Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Sherlock Holmes or any related characters or plots.

Review Response(s)

UnderdogAngel, Yes well we both know how poor my grammar is. And that patience vs patients, yes sorry I missed that one! I'd completely skimmed over it, which is funny since I do actually know the difference. All well. Glad you're interested.

Strudel, Oh I do wish you'd be signed in so I could have messaged you properly. I have several inspirations for this beginning relationship...thing, or whatever it is blossoming in the head of Sherlock. A scene from one of the old Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies (can't recall the title at the moment and the DVD is packed away) that showed Sherlock and John being quite chummy in front of the fire place. I've only read one full Sherlock novel, but I've read a few of fanfiction stating that John does start working at a hospital so I decided to go along that line, any excuse to have the old Doctor out and about. 'The problem' ? I don't think I've read it. I've only read about a dozen or so Sherlock Holmes (novel verse) fics. I chose the setting (in front of the fire) because it reminded me of a Spirk (Spock/Kirk) Christmas fan-art I'd saved onto my computer a while ago. Nice, warm, cheery, comfortable. Perfect setting for something like this. But the basic plot of Sherlock coming to realize he's fallen for John's been fluttering about my skull since I got into Sherlock Holmes which was about, oh, eight years ago now I'd say. It just always seemed like it would play out like this to me. Sherlock's a logical, brainy man who never pays attention to the norms of society. It just felt natural that he'd be a bit confused and weary about the whole thing. And I've done some research on Victorian England for other stories (original and otherwise) and recalled reading about homosexuality in Victorian England so I thought I'd throw that in there. I'm not sure if it's accurate, since I'm not exactly sure 'when' this drabble takes place, but I assume the laws fit. I hope that covers everything. But I'd be interested in reading 'The Problem'. If it has similar situations with a confused Sherlock and eventual love between the two I'd be more than eager to add it to my JohnLock collection.

Authors Note: Alright, onto my second drabble! This one didn't come as naturally to me as the other one. Beginnings for romantic pairings that I ship are always easy, but when doing a challenge and being forced to jump from scenario to scenario, well that's a bit trickier. Hopefully this one will be okay. It was difficult to right and I'm not to happy with it. I've known how I wanted things to happen in my head for ages but putting it down is tricky.

Accusation

I've come to the conclusion that hiding my feelings for John will be quite a bit harder than I originally thought. I try not to act any differently towards him, but it would seem that I've made it a habit to look after him when his back is turned. Always checking him over for ills and injury. I hadn't noticed this small change but apparently someone had.

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade made a comment to me about it while I'd been down to see him at Scotland Yard. Looking back, it's obvious that the Inspector hadn't meant anything by it. He'd been merely commenting on my friendship with John. But due to the recent secret I've come to harbor in my heart and mind I panicked. I'd left quickly with a sharp goodbye, no doubt confusing the usually befuddled Inspector.

At his comment about John I'd felt cornered, and like a cornered animal I'd snapped at the man. I doubt he would think much of it seeing as my behavior is rarely seen as normal, but the fact that I'd reacted in such away astounds me. I'd felt so trapped, as though the Inspector had figured it out. Just his commented made me feel like he were accusing me of something. Perhaps this is the way an accused guilty man feels. It is unpleasant.

Once I'd left Scotland Yard I'd headed straight back to 221B Baker Street. Unfortunately, once I'd arrived Poor Mrs. Hudson had caught me in the sourest of moods. Being the lady in nature that she is she immediately wanted to know what was wrong. Of course even if I'd wanted to I could never have her partake with me in this secret of mine. The poor woman would no doubt think me a sick man, and I couldn't allow that. But while she hovered and attempted to asertain what was wrong I snapped at her in anger. Poor woman rushed away leaving me alone. I knew deep down that I shouldn't have snapped at her, but even so I was in to bad a mood to apologize. Unfortunately my day didn't seem to improve with time.

I sat sourly in my armchair gazing hatefully into the fireplace. The fire had grown a bit low but I had no inclination to tend to it. My mood was far to sour. I'd had an awful morning as awful mornings went. There were currently no stimulating cases to be solved for Scotland Yard and I hadn't had a client in weeks. I could feel my mind growing stagnant. It was times like these that I most craved the cocaine but I'd been trying to cut back my intake. The last time I'd used any I'd gone through three syringes and John had grown rather cross with me. So instead of going to my hidden stash I sat sulking in my chair.

After I'd sat in my chair for two hours, not budging an inch I heard the heavy footfalls of John on the stairs. I could hear his voice muffled through the door and a fainter voice down stairs. He was obviously talking to Mrs. Hudson. She was no doubt regaling my flat mate with the details of our encounter earlier that afternoon. She always did go running to John when my mood grew unbearably foul.

Not a moment later John entered, quickly closing the door behind him and shirking out of his coat and hanging it on the tree in the corner before crossing to stand between myself and the fireplace.

"You snapped at Mrs. Hudson?" He inquired in a befuddled manner. I glowered up at him from my slumped position and didn't bother straightening up as I replied,

"She was hovering. I want to be left alone." I grumbled. He ran a hand over his hair and shook his head in a manner that told me he was once again distraught due to my behavior.

"That's no reason to shout at the poor lady, you've given her such a turn Sherlock!"

"You'd give her a turn to if you'd had the day I'd had!" I snapped back at him before standing and crossing to my secret place where I kept my narcotics. If John's mere presence did nothing but elevate my aggravated mood than I'd turn to my cocaine. At least with it my mind would be stimulated.

"What are you doing?"

I whirled around holding the container carefully in my hands.

"Use your head Watson! You have eyes, you know very well what I'm doing!"

"Sherlock, you know how I feel about that."

I merely growled at him before turning and heading upstairs to my bedroom, leaving John to do as he pleased with the remainder of his day.

Once alone in my room and after I'd taken a dose of cocaine, I lay on my back on my bed, gazing dully up at the ceiling. This secret of mine, I'd kept it only a week and already it was beginning to eat away at my insides. I'd kept many secrets in the past, some still to this very day, but this one seemed different. Perhaps it was because this one was rooted in on an emotional level rather than an intellectual one. John. Blast the man for coming into my life and turning it all around. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to come and change everything?

Of course I realized that it wasn't really John's fault. In fact he'd probably done me a favor. John, always trying to help even when he doesn't realize it. Of course, he also doesn't realize what trouble his help can cause. I can't think properly when it comes to John. I dread the day my enemies realize that. For John has become perhaps, my only true weakness.

After the effect of the cocaine had worn off considerably I found my mood less sour and made my way down to the living area to find John sitting at the table with tea and an early dinner. I noted that my place was also set.

"Ah, Holmes. Still in a foul mood are you?" John inquired. I noted the harsh tone in his voice as I approached the table. It was barely noticeable, and no doubt no one else would have heard it; but I did. He looked over the cold food.

Vegetable soup and freshly baked bread. A simple meal to fight off the chill. Even when I've done her wrong Mrs. Hudson always takes care of me.

"Better." I stated simply as I walked around the side of the table and towards the tree in the corner. I could feel John's eyes on my back and hear the slight creak of the chair as he twisted round to watch me.

"Holmes where are you going?" he asked as I put on my coat. I was sure to button it as it would be quite chilly outside.

"Please thank Mrs. Hudson for me but I will not be taking dinner at home tonight. I'm going out to eat. I've arranged to meet someone for dinner." I stated simply as I crossed to the door.

"But you haven't left your room!" John stated in a befuddled voice. I turned, my hand on the door handle, and smiled a small sad smile at my friend.

"I shouted at one of my undesirable boys through my bedroom window, had him send a line. I'm surprised you didn't hear me." I stated with a soft chuckle before leaving my friend alone to his dinner.

Once I'd left 221B I headed into the heart of London, to a well known and rather popular diner. I'd forgone a cabby and walked to try and help clear my head and also help ease my anxiety, which had begun growing in my chest since I'd told the boy to send a line to my dinning companion. When I'd first arrived I'd gotten an odd look from the seater who'd no doubt noticed my dirty shoes and pant legs. I'd collected a bit of mud and dirt while walking but not much. It would be easily dusted away. But when I'd stated that I was here to meet someone under the reservation Holmes he immediately lead me through the restaurant, apologizing for his scrutiny.

The man lead me to the back of the restaurant to a quiet, comfortable private little booth before going away to fetch me a glass of water and a menu. Stepping around to the booth I sighed a little to myself. I'd only managed a week with my secret and already I was asking for help. John what have you done to me?

"Good evening Mycroft." I said cordially as I slid into my seat, nodding to the man seated across the table from me. "I hope you are well."

"Hmn, have you ever dined here before Sherlock?" He asked while looking over the menu. He didn't bother greeting me formally at all, but I hadn't expected him to.

"You are well aware that my funds do not permit me to dine in such well known diners." I stated as the man returned with my water and menu. I nodded in thanks and began leafing through the menu.

"You really should try their chocolate cake, it's quite good."

"Aren't you on a diet Mycroft? You really shouldn't be cheating."

Mycroft lowered his menu and looked at me over it. A quirky smile graced his lips and he set aside the menu completely.

"I speak from experience. I can assure you I'm not cheating." He stated before nodding at me. "Good evening Sherlock. I must admit, I was surprised when I received your line to meet you. As far as I know, in less I've been bashed on the head and lost any form of sanity, it is not Christmas yet."

"You're sane." I replied as I took a sip of my water.

"Yes. So it begs the question, what does my dear little brother Sherlock need from me to have called me before the holidays."

I'd known Mycroft would tease me a little for having called him, but expecting it made it no less unpleasant. I was not thrilled to have had to call him. I tried to leave my brother alone as much as possible, only getting into contact with him when he was the one to initiate it, and usually then it was only because he required me to do some work that he was to lazy to do himself.

"Mycroft, do I ever call on you asking for help?" I inquired. His teasing manner fell and an annoyed, stern, brotherly look came over him.

"No. Usually you're already neck deep in trouble without realizing it before I come to your rescue." He stated, his voice annoyed. It was true that he did sometimes have to pull strings to keep me out of trouble. No doubt it was a bit of burden on him, but I would never apologize, and he'd never ask me to. At least we were in understanding on that point.

"Yes. Well I've called to ask for your help. It isn't with money or anything like that, but, I wish to speak to you on a matter most troubling."

He leaned back in his seat and nodded, gesturing for me to continue. "Now Mycroft, before I speak of the matter you must promise me that you won't tell anyone else. This must be strictly between us. Now I know that we have our differences and we sometimes quarrel but I'm trusting you as my brother not to judge me."

"Go on, what is this matter that you are so secretive and worried about?"

I took a deep breath and another sip of water. It was a big step to confide in my brother. We were never terrible close as children due to the fact that he was quite a bit older than me and was always away at school while I was growing up. But when we did see one another he was always kind. He would occasionally bring me books or toys or candy as gifts. But that was about it. We rarely had time to get to know each other properly due to mother and father always monopolizing my brothers time. The last time I'd properly confided in my brother was when I was six-years-old, and to this day I remember little about the encounter. I just know that he'd been to busy and aggravated to answer my questions.

"Mycroft, for the last week or so I've been harboring a secret, a possibly harmful secret." I tapped my finger tips against the table top and decided to just come out with it, no point in dancing around it. "It seems that I've fallen in love with my flat mate, John Watson."

Once I'd said it I paused to gauge his response. Would he be disgusted? Would he to cast me out? Would I become not only the disgraceful son but also the disgraced and hated brother? I was mildly surprised when Mycroft leaned forward a bit and clasped his hands on the table top, a thoughtful twinkle in his eyes.

" I never would have guessed." He stated simply, a small smile quirking his lips. He looked at me. "Sherlock Holmes, has fallen in love with John Watson." He chuckled quietly and leaned back once again. "Is that what's gotten you all bothered Sherlock? Don't think I didn't notice when you came in. You're obviously stressed."

"Mycroft do you not realize what this means? I've fallen in love with another man. How can you be concerned over my state when I've just revealed to you that I'm a homosexual."

"Sherlock, I would have reacted no differently if you'd told me that you'd fallen in love with a wild ass. It isn't the fact that you've fallen in love with another man that has surprised me." He starred me straight in the face. "It is the fact that you've fallen in love at all. Sherlock, ever since you were a child you were always very cold, perhaps colder than even I. You never could read other peoples emotions or respond emotionally. You were always very rash and logical." He stated. I shook my head and leaned back.

"You were always more logical than I."

"But I have always fiddled around with emotions and love. I've had affairs and enjoyed the company of women. They've never meant much to me in the long run but at the time I was quite fond of them. You never had that growing up. You never fell in love during your youth. You never showed any emotional growth. So Sherlock, when I say this believe me. I do not care that you've fallen in love with another man, I am just happy that you have finally fallen in love."

After my confession dinner with my brother was rather enjoyable. And even though it would have normally entertained me, I did not taste the cake or tease my brother with it. For once I was thankful for my time spent with him. I hadn't expected him to understand let alone be happy for me. I think he'll always manage to surprise me. We spoke of trivial matters while we dined but as the night drew on and I prepared to leave in the cabby he'd called for me he pulled me aside and asked if John knew of my feelings for him. I told him no. Explained that John's presence in my life and his friendship was so important to me that I dared not endanger them with a confession. He seemed disapproving of my decision and encouraged me to tell John. That I'd feel better once I did. He also requested that should I tell John, he wished to be informed.

I thought about what he said while sitting alone in the cabby. Should I tell John? Or shouldn't I?

Authors Note: Well, didn't quite come out the way I'd hoped, but it's the basic of what I always wanted to happen. I know nothing about Mycroft in the novels, and have only ever read about him on wikipedia and seen him on BBCs Sherlock. So this is my own interpretation of him and I do apologize for that. Also, if you have any questions that need to be cleared up just leave a review and I'll try and answer them in detail in the next drabble. Always good to give detailed answers.