Wow... it's been awhile. But here we are. I don't want to drop this just yet, so don't worry. As always your support is wonderful. And yes, a beta would still be lovely. But I don't know how often I can update this what with Uni and a lack of ideas. And the special comes out this year and it's frankly amazing, from what I've seen. If you haven't seen the trailer, go see it now. If you have, carry on and read.
Enjoy!
Morning came swiftly, much to his annoyance. Someone had opened the curtains, allowing the sunlight to spill out into every inch of his bedroom. He curled onto his side, pulling a sheet over his head. The sun was up, therefore it was too early. Sherlock groaned, wishing he could bury his face into his pillow and fall back into a semi-peaceful slumber. His wish wasn't granted, someone had decided to pull back his sheets and duvet, causing the ex-detective to curl into a tighter ball and push his head under his pillow.
"Not now, dear brother. It's time to wake up. A bright and beautiful day awaits you."
"Tell it to piss off." Was the muffled response.
"Another time perhaps. Please don't make me drag you out of bed. We both know what happened the last time." A tousled head glared up at his tormentor.
"You gave me a concussion!" Mycroft raised his hands in mock surrender.
"You wouldn't let go of the bed, it was hardly my fault. Though if you remember I was grounded for a month." Not long enough. Thought Sherlock, he remembered the incident only vaguely.
"Now if you'll kindly get up, Mrs Hudson has made us breakfast."
"Why are you even here?"
"That, we will discuss, after breakfast." Mycroft strode out of the room, but not before throwing his brother's dressing gown at the bed. Sherlock ignored him, and waited precisely twelve minutes before he heard a NOW SHERLOCK, and then flopped out of bed. He pulled on the gown and slowly, grumbled out of the room.
The room was bright and cheerful, a bustling Mrs Hudson was whistling in the kitchen and Mycroft was sitting in one of the arm chairs, legs crossed, and reading a newspaper. Milton was scratching his briefcase. Sherlock's lip twitched, silently approving. He collapsed into the opposite chair and beckoned to the feline, who jumped at the chance to greet his human. He rubbed every inch of his face onto Sherlock's and the curled up near his neck.
"So lovely to see you again, Sherlock dear. This place hasn't been the same without you." Mrs Hudson had laid a lace table cloth over the desk. She tutted when she turned to look at him and shook her head. Whatever she saw, she clearly disapproved of it. "You like a right mess, and I thought you had been on holiday."
"'m just tired, Mrs Hudson." Not willing to admit he was actually pleased to see her again.
"A nice warm shower will make you feel all the better. Now up you pop, breakfast is ready." She didn't even mutter 'but I'm not your housekeeper' anymore. She wasn't, but her mother hen instincts refused to quit when it came to Sherlock Holmes.
Mycroft folded his paper and moved to the desk with a quickness, Sherlock didn't think he had in him. It was the perfect time for a weight joke, but he didn't have it in him. Gently removing Milton and placing him on the floor, Sherlock stood, cricking his back and then his neck, before joining his brother. The breakfast was a bit of a smorgasboard. Toast with various spreads, bacon and eggs and sausages. A steaming mug of strong coffee waited in front of him. Mycroft was already filling his plate. Mrs Hudson had also pulled up a chair to join them. Why they didn't just use the table was anybodys guess.
"Isn't this nice, then? Tuck in, Sherlock. You're skin and bones." He couldn't disagree with that. But it was too early for food, even if it did smell nice. However Mrs Hudson and Mycroft both decided to dump bacon and eggs onto his plate. Perhaps one bite wouldn't hurt...
"So, shall we discuss things?" Mycroft hadn't even waited from them to finish, clearly he considered this important. Or maybe he was just extra impatient.
"I just started eating."
"Yes, and how wonderful that is. But while you're here, let's have a nice chat." Mrs Hudson fluttered about removing empty plates and left them some privacy. Sherlock would much rather she had stayed. At least she gave him an excuse to get out of talking to Mycroft.
"Can't it wait."
"I'm afraid not. Now, you're back home in London, have you considered when you will alert the world to your prescence?"
"No." It's too early for this.
"Well I have. I think it should be done slowly at first. Start with a press release." How is that starting slowly?
"Naturally Lestrade is eager to be involved. You will be oblidged to make a few public appearences but I think we can forgoe any interviews." Thank god. He stuffed another piece of bacon into his mouth. He wished he could stuff Mycrofts shut.
"Lestrade has offered to give you some cold cases for you to go over, give the police some insights. He would love to have you as a consultant again, but we both know it might take some time. Even with your name cleared, there are still some conflicts within scotland yard. We'll let things take their course, first."
"Hang on a minute. Who said I was even going to consult with the police again? Or at all?" This assuming air of Mycrofts was beginning to smell.
"I thought you'd be eager to return and forgoe this monotony..."
"Because that worked so well for me last time." Mycroft's brow furrowed, he'd been worried about this.
"It's where you belong, She-"
"I think I can decide that for myself, brother dear." He put down his cutlery and wiped his mouth before swanning out of the room.
Mycroft rested his elbows against the desk and lowered his head into his hands. This was going to be harder than he'd thought. Of course Sherlock would be worried, his whole life had been turned upside down and inside out because of his consulting business. But his brother was born for detective work. He had the mind for it, but anyone could have that, he had the passion and drive to solve the mystery and even if he never admitted it, catching the bad guy and saving the innocent. He'd have taken on cases from worse people if he hadn't have cared. His mind would become stagnant if he stayed too long a moody, brooding hermit.
No, he had to break him out of this and bring back that passion. He'd helped it grow once, how hard could it be again?
