A/N- An unbeta-ed 221B for the kink meme prompt: "Mycroft read the article about his brother's death at the Diogenes Club because he knew he couldn't cry there. It would make noise."
Mycroft Holmes isn't his job. But his job doesn't offer him much chance to be Mycroft Holmes. The British government cannot stop for the death of one man, and so Mycroft cannot.
The words of the article are meaningless, nothing registers, but Mycroft feels the tears gathering. He blinks rapidly to dispel them before folding and lowering the paper.
Exhale, he instructs himself. Compose yourself.
My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't told Moriarty, if I hadn't let him go…
He hadn't been lying when he told Sherlock caring wasn't an advantage. But it had been blasphemy of the gravest kind to imply he wasn't guilty of it. Sherlock has always been his greatest weakness, and in trying to compensate for it, he's destroyed him.
Because there was no key. Obvious, now. But at the time… he couldn't justify protecting Sherlock at the expense of the world. If he had just stopped to think it through, surely he would have realized.
And now his brother is dead, and Mycroft cannot let himself grieve, because he cannot stop doing his job.
He sinks back into the chair, eyes closed. Inhale. Exhale. Swallow.
When Mycroft stands, his face is impassive, not a trace of sadness. The British government has work to do, but inside, out of sight and silent, Mycroft Holmes breaks.