Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they all belong to their respective creators.
~ How Soon is Now?
-Prologue-
The study was dark except for the lamp near the leather chair Mycroft was currently sitting on. The elder Holmes brother was drinking occasionally from his rum glass while observing the figure standing by one of the tall windows, looking outside, silhouetted by the moonlight. The figure was tall and slender in stature, leaning against the wall with muted clothes, revealing no hints at his identity.
"I need to see him."
Taking a large swig of his drink and putting the glass down, Mycroft then stood up to approach the figure, his brother, the very living and yet currently moping Sherlock Holmes.
"We've been through this." The government Holmes stood at a comfortable distance behind Sherlock.
"I need to see him Mycroft. I-I need to hold him, talk to him, tell him I'm alright."
The gentle snowfall of outside, leaving the ground resembling powder sugar felt bitter sweet in Sherlock's mind. As serene as the scene was, he only wanted to view something like this with John.
"And risk everything we've done so far? No, I think not. It was bad enough to allow a barber in here to cut your hair."
"With that much information you had on him, he couldn't exactly resist." The detective tilted his right slightly to the right, still looking out.
"I have the highest position in government under the Queen, and I resort to blackmail to keep you safe." Mycroft shook his head
"Like that's anything new for you." Sherlock smirked.
Mycroft shifted his stance to lean his weight on his left leg.
"How far along was your relationship with him?"
"Very chaste, kissing, hand holding, hugs." Sherlock closed his eyes, remembering the purity of his preliminary relationship with his army doctor.
"Anything x-rated?"
"No, he was getting used to the idea of being with a man."
"Then let him move on."
The words repeated in Sherlock's mind like a terrible song, he looked over at Mycroft behind him, scandalized.
"M-Move on?! No! Never! He misses me…and I miss him."
"You know what I've said about caring and yet the amount of sentiment you have for this man is… is it worth it?"
The detective leveled his gaze at his brother.
"Yes I know, but John Watson is worth it. I need him."
Mycroft shook his head and turned to leave the room, turning off the lamp in the study, leaving Sherlock in near total darkness.
"Its still a bad idea." Mycroft mumbled.
Author's Note: I'm at it again, the temptation of making another chapter fic, I want this one to be more angsty, dramatic and just gets to your heart but we'll see. I also want to experiment around with this one with setting an overall tone, better descriptions and more conflict, fucking yay, experimentation, so please bear with me.