Chapter Text
This had been a bad day. Not the first and not the last. Not the worst either. But Mycroft had been woken up at 4 a.m. for work, and he was tired. The problem they had called him in for had long been resolved, and he had nothing much to do in his office expect taking care of boring papers and answering boring call phones to resolve various international conflicts. The calls were particularly annoying today, as if everybody knew he had already been having a bad day. He found himself watching the clock more often than usual. It was 6 p.m. when he was finally able to leave. Thankfully, going back home was quick, his driver knew how to avoid traffic. The driver was pulling up in his driveway when his phone rang. Mycroft immediately tensed. There were two reasons it could be ringing. One, it was Sherlock. If it was, then it was very bad news. Sherlock only called him if he had no other choice. Generally, it wasn't when he was in immediate danger, but rather when he was in emotional distress. Which was worse. Two, it was work. If it was, it meant he would have to turn around and go back to work. He did not like either of these reasons. But he sincerely hoped it wasn't Sherlock. He looked at his phone screen and sighed. Back to work it was. This day was never going to end.
It was 2 a.m. when he finally was home. To say he was tired was an understatement. He had barely slept the night before, and he had been up for almost 24 hours. He really wanted to go to bed but he knew he was too hungry to be able to sleep. He slowly made his way towards the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Suddenly, he stopped walking. His head was spinning. He just needed... Before he could finish this thought, he felt himself falling, his tiredness finally getting the better of him. Surprisingly, he did not hit the floor. Someone had caught him. His first thought was that it was an intruder. His second thought was that there was only one person who could enter his home without his invitation. His guess was confirmed when the man spoke.
"I've got you," he whispered.
The voice was very familiar. He passed out.
When he woke up, he was laying on a sofa. Still in his home. His head was slightly elevated, but he knew for a fact there was no pillow in this room. He opened his eyes. And smiled. He was indeed laying on the sofa, but his head was resting in his brother's lap. He didn't know why he was here, but it wasn't important. What was important was that he was here. Sherlock had been staring at nothing, probably lost in his own mind. Mycroft moved slightly, and his brother snapped out of his torpor.
"Oh, you're awake, I was starting to think you were dead."
"I'm happy to see you too Sherlock."
Finding the position he was in a bit awkward, Mycroft stood up in a sitting position and immediately regretted it. His head was still spinning a little. He mustn't have been out for very long, because he still felt really sleepy, and really hungry. He felt a hand on his back.
"Are you alright ?" asked Sherlock softly.
Mycroft didn't remember if he ever had heard him talk with a tone like this one before. He sounded worried.
"I'll be fine," he answered.
"Anthea called me," Sherlock said.
That explained why he was here. At least in part. The other part, he could guess. He was here because he cared. It was nice to know. It gave him a warm feeling in his chest.
"She told me you had been working without a break for two days," he said. "She was worried."
Mycroft turned towards him.
"And so were you ?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Obviously."
Mycroft was going to thank him, but his brother interrupted him.
"Shut up," he said. "I brought you food."
It was not a surprise that Sherlock didn't like to hear affection with words. It was just not how they showed that they loved each other. So Mycroft would not thank him, he didn't need to.
"You brought me food ?," he asked instead.
"It's in the kitchen. Can you go there without passing out ?"
Mycroft nodded. His head was not spinning anymore.
"I'm staying with you anyway," said Sherlock. "Until you fall asleep."
"Won't you stay the night ?"
He saw his brother pretend to hesitate before he shrugged.
"If you want."
Mycroft smiled. He had had a bad day, yes. But his brother was with him now. It meant the bad day was over.