Disclaimer: The characters of Sherlock do not belong to me. I'm borrowing them for a very short period of time.
Note: Once again it's major submission time so I take a detour to procrastination-ville. Happy Halloween.
Mycroft Holmes was never to know the true chain of events he set in motion the day he threw his brother into the path of one Miss Irene Adler.
As far as he was concerned she was dead and no longer a threat to Queen and country. No longer significant in the grand scheme of things.
But then he was dead, Sherlock Holmes broken, bleeding and gone. And Irene Adler was a distant memory wrapped in a personal brand of grief that Mycroft refused to acknowledge.
And then suddenly both of them were alive and Mycroft was left standing confused (although he would loathe to admit it) in the living room of 221B Backer Street surrounded by a bumblebee, playboy bunny and several vampires.
And then there was the pirate. Mycroft couldn't help but flash back to the time he had discussed Sherlock's childhood desire to be one with John. Never had he thought he would ever see Sherlock dressed as a cartoonish character.
His brother looked almost normal. Eye patch, toy parrot perched on his shoulder. A normal guy at a costume party, but Sherlock wasn't normal. And Mycroft wasn't sure what to do with the sight that was presented in front of him.
John startled him out of his trance when he approached offering drinks. Mycroft looked the man up and down taking in his dressing gown and the dirty towel thrown over his shoulder.
"Dent, Arthur Dent."
When Mycroft only raised an eyebrow John uncomfortably shifted his stance.
"Ah… Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy…It's a book…Oh bloody hell never mind."
Dr Watson followed Mycroft's gaze to see Sherlock chatting to Mrs Hudson. It was the pirate wench that gained the eldest Holmes attention this time though and John noticed that Mycroft clenched his jaw as she looked their way.
Irene Adler smirked and raised her drink towards them both. John looked back and forth between the two before slinking off towards the playboy bunny.
No, Mycroft Holmes was never to know the true chain of events he set in motion the day he threw his brother into the path of one Miss Irene Adler. But somehow he knew his brother was alive because of her, and not just alive, but living. He took a breath and tipped his hat in her direction before turning and striding out of 221b Baker Street.