A/N: I am horrible, I need to finish my thesis but couldn't get this story out of my head and because after tomorrow I'll have to time to write more again. Not a native so forgive this Dutchie for getting all the anglo-stuff wrong and please help with me constructing criticisms, it really helps me improve my writing.

It all started when Sherlock had gotten bored again. He'd invited Mycroft over for board games in hopes of pestering him into handing him some intelligence work just to relieve him from his boredom. Mycroft had simply refused him adding a few comments on secrecy and his lack of subtlety. Sherlock in revenge had lifted Mycroft's phone just to annoy him, with the first step Mycroft took on the stairs he was already going through his texts.

It took Mycroft exactly thirteen steps to realize what had just transgressed and hurried back up the stairs shouting "Sherlock!" as he went. He got no response, but found his brother standing on top of the table holding his phone above his head, quickly scrolling through his messages. "Give that back immediately!" He urged his brother a little bit more out of breath than he deemed healthy.

"Nope" was Sherlock's reply. "You're getting sloooow, brother mine." He added while he kept scrolling. Sherlock expression went from a concerned frown to a devilish grin. Mycroft contemplated sweeping his little brother off the table with his umbrella when he got his phone handed back to him. "You very well know this could be considered an act of treason." He said sternly while quickly pocketing his phone. Wearily he eyed his brother who still hadn't stopped grinning. "It was rather childish of you."

Elegantly Sherlock jumped off the table. "And here I was thinking you would never be able to get your own goldfish, but those texts to Anthea tell a rather different story, don't they? I thought caring wasn't an advantage and all hearts are broken. But apparently you'd rather see her come apart in a very different way. Good for you."

"Those were encoded messages; it's a very simple and effective way to fool most people, apparently even you." Mycroft spoke sternly; his cheeks still red with embarrassment. The way Sherlock was intensively staring at him through narrowed eyes didn't help with that.

"Code? Really?"

"Yes, really." Mycroft replied, his mouth becoming a thin straight line, as he clenched his jaw.

"No."

"You see how easy it is to even fool you with these sorts of things."

"No, all of your lines are secure, so you have no need for coded messages. There is absolutely no pattern in the words, sentences, or text in general. However it does give a rare insight in how you let sentiment get the better of you and a rather elaboration of your sexual needs."

Sherlock shuddered. "If I don't delete those texts instantly I'm going to be sick. So much for being the 'ice-man'. It seems you weren't so immune to sentiment after all. Luckily for me I don't have that problem." He energetically swooped up his violin and strode over to the window.

"Mother will be so happy that you will be able to provide her with some grandchildren. She's been badgering me about it for ages. It was bad enough I had to explain that despite the articles in the tabloids my state of virginity had not been tampered with. She was rather disappointed."

Mycroft looked as if he was about to explode, something which didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock.

"You may try and convince the world of your asexuality, but I'm your brother and unfortunately for you, I'm the smart one."

"Oh please." Sherlock sneered. "Because shagging your PA, is so very smart."

Through clenched teeth Mycroft tried to contain his seeding rage.

"Despite what many think, you're a straight male, who's sexually interested in women but such feelings you put aside. You think most of them not smart enough to be your equal, but Ms. Adler outsmarted you. This only confirmed your suspicion that women only use their looks and wit to deceive. You're convinced no woman will ever be trustworthy enough and understanding of your methods to be worthy of you."

"Nonsense, there is one woman I've always…" The words had escaped his mouth before he realized his mistake.

Mycroft pursed his lips into a sarcastic smile. "Indeed little brother, and now that you're aware of this small fact it will be a lot harder not to act on it, won't it?"

Sherlock scoffed at his words and threw his violin on his chair, and turned to face his brother.

"Love is just a chemical defect on the losing side, wasn't that what you told Ms. Adler?"

His comment earned him an intense glare from his younger sibling.

"I said sentiment, not love. Its nonsense however, just because I'm aware of certain chemical reactions doesn't mean I need to let them rule me. That would be rather silly and not so smart. I'm not you Mycroft, now leave. "

His older brother made his way over to the door. "I sincerely doubt you would be able to remain impassive now that you're aware of it, I just hope you don't get carried away."

"I never let myself get carried away."

Mycroft was already making his down the stairs, but Sherlock was still able to hear his last words before leaving the flat. "Keep telling yourself that, little brother."

As he heard the door downstairs being closed he let himself sink down in his chair. He cursed his brother for having the audacity to point out such things. He realized that, even if he had been aware of his feelings on some level, being fully aware could prove to be a problem. He contemplated deleting the conversation he'd just had, but opted out because Mycroft would surely find a way to repeat this line of inquiry only to trap him into another game of wordplay. One he was sure to lose, because no matter how hard he consciously tried to ignore it, his subconscious was very much aware and if he wouldn't be able to contain himself he would surely act on his sentiment by pure instinct. A mistake he couldn't afford to make.

Downstairs his brother stepped into a sleek Jaguar talking into his phone. "Yes, he took the bait. You know what to do."