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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.

Chapter Text

When Mycroft took days off to visit his family, it was not to relax. It was out of duty. He loved his parents, but being with them was exhausting. His father was nice enough, but he never really defended him from his mother. And she was exhausting, never happy about who he was. Yes, he had a nice job, a lot of money, but he wasn't famous like his brother. Yes, he had lost weight, but he still wasn't as pretty as his brother. Yes, he was here on holiday but he was lazy if he didn't work at all. By noon, Mycroft was utterly exhausted. His mother was angry at him because “he hadn't eaten enough” during lunch. He hadn't answered her when she had said that. She didn't need to know that he was absolutely unable to eat normally in front of her anymore. He just felt a lump in his throat everytime. Years of getting told to stop eating would do that. He had managed to make her “forgive” him by helping her wash the dishes. He hoped the afternoon would be quieter. The plan was to watch TV together, which meant not a lot of talking. And he was right. The afternoon went by slowly, but quietly. He felt relieved when he said goodbye to his parents. His mother seemed in a good mood, at least. She was often mean to him yes, but it didn't mean she didn't love him. Not as much as his brother, obviously, but he still wanted to think that she did.

He left in a taxi. He hadn't wanted to call his driver for that. As the car rolled away, he felt all the tension living his body. He felt much more relaxed, but he was also starting to feel sadder. He wished that his relationship with his parents was better. At the same time, he felt as though he was the only one realizing there was something wrong with their relationship. Maybe it was because there was something wrong with him. He was taken out of his thoughts by his phone. It was a message from his brother : You're expected for dinner tonight. He sighed. He was certain it was one of John's ideas. When they invited friends over, they always invited him too. Sherlock was starting to become more and more social, and he guessed he wanted him to do the same thing. Mycroft usually didn't mind, he just sat in a corner and listened to the conversations. But tonight he was tired. He also knew that saying no would make him feel worse. So he answered : I'll be here at 8. And gave a new direction to the taxi driver.

When he realized he would be early, he decided to stop the taxi, and to walk the rest of the way. It couldn't hurt him, especially if he had to eat again tonight. The night was cold, so he walked not as slowly as he would have liked. At the rhythm he was going, he would be early. He was roughly ten minutes away from Baker Street when he heard quick footsteps behind him. It was someone he knew. And she quickly reached him.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello miss Hooper,” he answered.

Molly smiled.

“You're going to Baker Street too ?”

It was an useless question. Still, he entertained her.

“Yes, of course.”

“It's a bit cold to be walking,” she said.

He looked at her.

“You're walking too.”

She blushed.

“Yes, but you don't even have a coat.”

She began to rummage through her bag. Finding it hard to do so while walking, she stopped and Mycroft imitated her.

“What are you searching for ?” he asked.

“Wait...”

She produced a scarf from her bag. It was clearly hand-knit. She handed it to him.

“There,” she said.

“Thank you, but...”

“I made it for you,” she said quickly.

He blinked.

“What ?”

“I made it for you, because I never saw you wear one and it's getting colder.”

He was stunned. What did she mean she had made it for him ? The answer was obvious. She had paid attention to him and decided to do something nice.

“Thank you,” he said while taking the scarf.

He put it on immediately. If he was sincere, it was ugly, with too many lines of colours, none of which were the same size, and definitely weird to wear with his suit. He also knew he would wear it as often as he could. They started walking again.

Finally, they arrived at Baker Street. They were the first here, and John greeted them at the door. Sherlock was busy finishing an experiment in the kitchen and didn't bother to say hello to any of them. It was not unusual. The next person to arrive was Mrs Hudson. Apparently, she had been out running errands for the dinner. It became much more lively when she was here. Mrs Hudson loved to talk. She explained in great details where, how and what she bought. Molly and John sometimes entertained her, asking her questions. He stayed quiet, half-listening. He had not removed the scarf and was distractedly playing with it. There was a sentence he caught in its entirety though.

“And I bought chocolate cake, I know it's your favourite.”

When she had said that, she had looked at him. She was clearly talking to him. Before he could process or answer, she was speaking about something else. He would thank her later. Even though he didn't even remember telling anyone it was his favourite.

The last to arrive was the inspector Lestrade. He had left work late. After arriving, he took the time to say hello to everyone. It included him too. Mycroft had never really realized he did that everytime.

“Could someone try and get Sherlock out of the kitchen ?” asked Mrs Hudson.

John was going to answer but Mycroft was quicker.

“I will,” he said.

And before anyone could say something, he went into the kitchen. Sherlock was still concentrated on his experiment, whatever it was. Mycroft went and sat on the chair beside him.

“How was the day with our parents ?” asked Sherlock without looking up.

“So you knew I was there today.”

“Yes. How was it ?”

Mycroft sighed.

“As usual.”

Sherlock didn't need to know what he truly thought about their parents.

“Tell everyone I'll be finished in five minutes,” Sherlock said.

“Did you talk to them ?” asked Mycroft.

Sherlock finally looked at him.

“I haven't been out of the kitchen,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

Sherlock looked at him in silence for a few seconds.

“Nice scarf,” he finally said. “She had already finished it when I texted her.”

Mycroft smiled, involuntarily. Sherlock flashed a quick smile before turning back to his experiment. It meant the conversation was over. He got up, to go back to the others. He felt very calm. And happy. Maybe his parents didn't love him. But the people in Baker Street right now all did.

Chapter Text

Mycroft was used to Sherlock turning down the cases he gave him. So he was pleasantly surprised when for once he was interested. To be fair, it was a curious case. Mycroft had already almost solved it. But it needed legwork to find definitive proofs.

“So you will take it ?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Sherlock was already reading the file. There was no point trying to talk to him anymore now.

“I'll be leaving you to it then,” said Mycroft.

“Hmm.”

“Goodbye Sherlock.”

He had already turned around to leave when Sherlock answered.

“Yes, bye, love you”

Mycroft literally froze in place. He had misheard him. He was sure of it. There was no way his brother had just said that. He must have stayed unmoving and unthinking for quite sometimes, because Sherlock ended up realizing he hadn't left.

“Did you forget something ?”, he asked.

Mycroft did not answer, barely registering what he had said. He was still trying to find what he had misheard.

“Mycroft ? Are you alright ?”

Finally, Mycroft turned around and looked at his brother.

“What did you say ?” he asked.

Sherlock gave him a puzzled look. Mycroft looked shocked, and he didn't understand why.

“I asked if you were alright.”

“No, no, before that.”

“I asked if you forgot some...”

“Before.”

“I just said goodbye.”

Mycroft shook his head.

“No. Say what you said word for word.”

Sherlock had said goodbye a bit distractedly, so it took him a few seconds to remember what he said. Finally, he did.

“I said : 'yes, bye, love you'”

As he repeated it, Sherlock still did not understand what could possibly be bothering his brother. Meanwhile, Mycroft realized that he had not misheard him.

“You don't mean that,” he said.

“What ?”

Mycroft just stared at his brother.

“You know you're making no sense right now right ?” said Sherlock.

“You... do you... you said you loved me.”

His brother stared at him for a few seconds before finally understanding.

“Wait, why are you shocked ?”

“Why... why wouldn't I be ?”

Mycroft was slowly registering that Sherlock had really meant what he had said. And it changed a lot of things. When he had been a child, he had believed that his brother loved him. This time was long gone. Until right now. Of course their relationship had warmed up a lot over the last few months, and he had started to think that maybe Sherlock liked him. But not that he loved him.

“Mycroft, you're stupid,” said Sherlock.

His brother did not answer, so Sherlock took it as an invitation to explain himself.

“After everything we've been through, you still think I don't love you ? I would not be talking to you anymore if I didn't.”

Now, Mycroft felt stupid. There was a hundred little things that his brother had done that showed him just how much he loved him. He had seen these things, but he hadn't observed. He hadn't realized. His brother was right. He was stupid. Sherlock needed to know that it was reciprocal.

“I...”, he started.

But Sherlock stopped him.

“I don't need to hear it,” he said. “I know. You wouldn't be the most overbearing big brother if you didn't.”

“I got better,” Mycroft said.

“Yes,” admitted Sherlock, “you did.”

And he smiled a little. Mycroft smiled too.

“Now then, I have an interesting case to get into,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft knew it was his cue to leave.

“I'll leave you to it then,” said Mycroft.

“Hmm,” was the only answer Sherlock gave.

He was reading again the file he had given him.

“Goodbye Sherlock,” he said again, this time for good.

Once again, he was not expecting a reply. But it came.

“Yes, bye, love you.”

Mycroft smiled. And he left, his heart feeling much lighter.

Chapter Text

Sherlock loved playing the violin. But he didn't like to perform. Too often, every time they had company, his parents made him play for the guests. They were proud to show off that their seven-year old could play as well as a grown adult. Sherlock didn't think he was that good. He still had a lot to learn. But he played along, because it made his parents happy. When they were happy, they let him do whatever he wanted.

If he was honest, what he wanted was to never have to perform again in front of people. But it was a small sacrifice to make to have peace in almost every other aspect of his life.

So that night, he performed for five minutes. And as he had finished, they all gushed around him. Telling him how good he was, how wonderfully he played. But Sherlock knows. He knows they are only praising him because they have never heard his brother play.

Sherlock had learned the violin with a private tutor, that's what his parents thought. But his tutor sucked. When he had gotten good enough to realize that, he had gone to see his brother, and asked him to teach him.

Mycroft hadn't learned the violin with a tutor like Sherlock. Indeed, his parents didn't even know that he could play. He had learnt with a music teacher at school, someone much more skilled than Sherlock's tutor if he was to believe what his brother had told him about her.

For years, he had stayed late every day to school to learn. And he had gotten very good, better than his brother would either be.

Sherlock had heard him play many times. Since he was a baby in fact. Always when their parents weren't there. This was why Sherlock had wanted to learn the violin. His parents had hired the tutor as soon as he had said that. Even in his young mind, Sherlock understood that it was not normal that they had done something for him that they would never have done for his brother.

As soon as everybody's attention was not on him anymore, Sherlock left the room, his violin in his hands. He went upstairs, and put it back in his bedroom. When it was done, he went into his brother's bedroom. Mycroft wasn't there, as he had expected. It was not him he had been looking for. What he had been looking for was under the bed. He grabbed the violin case, and left the bedroom.

Quickly, he had left the house. Their garden was more of an entire park, but he knew exactly where he was going. He went far, in what could be almost called a small forest. Soon, he found his brother. Mycroft was seated against a tree, reading a book. He looked up at Sherlock when he heard him approach.

“Have the guests left yet ?” he asked.

Sherlock shook his head.

“No.”

He approached his brother and sat just next to him. Mycroft closed his book and put it next to him on the floor.

“You brought my violin,” he said with a smile. “Are you going to play for me ?”

Instantly, Sherlock shook his head. He didn’t want to play in front of his brother. He felt too ashamed of how badly he played.

“I’m just joking,” said Mycroft.

And he took the case from his brother and opened it. The violin he took out was older than the one his brother had. The sound it made was less good, no matter how well it had been maintained.

“Do you want me to play for you ?” he asked.

Sherlock smiled and nodded quickly.

“Yes. You play so much better than me.”

“That’s not true, you’re a prodigy Sherlock.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe Sherlock was actually good. But it didn’t matter to him. The only person he wanted to hear play was his brother.

“Just play,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft complied and put his bow to the cords. As the music started, Sherlock put his head on his shoulder. Definitely, he would never play like his brother. And he also felt a little bit of pride, that he was the only one allowed to hear it. Their parent's guests would never have that honor. They didn't know what they were missing.

Sherlock wanted to stay here forever. He hoped those kinds of days would always exist. But for now, he just lived the moment, grateful that his brother existed. It made his life so much better.

Chapter Text

Mycroft would never refuse a direct order from the prime minister, no matter how much he might hate what he has to do. And what he has been ordered to do is to attend a party. A party with a lot of people. And the only thing he hates more than parties, it's people. Especially when he has to socialize with them. So it feels a bit paradoxal to think that the only thing making the situation a bit better is that he has not come alone to the party.

When he had asked Sherlock to come with him, he had never expected him to say yes. But he had. So there they were, in the middle of a big reception room full of people. Well, they were not in the middle, but both close to a wall, looking at the rest of the room.

“There are eighty-five people in this room excluding us, nobody will notice if you don't talk to anyone,” said Sherlock, answering a previous question made by his brother. “Although I thought the goal of that kind of boring event was to talk to people.”

“It is,” answered Mycroft, “for ordinary people. I'm here to observe. And besides, I'm talking to you.”

Sherlock sighed. Mycroft could tell he was bored, and he was even more appreciative of the fact that he was here with him.

“Why don't we play a game ?” asked Mycroft. “Trying to deduce people's secrets.”

“Why not,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft quickly scanned the room. His gaze stopped on a man who looked to be in his thirties.

“Him,” he said.

“Easy. He's having an affair.”

“And the woman he's talking to ?”

Sherlock looked at her for a few seconds.

“She's having an affair too... with his dad.”

“Yes, I had forgotten that they all have the same kind of secret in that kind of party,” sighed Mycroft.

It meant their little game was already over. It was not fun.

“At what time is it considered polite to leave ?” asked Sherlock.

“One more hour,” said Mycroft.

It was Sherlock's turn to sigh.

“I don't mind if you leave,” said Mycroft. “You've already done enough.”

“You are aware that if you are alone someone is going to come speak to you right ?”

Mycroft did not answer. It was true. And he didn't want that. They stood side by side in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Mycroft realized that Sherlock was looking quite intensly at him. Mycroft looked back.

“What ?” he said.

“Nothing,” answered Sherlock. “I'm just playing our game.”

“You... you're trying to deduce me ?”

Sherlock nodded.

“I've never tried before,” he said.

“And, any luck ?”

Mycroft really didn't see what there was to deduce about him.

“Yes, I just found something really puzzling.”

“What's that ?”

“You're happy.”

His brother knew him well enough to know it was not something that happened often.

“Indeed I am.”

“But you hate that kind of party.”

Mycroft nodded.

“Yes. But you'll notice that there is a difference between this party and the other parties I've been to.”

It was quite easy to find what was different.

“I'm here,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft smiled.

“Indeed, you're here.”

Sherlock looked away.

“It takes little for you to be happy then.”

“Or a very precise thing.”

Sherlock did not answer. It was probably the closest thing to 'I love you' he would get from his brother. And it was quite enough.

“You know, the polite thing would be to leave in an hour,” said Mycroft. “But nothing says we have to be polite.”

“As if someone is going to notice we left,” said Sherlock.

With that, they made their way towards the exit. Soon, and without anyone stopping them or even looking at them, they were outside.

“Want to come to Baker Street ?” asked Sherlock.

Mycroft really had no reason to go there, especially this late.

“Yes,” he answered. “I hope we won't wake up John.”

“Oh, he's not sleeping at this time. Beware, you're going to have to watch telly with us.”

“It can't be worst than the party,” said Mycroft.

With that, they stopped a taxi, and left for good. It wouldn't be a wasted evening finally.

Chapter Text

It was the third day of the Holmes' family vacation in the United States. So far, Sherlock liked it, even if he was a bit tired. The 8-hour flight they had taken to get there was exhausting for a six year old. His brother did not look tired, but Sherlock knew he was good at hiding it. What he was not good at hiding was the fact that he did not like long drives. Which was a problem, seeing as their vacation involved driving from the east coast towards the west coast, stopping in various cities on the way. Right now, they had been driving for three hours. Sherlock could see how bored his brother looked. He also knew he was too polite to say it out loud. Sherlock was not as bored, he could stay in his own head, just inventing things, for hours. He could also be his brother's voice.

“Mommy, I'm bored !” he said.

She was the one driving.

“We'll make a stop soon,” she said.

It was a lie. The landscape was nothing but endless fields and a never-ending road. Suddenly, a sign appeared on the side of the road. Sherlock read it out loud.

“Corn Maze in two miles, fun for all the family.”

“There you have it, we'll stop here,” said their mom.

She was audibly relieved.

“What's a corn maze ?” asked Sherlock.

“It's a maze made with corn,” answered their dad.

“It's just a maize maze, we've already done that back home,” sighed Mycroft.

It did not sound very exciting, but it was still better than sitting in the car for hours. It was a few minutes before they finally reached the corn maze. There was a few cars there, but still plenty of places to park. Sherlock got out of the car. He was always annoyed by how much time his parents needed to get out of the car. For him, it took ten seconds : the time to unbuckle his seatbelt and open the door. For his parents, it took at least two minutes. He had no idea what they could be doing for it to take so much time. After one minute, Sherlock got tired of waiting.

"I'll go on ahead," he said.

And without waiting for an answer, he went away.

He quickly arrived at the entrance of the maze. Surprisingly, it was free. It could probably be explained by the fact that it was very simple, not even themed. But it looked big. Sherlock entered. He was certain it would not be hard to find the exit. He'd just have to see where there was the most footprints. He realized the problem with this way of reasoning when he reached the first fork. The footprints were everywhere and it was hard to understand in which direction they went. Sherlock had to pick a direction. He went to the right. At first, it seemed to be the right direction. But after a few more turns, he found himself in an impasse. It was not a problem. He turned around. But after a few more walls, he realized that he had not even tried to memorize the layout of the maze. He was starting to get a bit worried.

After a few minutes of going in circles, and after reaching another wall, Sherlock sat down. He was lost. And he did not like that ? What if his parents choose to leave without him ? Or worst, what if they got lost too ? He snapped out of his dark thoughts when he heard footsteps approaching him. Sherlock looked up. And jumped to his feet.

“Mycroft !”

He threw himself towards his brother. Mycroft caught him in his arms.

“It’s alright Sherlock,” he said softly.

Sherlock looked up at him.

“How did you find me ?”

Mycroft smiled at him.

“Well… I’ve been following you the all time,” he said.

“But… why didn’t you tell me ?” protested Sherlock.

“It was kind of funny watching you get lost,” he said.

Sherlock stepped back from his brother.

“I was scared ! I could have died in here !”

To be fair, Sherlock knew he was being a bit dramatic. But he had been genuinely scared. Mycroft was still smiling.

“Sherlock, have you forgotten it’s a corn maze ? If you’re really lost well… you can just go through the ‘walls’.”

Sherlock gave him a blank stare for a few seconds. He had absolutely forgotten. He was not going to admit that.

“I know ! But it’s not allowed !”

Mycroft laughed. He clearly did not believe him. Sherlock sighed.

“Alright, I’ll find the exit with you,” said Mycroft, reaching his hand towards him.

Sherlock looked at his hand.

“Can’t you carry me ?” he mumbled.

He felt a bit ashamed asking for that, but he was tired. And he knew Mycroft never made fun of him when he asked that. Mycroft picked him up without making a comment. And holding his brother against him, he went to find the maze’s exit.

Chapter Text

They were not going to stay long in the house they had rented for their vacation in the United States. Sherlock's parents had indeed decided to pass through the entire country from east to west. They were only staying in the house for three days, at the mid-point of their trip.

Sherlock would have loved to stay longer. The house was far away from any other habitations, in a sunny state, and had a garden that stretched as far as the eyes could see. The house itself looked like something straight from a movie, with a porch in the front where you could sit for hours.That’s what Sherlock liked to do the most, more than visiting the neighboring towns. More precisely, he loved to sit on the porch swing. When they would go back home, he would try to ask his parents for one, even if he doubted they would buy it.

This particular day, Sherlock was sitting on the swing, reading a book about pirates. His parents had gone to the nearest town to buy food. They wouldn’t be back for a while. Sherlock had been there for almost an hour when the door of the house opened.

“You know you’re supposed to babyseat me,” said Sherlock without looking up from his book.

“You’re seven, you don’t need constant surveillance,” answered Mycroft while he closed the door behind him.

Sherlock looked up from his book.

“Where are you going ?” he asked.

“I was looking for you.”

Instead of asking him why, Sherlock tried to deduce it. It wasn’t hard. His brother was bored. He would never admit it though.

“Sit with me,” asked Sherlock, scooting over a bit to the right.

“Alright,” said Mycroft.

And he sat next to his brother.

“Do you want me to read you the book ?” asked Mycroft.

Sherlock shook his head.

“No, I’m not a baby.”

“Then what do you want to do ?” asked Mycroft.

There was not much to do in the house, other than watch TV. And Sherlock didn’t really care for it. They could play in the garden, but it would also get boring quickly.

“I don’t know, just sit here,” Sherlock said.

And with that, he started to read his book again. He was fully expecting his brother to go away. After all, he had nothing to do. But he stayed.

After a little while, Sherlock had finished his book. He closed it and put it on his lap. He looked up at his brother.

“Are you not bored ?” he asked.

“No, I’m with you.”

Sherlock smiled, but did not answer. Instead, he put his head against his brother’s shoulder. It was the kind of moment he wished would last forever. They stayed like this until their parents got home.

Chapter Text

It was the kind of day where the rain doesn't stop. It had been raining when Mycroft had woken up in the morning, and it was still raining when he left his office. It was clearly showing no sign of stopping soon. Mycroft really didn't mind. Truthfully, he loved the rain, always did. That's why he chose to walk instead of calling his driver. He would not go home right away, he wanted to stop by Baker Street and it was only a thirty minutes walk from his office.

So he left under the rain, his trusty umbrella opened above his head. It was in moments like that he was glad he was always carrying it with him. Despite the bad weather, they were quite a few people in the streets. Everybody seemed to be in a hurry to find shelter though. He passed close to a bus stop. People were huddled underneath, trying to protect themselves from the falling rain. The bus stop was not big enough to protect everyone. Mycroft stopped.

There was a woman with a light coat which didn't even have a hood. She hadn't managed to fit under the bus stop. Mycroft approached her and put his umbrella above her head.

"Seeing the direction of that bus, I'm guessing you're going to Baker Street ?" he said.

The woman turned toward him with surprise and there was a look of recognition in her eyes.

“Oh, Mr Holmes,” she said. “Yes, yes I am. I'm doing delivery.“

And she showed him the bag she was holding. Mycroft hesitated. Did he really want to know what Molly Hooper was bringing to his brother ? No, but he asked anyway.

"What is it ?"

"Fingers. He used up all the old ones."

She had said it so casually, as if it was perfectly normal. Mycroft thought it best to change the subject.

"It's not urgent is it ? You're soaked through, we could grab a coffee before going there."

"You're going to Baker Street too ?" she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, yes for coffee then.”

They went away from the bus stop, and entered the first cafe they found.

Two minutes later, they were sitting next to each other in front of a window overlooking the street. They could see the bus stop from there. Mycroft hadn’t touched his cup of coffee yet, and Molly was holding hers between her hands.

“Are you cold ?” asked Mycroft.

“Less than before.”

She took a sip from her coffee, and then looked at Mycroft.

“Why are you going to Baker Street ?”

“No reason in particular,” he answered, looking at her. “Just checking up on Sherlock.”

Molly smiled.

“You do that more and more often don’t you ?”

“Well, I feel more welcome than before.”

It had been six months since the events at Sherrinford. Things had only gotten better since then.

“It’s understandable. You’re less…”

She didn’t end her sentence and looked away, red on her cheeks.

“Less what ?” he asked.

“Less mean,” she muttered.

Mycroft smiled, and Molly looked at him again.

“That too, it’s new,” she said.

“That’s because I wasn’t happy before.”

“And now you are.”

He nodded.

“Sherlock and I finally get along now. And little Rosie likes me.”

Molly stared at him, saying nothing. Mycroft stared back.

“What ?” he said.

“You do realize… uh… that you have friends too. Not just Sherlock and Rosie.”

“Oh, you mean John ? He’s Sherlock’s friend, not really mine.”

She still stared at him, with a reproachful look now. What did she…

“Oh,” he realized. “You mean you.”

She nodded. And he realized she was right. Through his job, it was not rare that he needed a mortician, and when he did, he always went to see her. She was very good at her job, and she was nice. Surprisingly, they got along.

“You’re right,” he said.

“I know I am,” Molly smiled.

After that, they sat in silence to finish their coffees, until they saw the bus arrive through the window.

“Shall we try to catch it ?” Asked Mycroft.

Molly shook her head.

“Too many people, we won’t be able to enter.”

“Do you want to walk ? We have my umbrella.”

Molly acquiesced. They paid, and then they were on their way. The rain had calmed a little. Still, the umbrella was needed. As they went away, Mycroft thought that it was definitely better to walk with someone than to walk alone.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Mycroft liked to go through old photos. He had taken quite a lot from his parent's house. They didn't mind, they never looked at them. The oldest photos didn't interest him, they were only of his parents or of him. The ones he liked were the ones where his brother was. When he reached the first, he smiled. It was a photo he had taken, and the very first photo of his brother that existed. It had been taken in the hospital.

Sherlock's birth was an event he remembered very well. It had happened on a cold winter night, twenty minutes before midnight. His mother had been in the hospital all day, and so had his father and him. If he was honest, Mycroft remembered being very tired and annoyed. He did not want a little brother, he liked being an only child. His parents’ attention was only on him. But when he heard from the corridor his brother crying, he got curious. He had not been allowed to enter the delivery room, but now that it was done, it was a matter of minutes before his father called him. At least that’s what he thought was going to happen. It was not the case.

Two nurses went out of the room. One was carrying his brother and went past him without acknowledging his presence. The other stopped in front of him.

“Your mother needs a bit of rest, and your father is staying with her. Just wait here a little longer,” she said.

She went back into the room. Mycroft easily guessed that there had been a problem. Not a serious one, otherwise he would have seen a doctor enter the room, and the nurse wouldn’t have told him to wait here in front of the room.

He quickly got tired of waiting, and decided to try and see where his brother was. He was easy to find. He was in a room with a lot of other babies. They were probably ten in the room. Mycroft needed to find which one was his brother, and the cribs were too high for him to see inside. He could see that the names were written above the cribs, but he would need to step on something to be able to read. Thankfully, there was a chair in the room, probably here for the nurses. Without really thinking about it, he dragged the chair towards one of the crib in the middle of the room. He climbed on top of the chair. Without looking at the baby, he read what was written : ‘William Holmes’. Mycroft hoped he would choose to go by the name Sherlock.

Finally, he looked at the baby. He wasn’t sleeping. The baby was looking at him, with a curious look. Without meaning to, Mycroft smiled.

“Hello Sherlock,” he whispered.

Mycroft usually thought that babies looked disgusting, but he was not so bad. He felt something in his heart that he had never felt before. As soon as he had laid his eyes on him, he had realized that he, in fact, wanted a little brother. And that he loved him. He watched, as the baby slowly fell asleep.

It was a few minutes later that he took Sherlock’s first photo. He had with him his father’s bag, and there was a camera inside. He told himself that it would please his father. But years later, as he looked back at the photo, he realized that he had taken it for himself. To remember that very special moment where he first laid his eyes on his brother and his life changed forever.

Chapter Text

Mycroft had spent a long time believing he didn't love anyone. It had taken him years to realize it wasn't true. He loved his brother. And now, he was slowly realizing that it was not the only person he was capable of loving. He was even starting to want to say it. It was not an easy task to accomplish.

It was a slow morning at work. It seemed that nothing major was going to happen today. A perfect opportunity to have a conversation. He just needed to wait for the right moment. And that moment came quickly, as the door to his office opened. Anthea entered, carrying a bunch of papers. She put them on the side of his desk.

“It’s for you to sign,” she said. “Nothing urgent.”

“Right,” said Mycroft. “Do you have a minute ?”

She raised an eyebrow. She had no idea what he wanted to talk about.

“Sure,” she said.

She sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk.

“What is it ?”

Mycroft hesitated. Now that he was in the situation he had planned, it didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.

“It’s not work related,” he said.

“Is it about Sherlock ?”

He understood why she would think that. Most of his life revolved around Sherlock.

“No, it’s not.”

And he didn’t add anything. Anthea pressed on.

“Then, what is it about ?”

“It’s about… us.”

She looked surprised. She was not expecting that answer at all.

“What do you mean ? Are you going to fire me ?”

“No ! I would never do that.”

He was offended that she would even think about it. Anthea smiled.

“I was joking.”

“Oh. Right.”

He was not good at understanding when people were joking or not, even if it was people close to him.

“So, what about us ?”

Mycroft had prepared a whole speech, but it felt really silly right now. So he was going to go off script.

“I just need you to know… how much I care about you.”

Once again, she looked surprised. But there was another emotion mixed in. She was touched.

“I already… know that,” Anthea said. “But it’s nice to hear it. Very nice.”

So she had understood. He was a bit surprised, because he never communicated what he was feeling. But Anthea was clever, so it was not completely unexpected.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me ?” she asked.

“Yes,” he simply answered.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Mycroft now felt considerably lighter. It was nice to have gotten it out of his chest. But he had barely said anything.

“To be honest,” he said, “I care about you as much as I care about my brother.”

Anthea laughed and shook her head.

“I don’t believe it’s true,” she said.

“No, no, it is,” he insisted. “I love Sherlock, he’s family. But you…”

It was hard to find the right words. But then, it came to him.

“You… you are the love of my life. You’re my best friend.”

She looked genuinely shocked. She stared at him for a few seconds.

“You’re not lying,” she realized.

“I’m not,” he said.

She looked away. She was getting a bit too emotional. Mycroft didn’t say anything, letting her process what he had said. Finally, she looked back at him.

“Thank you for telling me that. I’m glad we’re feeling the same,” she said.

Mycroft smiled at her. It had gone way better than what he had expected. Today, he would go back to work with his heart full.

Chapter Text

Being the assistant to a man as powerful and important as Mycroft Holmes allowed for little time to relax. Anthea spent so much time at work with him that in her downtime, she usually preferred to be alone or with someone else. But two or three times a year, they saw each other out of work.

This particular day was a Sunday. Exceptionally, they both had a whole day off. International affairs had been quiet this week. They had planned to meet in the middle of the afternoon. Outside was still warm for the middle of October, so they would meet up in a park.

Anthea had woken up at 8 a.m., which was late for her. As soon as she had been ready, she went to the kitchen, not to eat breakfast, but to bake. The last time she had done that, she had been a child. But it was time to try again. She was going to make a cake for her boss. Mycroft loved everything sugary and she wanted to give him something at least a little bit thoughtful. Even though making a cake was not really hard.

She had chosen a simple recipe, so it took her a little less than twenty minutes to prepare the mixture. Then, she put it in the oven. It was meant to bake for an hour. She had time to do other things meanwhile. She made herself a cup of coffee, and took some biscuits from the cupboard. She went back to her bedroom.

A few moments later, she was sitting on her bed, reading a book she had meant to read for a long time. She sometimes read in the evening, but it was only for a few minutes. It was nice to have time for once.

She was well advanced in her book when she realized something was wrong. There was an unknown smell in the air. She suddenly looked at her watch. She had put the cake in the oven almost two hours ago. She jumped up and ran to the kitchen. There was smoke coming from the oven. She rushed to turn it off and slightly opened the oven door. She waited until most of the smoke had cleared off. Nothing seemed to be on fire anymore. She opened the door completely. Carefully, she got what should have been a cake out. It looked like molten lava. She sighed.

A few hours later, she was in the park waiting for Mycroft. She had sat on a bench and put next to her the pastries she had bought in a bakery. She was early, and he arrived right on time, like usual. He sat next to her without saying hello, they saw each other too often for that. Even on days off, he was still wearing a suit and a tie. She was not better, she was also wearing the same clothes she wore at work.

“We look like two spies having a secret meeting,” she said.

“Well, we are two spies, but the meeting is not secret. And we’re not in a movie.”

She smiled.

“I brought us something to eat,” she said, putting the box on her lap.

“Thank you,” he said. “Didn’t you say you were going to bake something yourself ?”

She did not answer, instead opting to open the box.

“Did you set fire to your kitchen again Anthea ?” he asked.

“No,” she answered.

Which was true. The fire didn’t break out.

“Did you almost set fire to your kitchen ?”

She sighed.

“Yes.”

To stop him from further comments, she took out one of the pastries - a chocolate tartlet - and gave it to him. It never failed to shut him up. He began eating it immediately.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“Thanks, I didn’t make it,” she answered.

She didn’t look at him, but she knew he had smiled. It was the equivalent of a laugh for him. Anthea leaned back on the bench, and looked up at the clear blue sky. It was a great day.

Chapter Text

Snow was one of Sherlock's favorite things. His parents had told him that it was probably because he was born during a snowy night. Because of it, he couldn’t help but go and play outside every time there was snow, no matter how cold it was. His parents rarely tried to stop him, they said that at seven-year old, he was old enough to know if it was too cold outside. Mycroft didn’t agree with that kind of parenting.

This was why he had chosen to drag a chair outside and was sitting next to the door as Sherlock was building a snowman. He was watching over Sherlock and reading a book at the same time. His brother really didn't mind him doing that. It made him feel safe. He would never say it though, because Mycroft probably wouldn't react.

As much as Sherlock loved the snow, playing alone was quickly boring. He had already made three snowmen : one was a pirates' captain, the other the second in command, and the third the gunner. He could make more, but he didn't have any accessories left. He also had the feeling that if he went inside, he wouldn't be allowed out again. He had been doing nothing for the past few minutes and his brother was watching him more intently than before. Sherlock went towards him and stopped in front of him.

"You finally want to get back inside ?" Asked Mycroft without looking up from his book.

"No," instantly said Sherlock.

And after a pause he added.

"Play with me."

"I'm reading," he said. "And it's too cold. Get back inside if you're bored."

Sherlock was not going to go back inside. But he also knew his brother couldn't be convinced with words. He went away, aware that he was being watched. He began gathering snow again, as if to made a new snowman. But instead, he kept snow in his hand. When he had enough, he suddenly turned around and hurled the snowball at his brother. It hit him in the leg. For a few seconds, Mycroft didn't react. He was trying to figure out if he was going to get mad or if he was going to play along. He chose the latter. He got up, put his book on the chair, and took a handful of snow.

Half an hour later, they were both completely soaked. Sherlock would have played longer, but Mycroft called an end to it.

“I don’t care if you get sick,” he said. “But I don’t want to be.”

Sherlock protested, but Mycroft didn’t care. He picked him up in his arms and brought him inside. Sherlock knew his big brother wasn’t worried about his own health, he was worried about Sherlock’s. So he didn’t fight. Their parents weren’t downstairs, so their mother couldn’t yell about the mess they made with their dirty clothes. Mycroft brought Sherlock directly in front of the lit fireplace. It was nice to be warm after a day spent in the cold. Mycroft left Sherlock on the sofa in front of the fire for a few minutes, and came back with hot chocolate. He gave a cup to his brother and sat next to him.

“You see, it’s nice to play outside sometimes.”

“It’s not.”

Sherlock smiled. His brother never showed his emotions like himself did. But it didn’t mean that he didn’t care.

Chapter Text

Everytime Sherlock did something illegal, Mycroft had to clean up behind him. If he was caught, of course, and thankfully it wasn’t too often. But this time, he had been caught. Breaking and entering into a rich man house. It was not hard to have the case not go to trial, but it was annoying. It took a lot of diplomacy, a lot of talking, and a lot of money. Mycroft had been working on it for hours already, and it was almost over. The last thing he needed was to wait for a call from Anthea to confirm that all charges had been dropped.

The phone call came quickly, and he answered immediately.

“Anthea,” he said. “I guess Sherlock is out of trouble now.”

He didn’t give her time to answer, it wasn’t necessary.

“He really needs to stop doing that,” he said. “I won’t always be here to fix it for him. He should be glad he has a loving brother.”

He paused.

“But, I know he only does that kind of thing for cases. So I guess he’s not really being bad. He does that to help people. He should have been a policeman, it would be less trouble. But I’m proud of him anyway. Don’t you think he would have been better as a policeman ?”

He got no answer. She had hunged up. He guessed he was being a bit annoying, talking so much about his brother. But Anthea always listened to him ramble. She was the only one who did, really. Anyway, his brother was out of trouble now. He got back to work.

Half an hour later, the door to his office opened. It was his brother.

“Sherlock ? What are you doing here ? If it’s about…”

“You’re stupid,” interrupted Sherlock as he closed the door behind him.

He advanced and sat in the chair in front of the desk. Mycroft looked at him with confusion.

“What ?” he said.

“Check your phone,” Sherlock said. “Look at the last person who called you.”

Mycroft did. He frowned.

“It’s you,” he said. “I didn’t…”

“Yes,” interrupted Sherlock. “It’s me. Not Anthea.”

Mycroft understood. He had not been talking to his assistant. He had been talking to his brother.

“You… you were not supposed to hear that,” he said.

Sherlock stared at him for a few seconds before saying :

“You’re proud of me ?”

He had heard everything, Mycroft couldn’t deny anything he had said.

“Yes,” he said. “Of course I am.”

“And… you described yourself as a ‘loving brother’”

Mycroft looked away.

“I try to be,” he muttered.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Sherlock smile a little.

“You’re not doing so bad.”

Mycroft didn’t know what to answer. But Sherlock was not expecting him to. He got up.

“I was just passing by,” said Sherlock. “I’m leaving.”

He went towards the door, and stopped. He turned back to look at Mycroft.

“Just three little things,” he said. “I should call more often. Please come to Baker Street tonight. And no, I wouldn’t have made a good policeman.”

With that, he left. Alone again, Mycroft couldn’t help but smile.

Chapter Text

Most of the time, Mycroft was the one helping Sherlock. But sometimes, it was Sherlock’s turn to help his brother, even if Mycroft thought he didn’t need any help.

Mycroft hadn’t come to Baker Street since the events at Sherrinford. During the first week, Sherlock hadn’t really been worried, and he had a lot of other things to think about. After two weeks, he had understood that something was wrong, and chose to go to his brother’s home.

The house was quiet, but it wasn’t unusual. It was big, and only one person lived here, who rarely put on the television. Sherlock quickly made his way through the manor. He found his brother in his bedroom. The door wasn’t even closed. The window was open too, so the room was brightly lit. Mycroft was laying on his bed, on top of the sheets. His eyes were closed, but from his quick breath Sherlock could tell he was not asleep. He stepped into the room and Mycroft opened his eyes.

“Go away,” he said.

Sherlock advanced.

“We’re in the middle of the week, and you’re not at work,” said Sherlock.

“I was yesterday, I’m not needed today.”

He paused before adding :

“Leave, please.”

Sherlock was definitely not going to leave.

“You’re not alright,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft got up quickly. He was clearly annoyed. He looked at Sherlock.

“Oh, really, what makes you think that ?”, he said curtly.

“Mycroft…”

“Why are you talking to me ? You should do like mom and dad and act as if I don’t exist anymore.”

Sherlock shook his head.

“I’m here to help you, I don’t know yet how, but I will.”

“For the last time, go away !”

He had yelled the last two words. Sherlock didn’t even remember the last time he had heard his brother yell. Sherlock advanced towards Mycroft. He was expecting him to get back, but he didn’t. He took it as an invitation to move forward a bit more. When he reached his brother, he wrapped his arms around him. He hadn’t hugged him since he was a child. It felt nice. Mycroft did not hug him back, but he didn’t move away either. They stayed in silence for a few seconds before Mycroft spoke :

“I hate it,” he said.

He was clearly talking about the hug.

“No, you don’t,” said Sherlock softly.

For a moment, he thought Mycroft was going to push him away. But no, he hugged him back and put his head against his shoulder. He was crying. Sherlock held him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Sherlock whispered.

“Thank you…”

Sherlock knew what it meant. Mycroft was accepting his help.

Chapter Text

This year, winter was especially cold. It was December and snow really only stopped when it was raining. Sherlock had spent the last few days running around to solve a case, but it was over now, and it was nice to be able to stay inside again. He knew he would get bored again soon enough, but when it would happen, he would just have to find a new case to keep his mind busy.

This afternoon, he was alone in Baker Street, John was at work and Rosie at school. He had dragged a chair close to the window and was observing the people in the street below. They were all hurrying. Some were running, others were not. The sky had been calm ten minutes ago, but now it was snowing. The wind was strong, so umbrellas were useless. He suddenly caught a familiar sight. The man was walking and holding an umbrella which as for everyone else, did not protect him from the snow. Sherlock lost sight of him as he entered Baker Street. He heard the door open and close. He got up.

A few moments later, Mycroft was entering the apartment and Sherlock was there to greet him.

“Even I know you’re supposed to wear a coat when the weather is like that,” he said.

“You don’t wear a coat with a suit,” answered his brother.

Sherlock could see he was shaking and he shook his head.

“You’re soaked. Come and sit.”

Mycroft followed him inside and sat on the armchair, next to the lit fireplace. Sherlock went into the kitchen.

“Do you want something ? Tea ? Chocolate ? Coffee ?”

“Chocolate would be nice,” answered Mycroft.

Sherlock quickly prepared it and went back into the living room with two mugs. He gave one to his brother and sat in the armchair in front of him. He could see that Mycroft had stopped shaking. He decided to not pester him more about that.

“So, what brings you here ?” he asked.

“Nothing really, I knew you were alone,” answered Mycroft. “And to thank you for solving the case I gave you.”

Sherlock shrugged.

“You’re welcome, especially since it was a boring case,” he said.

“I know very well that if it was a boring case you wouldn’t have solved it. And I don’t give you boring cases anymore.”

It was true. Mycroft had gotten really good at knowing what would or would not interest his brother. Sherlock changed the subject.

“Will you be here this year for the Christmas party ?” he asked.

“I haven’t been invited yet.”

“Well you are now.”

Mycroft smiled a little.

“Then I guess I’ll be there,” he said before taking a sip from his hot chocolate.

“Good,” said Sherlock.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just drinking their hot chocolates. It was Sherlock who broke the silence first.

“Before you arrived, I was watching people in the street. Want to do that with me and try to guess their lives ?”

“Why not,” answered Mycroft.

They both got up and went to the window. They did their little game for quite a while. As time passed, Sherlock realized that even if he stayed inside, it was easy to not get bored as long as he was in the right company.

Chapter Text

It was not rare for their parents to leave Mycroft and Sherlock at home alone for several days. Sherlock was only seven, but Mycroft was already fourteen. According to their mom, Mycroft was old enough to babysit his little brother. Nevermind that Mycroft finished school later than his brother, so Sherlock always went home alone.

Thankfully, they lived in an area where it was relatively safe to walk from the bus stop to their house. And Sherlock was never really scared of anything. The biggest problem was that Mycroft was always very worried. So this day, when he got home, he ran into the house to check if his brother was here, and if he was safe and sound.

Sherlock was seated at the kitchen table, reading a book.

“Was school alright ?” asked Mycroft.

“No,” answered Sherlock without looking up from his book. “School is stupid.”

It was the same answer as always.

“I’ll make dinner for us,” said Mycroft.

Sherlock finally looked up from his book towards his brother. Mycroft was expecting him to ask about dinner. But he didn’t.

“Does it ever get better ? After elementary school ?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes,” lied Mycroft. “People get less stupid the older you get. And so do the classes.”

It was almost true for the classes, but not at all for the people. If anything, they got meaner.

“Anyway,” said Mycroft. “Once I go to university I’ll take you with me to London. It’s better there.”

“Will you really ?” asked Sherlock hopefully.

“Yes,” said Mycroft.

He wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. At least, he knew he would try. Sherlock gave him a big smile. It was worth a lie to see him this happy.

They both ate quickly, before settling in the living room to watch TV. The movie was not too boring, so Sherlock didn’t fall asleep. But towards the end, he looked tired. When the movie ended, he was resting his head on his brother’s shoulder. Mycroft took him into his arms to bring him to his bedroom and lay him to bed. When it was done, Mycroft sat at the edge of his brother’s bed.

“Do you want me to read you a story ?” asked Mycroft.

Sherlock shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I want a lullaby.”

Mycroft knew why he was asking for that. When their parents weren’t there, Sherlock often had nightmares. The only thing that really helped him sleep calmly was if his brother sang him to sleep. Mycroft smiled at him.

“Alright,” he said.

Mycroft always found it a bit awkward, he wasn’t very good at singing. But Sherlock didn’t seem to mind. So he did, singing one of the few lullabies he knew. And he watched as Sherlock slowly fell asleep. His face looked appeased. It took him five whole minutes to finally fall into unconsciousness. Mycroft stopped. He stayed a little, just to make sure Sherlock didn’t wake up. Finally, he left the bedroom and closed the door slowly, wishing that kind of moments would last forever.

Chapter Text

Sherlock could always tell the difference between someone coming into Baker Street for a case and someone coming for something else. So when he heard his brother climbing up the stairs, he realized that his footsteps sounded different from usual. He was not coming here just to visit or give him a case from somebody else. He was coming here for his own problem.

As usual, Mycroft entered the apartment without knocking. Sherlock was already aware he was here anyway.

“Good morning Sherlock,” he said.

He went to sit in the armchair in front of his brother.

“Good morning. That’s not where you sit when you’re a client,” answered Sherlock.

It took Mycroft a few seconds to understand what his brother meant.

“Oh, I’m not really coming here for a case. I’m here for… advice.”

Sherlock was even more intrigued than before. What kind of advice could his brother possibly want from him ?

“Advice ?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, about something you have a bit more expertise on than me.”

Sherlock really didn’t see what it could be. He observed his brother. Mycroft was good at hiding his emotions, but he looked a bit embarrassed. It was very unusual.

“And what is it ?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated to explain.”

He was turning around the subject.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me clearly what you want,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft hesitated an instant.

“Can you promise you won’t make fun of me ?”

So he really was embarrassed. It seemed to be a serious matter, at least for his brother. Sherlock decided he would behave nicely.

“I promise, you can tell me.”

It took Mycroft a few more seconds to finally express himself.

“I was wondering, since you and I are a little bit alike, how you managed to… make friends.”

Sherlock was definitely not expecting that. But if he thought about it, it made sense. Over the last few months, Mycroft and him had gotten closer. At the same time, Sherlock had realized that through the years, he had managed to make friends. John, Molly, the inspector and Mrs Hudson. Mycroft had witnessed these friendships, so he had started to crave the same thing.

“You do know there is no method for that right ?” said Sherlock.

“I know, I know. But… I don’t even know where to start.”

Sherlock was definitely not the right person to ask. But he knew Mycroft wouldn’t ask for help from anyone else.

“I think talking to more people would be good,” said Sherlock.

“Right.”

He could see that Mycroft was mentally taking notes, so he had to be careful about what he said.

“And be nice. People like that.”

“So talking and being nice,” said Mycroft. “It’s not enough.”

“Yes it is,” maintained Sherlock.

Mycroft stared at him for a moment, lost in thoughts. Finally he shook his head.

“I’m not even sure I’m made to have friends,” sighed Mycroft.

“You’ll manage,” said Sherlock. “I’m sure at the end you’ll have more friends than me.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I know.”

Sherlock hesitated for an instant. Then he decided to stay quiet about what he was thinking. The truth was that Mycroft already had friends. He had Anthea, of course, but Molly, Lestrade and John definitely thought of him as a friend too. He was not quite there yet with Mrs Hudson. Mycroft would realize it soon enough, and Sherlock hoped he would think he had finally achieved his goal to make friends thanks to the efforts he was going to make. It would make him happy.

“You should stay here a little,” said Sherlock. “John will be home soon. You can try my advice on him.”

“Good idea,” said Mycroft.

Sherlock got up.

“I’ll go and ask Mrs Hudson to prepare tea for us,” Sherlock said.

“Thank you.”

With that, Sherlock left. As he passed by his brother, he was glad to notice that Mycroft looked happy.

Chapter Text

Mycroft liked when things were neat and ordered. So this year, his birthday was something satisfying. He was born on a Wednesday, and it fell on a Wednesday too, something which only happened once in a decade. It made the day feel special, even if he hadn't really planned to celebrate it. Not with people anyway. Sherlock was on a case, so he would not think about it. Mycroft didn't blame him, when he was on a case, his mind was entirely focused on it and nothing else. The only other people he could call 'friends' were more Sherlock's friends and would not celebrate with him without his brother. So he didn't even ask. He hadn't asked Anthea either, she already spent too much time with him in the day. But she had remembered it was his birthday, as she was the only one who had wished him a happy birthday. It was enough for Mycroft.

When his work day ended, he headed towards his favorite restaurant. That's what he always did on his birthday, and more often than not, he did it alone. It was not far from the Diogenes Club, so he walked to go there. When he got closer, he began to worry. The restaurant's room was never visible from the street, but usually, he could still see light coming from inside. Today, it seemed to be pitch black. He stopped in front of the door. It was indicated on the door that it was open. Were they closed and had they forgotten to change the sign ? He would see. He pushed the door. It opened. As he stepped inside, and before the lights turned on, he had already guessed what was going to happen.

Mycroft didn't seem like the kind of man who liked surprises, but he actually did. Even if it was very rare that someone prepared him a surprise, even less a surprise birthday party. He would expect that this kind of thing would feel embarrassing, but it didn't. He was too shocked to see people be here for him. His brother, obviously. It turned out he had faked being on a case. Anthea was here too. She had taken a taxi to beat him here. Then, Sherlock's friends were here : Molly, Lestrade, John, and even Mrs Hudson, who did not really hold him in her heart.

After the surprise had passed, they all ate. The food was delicious, as it was always. Then the presents came, and he was surprised that everyone offered him something, when they were already paying for the restaurant. The present he liked the most was Sherlock's. It was a rare dvd of one of his favorite movies, an obscure thriller from the silent area. Mycroft found it a really thoughtful present. The rest were more conventional. Anthea had bought him a book, John, another book, Lestrade a tie, and Molly, gloves. Mrs Hudson had knitted him a scarf. She called it 'the scarf of peace'. It was ugly. It was a nice present.

They all stayed up late. At one point, Mycroft got to talk with Sherlock without anyone else really listening.

"Did you plan for this to happen ?," he asked. "I mean, all of this, is it your planning ?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it be ?" answered Sherlock.

Mycroft said nothing for an instant before answering.

"It's nice," he said. "Thank you."

Sherlock shrugged.

"It's for all the birthdays I didn't wish you."

Mycroft smiled. It was well worth ten birthdays. Molly, who had been visibly listening in, bent towards him.

"You know," she said, "everyone in this room loves you. Well maybe not Mrs Hudson, but everyone else."

Mycroft hadn't realized she had drunk this much. It meant that what she had said was probably true. As he looked at all of them, he wondered how he had never seen it before. He was not alone.

Chapter Text

During their life, Mycroft had always been the one to protect Sherlock. But this time, it was the opposite. Mycroft had stopped counting the number of attempts at kidnapping he had gone through a long time ago. But the important word here was attempt. It almost never succeeded. But this time, it did. He had not been careful enough.

The few times he had actually been kidnapped, he had always been rescued fairly quickly. But this was the first time he was saved while still in his captors’ car. He was a bit confused at the whole situation, it had all happened so quickly. Now he was sitting at the edge of the road, looking at the crashed car he had been in a few seconds prior. He had been dragged out of it before it had crashed, and he was not quite sure how he was not hurt.

Besides the crashed car, there were a certain number of police cars around. The noise the sirens made hurt his ears. But it was better than still being tied up in the trunk of a car. He snapped out of his observation when Sherlock sat next to him.

“Are you alright ?” asked Sherlock.

“Yes,” answered Mycroft. “Thanks to you.”

It was not quite true. He was not alright. He had been so scared. But he was not going to say it, especially not to his brother. Sherlock wrapped an arm around him.

“If I had been more efficient,” said Sherlock, “I would have prevented you from being kidnapped.”

“You were efficient,” said Mycroft. “How long for have I been kidnapped ? An hour ?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“Twenty-five minutes.”

It was truly impressive, thought Mycroft. He smiled.

“I guess I don’t need to worry with you around,” he said.

There was a brief silence before Sherlock answered.

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t. I’ll always be there.”

Mycroft really didn’t know what to answer to that. So he didn’t say anything. He just reached up to grab his brother’s hand, and squeezed it. He was calm now, and definitely not afraid anymore. His brother was here.

Chapter Text

Ever since Sherlock was old enough to do trick or treating, he had only worn one type of costume : pirate. Every year, his parents bought him a new one. Not necessarily a nice one, but it didn’t matter to Sherlock, he always liked the change. His parents would never admit it, but ever since he was born, money was a bit tight : he was not an expected child. But buying him the costume every year was a small treat they kept money for. They usually bought the costume at the start of October, and offered it to Sherlock on the 31st. So they were taken aback when on the 28th, Sherlock declared he did not want a pirate’s costume this year.

It was not because he didn’t like pirates anymore. It was because of Victor. He had not been friend with Sherlock for very long, but he was already very important to him. It was his first and only friend. Sherlock was going trick or treating with him. And Victor was going to be dressed up as a pumpkin. Sherlock had explained to his parents and his brother that a pirate and a pumpkin together didn’t make sense. He needed to be a pumpkin too. His mother had explained to him as softly as possible that they couldn’t buy a new costume so fast, but Sherlock wouldn’t hear it. He needed a pumpkin’s costume. He had now gone to his bedroom to sulk. His parents had said to Mycroft that he would get over it, but Mycroft believed he wouldn’t. So he had decided to go and talk to him.

Mycroft knocked on the bedroom’s door, he didn’t want to anger his brother by coming in suddenly.

“Go away !” said his brother’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Sherlock, it’s me.”

There was a brief silence before an answer came.

“You can enter.”

Mycroft did, and closed the door behind him. Sherlock was sitting on his bed, rolled in a ball. Mycroft went to sit next to him.

“Mommy and daddy don’t understand,” said Sherlock.

“They probably don’t,” said Mycroft. “But they already bought the costume. You know very well they can’t buy you another one.”

Sherlock didn’t answer. Of course he understood it, he was not stupid. But he didn’t like it at all.

“I want to match with Victor,” Sherlock mumbled.

“It may be possible,” said Mycroft.

Sherlock looked up at him with hope. Mycroft explained :

“I found fabric in the attic. I could try making you a pumpkin costume.”

Sherlock’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Really ? You would do that for me ?”

Mycroft nodded. He knew he could make the costume. But he wouldn’t sleep a lot for the next two days.

“Yes. But on one condition.”

“Anything,” said Sherlock.

“You will wear the pirate’s costume at home. And then, you will change to go out with Victor.”

Sherlock smiled.

“Ok,” he said.

Mycroft smiled back at him.

“See, it’s never hard to find the solution to a problem,” he said.

“That’s because you’re good at solving problems,” said Sherlock.

“You will be too when you’re older,” said Mycroft.

“Maybe,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft got up.

“I need to start on your costume,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Sherlock.

It was rare to get one so sincere from his brother. Mycroft bent down and hugged him. Sherlock hugged back.

“Anything for you,” said Mycroft.

It was something he really meant, and would always be true.

Chapter Text

Mycroft was used to visiting Sherlock at Baker Street, but it was rare for him to come to his manor. Even rarer it was for him to come at 9 p.m. But there he was, standing in front of his door.

“I need your help,” Sherlock said.

Mycroft stepped aside to let him enter. Sherlock did and Mycroft closed the door behind him. Mycroft quickly looked at his brother. He didn’t seem to be hurt. And he looked more annoyed than panicked.

“What is happening ? Aren’t you supposed to be at the party Lestrade is throwing you ?”

Sherlock had recently resolved a case that had been annoying the police department for months. To thank him, they had thrown him a party.

“No, the party starts at ten thirty. And until John talked about it…”

He looked at his watch.

“... thirty minutes ago, I had forgotten about it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I need a suit to wear to the party. I have nothing that suits me at home.”

With that, he advanced in the home. Mycroft followed him all the way to his dressing room.

“So you’re going to steal one of my suits ?”

“We’re the same size,” simply answered Sherlock.

Mycroft stared at him for a few minutes as he rummaged through his clothes. Finally he spoke :

“You know I don’t believe you right ?” said Mycroft.

“What ?” said Sherlock.

“You have plenty of things to wear at Baker Street,” said Mycroft. “Why are you here ?”

Sherlock didn’t answer.

“Are you nervous about going there ?” asked Mycroft.

Sherlock finally looked at him.

“I don’t like being the center of attention.”

“I can understand that,” said Mycroft. “But nobody will be making fun of you. They’re here to celebrate you.”

“It’s even worse,” said Sherlock.

“Your friends will be there.”

“I know. But…”

He stopped. Mycroft knew what he wanted to ask.

“You want me to come with you.”

Sherlock looked away. So he was right.

“Alright, I will,” said Mycroft.

“Really ?” said Sherlock.

Seeing his face, Mycroft understood he was not expecting him to accept this quickly.

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” whispered Sherlock.

Mycroft did not reply. Sherlock turned back towards the pile of clothes now laying on the floor.

“I will be expecting you to put everything back once you’ve chosen.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m going to be late.”

Mycroft sighed.

“I’ll help you.”

Sherlock looked happy about it. He accepted the first thing Mycroft gave him. It didn’t fit him quite right, they were really not the same size. But nobody would notice, or at least, nobody would care. They left quickly after that, and Mycroft was glad to see that Sherlock was way calmer that when he had come here. And he was even happier to know that it was thanks to him.

Chapter Text

Sherlock knew he was very clever. He could solve almost any problem. But right now, he was confronted to a problem he couldn’t solve at all. And he had been thinking about it for almost a month now. He only had one week left to solve the problem before it was too late. Today, he had woken up, and gone to sit in his armchair to think. He didn’t know for how long he had been there when John came into the living room.

“For how long have you been up ?” asked John.

Sherlock didn’t answer, he didn’t know. Instead he asked a question that had been nagging him for a while.

“What did you buy my brother for his birthday ?”

“Oh. Uh… a book.”

Sherlock sighed.

“That’s an easy pick,” he mumbled. “I want something original.”

“Is it what’s worrying you ? What to buy for your brother ?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. But he didn’t answer.

“Just buy him something simple,” said John. “Clothing is always a good choice.”

Sherlock suddenly got up.

“You’re not helping. I’m going to ask the inspector what he bought.”

And before John could answer, Sherlock left.

Lestrade was drinking coffee in the precinct when Sherlock arrived.

“You look worried, what happened ?” asked Lestrade.

He looked ready to jump into action.

“I need to find a present for my brother’s birthday,” said Sherlock.

“Oh. You have time, it’s in a week.”

“A week is not enough time,” said Sherlock. “What did you buy ?”

“A tie. I don’t really know what he likes. Why don’t you buy him something to eat ?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“I want something that lasts. Thank you anyway.”

And he left.

He was going to see Molly. Maybe she would be more helpful than the other two. On his was there, he texted Anthea :

What did you buy Mycroft for his birthday ? - SH

She answered almost immediately.

A book. And no, I have no idea what you can buy him. - A

He was expecting that. She was the least helpful of them all.

He found Molly cutting into a brain. That did not stop either of them from carrying a conversation.

“I bought him gloves,” she said. “They match with his favorite suit.”

“That’s a good present,” Sherlock said.

“Don’t steal my idea.”

“I won’t. But I have no idea what to buy him.”

“Maybe a new umbrella ?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“He only has one, and he won’t change it.”

“Then I don’t know,” she said. “But did you ask Mrs Hudson ? I’m sure she’ll have an idea.”

This was really a good idea.

“Thank you Molly,” he said.

And he left.

Mrs Hudson was at Baker Street, obviously. What was unusual was that she was knitting.

“What are you doing ?” Sherlock asked.

“I’m making the scarf of peace,” she said.

Sherlock understood immediately.

“It’s the present for my brother.”

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m making an effort.”

“I see that. I was wondering, do you have any idea what I can buy him ?”

“I don’t know,” she said looking at him, “what does he like ?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh Sherlock, he’s your brother, you must know.”

Sherlock thought about it.

“Well, I know some of the movies he likes, but…”

“Then buy him a DVD. A rare edition. Something he doesn’t have.”

Sherlock was going to say it wasn’t a good idea, but refrained. Because it was a good idea.

“I only have one week,” he said.

“Then hurry. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the effort.”

Sherlock nodded.

“Thank you Mrs Hudson. You’re the best.”

And he left to go upstairs. Finally, he had found a solution to his problem, and his brother’s birthday would be a great day.

Chapter Text

Mycroft was not the kind of man who collected objects. He lived in a big manor, but there weren't a lot of personal items in it. It was mostly decoration or useful stuff. The only ‘useless’ things he had were kept locked away in one of his desk’s drawers in his office. Nobody but him knew it was there, at least not until Sherlock decided to snoop around.

It was not especially unusual for Sherlock to break into his brother’s home. Today, it was because he needed information for a case that he knew his brother wouldn’t give him. So he had elected to break into his manor at night to steal it. Going in had not been hard and once he was in the office, he turned on the light. He didn’t really care about getting caught, and it would prevent his brother from shooting him in the dark without realizing who he was.

Sherlock didn’t know exactly where to search, so he started with the desk. It was very clean, and there were no papers on it. So he checked the drawers, there were six in total, three on the left and three on the right. He started from the top one on the left. When he didn’t find what he was searching for in the left drawers, he decided to check the right ones. Before going through them, he checked to see if any was locked. And the one at the bottom was. He would try his luck with this one.

In two minutes, he had managed to unlock the drawer. He opened it. What was inside was not papers. It was not anything related to work either. Sherlock took out one of the objects. It was a plain rock. He put it back in and took out something else. It was a small figurine of a pirate. Sherlock rapidly scanned the inside of the drawer. At the bottom, he saw papers he hadn’t seen before. But it was not what he was looking for. It was drawings. Children’s drawings.

Suddenly, the door of the office swung open. Sherlock looked up. Mycroft was standing there, a gun in his hand. As soon as he recognized him, he put it down. Mycroft was going to say something but his eyes fell on the figurine in Sherlock’s hand. He froze. Sherlock just stared at him. Mycroft was the one who ended up breaking the silence.

“You shouldn’t have opened that drawer,” he said.

“Why do you have that ?” asked Sherlock.

Mycroft didn’t answer.

“It’s all rubbish I gave you when I was a child,” added Sherlock.

“It’s not rubbish, it’s presents,” answered Mycroft. “I keep the ones you gave me as an adult too, but they rarely fit in the drawer.”

Sherlock looked down at the drawer, then back at his brother.

“I didn’t imagine you being this sentimental,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft looked away.

“I am when it’s you,” he mumbled.

For him, it was like admitting he loved him. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile.

“What are you even doing here in the middle of the night ?” asked Mycroft.

He was trying to change the subject. Sherlock indulged him.

“I’m trying to steal something, if it wasn’t obvious,” answered Sherlock.

His brother sighed.

“Just tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

He was clearly not in the mood to fight. But neither was Sherlock.

“Thank you Mycroft,” he said.

He absolutely didn’t regret trying to steal from his brother. It had made him discover an important secret. A secret that made his heart feel warm.

Chapter Text

Sherlock disliked a lot of things his parents loved. One of these things was going on vacation. He liked his home, he always thought that he would have all the time in the world to travel when he’ll be an adult. Another of these things was warm weather. So the vacation they were taking in the south of France in the middle of summer was hell. It was the middle of the afternoon and inside the old house they had rented, the thermometer showed 37°C. His parents were downstairs, drinking with friends they had made in the morning. Sherlock was upstairs, in the bedroom he shared with his brother, lying on the floor.

He had been there for nearly an hour when Mycroft entered the bedroom. He stopped just in front of Sherlock.

“Are you dead ?” he asked.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Seven years old is a bit young for that, don't you think ?”

“I would still be alive if we had stayed at home,” Sherlock answered.

“I found a place to resurrect you,” said Mycroft.

Sherlock opened his eyes. Before Sherlock could ask, Mycroft picked him up.

“I can walk,” groaned Sherlock.

“I thought you were dead ?”

Sherlock didn’t respond, he just clinged to his brother. Mycroft led him downstairs and through the backdoor of the house.

“I don’t want to go outside !” complained Sherlock.

“We won’t be outside for long,” said Mycroft.

He went straight towards the side of the house, and stopped in front of an open trapdoor. Mycroft put down Sherlock.

“After you,” he said.

Mycroft didn’t need to say it twice. Sherlock knew that underground would be cooler. He quickly disappeared down the ladder. Mycroft followed him.

Sherlock was surprised by how big the space was there. There seemed to be several rooms.

“It stretches under all the house,” said Mycroft.

“And it’s a reasonable temperature,” said Sherlock.

It was still hot, but way less than outside or in the house.

“I should have brought a book,” said Sherlock.

“You haven’t seen everything yet.”

Mycroft grabbed Sherlock’s hand and led him through the rooms. There were no doors, so it was easy to navigate. Sherlock saw a lot of random objects through the rooms. He would explore afterwards. Mycroft stopped in front of a big white freezer. Sherlock put his hand against it. It was cold.

“It’s working ?” he said with surprise.

“And it’s full,” said Mycroft while opening it.

Sherlock was too short to see inside. Mycroft reached into the freezer. He took out two ice creams.

“Do you want one ?” asked Mycroft.

Sherlock immediately nodded.

“I have no idea how long it’s been there and there is no date written on it,” said Mycroft.

“I don’t care,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft gave him one of the ice creams and closed the freezer. He picked up Sherlock again and sat him on the freezer. Then, he sat next to him. They began eating in silence. On such a day, it felt like heaven.

“There are a lot of interesting things to see down here,” said Mycroft. “I’ll show you.”

Sherlock smiled.

“It’s great,” he said. “I feel like I’m home, but living an adventure.”

“Complete with mommy and daddy not caring about where we are.”

Sherlock chuckled.

“I’m sure we could spend the night here and they wouldn’t be worried.”

Mycroft nodded.

“We’ll just go back home for dinner,” he said.

Sherlock agreed. For now, he would spend a nice and cool afternoon with his brother.

Chapter Text

Sherlock had a secret he would never tell to anyone, especially not to his brother. After he had come back from his two years abroad, he had found Baker Street empty. Mrs Hudson was here, yes, but she was often out or in her own apartment. It got lonely, even for him. So sometimes, when it got too much, he would leave Baker Street and go to his brother's home.

Mycroft was at work all day so the manor sat empty most of the day. Sherlock would just use his double of the keys and would get inside without any problem. Once he was here, he would go to the private library. He wasn't particularly interested in the books. What he cared about was the window. It was a double window, with a view of the garden. There was enough space to sit comfortably in the little nook the window formed inside. Sherlock would sit there, crack open the window and spend hours watching the garden and thinking. It was not technically less lonely. But it wasn't empty Baker Street and it made him think of better days, when he and his brother would sit on the ledge of one of the windows of their parent's home and talk endlessly. They did that until Sherlock grew too much for both of them to fit on the ledge.

One of those days where it all got too much, Sherlock went to his secret spot. It was the middle of the afternoon and his brother wouldn't be back until after the night would have fallen. He had plenty of time before him. Now, he had just gotten out of a case and he was tired. After an hour of sitting there, he fell asleep.

He was woken up by footsteps on the wooden floor. By the time it took him to truly come back to his senses, his brother was standing right next to him. Outside, night had fallen. He had been asleep for quite some time.

"I can explain," said Sherlock.

He really couldn't, but he needed to buy time.

"You are aware that after the first time you came here I installed a camera pointing directly towards the window, right ?" Said Mycroft.

Sherlock absolutely wasn't. He looked at the place the camera would need to be, and there it was, the small point above one book. How had he never seen it ? Sherlock looked at his brother.

"And ? Seen anything interesting ?"

"I don't understand what you're doing."

Sherlock snorted.

"Neither do I."

His brother looked at him with disbelief.

"You don't know why you come here ?"

"It's calming, I suppose."

Mycroft stared at him. He was trying to understand.

"You used to love sitting at windows when you were a kid," said Mycroft.

"I still do apparently."

“Do you mind if I sit with you ?”

Sherlock just looked at him. Mycroft took it as an invitation. The ledge was large enough for both of them. Sherlock looked away while his brother stared at him.

“What ?” finally said Sherlock, a bit annoyed.

“You know I don’t mind you being here.”

“Obviously, if you did you would have thrown me out.”

“You’ll stay for dinner won’t you ?”

Sherlock wanted to say no. But he nodded. He could humor his brother. From the corner of his eyes, he saw him smile. And a bit against his will, it made him happy.

Chapter Text

Sherlock always texted, he never called. So when Mycroft heard his phone ringing and saw his brother's name on the screen he was surprised. He answered immediately.

"Sherlock, is something wrong ?"

The answer he got was spoken with an annoyed voice.

"Why do you always assume there is something wrong when I call you ?"

"Because you only call me when there's something wrong."

At the other end of the line, he heard Sherlock sighing heavily.

"Forget it. I shouldn't have called."

And he hung up. Mycroft stared with disbelief at his phone screen for a few seconds. Then it rang again and he picked up instantly.

"Come to Baker Street," said Sherlock.

"I will, but why ?" asked Mycroft.

"Just come."

And he hung up again. Mycroft looked out through the window. It was snowing outside and showing no sign of stopping. He really didn't want to go out. But he had to do it. For Sherlock.

Twenty minutes later, he was knocking on Baker Street's door. He had tried to open it, but it was unusually locked. A voice came from behind the door.

"Sherlock Holmes is not receiving clients today !"

Something was definitely weird.

"Mrs Hudson, it's me," he said.

The door unlocked and he entered.

"I have to warn you, Sherlock said no visitor today," said Mrs Hudson as she locked the door behind him.

"He asked me to come here."

"That's weird. He told me to not go upstairs."

"Did he say why ?"

Mrs Hudson shook her head. Mycroft really couldn't understand why his brother was acting like that, and why he had asked him to come here. He guessed he would find out soon enough.

He entered Sherlock's apartment without knocking, he never felt a need for that. Instantly, he saw that something was different, even if it was an insignificant detail. First, the fireplace was lit. Secondly, the sofa usually against the wall had been dragged in front of the fireplace and the two armchairs were in the sofa's place.

"You did some home decorating ?" said Mycroft as his brother was coming out of the kitchen.

"I made you tea."

He was indeed carrying a tray. He put it down on a small table near the sofa. Mycroft could see that Sherlock was avoiding looking at him directly, as if he was embarrassed.

“Sherlock, what’s happening ?”

“Sit down please.”

He was pointing to the sofa. Mycroft didn’t argue. He sat down. Sherlock went to sit down just next to him. Mycroft looked at him and said nothing. He was expecting an explanation.

“You remember,” he said, “we used to sit together like that in front of the fireplace when we were children.”

Mycroft remembered it well. He was fond of these memories.

“It was always around Christmas time, yes,” said Mycroft. “We sat there and I would read you that book series you loved, about pirates of course. There was always a new volume in December.”

Just thinking about it made him smile. He saw Sherlock smile a little too.

“About that book series…,”

Sherlock reached and took out a book.

“... the author just published a new one, for the old fans she said.”

He gave the book to Mycroft. He took it with a confused look.

“I thought,” said Sherlock, “that you could read it to me.”

It was completely ridiculous. They were both adults. Mycroft would never say that outloud.

“Of course,” he said.

Sherlock’s smile widened. So that was why he had called him here. It was truly the last thing Mycroft would have expected. But it was nice. So they sat there, side by side, Mycroft reading to Sherlock, as if they were children again.

Chapter Text

Molly wasn’t the best person to organize events. It didn’t mean she was not going to try. But if she was honest, the organization was not the hardest part. The hardest part was convincing people to come when all her friends were either busy or deeply antisocial.

“Well I’m working on Sunday.”

She was standing in front of the inspector Lestrade.

“And Monday ?” she asked.

“I’m working too, I’m sorry.”

“And…”

“I work every day,” said Lestrade. “There’s a lot of crime in summer.”

He looked sorry.

“But a picnic is a great idea,” he said.

“But nobody will be available,” Molly said.

She already wanted to give up.

“Oh, I have an idea. Why not do it at night ?”

“A picnic under the moonlight, now that’s a great idea !”

“I’ll be there,” said Lestrade.

Now, all she needed to do was to convince everyone else.

Sherlock was not in Baker Street, but John was.

“I’ll convince Sherlock,” he said.

“Great.”

She was glad to not have to do it. He always said no to social events. But he always ended up coming.

“Tell him Lestrade and Mrs Hudson will be coming, but don’t tell him I invited his brother,” Molly said.

“Good idea, he’ll complain if he knows Mycroft will be there.”

“Well he’ll be there if I manage to convince him,” she sighed.

“Good luck,” said John.

Molly had never been to Mycroft’s home before. It was bigger than she was expecting. She felt a bit intimidated as she sat at the table long enough for twenty people. Mycroft came back with cups of tea.

“It’s a great idea you had,” he said, sitting in front of her. “However, my brother won’t come if I do.”

Molly took a sip of her tea before answering. It was delicious.

“Sherlock won’t know you’re coming.”

“Oh, he will. He’s a detective, remember ?”

Molly stared at him.

“Why do you think Sherlock won’t come if you do ?”

Mycroft shrugged.

“Because he hates me.”

He had said that so naturally. She could tell he really believed it.

“That’s not true,” said Molly.

Mycroft shook his head.

“Yes it is.”

She could tell that she wouldn’t convince him.

“Please, come. I’ll take care of Sherlock.”

He hesitated.

“Alright,” he said.

Molly left, and went back to Baker Street. She needed to talk to Sherlock.

The picnic was as nice as she had imagined. It felt like the Christmases they spent together, complete with Mycroft staying a bit away from everyone else. She smiled as Sherlock went to sit next to him.

“I didn’t think you would come to that kind of thing,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft looked at him.

“I could say the same thing.”

“No you couldn’t, I’m more social than you.”

It was true. Mycroft didn’t say anything more.

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft looked at him with shock. He was not expecting that. Then he understood.

“Molly told you to say that.”

“Molly told me to tell you the truth.”

As much as it was hard for him to believe, Mycroft knew Sherlock was telling the truth.

“Then perhaps I was wrong,” said Mycroft.

“About what ?”

“You don’t hate me.”

“Indeed.”

After that, they sat in silence. Mycroft looked towards Molly. He would have to thank her later. With a few words, she had managed so many things in his life, for the better.

Chapter Text

When he was a kid, Mycroft hated being sick. It felt as if it was wasted time. But now that he was older, he found that it had a lot of perks. First, he could stay home and not work, if he was sick enough that is. And if work didn’t need him too much. The second perk, and the one he found the most important, was that his brother always came to take care of him. The only real disadvantage was that, well, he was sick.

Today was one of those days. He was stuck in bed, unable to walk and feverish. He hadn't warned anyone that he was sick, and still his brother had showed up in the morning. Mycroft was almost going to think that his little brother was spying on him. It was only fair, seeing as he was himself always spying on Sherlock.

Sherlock had seemed annoyed to have to take care of him. But he still did it, and Mycroft hadn’t even asked.

Now, they were both in Mycroft’s bedroom. Sherlock was sitting in an armchair next to his bed, eyes closed. Mycroft knew he was not sleeping, he was thinking about a case.

Mycroft liked having his brother near him, but he had to admit that he was not feeling well at all. It was nothing too worrisome, but his fever hadn’t broken yet. He became aware he was breathing a bit quicker when his brother opened his eyes to look at him.

“Mycroft ?”

He didn’t answer. He felt too weak for that. Sherlock got up and went to sit next to him. He put his hand against his forehead.

“Do you need a doctor ?” he asked.

“No, it’s alright,” Mycroft answered as a shiver went through his body.

Gently, Sherlock ran his hand through his hair. The touch was very welcome, it made him feel a bit better.

“I’m here,” said Sherlock.

“I know,” answered Mycroft.

“I’ll always be here.”

Mycroft smiled. He felt a little bit less sick. Because he knew it was true.

Chapter Text

“Hey, wake up ! Wake up !”

Mycroft groaned. He wanted to sleep. He opened his eyes and saw that it was 7 a.m. He had gone to sleep at 1 a.m. He closed his eyes again.

“Mycroft !”

He opened his eyes again.

“Sherlock, it’s too early.”

His brother had rushed into his room and jumped onto his bed. He was not half-sitting on him. Sure, he was seven-year old and not very heavy, but he was crushing his chest.

“Alright, just move a little.”

Sherlock understood and moved back to sit on his brother’s leg.

“What did you want this early ?” Mycroft asked.

“It’s your birthday,” said Sherlock with a very serious look on his face.

“I’m aware of that,” answered Mycroft.

“Happy birthday,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you Sherly.”

“Don’t call me that ! Anyway, we need to celebrate all day long.”

“Mummy and daddy aren’t even there,” said Mycroft.

They had gone on a work trip, for their mom. Mycroft didn’t blame them, he was way past caring about his parents’ affection. He had Sherlock.

“We don’t need them. We can take the bus, and go to the cinema and to the restaurant. We can play pirates at home. And tonight, we’ll eat cake and you’ll open my present.”

It did seem like a nice day.

“Alright, you convinced me, I’m getting up,” said Mycroft.

Sherlock moved to allow Mycroft to get up. He did.

“Go and prepare yourself to leave,” said Mycroft. “I need to get dressed.”

Sherlock agreed instantly and rushed out of the bedroom.

A few minutes later, they were on the bus. It was fairly crowded, so Sherlock sat on his brother’s lap. It seemed to make him happy. Their first stop was the cinema, the only one they knew which opened this early. They both loved going to the movies in the morning, it was always almost empty. The movie they saw was nice enough, but nothing to remember.

Mycroft liked the restaurant better. The food was good and he and Sherlock spent their time observing the other clients. Then they went back home.

They played pirates, Mycroft going along with the story Sherlock was inventing.

Then, they ate dinner, pasta, and the cake Sherlock had bought. Once they were done, Mycroft opened the present Sherlock gave him. It was a beautiful book. Mycroft didn’t even want to know how much he had had to economize to buy it.

They watched TV until Sherlock was too sleepy to stay up. It was near midnight at that point.

“Can we sleep together tonight ?” asked Sherlock.

“Of course,” answered Mycroft.

They went to bed in Mycroft’s bedroom, Sherlock curled up against his brother. As he slowly fell asleep, Mycroft thought that he was glad to have woken up this early. The days spent with his brother were the most precious thing he had.

Chapter Text

“Oh, shut up, stop complaining !”

Mycroft froze. It was at that moment, that precise moment, that something broke in his mind. He got up suddenly, pushing back his chair. Silence fell in the room.

He was in his parents’ kitchen. It was Christmas in two days. Sherlock was staring at him from the other side of the table. His father had been washing dishes, but he had stopped. His mother, the one who spoke the sentence, was sitting next to him. What had pushed her to shut him down was because he had said that there had been a lot of traffic on the road.

He looked at his mother.

“I will never, ever, come to see you again. You hate me.”

Before she could answer, he left the room, and the house. He had sent away his driver, of course. He walked briskly away from the house. As he did, he sent a text for him to come back. It would take him a good thirty minutes. For now, he needed to go as far away as possible.

His parents’ house was in the middle of nowhere. He walked along a small path for a few minutes before going into the grass. He stopped underneath the first tree he found and sat down there. He did not even cry. He felt numb. His mother didn’t love him and his father didn’t care. It had taken him so long to realize it. He couldn’t talk with his mother for even one minute without her finding a reason to yell at him. She was never nice with him, she had never been, even when he was a child.

He looked up when he heard footsteps in the grass going towards him. It was Sherlock. Mycroft didn’t say anything as he sat down right next to him.

“Are you alright ?” asked Sherlock.

“I’m not coming back,” said Mycroft.

“I know,” he said.

Mycroft took his head in his hands.

“She hates me. Why can’t I be loveable ?”

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder.

“I do not know why she acts like that with you,” he said, “but I know it’s not your fault.”

Mycroft looked up at him.

“My family doesn’t like me,” he said. “I have trouble making friends. I’m the problem. I’m not good enough.”

His brother was looking at him with pity and he hated that. He didn’t deserve it. Sherlock took him in his arms. Mycroft hugged him back. It felt nice.

“Do you think I’m always right ?” asked Sherlock.

The question was weird, but Mycroft answered anyway :

“Yes. Most of the time, yes.”

“I love you,” said Sherlock. “And I think you’re a good brother, no matter the mistakes you may have made in the past. And you just said that I was always right.”

“Most of the time,” said Mycroft with a little smile.

He felt a warmness in his chest.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “I’m not the problem.”

“You definitely are not.”

They finally let go of each other.

“Neither of us are going back,” said Sherlock. “I can’t tolerate them treating you like that. You’re spending Christmas at Baker Street.”

It was clearly not a question.

“My driver will be here soon. We’ll go to Baker Street together.”

After a little pause, he added :

“I deserve to spend time with people who actually love me.”

Sherlock smiled at him. Something had definitely broken in Mycroft today. But something new and better had just replaced it.

Chapter Text

Mycroft had never given much thought about what his dream life would look like. It was only now that he was living it that he truly understood what he had always yearned for. And this realization had come to him during a cold autumn night.

He had left work a bit earlier than usual that day. Work had been slow, and Anthea had told him she would finish for him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home ?” asked Mycroft.

“No, don’t worry, it’ll be quick anyway,” answered Anthea.

“Thank you.”

Anthea shrugged.

“I can stay half an hour later, I owe you that after everything you do for me.”

Mycroft refrained from saying that she also did a lot of things for him that were well outside of her job description. He thanked her again and left.

Night was close, but it was still light outside. He might as well swing by Baker Street to see his brother, it was not that far of a walk. He would ask his driver to meet him here. The weather was cold but there were no signs of rain, so the streets were fairly busy. Halloween hadn’t yet passed, but a lot of people seemed to be doing early Christmas shopping. He walked a bit slower when he went past shop windows. He needed to start thinking about Christmas too. Especially for little Rosie, he never knew what to buy her. He was looking at one of the windows while walking when he accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” he said.

“Mycroft ?”

He looked at the person.

“Miss Hooper, hello.”

“Molly,” she said.

She always got annoyed now when he didn’t call her by her first name.

“Yes, Molly, sorry. Are you running errands ?”

“I’m just passing by.”

“Coming back from Baker Street ?”

She nodded.

“Sherlock and John were on a case, so I babysat Rosie a little. I guess you’re going to Baker Street ?”

“Yes. Work finished early.”

“Well… do you want to grab a drink ?”

It was a nice proposition, thought Mycroft. A few months ago, he would have thought she was just being nice. But he knew now she wasn’t.

“Yes,” he said.

Baker Street could wait.

A few minutes later, they were sitting in the corner of a small coffee shop. When Molly asked someone for a drink, she rarely meant alcohol, it was not really her thing. Mycroft didn’t mind.

“How’s my brother ?” he asked Molly.

“Same as always. He complains a lot about a lot of things.”

“So he’s doing great.”

Molly smiled.

“Yes, he is. And so are you, it seems. You look happy.”

She was right.

“Things are calm, I like that.”

“Don’t you get bored when things are calm ?”

Mycroft shook his head.

“I’m not my brother. I love mundane things more and more. Like going to coffee shops.”

She smiled. They were interrupted before she could answer anything.

“Now, that’s an unusual sight.”

They both looked up at the man that had approached their table.

“Greg, what are you doing here ?” asked Molly.

Lestrade sat down with them.

“I’m trying to avoid bars. Am I interrupting something ?”

“We just bumped into each other,” said Mycroft.

“You’re welcome to join us,” said Molly.

And so he did. They talked for a while.

“It’s getting late,” said Mycroft. “I wanted to pass by Baker Street.”

“Why don’t you ask them to come here ?” suggested Molly.

“That’s a good idea,” said Lestrade.

Mycroft had thought about it. But he would feel like he was bothering his brother. Seeing as Molly and Lestrade expected him to, he texted his brother. The reply came way quicker than he had expected.

“He said they’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Sherlock did arrive ten minutes later, and John carrying Rosie five minutes after him. Sherlock sat right next to his brother. He always did that when they were out with other people. They stayed here for quite a while. Mycroft was not talking much, he was mostly listening. He preferred it like that. Mycroft felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked at Sherlock.

"You're being very quiet," he whispered.

The others were deep in conversation so they were not paying attention to them.

"I like just listening," answered Mycroft.

And he smiled at his brother. It seemed to be enough for Sherlock. He smiled back before turning towards the others. He didn't put back his hand.

Mycroft got back to listening to them talk and that's when a sudden realization hit him. It came from nowhere, it seemed.

It turned out, the life he had always dreamed to live was one where he was able to spend time with his family and with his friends. And this was truly the life, the dream, he was now living in.

Chapter Text

Day 1 - End of a bad day
Summary : Sherlock shows up in a moment where Mycroft needs him.
Prompt : 'I've got you'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Fluff / Slight Hurt
Trigger warnings : none

Day 2 - The people in Baker Street
Summary : Mycroft spends a long days with his parents feeling unloved. Maybe dinner at Baker Street will be different.
Prompt : 'Family, Friend, Loved Ones'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Mycroft & Molly / Friendship
Trigger warnings : suggestion of eating disorder / slight hurt / toxic parents

Day 3 - Simple words
Summary : Sherlock had no idea that a few words thrown casually at the end of a conversation would get such a strong reaction from his brother.
Prompt : '“Wait you love me?” - “I always have”'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 4 - The one who played better
Summary : Everybody always gushes about how great Sherlock is at playing the violin. He knows it's because they never heard his brother play.
Prompt: 'Cinderella moment'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 5 - A boring party
Summary : Mycroft do not enjoy the social niceties he's too often asked to partake in. Bringing Sherlock to one of those events turns out to be a great idea.
Prompt : 'x+1'
Tags :Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 6 - Lost and found
Summary : Sherlock gets a bit scared in the corn maze. Thankfully, his big brother is here.
Prompt : 'Corn Maze'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 7 - A moment caught in time
Summary : Mycroft and Sherlock have a moment together.
Prompt : 'Porch Swing'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 8 - Under the umbrella
Summary : Mycroft meets Molly under the rain.
Prompt : 'Rainy day'
Tags : Mycroft & Molly / Friendship
Trigger warnings : none

Day 9 - First meeting
Summary : Mycroft looks at old photos and reminisces.
Prompt : '(...) at first sight'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 10 - Declaration
Summary : Mycroft has a heart to heart with Anthea.
Prompt : 'Love of my Life'
Tags : Mycroft & Anthea / Friendship
Trigger warnings : none

Day 11 - How not to bake a cake
Summary : Anthea tries to bake a cake for Mycroft.
Prompt : 'Sweet Tooth'
Tags : Mycroft & Anthea / Friendship
Trigger warnings : none

Day 12 - Snow and fireplace
Summary : Sherlock likes to play in the snow. His brother doesn't.
Prompt : 'Fire & Ice'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 13 - Who's calling ?
Summary : For once, Mycroft doesn't check who's calling him.
Prompt : 'Wrong (...)'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 14 - A brother's help
Summary : Sherlock tries to help his brother after the events at Sherrinford.
Prompt : '“I hate it” - “No, you don’t”'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love / Post-Sherrinford
Trigger warnings : Hurt-Comfort / Angst.

Day 15 - Snowy day in Baker Street
Summary : Mycroft comes to Baker Street as snow is falling outside.
Prompt : 'Hot Chocolate' (alternative prompt)
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 16 - A simple day
Summary : Mycroft and Sherlock are home alone for a few days.
Prompt : 'Singing one another to sleep'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 17 - A strange goal
Summary : Mycroft goes to his brother for advice.
Prompt : 'Encouraging someone to achieve a goal'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 18 - A great surprise
Summary : Mycroft was expecting a lonely birthday. It wasn't.
Prompt : “Did you plan for this to happen?”
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Mycroft & Molly / Brotherly love / Friendship
Trigger warnings : none

Day 19 - A protector
Summary : For once, Sherlock is the one to protect his brother.
Prompt : 'Keeping someone safe'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 20 - A new costume
Summary : For once, Sherlock does not want to dress up as a pirate for Halloween.
Prompt : 'Pumpkin'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 21 - How to dress for a party
Summary : Sherlock comes to his brother in a time of need.
Prompt : 'Wearing Each Other's Clothes' (alternative prompt)
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 22 - Picking a present
Summary : Sherlock has been trying to solve a problem for a month now.
Prompt : 'Picking'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 23 - An unexpected collection
Summary : Sherlock discovers one of Mycroft's secret.
Prompt : 'Trinket'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 24 - Hot summer
Summary : Young Sherlock hates the hot weather.
Prompt : '🫠'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 25 - A corner in the library
Summary : Sherlock finds a place to be when he's lonely.
Prompt : 'Nook'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 26 - Like children
Summary : Sherlock asks his brother to come to Baker Street for an unknown reason.
Prompt : 'Fireplace'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 27 - Organizing a picnic
Summary : Molly tries to organize something with her friends.
Prompt : 'Outdoor Event'
Tags : Mycroft & Molly / Mycroft & Sherlock / Friendship / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 28 - The perks of being sick
Summary : Mycroft is sick and it's not that bad.
Prompt : 'Soothing touch'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 29 - An early day
Summary : Sherlock wakes up his brother in the morning for a special day.
Prompt : '“Hey, wake up!”'
Tags : Kid!lock / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : none

Day 30 - Worth something
Summary : Mycroft finds something new about himself.
Prompt : 'Self-Worth / Self-Love'
Tags : Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love
Trigger warnings : hurt-comfort / toxic parents

Day 31 - Living the good life
Summary : Mycroft realizes that he's right where he's meant to be.
Prompt : 'Dreams do come true'
Tags : Mycroft & Molly / Mycroft & Sherlock / Brotherly love / Friendship
Trigger warnings : none