

She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.

“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”

“Why?”

With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…

Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.

Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.

“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”

“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.

“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”

Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.

“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.

“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.

Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.

“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”

It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”

Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.

“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.

“Y/N,”

“Why do you assume that I know?”

“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”

“…”

“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”

“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

“So, how was it?”

“It was fine.”

“You like her then?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mycroft simply put the phone down.

He did not like her.

The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.

He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.

“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.

Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.

“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.

It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.

Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.

Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.

“Mycroft?”

“Y/N.”

“What are you-“

“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.

“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”

Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.

The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.

After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”

There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.

As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.

“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”

“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.

“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.

It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.

A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.

“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”

Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.

“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.

With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.

“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.

“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.

“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.

“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.

“Thank you, Mycroft.”

As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.

Oh dear…

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shanastoryteller · 7 days

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Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #enola holmes #if we get a third movie my characterization of john will be wrecked #but know in my heart he is a lovable mad scientist with poor impulse control

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musingsofmyown · 2 years

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mycroft holmes is my favorite character?

more like i need therapy.

Every time I open Ao3:

(its mostly mystrade and/or Johnlock)

((we also dont talk about how my main OC is his biological-child and she's skeptical about Lestrade at first))

#Mycroft is my weakness #especially when he's being a good brother to Sherlock #or like super soft-vulnerable #omg give #aspen answers asks #thanks for the ask!#mycrofts-umbrella-in-the-tardis #at least I think that's your url #it got cut off 😅

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lisbeth-kk · 1 month

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Sherlock fandom

I Can’t Stand It

Rosie’s tantrum in the park, reminds Sherlock of his own childhood. It’s strange that so much of what the little girl says and does resonates with him.

“She’s not yours,” several voices inside his head tells him.

Still, he can’t shake off the feeling of being something more to her than just…what is he exactly to her? She calls him Lock; he calls her Watson. He desperately wants her to call him something else, which he only allows himself to think about when he’s alone.

“I can’t stand it, daddy!” Rosie exclaims and stomps her feet.

“But, sweetheart,” John tries to reason with his four-year-old daughter. “You were perfectly fine eating this last week.”

Rosie rolls her eyes and throws her arms in the air. Sherlock can see that John’s mouth twitches slightly as he’s supressing a smile. Sherlock hears his mother’s voice filled with delight in his mind.

“She’s so much like you sometimes, darling.”

“There are big pieces in it,” Rosie explains to John. “I want smooth ice cream.”

John looks over at Sherlock for help, but Sherlock has long ago decided to never lie to John again. He shrugs apologetically at mutters something under his breath.

“What was that, Sherlock?” John inquires, his tone exasperated now.

“It’s quite normal for children her age to change tastes and react to new textures. I was the same.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not…”

“I know, John!” Sherlock snaps. “You and everyone we know keeps telling me that.”

He turns on his heel and walks briskly out of the park. Behind him the two Watsons call after him, begging him to come back but he can’t. Sherlock can live with everyone else claiming that he’s not Rosie’s father, but it hurts when John joins the choir. Of course, Sherlock knows he has no biological connection to her, but he’s raising her together with John, isn’t he? She comes just as willingly to him as to John.

“Protect your heart, brother mine,” Mycroft told him after John and Rosie moved to Baker Street, and not for the first time. His brother knew that Sherlock’s heart belonged to John and had for a very long time.

***

Where are you? I’m sorry, Sherlock. We need to talk. Are you coming home soon?

Sherlock’s heart races in his chest when he reads John’s text. He barely registers the apology. All his brain is capable of is trying to deduce what John wants to talk about.

Are they moving out? Does John want him to spend less time with Rosie? Won’t he be allowed to do children safe experiments with her anymore?

He pulls his hair in frustration. Why is it so hard to figure out what John wants? Sherlock’s able to read anyone but John. Why?

“Hi, Sherlock. I didn’t know you were here,” Molly says when she walks into the lab at Barts.

“I’m leaving,” Sherlock tells her and walks rapidly out of the room.

***

Sherlock stands and watches the Thames float by. The London Eye is coloured in pink in the far distance. It’s getting dark and he’s got no recollection of the last hours. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he suddenly remembers that he’s forgotten to answer John’s text.

“A bit not good, Sherlock,” John’s voice scolds him.

Can I call you? Rosie wants to say goodnight.

Sherlock feels his face soften. The Watsons are probably still at Baker Street then. He doesn’t hesitate but calls John’s number.

John’s voice sounds relieved when he picks up, but it’s tinted with worry.

“Hi. You alright?” he asks.

“Fine,” Sherlock says, and it comes out more clipped than he intended.

John sighs and apparently gives the phone to Rosie.

“Lock!” the little girl exclaims.

“Hello, Watson. Ready for bed?” Sherlock inquires softly.

“Yes. Tired,” she tells him and yawns.

Sherlock feels his throat thicken, and he must swallow hard and close his eyes to keep his tears at bay. Without thinking he uses the endearment only Rosie has heard.

“Goodnight, my heart.”

“Night, Lock. See you tomorrow,” Rosie slurs, clearly almost asleep.

Sherlock ends the call before John gets a chance to ask him humiliating questions. The sharp intake of breath from John when Sherlock bid Rosie goodnight didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’ve ruined it now, Holmes,” he tells himself.

***

Aldi is still open, and Sherlock buys two boxes of ice cream for Rosie without any pieces of fruit, berries, crunch, chocolate or other abominations.

He takes a deep breath before locking himself into Baker Street, and he ascends the stairs silently. John sits in his chair, reading one of his medical journals. Sherlock just nods and walks to the kitchen with his purchases. He places the boxes in the freezer before walking to the bathroom.

“Sherlock?” John calls after him.

“Shower,” Sherlock answers.

The shower does wonders, and Sherlock feels quite refreshed and relaxed when he puts on a t-shirt, pyjamas bottoms and his maroon dressing gown. John stands just outside Sherlock’s bedroom and Sherlock startles a bit.

“Everything alright?” he asks. “Watson?”

“She’s fine, Sherlock. Soundly asleep. I just want to apologise properly to you. I was way out of line earlier. No, Sherlock, listen. I need to say this. Please.”

John’s expression is pained, and Sherlock doesn’t know what’s to come next. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

“I know it’s no excuse that I was exhausted and sleep deprived, but that’s the defence I have, and it’s appalling to say the least. Rosie…she is…just as much yours as she is mine. You care for her just like any parent. She loves you, we both do, and…”

“John?”

Sherlock’s voice is trembling, and he feels his balance is about to fail him. Warm and steady hands are placed on his upper arms and when John speaks again, his voice is warm with affection.

“Forgive me. Please?”

Sherlock just nods and lets himself melt in John’s embrace.

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