BBC Sherlock Imagines

Mycroft: The Way I Am (Part 2)

"Mycroft Siger Holmes," you declared out of breath, "what happened to you?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one that-" he cut himself off and shifted his gaze to the floor. "I really must be going," he announced firmly, gathering himself enough to look at you, this time straight in the eye. You felt a knife cut through your heart at his impenetrable gaze.

"If you would just listen to me I could tell you what happened. I've been looking for you since that summer and I've finally found you and you won't give me 5 minutes to explain." He again averted his gaze from yours to the ground. You watched him, but he was unreadable. "I miss you Mycroft."

~

Long ago...

"I've missed you Mycroft," you said, patting the grass next to you. He wrinkled his nose at the idea of sitting on anything besides a chair, but he did it anyway. "Well?" you said expectantly, "Are you going to say it back?" He looked at you, and you bit your lip too hard, drawing blood. You had been nervous to see him this summer, but a good nervous.

"Let's just pretend I said it back," he teased. You pushed him playfully and he just continued to smirk at you. Your insides turned.

"How was school this year?" you asked, leaning back on your hands and letting your head fall back to soak up the sun.

"Too easy. Boring as usual. I think my classmates have gotten stupider each year instead of smarter." You laughed, oh how you had missed his modesty.

"And Sherlock?" you inquired, always worried about that curly haired wonder. He sighed, and you opened your eyes to find him picking the heads off of the daisies. You picked one, but instead, started plucking off the petals.

"He's... getting along."

"Go on," you urged.

"As much as I hate to admit it, he's smart. Very smart. Not smarter than me of course, but smart. However, he lacks the social qualities a child must possess in order to survive in the cruel, inhumane atmosphere we call school." You nodded your head in understanding. Every time you had tried to talk to Sherlock he just gave you the stink eye and continued on whatever experiment he was working on, but Mycroft swore he liked you.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" You regretted it the minute you blurted it out, scolding yourself for being so reckless. You got up the nerve to look at Mycroft; he stared intently at you, but as soon as you made eye contact, he looked away. "I'm sorry, that was out of nowhere."

"No I don't have a girlfriend." He plucked a couple more heads off the daisies. "But I'm sure you have a boyfriend," he muttered scornfully.

"No," you uttered quickly.

"Good. Boys our age are immature and ignorant."

"Not all of them," you said, challenging him to look at you and understand what you were getting at. Finally your eyes met, and you saw the understanding form in his dark brown eyes.

"Yes, not all of them," he agreed. You smiled, and he did too, a million words passing between you two in the silence. "I wish we saw each other more than just during summer break," you confessed.

"Me too."

"And this is one of our last summers before going off to college. What if I don't see you again?"

"I'll come back. And who knows, maybe you'll grow a couple brain cells and join me at Cambridge."

"You know, I may actually be smarter than you and we just don't know it."

"If you were smarter than me then you'd know the probability of that being true is 0 to none."

"Mycroft," you whined. "I'm serious. You better come back. Don't ditch and leave me here. Next summer is our last summer. Together."

"It doesn't have to be." You snapped your head in surprise towards him. He blushed a deep shade of red, like he was as embarrassed by his outburst as you were by yours earlier. "I mean that." You swore your heart skipped a beat or two. He inched his hand towards yours on the grass. You stayed still, entranced by the fact that he, Mycroft Holmes, was making the first move; not even in your wildest dreams did that happen. Slowly his hand covered yours, and you melted at his gentle touch.

"You-" your voice cracked nervously and you cleared your throat, "you don't have to worry about me coming back."

"Me neither," he smiled. You believed him, and he you.

~

"Good to know," he replied dully.

"Okay that hurt," you fumed, getting tired of his childish remarks.

"Well it hurt when you didn't come back, when you said you would. So if you wonder what happened to me, look in the mirror and you'll find the answer. Blasted sentiment." He pushed past you to go out the door and you let him. Well almost.

"My grandmother was ill. She had to be moved out of that house. After that, my parents saw no reason to go back to Yorkshire. So forgive me for being so selfish and spending time with my perishing grandma instead of with you." He loosened the frown on his mouth, and traced his steps to back in front of you. He was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry (y/n), I truly am. I wasn't aware of the circumstances. I just thought-"

"You just thought I had up and ditched with no thought towards you? Mycroft I've thought about nothing but you for the past 24 years." He grabbed your hand. There he was, making the first move again.

"Me too." He gave you a slight smile, and stepped closer, mere inches away. The frustration you had felt with him earlier faded. He was here. You had found him, of course a couple years later than expected, but you found him. He was still the kid you had climbed trees with, the boy you had argued with over who was taller, the teen you had deep talks with, the Mycroft you had fallen in love with. "Dinner." He stated quietly, but forcefully.

"Was that a question or a statement?" you teased, leaning more into the smell of him - deep oak with a hint of work leather.

"A statement. Dinner. Tonight. 7pm. And please don't leave me waiting for 24 years."

"Bad joke, too soon," you chuckled.

"I'll pick you up from where you're staying at 6:30."

"Okay, I'm staying at-"

"Don't bother, I'll find out."

"How?" you laughed unsurely.

"Oh (y/n), we have a lot to catch up on."

"Like the fact that he's practically the whole British government," interrupted a voice from upstairs. You looked up to find Sherlock looking over you two.

"I'll see you soon," said Mycroft, giving his brother a disapproving look, then squeezing your hand. He left out the door, and you stood staring at the spot he was at moments before, a smile glued to your face.

"Good to have you back (y/n)," spoke Sherlock, still at the top of the stairs.

"Good to be back," you sighed happily, and you swore you saw Sherlock smirk a little before he turned around and marched back upstairs.

A/N

(Tried to find a young picture of Mark)

SPRING BREAK!!!!!!!!!

UPDATED!!!!!!!

(Was watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 while writing this)

(Now a Downton Abbey marathon)

(Hope to update soon)

(Momma loves you children)

(Thank you for you-know-whats)

Stay awesome