Author Notes: My dear Yen, here is the story you wished to read and I hope that it is to your liking.*hugs*
This story has two chapters and I`m hopeful that I`ll be able to post the second chapter next week or, at the latest, in a couple of weeks. :)
Important: Please note that this story contains Incest. By which I mean that Sherlock and Mycroft are in a romantic and sexual relationship. If that bothers you, don`t read this story! I`m serious, just hit the back button, if that`s not your cup of tea and refrain from leaving flames!
That said, I hope you enjoy the story! :)
Shattered Dreams
Dear Mycroft,
I never expected Cambridge to be so exciting, but you taught me differently. The last few months have been the best of my life and the only one, I have to thank for this, is you. Every single moment, I have spent with you, is graved into my heart and I tentatively hope that you feel the same.
The last weeks spent together with you have certainly nourished this hope and I`m happy that you aren`t as aloof as I thought, when I first met you. I wish to believe that I`m the only one so far, who has seen this caring side of you and my traitorous heart longs for me to be the last one, at whom you ever look with so much tenderness.
I know that you hate emotions, but I hope that I`m the exception to that rule and that you are going to accept mine. Already, I`m counting the weeks, until the summer break is over and I`ll see you again. I wish that you would have accepted my offer to spend some time at my parents` cottage with me, but I understand that your family wants to have you at home for some time of the year.
Yours truly
William Scutterhead
Mycroft sneered at the letter and binned it, without even considering to formulate a reply. Here, he had thought that William - a fellow student of his - was smarter than the rest of the common population and now he had gotten the proof that he had been... wrong about it.
Mycroft glared at his desk, without taking in any of the papers that covered its surface. He hated being wrong, especially when it concerned such a delicate matter. No, he wasn`t talking about such nonsense like love or relationships. A disgusted shudder ran down his spine, when the thought crossed his mind. Mycroft didn`t have any friends. He had useful acquaintances, which would be of use to him in the future and some of them might believe that they were important to him. Of course, they were fools if they did, but it wasn`t Mycroft`s problem if they mistook his professional smiles and politeness for something else.
Admittedly, Mycroft had had a different kind of relationship with William than with most of his other acquaintances. It hadn`t even been all about physical needs... at least not for Mycroft`s lover. For Mycroft, William had been a nice distraction and a... substitute. Mycroft sighed and rubbed his eyes, when he recalled William in his mind`s eye: Tall and thin, with pale skin and plush lips, dark curls and light blue eyes, with a passion for chemistry - although his parents forced him to study economics - and a macabre humor. In short, William was...
Mycroft`s gaze landed on a framed picture of his brother and him - taken at Easter - and with a resigned shake of his head, Mycroft had to revise his former thoughts. William might have some similarities to Sherlock and it had certainly been easy enough to allow himself the illusion that he had found someone that suited him perfectly... but only until he had lain eyes on his brother, when he had gotten home last week. Sherlock had grown about an inch, since Mycroft had last seen him. His movements had become more graceful - he had reminded Mycroft of a panther - and Sherlock`s eyes had been filled with joy and delight, when he had greeted his older brother. No one had such eyes, a color between blue and green, sprinkled with yellow and brown spots and as deep and wild as the ocean. No, Mycroft didn`t believe that it was possible to find a second person with such eyes or someone else, who looked at him with so much love.
A bitter laugh escaped from Mycroft`s lips. Sherlock wouldn`t look at him like this anymore, if he only knew what his older brother was imagining in these moments. How much Mycroft wanted to claim the plush lips of his brother with his own and tangle his fingers in Sherlock`s messy curls, while he pressed him against a wall and...
No, that alone probably wouldn`t drive Sherlock away. His younger brother saw the world differently than most people and he wouldn`t be disgusted if he got to know that Mycroft lusted after him. Maybe, Sherlock would even be willing to give it a try and treat it like one of his experiments for science. Oh dear, it would be so much easier if Mycroft only wanted to bed his younger brother and be done with it, wouldn`t it?
The young man shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. He had always known that emotions were dangerous and that it was important to appear cold and aloof if he didn`t want to become prey for others. Mycroft had practiced hiding his emotions from an early age on. It hadn`t been hard, especially since their parents didn`t expect their children to show more than respect and politeness towards them and Mycroft disliked most of his peers either way. Therefore, the only person, Mycroft still held love and affection for, was his dear, little brother. Mycroft could have lived with loving Sherlock in a brotherly way and being attracted to his body at the same time. Attraction could be ignored, but not the painful love, Mycroft felt whenever he thought of his little brother. A love that sat deep within his heart and made the silly organ ache, whenever Mycroft imagined Sherlock with someone else. A love, that made his fingers itch to reach out for Sherlock and bed the messy curls on his shoulder, while they sat in front of the fireplace. A love, which demanded lazy mornings with breakfast in bed and his brother`s laugh as the only sound in the house.
These were the roots of Mycroft`s feelings for Sherlock - the physical affection only a tiny part of it - and if his younger brother ever got to know of them, then... he would certainly laugh at Mycroft. For all that Mycroft was sure that Sherlock held a certain amount of love for him, he was also certain that his brother just didn`t like romantic feelings. After all, Sherlock had more often than not scoffed at the idea of undying love or even romantic relationships, when one of their parents` guests had brought the topic up. Mycroft would never live it down, if he ever confessed his feelings for Sherlock. His little brother would tease him mercilessly and Mycroft wasn`t so sure if his heart would survive such an attack.
Of course, he could try to seduce Sherlock to claim at least that part of his little brother for himself, before someone else got their hands into his pants and marked the sixteen year old as their own. A horrible thought - one that made the blood boil in his veins - but Mycroft doubted that he would be able to separate his body`s and his heart`s needs and then...
No, better to ignore all of his needs and feelings, before Sherlock was able to pick up on any of them. Mycroft nodded to himself and then glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past ten in the evening - the sun setting in the west- and probably as good a time as any to call it a day, since Mycroft wouldn`t be able to get any of his work done today. Not after investing so much of his energy into thinking about his beloved, little brother.
He already threatened tomorrow morning, when he had to face Sherlock at breakfast. For the last couple of weeks at least their parents had been at home and Mycroft had been able to focus his attention on a conversation with their father about politics instead of staring at Sherlock the whole time. But their parents had gone away on holidays this very morning and that meant that Mycroft would be alone with his little brother for the next four weeks - the cook and the maid didn`t count.
A tortured groan escaped his lips and Mycroft almost tore at his hair, before stopping himself just in time. He didn`t have the luxury of Sherlock`s wild, thick curls and it would be obvious to his little brother if some of his hair had been sacrificed in a fit. Then, Sherlock would want to know what had upset his older brother so much - he was curious as a cat - and sooner or later he would find out about Mycroft`s hidden feelings and...
A knock at the door, prevented Mycroft from having a minor panic attack, although his heart still started beating faster, when the door was opened and Sherlock slipped into his bedroom. Dear God, Mycroft was only barely able to stop himself from licking his lips at the sight of his little brother. If he had thought, Sherlock looked beautiful during dinner - when he had worn jeans and a short-sleeved button down - then Mycroft didn`t know what to call him now. His pajama bottoms sat low on his hips and revealed a part of pale skin, where Sherlock`s shirt had ridden up. It was much too short and tight for his little brother, a tiny part of Mycroft`s brain realized, even while he was busy taking in Sherlock`s tousled curls and his bright blue eyes. Especially endearing was the way a pink tongue darted out to lick plush lips as Sherlock regarded his older brother almost shyly.
Right... something was wrong then. Sherlock wasn`t shy. Oh yes, he was able to play shy, but it wasn`t in his nature to fidget with the hem of his shirt and avoid someone`s eyes, especially not Mycroft`s. Several scenarios of what could have happened - from an exploded microwave to a flooding of the bathroom - ran through Mycroft`s mind, but he wasn`t able to deduce the truth from his brother.
He sighed. So much for a - more or less - relaxed evening and trying not to think of his little brother."What is it, Sherlock? Did something happen? Did one of your experiments go wrong or have you set fire to the kitchen table?"
A smile tucked at his little brother`s lips as he took a few steps towards Mycroft. "Nothing has happened or rather... not yet, therefore the outcome of the experiment is still open."
Mycroft frowned at that, even as he tried to will away the slight panic that was welling up in him. The last time, Sherlock had made such an announcement, he had put a few drops of hydrofluoric acid on the couch to find out how long it took the acid to eat through the fabric. He didn`t even want to recall how much effort it had taken to dispose of the couch and get a new one to prevent their parents from finding out about Sherlock`s latest stunt. "Sherlock, I swear to you, if you have spilled acid in the bathtub or heated blood in the microwave, I`ll..."
Mycroft never got around to voice a threat, when Sherlock crossed the remaining space between them and pressed his lips to his brother`s.
The elder Holmes` gasped in surprise, allowing a curious tongue to slip into his mouth, before Mycroft`s brain was even able to process what was happening. One second, he was thinking of all the horrible things, Sherlock could have done to the house and now... they were kissing. Soft lips moving against Mycroft`s. Sherlock`s tongue exploring his mouth. Hands in his hair and on his neck. The taste of herb lemonade and chocolate. Sherlock sucking on his lower lip and...
His little brother`s former words came back to Mycroft and his eyes snapped open, when he remembered Sherlock talking about an experiment. Of course, what else could that be if not some queer idea of his little brother. With a large effort of will, Mycroft put his hands on Sherlock`s shoulders and pushed him away. Their lips separated with a smacking sound, followed by a protesting moan from Sherlock.
"What`s that all about, Sherlock?" Mycroft withstood the urge to shake his little brother, who was staring wide eyed at him.
"A kiss."
Mycroft grinded his teeth and stopped himself from snapping at Sherlock for stating the obvious. Instead, he asked calmly - more calmly than he had thought possible, while still tasting Sherlock on his lips. "What did make you think that it was a good idea to kiss me, your own brother?"
Under different circumstances, Mycroft wouldn`t have put so much emphasis into the last three words. If he had thought that Sherlock was serious and that the kiss meant more to him than gathering data... Mycroft would have already have his brother stripped naked and gasping for breath. But, it wasn`t possible that Sherlock even felt half as much affection for his brother as Mycroft did. He had ruled that possibility out a long time ago.
Sherlock licked his lips and Mycroft cursed him inwardly for that movement. Reminding him of the tingling sensation in his own lips once more. "I wanted to know what it feels like."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow at that and managed to remain cool and collected outwardly, when he glared slightly at his little brother. "You mean, how it feels like to kiss your brother?"
Sherlock shook his head and Mycroft braced himself for the cutting words that were about to come. "I wanted to know how it feels to kiss someone I... care for."
Mycroft`s heart skipped a beat and tentative hope started to blossom in his chest, until it was squashed by Sherlock`s next words. "Everyone is talking about... sex." A faint blush spread over Sherlock`s cheeks. "And I wanted to know what it feels like, therefore I..."
"You came here to seduce me, your own brother, in order to satisfy your curiosity." Mycroft jumped up from his chair and pushed Sherlock farther away, so that the young man stumbled against the wardrobe. The elder Holmes couldn`t remember the last time, he had been so angry at Sherlock. It wasn`t because of a simple kiss, but because his brother thought that he could use Mycroft to get scientific data about sex and then threw him away like his other finished experiments. If Sherlock`s actions had at least been based on sexual attraction to his brother, Mycroft wouldn`t have been angry at him. Disappointed, yes, but he could have turned Sherlock away kindly to prevent his brother from noticing Mycroft`s feelings for him. Now though, Mycroft`s gaze moved agitated over Sherlock`s body, while his heart beat painfully against his ribcage. His next words were completely fueled by anger and disappointment as Mycroft snapped at his younger brother.
"Do you really think that you could seduce me like that?" Mycroft pointed at Sherlock`s too tight shirt and forced a snort past his throat. "You look like a little boy, who wants to play with adults, without knowing how to pull it off. I`m certainly not interested in sixteen-year olds with unkempt hair and lanky bodies, who don`t even know how to kiss properly, not to mention that you are my brother." Mycroft noticed the movement of Sherlock`s Adam`s apple popping up and down, when he swallowed hard, but in this moment he didn`t care if he was hurting his little brother. Everything in Mycroft screamed for him to protect himself - his heart and his abused feelings - and for once in his life, he was going with his instincts. Even if every word he said, was a lie. "There are much handsomer men at Cambridge and believe me, when I tell you, Sherlock, that they are more experienced than you are... which probably isn`t hard." Hard grey eyes bore into glistening blue ones. "No one wants to fuck with an insecure, unappealing virgin, Sherlock! At least no one with half a brain, but I`m sure that one of your peers will happily deflower you... once, they have turned the light off."
A sob echoed through the room. Betrayed, blue eyes - swimming with tears - stared at Mycroft and the elder Holmes suddenly felt sick to the stomach for what he had just thrown at Sherlock. Dear God, how could he lose it like that and hurt the most important person in his life so badly? Yes, he was angry at Sherlock for making an experiment out of kissing him, but... No, it didn`t justify Mycroft`s reaction at all. "Sherlock," he started, unsure of what to say - how to apologize - but his younger brother only shook his head.
"Don`t Mycroft, you have made your point... I certainly won`t bother you... again." Sherlock`s voice came out strained. "I`ll just... follow your advice." A single tear slipped down a pale cheek and for a second, Mycroft followed its trail with wide eyes, before Sherlock turned around and all but bolted from the room.
Christ!
Mycroft shook his head and sank back down on his chair. All the anger had drained from him and in its place was only regret for how poorly he had handled that situation. Sherlock`s pained and tearful eyes appeared in his mind and a strained groan escaped Mycroft`s lips. Firstly, he thought about how much he loved Sherlock and now... he had hurt him like no one else before him.
A strangled laugh echoed through the room. Lusting after his little brother and then tearing him to bits with his sharp tongue... Mycroft was the worst brother that had ever walked on this earth.
OOO
It hurt so much.
Sherlock stumbled through the door into his bedroom and shut it behind him. He didn`t bother to lock it, since there was no one in the house, who was going to disturb him at that hour of the day. Their parents were away on holidays - Sherlock couldn`t remember where they had gone to - and the staff had already left for the day. That left only Mycroft and him at home and... Sherlock doubted that his brother would seek him out after what had happened.
A pained sob was ripped from Sherlock`s throat as he recalled the hateful words of his elder brother.
"There are much handsomer men at Cambridge"
Tears ran freely down Sherlock`s face and the young man didn`t care how pathetic he looked right now. Standing in the middle of his room, with fists clenched at his sides and shaking all over, while he imagined his brother with other men. Of course, Sherlock wasn`t enchanted enough to believe that Mycroft didn`t have indulged in sexual activities until now. He was twenty-three after all and Sherlock was certain that there were enough people - men and women - that were drawn to his brother. No, Mycroft`s affairs - Sherlock doubted they could be called relationships - weren`t the point. The point was... that he had managed not to imagine his brother with others, until today. Now, his mind almost overflowed with images of his brother with strangers. Kissing them. Touching them. Sucking them. Fu... sleeping with them.
A quiet whimper slipped from Sherlock`s lips, even as he scolded himself a fool for ever hoping that Mycroft would think of him in a... sexual way.
Stupid!
And yet, Sherlock had truly believed that he would be successful with his seduction. He hadn`t missed the way, Mycroft stared at him sometimes - a quiet longing in his eyes - and Sherlock had decided to work with that. He had known that it would be too much to hope for more than a sexual encounter with his elder brother. After all, Mycroft had made it clear more than once that he didn`t do relationships and detested emotions. Therefore, Sherlock hadn`t even dared entertaining the idea that Mycroft would reciprocate his feelings, but at least he would have had one time with his elder brother. A few happy moments, for which Sherlock could have imagined that his brother returned his feelings and that they were lovers in every sense of the word. It was all Sherlock had hoped for and now...
"No one wants to fuck with an insecure, unappealing virgin, Sherlock!"
More tears fell from Sherlock`s eyes, when he looked up to meet his reflection in the mirror. His hair looked like a bird`s nest. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy. His cheeks were flushed from crying and smeared with tears. His T-shirt did nothing to hide how thin he was - scrawny even - and Sherlock could almost count his ribs through the fabric. His hipbones were much too sharp. His legs were long, but thin and Sherlock didn`t have to turn around to know that he didn`t have much of a bottom to call his own. No wonder, Mycroft didn`t want to sleep with him, Sherlock thought bitterly, as new tears welled up in his eyes. His elder brother was probably used to much better looking blokes by now and even if he wasn`t... Mycroft had made it clear that he wasn`t interested in virgins.
The next sob brought Sherlock to his knees. He slung his arms around his chest and hunched over as wave after wave of pain flowed through him. More pain with every beat of his heart and Sherlock just wished that the organ would stop its stupid rhythm. Of what use was it, when it only ever caused him pain? It wasn`t even like someone was interested in its existence in Sherlock`s chest. His teachers were only interested in his intellect. Mother and father needed him to parade around at parties. Sherlock didn`t have any friends and Mycroft...
"I hate you! I hate you... Myc!" Sherlock sobbed, although he didn`t believe his own words for a second. He could never hate his elder brother, not even now. Sherlock only... hated himself. He hated how he looked. He hated what he felt. He hated his traitorous heart and he hated... that he was born a Holmes! Maybe, if Mycroft and he hadn`t been brothers, they would have... No, that was stupid.
A bitter laugh tumbled from Sherlock`s lips. Mycroft hadn`t rejected him on the base of them being brothers - at least that, Sherlock would have understood - but on how Sherlock looked and how inexperienced he was.
"But I`m sure that one of your peers will happily deflower you"
For a brief second, Sherlock considered the idea... and shuddered with disgust. No, the imagination of one of his peers kissing and touching him was enough to make him want to retch. Maybe there was something wrong with him for having never wanted anyone besides his brother. Everyone already appeared to think that Sherlock wasn`t normal - a freak, a weirdo - and they might even be right. Maybe, it would have been better if he had never been born. At least that way, Sherlock wouldn`t have to endure the pain that surged through him right now.
Still sniffling, but too tired to cry in earnest, Sherlock curled up on his side in a fetal position and closed his eyes. If he was very lucky, he wouldn`t wake up again in the morning. Although the chances for it were close to nil, the thought was more comforting to Sherlock - as he drifted off to sleep - than he could even admit to himself.
OOO
He was such an asshole!
Mycroft glared at his reflection in the mirror with disgust. He had thought that a quick shower would calm his nerves, but the opposite was true. If possible, Mycroft was even more angry with himself for what he had thrown at Sherlock - his perfect, beautiful, little brother.
For Christ`s sake, Mycroft loved him, but instead of admitting his feelings to Sherlock and explaining to him why it was impossible for him to have a one off with his brother... Mycroft had insulted him worse than most of Sherlock`s peers had ever done. Pale grey eyes, filled with regret and contempt stared back at the young man. Now, that his mind had cleared a little, it was obvious to Mycroft that he had completely overreacted. Yes, Sherlock`s idea of an experiment had been awful, but his little brother didn`t know about Mycroft`s feelings for him. Therefore, it had never been his brother`s intention to hurt him.
Of course, it was much too late for such helpful insights by now. The damage was done. Sherlock was hurt and would probably never want to speak with Mycroft again and the young man wouldn`t even be able to blame him. It was all his fault after all and... Dear God, the look in Sherlock`s eyes, when Mycroft had told him to find someone else to sleep with. Something constricted painfully in his chest as Mycroft squeezed his eyes shut, when he remembered the tearful, blue eyes and the look of betrayal in them. Sherlock had offered him his virginity - no matter his reasons - and Mycroft had thrown that gift aside like it meant nothing. Like it was shameful for Sherlock to still be a virgin and that Mycroft despised him for it. Like he wanted his little brother to get it over with and find someone...
Grey eyes snapped open and widened in panic, as the horrible image of Sherlock in someone`s else arms flashed through Mycroft`s mind. And he could very well picture Sherlock going to one of his peers to get shagged, only to spite his elder brother. It wouldn`t give Sherlock any trouble to find someone willing to put their hands on him. No matter what Mycroft had thrown at Sherlock, his little brother was bloody gorgeous. A blind could notice his beauty, but... they wouldn`t treat Sherlock the way he deserved to be treated. They wouldn`t worship his body and tell him how marvelous he was, while taking their time... No, they would probably tore the clothes off of Sherlock and ravish him, before his little brother didn`t even know what was going on.
Before Mycroft could think twice about his next actions, he was already putting his pajamas on and hurrying out of his room in search of Sherlock. Even if his little brother punched him - which Mycroft deserved - or laughed at him - which would be worse - he would make sure that Sherlock knew how much he was loved. After all - and the thought spurted Mycroft farther on - it spoke of immense trust to offer your first time to someone. Mycroft prayed that he hadn`t destroyed all of it, with his cruel words, when he stopped in front of Sherlock`s room and knocked.
No reply!
Mycroft strained his ears as he listened for any sounds from the inside. Nothing. It was quiet, extremely quiet. No cursing or crying. No thrown objects or explosions, only silence. The young man swallowed hard. If Sherlock had gone out and thrown his first time away, because of him, then... Mycroft would never forgive himself.
Seconds ticked by, in which he kept staring at the wooden door, willing it to reveal the secrets that lay behind it, without having to open it. How bad would it be if Mycroft opened the door to an empty bedroom? His breath caught in his throat and Mycroft almost turned away and went back to his own room, but then he shook his head at the idea. No, he wouldn`t run away from Sherlock. He would face the mess he had caused and do everything in his power to undo his mistakes. That was the least, Mycroft owed to Sherlock.
Steeling himself, the young man grabbed the handle and yanked it down with more force then was strictly necessary. The door opened to the twilight of Sherlock`s room and for a moment, Mycroft feared that he was too late. Sherlock`s bed was empty and he wasn`t at his desk. The open door to the adjoining bathroom revealed that his little brother wasn`t in there either and...
His eyes fell on the huddled figure on the ground and Mycroft`s heart skipped a beat. "Sherlock," Mycroft breathed and sank down next to his little brother. He reached out with a trembling hand and touched Sherlock`s tear streaked face. The skin was cold and wet under his fingertips and Mycroft swallowed against the lump in his throat. It was all his fault. He had done this to his little brother, had hurt and humiliated Sherlock like he meant nothing to Mycroft.
"Oh Sherlock," Mycroft`s voice cracked, when he ran his fingers through the messy curls. "I`m so sorry. I don`t deserve you." As soon as the words had left his mouth, Mycroft knew that they were true. He didn`t deserve someone like Sherlock. A bright young man, beautiful and attractive, capable of so much love if someone only gave him a chance to show his feelings, without judging him for his quirks. Mycroft had always dreamed about being the man, who would show Sherlock what it meant to be loved unconditionally, without ever realising that the expectations he had of his little brother were far too high to achieve that level of love. If Sherlock were his lover, Mycroft would want him to...
But no, it was useless to think about such things now. A humorless laugh tumbled from Mycroft`s lips as he kept on stroking Sherlock`s curls. He had ruined everything and it would be a miracle if his little brother ever so much as smiled at him again. "I`m so, so sorry, Sherlock." Mycroft almost chocked on his own words, when he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to his brother`s forehead. A last brief contact, before he had to wake his little brother and face the consequences for his thoughtless actions. If Sherlock had at least lain in bed, Mycroft could have left, but he couldn`t leave his little brother lying on the cold floor.
"Sherlock." Mycroft shook the shoulder of his brother. "Wake up, Sherlock."
Slowly, blue eyes blinked open, still confused and sleepy, and settled on Mycroft. "Myc, what is..."
Mycroft was able to pinpoint the exact moment, when Sherlock remembered the events from this evening. A gasp fell from Sherlock`s lips as his eyes widened in horror and he scrambled to his feet, away from Mycroft. "What do you want here?"
It was obvious that the question was intended to be cutting, but the tremble in Sherlock`s voice was unmistakable and Mycroft`s heart clenched as he took in the posture of his brother. Sherlock had his fists clenched at his side. Tremors shook the slender body and from the way he was biting his lower lip and blinking rapidly, it was obvious to Mycroft that Sherlock was fighting his tears. An answering, burning sensation started in Mycroft`s eyes, but he pushed it away. He didn`t have the right to cry, after what he had done. Slowly, the elder man got to his feet and met his brother`s gaze. "I wanted to make sure that you were alright."
A hollow laugh echoed through the room and teary eyes glared fiercely at Mycroft. "Oh, that`s rich of you. Checking on your stupid little brother to make sure that... What, Mycroft? Where you afraid that I had gone out and found someone, who was willing to fuck me?" Mycroft had never heard his little brother sounding as bitter as he did now. "Or maybe you were counting on it. Waiting until someone had taught the inexperienced virgin how to get a man off and how to put his bottom and mouth to good use, so that you could have a good shag with me later, but... No!" Mycroft hated the self-hatred that filled his brother`s voice, when he continued. "You wouldn`t do that, because you find me so appalling that you wouldn`t even get it up with me or... did you only say that, because we are brothers and you are a giant git?"
There was real hope in Sherlock`s voice, when he voiced the last question and Mycroft had to stop himself from reaching out for his brother and enfolding him in his arms. Instead he shook his head and Sherlock`s face fell. "Of course not, me being your brother wouldn`t be as much a hindrance as my scrawny body."
Sherlock blinked. A tear fell from his eyelashes and ran down his cheek. Grey eyes followed its way, even as another joined the first and suddenly Mycroft couldn`t stand it any longer. No matter what would happen later, Mycroft wouldn`t allow his little brother to believe for one more second that he was unattractive and unloved.
"I lied."
Blue eyes snapped up at that. "About what? That no one would ever fuck me or that you would never do it?"
Mycroft flinched at the cruel words, but somehow he managed to retain his composure, at least for now. "Everything."
The word hung in the air between them like the sword of Damocles and Mycroft didn`t dare breathing, while he waited for Sherlock to figure out the meaning behind it.
OOO
Sherlock stared at Mycroft in disbelief. It was fairly obvious what his brother was implying with his reply, but... that couldn`t be true.
Sherlock shook his head slowly, even as his traitorous heart skipped a beat in hope. Mycroft was a master at manipulating people and just because he wanted Sherlock to believe that he wasn`t averse to the idea of sleeping with him or didn`t think that Sherlock was unattractive, didn`t mean that it was true. Then again, why would Mycroft lie about it?
Sherlock blinked slowly and a single tear slid down his cheek as in reply to his question. Of course, the young man grinded his teeth, when he noticed Mycroft`s worried looked - aimed at him - and scolded himself for almost falling for such a obvious lie. Obviously, his big brother felt bad about what he had thrown at Sherlock and now tried to make up for it with lies. He would have almost laughed at the absurdity of it, if Sherlock hadn`t feared that it would emerge as a sob instead.
"You don`t have to pity me." Sherlock directed his gaze to the floor, so that he didn`t have to meet his brother`s eyes any longer. "Let`s just pretend it never happened and..."
"No!"
Startled, Sherlock stumbled back, when Mycroft took a few steps towards him, until only a few inches remained between them. Grey eyes were gazing down at the young man, as intense as Sherlock had never seen them before. Usually, it was impossible to read anything in Mycroft`s face, but this time, his expression practically radiated emotions and Sherlock had a hard time to pinpoint what exactly he was seeing. Desperation - definitely, although Sherlock wasn`t sure why his brother should be desperate. Fear - of what was Mycroft afraid? Anger - directed at Sherlock or at someone else? Hope - was his brother hoping that their conversation would be over soon? Sherlock shook his head. He didn`t understand what he was seeing and why he was seeing it and... he was much too tired for such games right now.
He sighed quietly. "You tell me that everything you told me was a lie, yet, it was obvious that you didn`t want to sleep with me, when I came to you. How does that make sense?"
A lopsided smile appeared on Mycroft`s face, but it didn`t reach his eyes. "It makes sense when you take into consideration that you proposed to me to be part of one of your experiments, little brother."
If Sherlock had been confused before, he was completely lost after this comment. Mycroft must have read it in his face, since the young man heaved a long suffering sigh. The kind of sigh, he had specifically reserved for times when Sherlock didn`t keep up with him. "I didn`t want to sleep with you for an experiment, but I want to sleep with you."
Sherlock gaped. Somehow, that even made sense. Mycroft hated to be part of an experiment and maybe he didn`t approve of Sherlock`s scientific methods. Not that he had wanted to sleep with his brother to gain data, but... Mycroft didn`t know that.
"So, you are... attracted to me?" It was more than Sherlock had dared hoping for and although it would be less than he wanted, he would make do with it, if he had to. It would be better to have mere physical connection with his brother - beyond their shared genes - than to never be in the arms of the man, Sherlock loved.
To his astonishment, Mycroft managed nodding and shaking his head at once. "Yes, I`m attracted to you, but," Mycroft shifted his weight nervously and when he spoke, it was to the wardrobe, without meeting Sherlock`s eyes. "I don`t want a mere physical... I have feelings for you, Sherlock... deeper feelings than for a brother and that`s why," Mycroft inhaled deeply and Sherlock held his breath, while his heart fluttered nervously in his chest. "I was angry when you proposed an experiment, because... I don`t want you for an experiment, I want you... completely. All of you. Forever."
Sherlock exhaled, when his lungs felt like they might burst and it still didn`t stop his heart from pounding away against his ribcage. He had always dreamed about that moment, when Mycroft would admit his feelings for him and Sherlock wouldn`t have to be alone anymore. Of course, he had never dared to hope that this fantasy would ever come true. It would have killed Sherlock, if he had allowed his mind to wander down that path, where only heartbreak and tears lay in wait for him... or so he had thought.
Sherlock glanced up at his brother and there it was again, plainly written in every line on his face... Fear. Mycroft was afraid of his reply and... the whole situation was so ridiculous and sad all at once, that Sherlock couldn`t hold back a low giggle. There, they were - the most brilliant men of their age in Britain - and neither of them had realised how much they meant to each other. And it was clear from Mycroft`s stammering - a Mycroft Holmes didn`t usually stammer - that he had been telling the truth and Sherlock...
"Good to see you back to your old self. I`m glad that you find that so amusing." The words were sneered, but Sherlock still noticed the slight crack in his brother`s words and saw the hurt flicker through grey eyes, before it was masked. "In this case, I`ll just leave you alone and..."
"No, Myc!" Sherlock grabbed his brother`s arm and held him back. "I wasn`t laughing at you. I was... laughing at us. The situation."
Mycroft furrowed his brow and tapped his left foot impatiently against the floor. A sign that he didn`t understand what Sherlock was talking about and that the younger man had better hurry on and explain himself, before Mycroft lost his patience.
"We are both," Sherlock licked his lips nervously, unsure of how to phrase his words. "I didn`t really want to... experiment. I just wanted... I thought it was the only way of... convincing you to sleep with me. I thought," Sherlock gulped and stared at their feet. "That it would be the only reason you would ever sleep with me and that... a night with you would be all, I would ever... get."
Silence followed his confession and Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut against the humiliating burn of new tears. Maybe he had misinterpreted everything and Mycroft hadn`t really meant what Sherlock had thought his words implied. Maybe, his hopeful heart had turned around the meaning of Mycroft`s words and his brother was going to laugh at him any second now. Or worse... his brother would tell Sherlock that he was honored by his feelings, but that he would never return them.
"Sherlock," Mycroft`s voice was gentle - careful, as if he was treading on glass. "Are you saying that you want to have a... romantic relationship with me?" Disbelief shone clearly in Mycroft`s words and for a second, Sherlock considered denying it, but then... he wasn`t a coward.
Sherlock nodded. "Yes."
A deep exhale. Sherlock`s whole body tensed, when he felt Mycroft approaching him, crossing the last few inches between them and... enfolding him in his arms.
"Myc!"
The arms around him tightened and soft lips were pressed to Sherlock`s forehead. "I want that as well, Sherly!"
His whole body went limp - his muscles going slack all at once - at being addressed by Mycroft`s endearment for him. His brother hadn`t used it in years and hearing it now, while they were so close together and... it was too much for Sherlock. Hot tears - partly due to relief and mostly due to happiness - sprang to his eyes, as Sherlock hid his face in the crook of Mycroft`s neck and clung to his brother like he was his only lifeline.
"Shh, it`s alright." More kisses were pressed to Sherlock`s forehead and hair, while his brother managed to maneuver them backwards at the same time, until Sherlock`s legs connected with his bed.
He looked up at his brother - a silent question in his eyes and unashamed of his tears - but Mycroft only shook his head and gestured for Sherlock to slip under the covers. "Now wouldn`t be the right time for anything besides sleeping, don`t you agree?"
Sherlock pursed his lips and nodded. "Cuddling?" He suggested shyly and was rewarded with a brilliant smile as Mycroft ruffled his hair and drew the covers back. "That`s acceptable."
Smiling, Sherlock snuggled up to his brother after they had laid down and although he wanted to cherish the time spent with Mycroft like this, sleep claimed Sherlock, before he had even gotten the chance to steal another kiss from his brother.
OOO
Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains and brightened the room considerably. Birds were chirping outside, in welcome of the new day. Dogs were barking on their morning walk and the trees rustled pleasantly.
"Oh, for God`s sake! Can`t everything just shut up!" Sherlock groaned in his pillow and turned away from the offending sunlight that had tickled his nose, until he had been awake. And now that he was awake, Sherlock was unable to get back to sleep. His mind was working on overdrive again, analyzing the information that were hurled at it and... it was annoying. Sherlock didn`t need to know that the barking dog detested his mistress, because she only took him out for walks as an excuse to meet up with her lover. It was also uninteresting to him that they would reach the thirty degree mark by midday or that the evening held the promise of a heavy thunderstorm. He didn`t care that the birds - chirping outside - were mostly siblings and had been born this spring.
Sherlock hid his head under the pillow. "Shut the damn window and make those noises stop, Myc," he whined and only blinked his eyes open when there was no reply. His heart thundered in his chest, when Sherlock peeked out from underneath the pillow and glanced at the empty half of his bed.
Mycroft was gone.
Sherlock gulped and tried to push away the panic that was attempting to overwhelm him. It didn`t have to mean anything. Maybe, his brother had only needed to use the toilet and... No, that wasn`t the case, if Sherlock was to believe the warmth - or rather cold - of the mattress were Mycroft had lain. Judging from the weight of his brother - around hundred and sixty pounds - and the temperature outside, his brother had left the bed about an hour ago. Much too long for a session in the bathroom, even with an added shower.
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to give into the pathetic tears that threatened to spill over. He had cried enough for a lifetime, yesterday and it obviously wasn`t of any significant use. If possible, it had only reduced Sherlock`s powers of observation, otherwise he would have noticed right away that Mycroft was only humoring him. His brother`s stammered confession of feelings and how he had held Sherlock in his arms... everything had only been a trick. Otherwise, Mycroft wouldn`t have left as soon as he had woken up. He would have stayed with Sherlock or woken him with a soft kiss and...
No, stop that!
Sherlock glared angrily at his pillow, when his mind wandered down this train of thoughts. It was of no use. Mycroft had made his decision and Sherlock would have to live with it. He should be thankful for having experienced a few happy moments with his brother by his side. After all, they would have to carry him through a lifetime without Mycroft.
Sherlock took a shaking breath and tried to get himself back under control, while he told himself that it was better this way. At least, he would be able to get over Mycroft now and... what? Go back to school like nothing had happened? Start university, next year, like he cared about it, when it didn`t give Sherlock the chance to leave the house and live with his brother? No, this situation definitely wasn`t better than it had been yesterday. At least, twenty-four hours ago, Sherlock had had the luxury to dream about a future with Mycroft and now he didn`t have anything left.
Blue eyes kept staring at the pillow, their brightness slowly darkened by the prospect of the upcoming days and even years, their owner so absorbed in his joyless musings that he startled when the door opened. Sherlock`s head snapped up and his eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the picture of his brother, carrying a tray, with an giant amount of food on it.
"Stop gaping and move over, if you aren`t going to help me carry it," Mycroft ordered, but without much heat in his voice. Still speechless, Sherlock did as he was told and watched in awe, how his brother balanced the tray on the edge of the nightstand - while he climbed back into bed - before setting it down in his lap.
"What," Sherlock started and stopped mid-sentence, when he took in the whole arrangement. There were two plates - one with eggs and bacon and the other with pancakes, graced with lots of honey - and two mugs filled with black tea. But the most fascinating was the single, red rose in a small water glass. It was obvious to Sherlock that it was one of the roses that grew in their garden. The half-opened head of the rose and the completely green stem proved that it had only been cut a few minutes ago.
Sherlock blinked in disbelief as he tried to wrap his mind around this... romantic gesture. He had never thought of his brother as a romantic, but he had obviously been wrong. Add to this the fact that Sherlock had believed Mycroft had lied to him about his feelings and the young man was completely baffled.
"Do you like it?" The voice of his brother sounded as nervous as Sherlock had ever heard it. Carefully, he turned his head to meet Mycroft`s flushed face and insecure eyes. The sight was enough to make Sherlock push away any lingering doubts. A small smile tucked at his lips and before Sherlock knew what he was doing, he leaned forward to press a shy kiss to Mycroft`s jaw. "It`s fantastic and you even added extra honey, but" Sherlock wriggled his eyebrows at his brother. "I thought that you only get to breakfast in bed, after you have indulged in more exhausting activities than sleep." The young man couldn`t help the faint blush that crept into his cheeks, but Mycroft only commented on it with a grin and a chaste kiss of his own.
"When have we ever cared about normal?"
Mycroft had a point and Sherlock only nodded in agreement as he cut off the first bite of pancake and sighed happily as the sweet taste of honey exploded on his tongue. A low chuckle sounded next to him, but Sherlock ignored it in favor of stuffing himself with pancake and honey.
They enjoyed their breakfast in silence and then snuggled back together, after the tray had been put to the floor and the vase on the nightstand. Sherlock sighed happily and nuzzled his nose against his brother`s throat. "If we don`t do things the way other people do it... does that mean no breakfast in bed after sex?" The question came out playfully enough, but Sherlock still held his breath, when he waited for Mycroft`s reply. After all, they hadn`t done anything besides cuddling and exchanging chaste kisses and although Mycroft had told Sherlock that he found him attractive, it could still mean that his brother wouldn`t have sex with him. That he wouldn`t want to cross that line with Sherlock and...
"That depends at what time of the day we have sex and in which state the kitchen is, after one of your experiments." The words lifted a weight from Sherlock`s heart and he smiled in relief as it appeared that he would finally have everything, he had ever dreamed of.
He propped himself up on his elbow to lean over his brother and finally kiss him for real - the kiss from yesterday didn`t count - when Mycroft`s voice stopped him. "Let`s take it slow, Sherly," he murmured, a hand stroking Sherlock`s cheek. "I don`t mind snogging in bed, but I want to take this relationship one step at a time."
Sherlock frowned down at him. "If you think you have to hold back out of consideration for my lack of experience, then I can assure you that you don`t have to do that. I really want to sleep with you."
Mycroft nodded, his hands framing Sherlock`s face. Grey eyes soft as they took him in. "I also want to sleep with you, but at the same time, I don`t want to rush anything. I want to savor every little step we take. I want to take you out for dinner and to the cinema. I want to go swimming with you and bath in the sun afterwards. I want to make you recall the solar system by pointing out every constellation to you and I want to have breakfast in bed with you as often as possible."
Mycroft`s face was crimson, when he finished his little speech, but Sherlock didn`t have it in him to tease his brother for being a helpless romantic or making comments about his blood pressure. Not, when Sherlock was equally flushed and his heart was beating madly in his chest. This was so much better than what he had dreamed of and Sherlock would be foolish to reject Mycroft`s idea of a relationship, especially when it sounded like...
"You are courting me."
If possible Mycroft turned even redder, the blush spreading over his neck and to his chest and Sherlock grinned. The Victorian novels in their library were obviously his brother`s and not their mother`s - as Sherlock had believed - but the young man wouldn`t complain. Instead Sherlock dipped his head forward and pressed their lips lightly together. "In this case, I accept."
A second passed by in solemn silence, until a muscle twitched in Mycroft`s face and both brothers erupted in laughter that echoed through the sun filled bedroom. The higher climbing sun the only witness to the smiles and kisses the brothers exchanged for the better part of the day.