A/N: First chapter of the Johncroft! Written by both Dreigiau and myself ^_^ Enjoy! The prompt is in bold.
If you shake his hand, wrap your other hand around his. Linger for just a second longer than you normally would.
It was a rare sunny day in London as Mycroft strolled through the park. He was on his lunch break and taking the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine. For once he had left his umbrella in his office, sure that the weather would not suddenly change and put him in need of such protection.
As he meandered along the path, sipping at the last of his takeaway coffee, he caught sight of a familiar figure walking in the opposite direction and allowed himself a small smile as John Watson moved towards him. Altering his course slightly, he headed towards John, careful to make it appear as though he had yet to notice his presence.
Mycroft had always been good at reading people, but he did not need to be to see that, despite the pleasant weather, John was not in a good mood. The doctor's face was drawn tight and his jaw clenched as he wandered about the park. Mycroft schooled his features into a friendly smile as they came close to each other. "John, has my brother finally managed to drive you from your home?" he asked as he drew level, pausing and extending his hand towards the other man.
Mycroft's words clearly startled John, and the doctor groaned in irritation before replying snappishly. "God, not another one." He looked surprised with himself immediately afterwards, and his tone turned apologetic. "Sorry, didn't mean to shout. Yeah, Sherlock lit the flat on fire again. We had a bit of a row and now I'm here." He shrugged. After a moment's pause he extended his hand and clasped Mycroft's.
"Ah, yes. Sherlock always has had a rather bad habit of starting fires. I do not believe there was a single one of his toys to escape a least a mild singeing when we were children." Mycroft smiled fondly at the memory, seeing the faint twitch of a smile quirk John's lips in reply.
Mycroft wrapped his second hand around the back of John's and squeezed gently as their hands moved in a slight shake. He held the grasp for a few beats longer than usual, taking into account the fact that his usual handshakes took place with foreign dignitaries who were usually none too fond of him.
"So…" John started, clearly feeling awkward. "Why are you here?"
"It is my lunch break," Mycroft explained after a brief pause. "I am rather fond of the sunshine, and do my best to make the most of it when possible. This park is local to my office. I thought a stroll would be pleasant after a rather stressful morning." John's clear discomfort concerned Mycroft, the tips had not mentioned anything about making one's target uncomfortable. He released John's hand from between his slowly, slipping one of his hands into a pocket casually. "You must not mention that I told you, but Sherlock was really quite the adorable child. A terror for the staff, always getting into things and making a mess, but it was rarely malicious."
John blinked and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Oh, it is lunchtime," he said, startled. As if on a cue, his stomach rumbled loudly, and he winced. "You wouldn't happen to have pictures, would you?" John asked.
"I keep a small selection of photographs stored where Sherlock can not reach them," Mycroft admitted. "He has destroyed any which he was able to find. My personal favourite is from when he was four, and managed to cover himself in flour." He smiled at the thought of the photo, safely stored in his office. "It is rather past lunchtime," he added. "I am used to taking a late lunch. Other timezones are not often fond of being asked to wait so that I may eat."
Slowly a grin lit on John's face, and he leaned in. "You'll have to show me sometime, yeah?" He pulled back, a grin more fully on his features. "I promise I won't tell." Thinking for a few seconds, John cocked his head to the side. "How many did he destroy?"
"I shall have copies made," Mycroft replied with a smile. "Just be aware that he will destroy them if he can find them. Before he left home he destroyed four full boxes in various creative fashions. Since then, he has broken into my home no fewer than three times to destroy more." John's closer positioning was certainly a step in the right direction, as was his easy smile.
"That's got to be quite a feat,"John mused. "I'm guessing you have quite the security system, being the British Government, and all. Then again, he is Sherlock. I doubt there's much that can stop him." He snorted.
"Fortunately for my brother, he is part of a rather short list of people who my security team have been informed not to maim or kill should they try to break in. It makes him rather difficult to stop once he has decided that he wishes to get in," Mycroft told John.
"Oh good," John said with a slight smile. "I bet he'd be in a foul mood if he was shot by your security team."
"Certainly. Last time he was put on bed rest he cause three lawsuits with simply his laptop and an Internet connection. I believe we got off lightly in that case," Mycroft replied, glancing at his watch. "I must head back to work, I'm afraid, Doctor Watson. It has been most pleasant running into you. I do hope my brother doesn't cause you too much more trouble."
"Oh, thank you," John said, raising his hand in a half wave as Mycroft began to take a step away. "I'd better go and make sure the flat's still there. Don't forget to send me those pictures." Mycroft inclined his head in agreement before turning away and striding back towards work.