Takes place sometime during the space of The Marchioness, not sure when just a random idea that came to me :P Bit of a warning, a chunk of OOC-ness at the end, but that's the point. :)
Disclaimer: All rights go to Mr. Robert Doherty, CBS, and characters inspired by those of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Mycroft sighed silently. Joan had tactfully gone elsewhere, leaving the brothers alone. The younger of which had his back turned and head bent upon the desk in front of him. Rustling papers, moving them here and there, making it look as though he was working intently and was not aware Mycroft had come.
Cursing internally, the elder man knew it best to get to the point, and said audibly with as much sincerity he could find, "I'm sorry."
The rustling slowed, and though he kept his back toward Mycroft, the younger Holmes' attention had been caught. He said nothing.
"I apologize." Mycroft said again.
Now he did turn around, brows raised in question and mouth set in a deep frown. As though he was being approached by some schoolyard menace rather than a apologetic brother.
The elder stepped closer, noticing Sherlock grew somewhat apprehensive as he did so! At his age!
They might have attended separate boarding schools, but they had lived under the same roof at numerous points. And Mycroft could remember a young Sherlock being near as frustrating.
"I apologize for embarrassing you." A scoff and abrupt turn around was the immediate reply, though Mycroft refrained the urge to hit him and went on,"I should have waited until the meeting was over and done with before I said anything-I am telling you the truth when I say I wanted to support you."
Silence.
Said Mycroft rolled his eyes, and in one quick movement, grabbed his brother by the arms and spun back towards him. A small feeling of satisfaction rushed through him when Shlock found it difficult to move back. Recovering or not he could still restrain him!
"Sherlock, I am trying to be an adult," He said, "And I said I was sorry, if I knew it embarrass you I wouldn't have spoken-"
"I wasn't embarrassed! I was a very annoyed that all I said was suddenly compromised!"
"Comprised in what way?!"
"Let go of me!" He moaned, attempting every possible way to struggle free, to no avail.
Mycroft sighed, with a mixture of anger, frustration, and tiredness.
"I should have alerted you that I was coming here, and I am sorry for that as well...I am sorry I didn't tell you when I needed bone-marrow, but to be fair you weren't in the most healthy state yourself! But for the sake of being an adult, I am sorry."
He released his younger brother, who had been looking everywhere but at him, and put his hand foreward. Sherlock looked at it as though it were snake.
"So, please, pretend for a moment that we are the loving brothers Father always introduced us as, and say you forgive me."
A fixed look to the side. Ugh, this was so like Mycroft! Even when they had spent holidays together, he always did and said just as he pleased and thought a-a flimsy half-hearted apology would make up for it! It was lazy, and arrogant and-and-and cliche!
But there was no sign he was going to lower his hand, and Sherlock wished only for him to leave, and go bother someone else.
Slowly he put his hand foreward (Mycroft was going to do all the shaking!), and then Mycroft struck. The elder man's paw fiercely gripped his own and before he could do anything he pulled him into a tight embrace.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Showing my brotherly affection for you, Locket!" Was the sickly-sweet reply, as Sherlock desperately tried to achieve freedom, and all but punching his brother in an effort of escape.
There was a very audible 'Aw!' coming from across the room, in which Mycroft released him from his clutches.
How dare he! First attempting to "patch things up" with some flimsy apology, and then hug him? They had never hugged, and that superficial yarn of an apology was...not even correct! And that blasted pet name! Mycroft said he was trying to be the adult! How...TYPICAL!
Sherlock abruptly left, brushing his clothes of some invisible dust, back stiffened and feeling the immense need to change clothing, or his shirt at least. He could hear badly suppressed giggles behind him, which (frustratingly) managed to bring a light layer of color to his ears.
Mycroft stayed where he was, unable to keep from grinning to himself. If his little brother had truly accepted his apology he might not have done it. But he was just as able be childish about this, perhaps it would snap him out of it and they will be able to converse as adults.
And if not, well Joan was giggling and smiling, vainly trying to hide it. So then, Mycroft could say he had not been completely fruitless.
I couldn't help it =/ Many thanks for reading! :)