#4: Mycroft Holmes

It's no secret that Mycroft enjoys, possibly a little too much, the way he irritates his brother. Mostly, he actually is worried about what Sherlock does, and his brother merely acts overdramatically, but on the occasion that he does find an opportunity to annoy, he doesn't pass it up.

Like now, for instance, peering at the live feed of the CCTV cameras perched in his brother and Dr. Watson's flat. Some may call it snooping, but Mycroft prefers the more formal 'eavesdropping' as a pleasant alternative. Either way, he certainly won't deny that he does, indeed, snoop on his brother dear.

"Dance with me, John." Sherlock directs the phrase at his companion, who is settled into his chair with a cuppa. Oh, and here is a delightfully snoop-worthy moment! Mycroft isn't ashamed as he, with an amused smirk, watches the scene intently.

"Sorry?" he coughs, almost choking on his tea. He's quiet for a moment before asking, incredulous,"You want me to dance with you?" Ah; Dr. Watson does have such a propensity for repeating things. "Do you even hear yourself?" He hears the rustle of John's morning newspaper as he folds it into thirds, like he always does.

"Currently, I am not deaf, so yes, I did hear myself, but I assume you rather are asking if I know just how ridiculous of a notion it is, correct?" Allow Sherlock to give the longest and most thorough answer possible while still ending with a question.

At John's nod, Sherlock continues,"In that light, I don't find it ridiculous at all. I would like a dance with 'Three Continents Watson'". Mycroft doesn't even hide his amusement at the soldier's embarrassment, a blush creeping up the back of his neck and settling on his face.

"If you really want a dance, you will not call me that insufferable nickname." Mycroft thinks his scowling is only minimally effective when he's blushing so much. Sherlock seems to think the same and just holds out his hands invitingly. The doctor lets out an obliging sigh, leaving his mug and paper on the chair's arm to grip Sherlock's hand.

It is no secret, either, that he does worry about his brother and Dr. Watson's relationship at times. One day, it will be verging on romantic, the next it will be intimately platonic, and then they will have little contact on the morrow, but come back full circle to start again. It is as worrying as it is humorous.

"Just so you know, I might step on your toes a bit," John informs, waiting as Sherlock searches for a song in his endless playlist, some of them his own recorded compositions.

"There," Sherlock pronounces, returning to John's outstretched arms. "If you don't have as good a grasp at dancing as you do with killing," Mycroft sees the soldier flinch, and he does so wish Sherlock could be a bit less insensitive,"then I will have to lead."

In time with the beat, John obediently tries to follow Sherlock's lead. Much to Mycroft's entertainment, 'tries' being the operative word. John was right about the toe-stepping. The good doctor surely means well, he muses, but giving Sherlock broken toes will certainly be the outcome if this continues. Maybe he can buy his brother ironclad shoes if they persist in holding dancing sessions.

"Step away with your left, John! Otherwise, you will continue to crush my toes," Sherlock admonishes, stopping his movements to glower at his counterpart. John mutters another 'sorry', and Mycroft is positive that John has apologized 53 times.

Over the course of the next 10 minutes, the soldier finally falls into step, almost perfectly in sync with the detective. They wheel around the Baker Street living room, and Mycroft looks on with some sort of happiness. Just because he has said caring is not an advantage, it doesn't mean he isn't prone to moments of tenderness as every other human being undoubtedly is.

The atmospheric shift is tangible, even through Mycroft's screen. Sherlock allows one elegant, admittedly dramatic bow, but it drags on to a point where he doesn't even pull the soldier up. The doctor is held only by the boffin's lingering hand, and when his brother dear leans in ever the slightest, Mycroft sees a viable opportunity to annoy, and gladly takes it.

A ping from the side of the camera's parameter startles the pair, and Sherlock almost drops the doctor in his hysterical fit to pull away. Gliding to his mobile, Mycroft watches in mirth as Sherlock's face sours into an almost snarl.

Not bringing your boyfriend home for Mummy to inspect him first? Such a heinous crime, wouldn't you agree?-MH

And Mycroft would never tell Sherlock this, but the way his brother bellows his name and looks pointedly at the camera makes up for the less than pleasant day he's been having. The way the good doctor scolds the detective afterwards only adds to his bettering mood, and so he believes he has bothered them enough for today.


A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I haven't been too intrigued in a while, but I hope you enjoy this new installment. Any questions, suggestions, feedback, or criticism is deeply appreciated.