Welcome to my first English fanfic!
English is not my first language, actually I´m German. So please forgive me for wrong grammar or something like that! And for other firsts: it´s also my first romantic/fluffy piece of writing ever, so comments would really be appreciated.
This is a little fluffy OS with one of my favourite pairs. It´s too rare!
Title: Company
Rating: T
Genre: Romance
Pairing: MycroftXJohn
Summary: John is kidnapped by Mycroft. Again. Or not?
Disclaimer: I´m not Arthur Conan Doyle, because if I were, I´d be dead now. Neither I am Steven Moffat or Mark Gatiss because if I were I´d be British and male. So, I own nothing of Sherlock and I am not making any money with it.
Enjoy!
Company
John sighed when he noticed the black car waiting at the corner. Waiting for him.
For whom else should it have been waiting? Exactly.
He just knew it. But that he knew it didn´t mean that he had to like it. Rather the opposite. He was officially annoyed now; first he had that stupid argument with Sherlock, now this. This was really a day he would dream of having.
…
In his nightmares.
So John decided that he would not give in so willingly. He had had enough Holmes for a day. Mycroft could wait. Who was he, anyway, that he thought he could just kidnap people when he felt like it? Okay, he was the government, but that still did not give him the permission to randomly kidnap persons.
Oh, fine, who was he kidding? Mycroft simply had the permission to do anything.
But still John didn´t have to cooperate whenever Mycroft wanted something. So he crossed the street hastily and tried to hide in a crowd of people waiting for some traffic lights to get green. But Mycroft wouldn´t be Mycroft if he hadn´t had professionals in his staff. Two men in plain black suits popped up beside him. "Doctor Watson", one of them said calmly, "Please follow us to the car over there." That was no request; it was an order. With the feeling that things could turn up quite nasty if Mycroft really wanted to see him, John followed the men without any further hesitation.
~c~o~m~p~a~n~y~
The car stopped and John left it. He shivered in the cold night of a November day in London. He should have grabbed his coat instead of his thin jacket. At least he would get into the warmth now. He felt something like gratefulness when he noticed that Mycroft had not chose another silly warehouse for their meeting but a huge building with enlightened windows. Maybe it was Mycroft´s office?
It was not Mycroft´s office. The moment John entered the building right behind the two guys – inwardly he called them Palie and Baldie – it thunderstruck him. That was nothing less than one of the noblest restaurants in whole London. That had to be a mistake. Why should Mycroft ask about Sherlock in a public place where they could be overheard?
That seemed not to be typical for the discrete foreseeing man he thought Mycroft was. But then Baldie led John to a table for two persons, one seat already taken by no one else than Mycroft. The taller man stood up smoothly and a smile spread over is face; not the cool superior fake-smile John knew but an honest smile full of warmth. "Ah, John", he greeted the blonde, "What a pleasure to meet you." They shook hands and Mycroft signalised John to take a seat. "I wasn´t aware that this meeting was on a voluntary basis", commented John with the slightest hint of sarcasm. Mycroft´s smile grew wider and he responded "Well, I am sorry that I did not invite you in a proper manner, John, but I would have disliked Sherlock to know about our meeting."
John cocked an eyebrow. John? Where did the yesterday´s Doctor Watson go? "Yes, I believe you have mentioned before that you prefer your concern go unmentioned, Mycroft." Attack was the best defence, decided John, as long as he did not know what was going on. But Mycroft simply waved his hand like shooing a fly away. "Don´t be so narrow-minded, John. I have also other things to deal with than my little brother. Even if he told you something else, I am neither a heartless monster nor an emotionless machine. I worry about him, yes, but I keep myself busy with other things as well."
"So why did you…er, invite me?", asked John confused. He could think of no other reason the politician might have. Mycroft looked at John with a blank expression. "I would like you to join me for dinner, John", he explained, "Company is a luxury I cannot enjoy often, not to mention such formidable company like yours."
John wasn´t quite sure how to react. To hear these words from no one else than Mycroft Holmes was presumably a flattering compliment or probably at least a nice move but due to some unbeknownst reason John felt a pang of hot anger in his stomach. If Mycroft really enjoyed his company as much as he said, then he could simply ask John if he would come. John, as he supposed Mycroft to know, had more social competence than Sherlock and would attend to a meeting unless he had very good reasons not to. It was nearly as if Mycroft feared that John might have declined an invitation.
But that sheer thought was ridiculous. Why should Mycroft be afraid of that? He had plenty of possibilities to `accidently´ meet John when it was his wish. But that was Mycroft Holmes for you, supposed John, he just liked as much to be dramatic as his younger brother. And an abduction was definitely much more dramatic than a simple invitation.
"What would you like to eat, John?" dragged Mycroft´s voice him out of his thoughts. "Er…Nothing, thanks", John muttered. Mycroft shot him an amused look. "John, I am positively sure that you haven´t eaten since twelve a.m. and now it´s around eight o´ clock in the evening. You must be hungry. So, no false modesty, just choose something on the card."
John glanced on the menu card and nearly choked when he saw the prices. "Oh, money is no object, John", purred Mycroft who interpreted John´s facial expression correctly. After a questioning look by John he added, "I´ll pay."
That was not what John had expected. If he didn´t know better, he would have said this was turning out as a date. But there was no chance that Mycroft would date him. That was just as ridiculous as the thought of an afraid Mycroft. Mycroft was never afraid. And Mycroft would never want to date him.
"Err…some pasta would be great."
~c~o~m~p~a~n~y~
During the meal John couldn´t deny that the meeting turned more and more out to be like some kind of date. Mycroft was stunningly pleasant company with a splendid sense of humour. Quite dry and very special. John liked the way Mycroft implied little jokes with dry comments. It fitted the man perfectly. Plus, Mycroft turned out to be a gentleman with class when he wasn´t interrogating you about your connections to his younger brother. He made fantastic conversation and was a good listener. He seemed honestly interested in John and his life.
John couldn´t help himself but feel kind of pleased to have so much attention. Sherlock was always thinking or rambling without a second thought towards his companion. Not that John wanted to complain; he loved the adventures and the thrill of the game, but it was a nice change to simply talk and tell someone who was actually listening about what was bothering him. And Mycroft did not only listen intently, he actually seemed to care. From time to time he even input his own opinion about some topics or anecdotes John told him.
All in all, it was a fantastic evening. In the end Mycroft paid the bill and offered John to take him back to his flat by car. John accepted gratefully. He felt warm and slightly dizzy from the wine he and Mycroft had drunk and tiredness crept its way into John´s body.
John yawned when he sank back into the comfortable seat of the black limousine Mycroft had ordered via mobile phone. Both men sat down in the back of the car and the chauffeur didn´t even need to be told where he should head to.
Mycroft turned to face John and an affectionate smile tugged on his lips when he observed John cuddling himself into the back and seeking for a more comfortable position. John didn´t wonder when Mycroft offered his shoulder as a pillow with a genuine smile but he didn´t really mind either. He snuggled deep in Mycroft´s shoulder and inhaled the man´s tart and tempting smell.
Firstly John did not entirely realise what was the pleasant feeling on his back; a few moments later he worked out that it were Mycroft´s slender fingers which stroked his back gently. John liked that caring gesture and made an appreciating sound. This made Mycroft chuckle softly. John felt Mycroft´s chest vibrating by the chuckle.
Far too soon the car stopped in front of 221 B Bakerstreet. Before John could leave the car, Mycroft tugged the sleeve of his jumper. "John." The soft murmur of his name let John turn around to face the other man. "It was a wonderful evening. I was wondering if you would like to repeat it sometime?" Hope shimmered in Mycroft´s light grey eyes and let John smile. "I´d love to, Mycroft. The dinner was fantastic." Mycroft laughed gently. "Yes, it was. And, John. Please take care of yourself. Sherlock is dragging you all around London. You should eat and sleep a bit more."
The faces of both men approached each other. Their lips touched softly. A warm and wonderful feeling flooded through John´s stomach. It felt good and it felt right.
"Goodnight, love."