Sinking Ship
S2 SPOILERS! Sherlock and Mycroft have screwed each other more times than they can count. After Sherlock "dies," they reflect on this fact. No incest. No slash.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, Mycroft, John, Greg, or anything else not owned by me.
"You shouldn't have come here; it's the first place anyone who suspects you to be alive would look." Mycroft glared at his brother, ushering him into the house none the less.
"I don't really have a choice." Sherlock didn't meet his brother's eyes, "I needed someplace, and there is nowhere else I can go."
"You need to be as quick here as possible. John will come here eventually. He won't accept you are dead." Mycroft replied. Sherlock was silent. Mycroft accepted this as admittance to the truth, and seated himself down in his favorite chair.
"Why do we do this to each other?" Sherlock asked his brother, safely hidden inside his house, "I push you away, swearing never to come back to you for help. You give me space, but watch me from a far, until I do get in to trouble and show up at your door step with nowhere else to go."
Mycroft chuckled. "Well, that is not a difference between us. I show up at your door, and thrust a case into your lap, trying to force my problems upon you."
"Yes, but let's face it. When you want me, I fight as hard as I can against your wishes," Sherlock replied, "When I come to you, you always help, never thinking twice about denying me."
"Not true," Mycroft intervened, "When you come to me, I mentally challenge all my reservations until I except the fact that, in this case, you must stay."
"Nothing is ever mutual," Sherlock muttered, slipping into a slightly more childish mindset, "Even holidays are forced. Why can't it be like when we were younger, when we both needed and wanted each other?"
"That was a long time ago. We did not know what we really wanted." Mycroft replied.
"And yet still, we continue to keep coming back to each other, like a dog returning to its vomit." Sherlock slid into a chair.
"Proverbs, Sherlock? I know you've done better." Mycroft answered.
"It seemed an appropriate metaphor, based on the current company." Sherlock jabbed.
"I'm so very sorry you see yourself as vomit." Mycroft replied in kind.
Sherlock locked eyes with Mycroft, and a thin smile was visible on his face.
"If we are getting involved in details," Mycroft ended the silence, "What about John?"
"What about John?" Sherlock asked, indicating John was not an issue.
"You tore his clothes off in a darkened swimming pool." Mycroft's tone was laced with approval.
Sherlock smirked, understanding his brother's pleasure. "Jealous?"
"Yes, I'm happy to know you still care about someone, and someone cares about you."
Sherlock frowned; hints of bitterness, he had the opportunity to urge the information out of him, and choose his next words carefully. "Why should that make you jealous? You have many people who care about you, you know," Sherlock paused, waiting for the answer before adding his final clause, "If you still want this quick, deep conversation."
Mycroft rolled his eyes, "No one cares about me. They respect me as a political savior; well equipped to deal with their political problems."
"With a head like yours, I know you are well equipped. Would you prefer to lose your function to gain silly, temporary things like friendship?" Sherlock asked, feeling slightly guilty as he realized his own fault.
"I do enjoy my job. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than when two countries are finally finished pushing their problems on each other. I enjoy having the control to be able to perform my job." Mycroft mused.
Sherlock paused, "So, one could say that you are metaphorically fixing our relationship."
"We don't need to be fixed, Sherlock, we just need to re-examine our priorities and find ways to fit them together properly." Mycroft softly reminded, aware of his brother's occasional discomfort with his own performance.
Sherlock chuckled, "Melding the many facets of our relationships into one; brothers, instead of an odd combination of co-worker and ex-wife?"
Mycroft smirked "We certainly have enough problems to be our own countries."
"You are the Queen after all." Sherlock replied, and swallowed hard.
"What?" Mycroft gasped. What was Sherlock talking about? "I am certainly not."
Sherlock emotionally braced himself. The comment led to pain, but the memories were a greater pleasure. "John… never mind…"
Mycroft leaning forward in his chair to make sure he had his brother's attention. "John isn't an issue, remember?" he mimicked Sherlock's previous attitude.
Sherlock's hands slid into his normal thinking pose, "I lied. I look forward to finishing this and moving on with our lives. I enjoyed his company, and hope to return to it again."
"I am glad you see your future so clearly. I do hope you will be out of my hair soon enough. I don't want you here too long." Mycroft's tone indicated he was finished with this deeper conversation, but Sherlock had to have the final word, pointing out his brother's lies.
"You know you would ask for my presence if you thought it would work; in fact you would beg on your knees if you thought it would convince me."
"Oh, Sherlock, you misunderstand. I knew that you wouldn't come back a long time ago. I have come to terms with that. In fact, I see Greg more than you these days. Besides, John is bound to come up here, and I seriously doubt he will leave until he has searched every nook, cranny, and closet until he is satisfied that you are not here."
"He is very loyal."
"Returning to his vomit, again?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, and taking a deep breath, spoke words unfamiliar to both of their tongues, "Thank you, brother."
I was forced to write this; after watching episode 2.1, I said something about incest to CaringIsNotAnAdvantage. Metaphorical incest, of course, no more. Thus, this fiction. If you want to read something more serious about the Holmes Brothers and their messed up relationship and how it got to be that way, I suggest you go to CaringIsNotAnAdvantage's story "Permanent" which is on my favorites page. There is also no incest, no implied incest, or slash, however no guarantee's on metaphorical incest. When it comes to those brothers, it seems inevitable that they undoubtedly will screw each other over.