Dairy wonders

Disclaimer: I own nothing. A.N. This was inspired by cynicalavocado and armario's collaboration, the smutty piece titled "If you always say no" on AO3. Mind you, I'd suggest to consider it crack even if they deny it – and not read it at all if, like Sherlock, you're sensitive to spelling errors, grammatical blunders and potentially disturbing metaphors. But I have to thank them so very much because they woke up my drugged up, cracky muse. She actually insisted that what I believed would be a 1000 words pwp needed a flimsy excuse for a plot and many more words I wanted to, so this has become a chaptered work. Also, thank you so so much to my friend Chrwythyn for suggesting the title.

"Caring is not an advantage," Mycroft repeated – not for the first time.

"I know," Sherlock growled, glaring at him. It was bad enough that John was away, at that surely superfluous job of his. Did he have to be bothered in his own flat by his smug sibling.

"No you don't, brother mine. Or you're choosing to ignore it, and I'm not sure which hypothesis is worse. You've let yourself care about your doctor. Care far too much," the elder Holmes stated, with clear disappointment in his face.

"I didn't let anything," the sleuth objected, sulkily. He'd tried his best not to fall prey of such unreasonable feelings, especially because John was…John. But like the man who inspired them, they were far too stubborn and refused to be curbed.

"Since things have progressed this far, my assessment of the situation is that, however unreasonable this might look, the only choice for you is to move your relationship forward. I'm concerned about the effect this…pining" – the word was said in clear distaste – "or, worse, somehow losing your flatmate to another partner might have on your sobriety and your general health," Mycroft declared.

"Forward where, exactly? In case your surveillance missed that, brother mine, John Watson is very vocally not gay," the detective bit back, apparently spiteful but really – and evidently to his brother's knowing gaze – eager, almost desperate for big brother to help out, point whatever he might have missed and solve this quandary for him.

"That's the reason I'm here. You know, they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Mycroft remarked, almost airily.

"To yours, certainly," Sherlock replied bitterly.

"Do not scorn popular sayings, little brother. They've been passed through generations for a reason," the elder brother lectured, looking far too pompous for the younger man's taste. "You know, the researchers at Baskerville are looking into a new project," he added, apparently switching subject abruptly. "They've considered the reports about people lost in deserts surviving by drinking their own piss…and they've been inspired to ensure our soldiers can't be starved by the enemy. They want to ensure that men can produce by themselves a nutritious discharge that they can use in times of need. Or, in layman terms, they're looking into turning sperm into something mostly resembling yoghurt."

"I could do without knowing that," his little brother commented, grimacing. Of course. Give Sherlock decomposed, chopped off bodies and he's in his element, but mention sex-related things and he wants nothing to do with it (well, he very much wants if John is involved, but he won't share – and thank God for that!).

"No you really couldn't," Mycroft dissents. "How does John like yoghurt?"

"What are you saying, Mycroft?" the sleuth queries, raising a baffled eyebrow.

"I gave you all the data, little brother. Do you really need me to put them together for you?" the British government taunted, with a hateful smirk.

"You are suggesting…me…to undergo the procedure…to tempt John into sexual relations with me as a way to get my future dairy sexual wonders?" Sherlock deduced, very slowly, as he was incredulous at the absurd plan. Had Mycroft made a list? Because anyone concocting such a plan had to have made use of something recreational.

"It wouldn't make him gay, that. You wouldn't be a normal man anymore. He could admit not to lust, but to gluttony. His deep-seated internalized homo- and biphobia, no doubt a result of his parents' reaction to his sister's coming out, would not be challenged, but worked around. That's how you obtain the best results. I have to admit, he's come a long way in his personal growth and has rationally accepted that 'it's all fine.' But if you want to wait for him to be able to perceive himself as bisexual – and possibly homoromantic – and not balk…I'll just say you've grown way more patient than I knew you as, brother mine," the elder Holmes explained, still smiling.

God help him, but even on drugs (probably) Mycroft was always right…it was unbearable! "Can it be jam?" the consulting detective requested. That would most certainly ensure John's compliance. He occasionally ate yoghurt, too, but not often enough. If they started a relationship, Sherlock had no doubt he'd want sex all the time. Like any sane partner of John Watson, at that.

"I suppose you can cooperate with the researching team. I'll let them know you're going," his brother conceded.