AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please be kind as this is my first Sherlock fic!
Not much to say, I got this idea a while ago and started this out as a drabble, but now I've cleaned it up and can't wait to see where this is going.
Anywho on with the story!
Chapter One: Sibling Squabbles
"I'm leaving."
"Sherlock, wait."
"Why on earth would I do that?"
Mycroft pinched his brow and took in steady breaths.
"Sherlock, for once in your life pretend you are a reasonable human being and listen to what I have to say!" he whispered harshly. The younger Holmes rolled his eyes and sat back down in the booth. The two brothers glared at each other from across the table of the Chinese restaurant. The table had been unoccupied when Sherlock sat down, but as soon as he saw Mycroft return from the restroom he made for the door.
"I thought I was meeting Lestrade to discuss the Turner case," he said.
"You thought wrong," Mycroft smirked, relishing any chance to say his brother was wrong.
"Hacking my phone to make the text look like Lestrade's? Bit much don't you think?"
"I knew you wouldn't come if I asked, and I didn't need to hack your phone I just used Gregory's."
"How did you get his phone?"
"That's not important."
Sherlock groaned and banged his head against the back of his seat in frustration.
"For god's sake Mycroft get to the point! What do you want?"
"Always so impatient brother," the elder Holmes tutted. Sherlock was about to snap back when a pretty young waitress approached the table with a tray.
"Here you go," she said, grabbing a steaming plate from the tray and placing it in front of Mycroft.
"Thank you," he said as he tucked a napkin into his shirt collar.
"You want to order?" she asked Sherlock.
"No," he replied.
"Enjoy. Need anything you call," she said then she went to other tables.
"Shanghai," Sherlock said.
"What?"
"Her accent is Chinese, Shanghai to be specific, but it's faded considerably so she immigrated here at a young age, and though the last name on her nametag is Thai, suggesting that she is married, she is actually only engaged since she only has an engagement ring and not a wedding band, not to mention the ring looks hardly tarnished."
"Sherlock don't deduce the staff," Mycroft sighed like one would to a child misbehaving, which in his case was an accurate description.
"Are you sure you don't want anything? The shrimp is superb," Mycroft said as he gathered up food with his chopsticks.
"Are you sure you should be eating that, Mycroft? Surely it will ruin your imaginary diet."
Mycroft paused just as he was about to take a bite.
"My diet isn't 'imaginary', and has been going well if you're curious. Therefore, it is no harm if I wish to treat myself once in a while."
"Then twice in a while, then thrice in a while, then soon we'll be sewing an elastic band into your trousers again-"
"Sherlock," Mycroft warned through gritted teeth. He was resisting the urge to start a row with Sherlock in public, and Sherlock was enjoying pushing Mycroft's buttons.
"Why can't you just be civil?" asked Mycroft.
"I am being civil. I haven't even mentioned that you've yet to lose any weight since last time we met."
"Yes because that's so tactful,"
"Was that sarcasm?"
"Since when do you know what that is?"
"John said that I should learn to recognize it, though I don't see why, and it seems the only good it does is that I now know when I'm being insulted."
"Why would anybody insult you? You are so pleasant."
"More sarcasm?"
"Yes."
"Ah two for two, John will be proud."
Mycroft rolled his eyes as he swallowed his rice.
"We're not here to test your social skills, brother."
"Right, your stupidity distracted me. Tell me what you want so that I can leave."
Mycroft chose to ignore this comment and instead reached into the bag beside him and pulled out a seal manila envelope.
"I think you will find this interesting," he said as he slid the envelope to Sherlock.
"There's been an incident involving a French national and-"
"No."
Mycroft's smile faltered for a moment but he quickly recovered.
"I know what you must be thinking but I assure you this is actually something you'd find-"
"You couldn't possibly know what I'm thinking so don't try and act like you can, and no."
Now all pretence of niceties had left the elder Holmes.
"Sherlock, you haven't had a case in three weeks, you want a case, and I am offering you a case why won't you take the bloody case?"
"Please Mycroft this is just you wanting me to do your dirty work cleaning up some foreign scandal for some anonymous client; all three are situations you know I dislike intensely."
"This is nothing more than an incident that has been brought to my attention, and after reviewing it I thought it was something you would enjoy. That it happens to benefit me is just a happy coincidence."
Sherlock snorted. "Please, when have you ever done anything out of charity?"
Mycroft sighed. "Whatever happened to the little brother who would drag me outside to help him collect insects and plants?"
"I was a child, I didn't know any better."
"Childhood is a time for folly, Sher-"
"Maybe for lesser minds like you but for me I had to start training my mind early."
"Sherlo-"
"Now if you'll-"
"Stop interrupting me!" Mycroft slammed his fist on the table making the silverware clink.
"I try to do you a favour and give you a case, and this is the thanks I get?"
"I never asked you to do anything."
"That's what brothers do Sherlock."
"Oh? I suppose brothers place security cameras in their flats and don't let them piss without it being on record?"
"Well maybe if you'd stop keeping me out of your life I wouldn't have to!"
"Stop being such a drama queen Mycroft, sentiment is a bad colour on you."
"That's enough!" Mycroft stood up so fast he knocked his chair over. His face was red and he looked absolutely fuming. The brothers had attracted the eyes of the other patrons, but Mycroft didn't care anymore.
"You are an insensitive, rotten person Sherlock," he growled.
"And you're a pushy manipulator who has to have his giant nose stuck in everyone's business," Sherlock said back.
"Why can't you just be normal for one second?"
"Why can't you get a life of your own to butt into?"
"Why you little-"
"Everything fine?"
The Holmes looked to see who said that. An elderly Asian woman stood by their table looking at the two brothers. While everyone else in the room looked nervously at the two angry men, the little old lady looked at them cheerfully as if nothing was wrong. She wore a name tag but since she didn't wear the red dresses worn by the waitresses, one could assume she was the manager.
"Fine, it was good," Mycroft said, trying to collect himself.
"Fortune cookie?" The brothers looked and saw the lady had a plate with two fortune cookies on them. They weren't the average cookies you got at a takeaway place; they were larger and perfectly curled.
"I don't want your bloody cookie!" Sherlock snapped.
"Sherlock!"
"Oh shut it Mycroft!"
The two continued to argue but were interrupted by smacks to the backs of their head. Shocked, the two stared at the old woman who still had her hand raised.
"Now you two listen," she started, slight irritation in her voice. "You two brothers, I can tell. You two family, and family no disrespect each other like this!"
Sherlock looked like he wanted to come back with a snarky reply, but a look from the Asian lady shushed him.
"You two need to learn to love each other."
"I've had enough of this." Sherlock glared at Mycroft one more time before storming out of the restaurant. The elder Holmes groaned and rubbed his temple, already feeling a headache beginning to form.
"My apologies ma'am," he said to the woman. The elderly lady gave him a look of sympathy and patted his shoulder.
"You need to learn to understand him, like he must you."
Mycroft snorted.
"Understanding him is impossible."
The owner smiled in a way Mycroft didn't understand, like she was in on some sort of joke. She held out the plate again.
"Cookie." What was once a question was now much more a command. Mycroft would have declined but he felt the scene he and Sherlock caused obligated him to accept.
"Thank you," he said as he took the fortune cookie. He noticed that the other cookie was not on the tray, but he thought nothing of it.
The car ride home was silent, as usual. Mycroft's assistant was not present, but even if she had been she would have her eyes glued to her phone. The elder Holmes entered his home and trudged to his room, throwing his coat and bag as he went. He went to his room and stripped to his pants throwing the other clothes in the general direction of the hamper. Normally he would be appalled by such unorganized abandon, something he'd expect of Sherlock, but his ordeal with his brother drained him and he really had no energy for such things. As he walked to his bed he was startled by a crunch beneath his feet. He looked down and saw he'd stepped on his trousers, then he remembered the fortune cookie he'd put in there.
"Great," he mumbled as he turned the pocket inside out to rid it of the crushed cookie. He may have been tired, but there was no way he was leaving that mess there to attract bugs. While digging out the cookie bits he pulled out the paper message once encased in it. He knew that the fortunes were just vague nonsense, but he still found himself curious, especially after how adamant the old lady was to give it to him. He dusted off the crumbs and flattened out the strip of paper. He furrowed his brow at the words he read. It wasn't the usual short vague saying in most fortune cookies, and was more like a poem. He read it aloud trying to make sense of it.
"A journey now starts, its destination reflected in another. A switch in temples, for the understanding of each other. You must gain the knowledge you need, for it you seem to lack. Only through a bond not only through blood shall you go back."
As the last words left his lips he felt a startling chill race up his spine and spread to the rest of his body. He fell back wondering if he was having a heart attack. As quickly as it came it left, leaving Mycroft dazed.
"Bloody hell?" he gasped, afraid to move again for fear the feeling would return. But it didn't and Mycroft chose to ignore it, blaming it on stress. He climbed in his bed and turned off the lights, falling into a dreamless sleep.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Houston, the fic has lift-off!
Once again not much to say, I think that this fic has some potential and I really want to make this a thing!
Feel free to ask questions, make suggestions, and all that good jazz.
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