Today had not been a lucky day for Mycroft Holmes. First, he got his teacher mad for telling him that his wife was having an affair, and now he had to baby sit his little brother, and said little brother's boyfriend.
"Sherlock! John! Get down from there. The train is almost here." I called them down from the wall they were curled up on.
"Bugger off Mycroft." Sherlock said from his place under John, who upon sitting in Sherlock's lap, turned into a very fluffy, sweatery, kitten. But none the less, they got down from the wall, and onto the train.
Even with John on Sherlock's lap, there was not enough space in the compartment they choose, and Mycroft informed the two of them that he would be going to another compartment.
As he walked by a group of Rugby player who where hooting wildly at a phone, and looked at his brother and his boy friend and lover of 3 years, Mycroft couldn't help but feel bad about him self.
John, Sherlock, and himself went to an all boys private school, near the center of London. It was like a feast for the two gay Holmes boys, but they could never actually enjoy it.
They had always known they were different, but this was just one of the many sprinkles on the ice cream sunday supreme. So, the masks went up, the walls risen, gates closed.
That was when Sherlock met John.
And for Mycroft, it had went down hill.
He had lost the only person who could ever like him, be like him. He really did love his brother, and didn't want to lose him to some evil devil child.
No, he didn't have anything against John. In fact, he would rather Sherlock be around John then him self. He was a much better companion.
He was just... Lonely.
As he made his way to the end compartment which was completely empty, a ruffled looking boy rushed in.
When I say boy, I mean a year or two younger my age of 25. He plopped down into the seat next to me.
The entire compartment empty, and he sits next to ME?
"Hello," he sticks out his hand, "I'm Greg Lestraude." His smile seemed genuine, and his posture and cloths had no deductions to tell him that he had any ill intents, so I stick out my hand and shake his.
"Mycroft Holmes, Pleasure." Seeing that I was actually some what interested in talking to him, he starts to ask me multiple questions about my self, and after that we go into an indept conversation about multiple American Colleges.
I found my self enjoying his company, and when it was his stop, dreaded the good bye, for the first time in my inter life.
"Bye Mycroft," he said, and he quickly pressed something into my hand, "See you soon!" He ducked off the train, and ran onto the platform.
Gingerly I raised my hand to see what he had given me. A person that actually liked our time together?!
He had given me a slip of paper:
C U Soon
###-###-####
Greg Lestraud
So maybe this day was a little lucky for Mycroft Holmes