Mycroft Holmes' first attempt at honesty had not gone as planned. Maybe it was the way he said it? Or perhaps he should have come home earlier to be sure that John consumed no alcohol. It could be some noxious fumes from a plant John lacked the experience to identify that made him so…
Mycroft looked down at his desk.
John had kissed him.
Mycroft had been hiding in his second study, as the first one was both a reminder of and a sanctuary for John. But he needed to try again. A Holmes boy should never give something up when set back. The false truths and misdirections weighed heavily on his mind.
He made his way down to the kitchen. John sat at the table sipping a glass of wine.
"Have you been drinking?" Mycroft said at the same time John sighed and said,
"I need to talk to you."
Mycroft stared at him.
"I'm sorry that I...about the…," John said.
"That isn't what bothered me, John. I don't dislike you," Mycroft replied in a rushed tone.
He wondered at himself. Mycroft simply did not do rushed tones.
John downed his drink and poured another. Mycroft wondered if he should come back later.
"I'll go," he began to say.
"No. No, I'm sorry. I need to tell you this, it needs to be said," John mumbled.
Mycroft felt he should have left before he arrived. He did not need to hear about accidents and mistakes. He had heard about so many of those.
"I'm in love with you," John said.
"I don't understand," Mycroft replied.
John smiled at him.
"It means I think about you when I'm working with flowers that are delicate and rare. I wonder if telling you is a mistake. I can't hold it in any more. And I want to be able to tell you every time I remember it. Every time we do the shopping. Every time you walk the dog and hope I don't notice that you like him. I can't lose you. Never talking to Sherlock.. I lost him," John said.
Mycroft was at a loss for words.
"You're drunk. Confused," Mycroft said.
"You don't believe me?" John asked.
Mycroft simply left the room.
John woke the next morning with a headache and a desire to see Mycroft. He remembered what he said, at least most of it. He wanted- not to take it back but he wanted to fix things. They had been living such an easy and comfortable life here, and this year with Mycroft had become so important to John.
Oh, sorry, didn't mean to tell you. Not that I thought you incapable of responding properly..
John shook his head and then groaned. No, not that. He went down to the kitchen to prepare coffee.
It wasn't so much that Mycroft had no feelings. More that he allowed himself none. It seemed to John a lonely way to live.
John put his head against the counter and wondered if going back to bed was the better method. Instead, the coffee machine made itself noticed by beeping and John opened the refrigerator to grab a creamer.
Mycroft cleared his throat behind John.
John turned around.
"Oh, did you want some? We've only got my flavored creamer left but I made enough," John said.
Mycroft nodded and handed John a bottle of pain pills.
"Thanks," John said quietly.
Making the coffee gave John something to do with his hands and he welcomed it.
"Do you remember what happened yesterday?" Mycroft asked.
"Yes," John said.
It grew silent between them, neither knowing just what to say. Only that John did not want to apologize and Mycroft did not want him to be sorry.
John handed Mycroft a mug.
"If I were to be sorry at all it would be for the way I told you, perhaps the timing," John said.
Mycroft took a large sip.
"I do not know how to respond," Mycroft admitted.
John smiled fondly.
"Will you let me show you? Do you feel anything for me?" he asked.
Mycroft put down his drink.
"Yes, I will," he said.
John smiled.
"We'll go to the zoo," he said.
"The zoo?" Mycroft asked.
John nodded.
Mycroft smiled at him, then, and wondered what he had done to deserve this.