Disclaimer: I own nothing of the show 'Sherlock', nor do I profit from it. Legal rights etc. belong to the creators of said show, or whomever it is that holds those rights.
Beta: Thanks to CowMow for taking on that task, it's appreciated :-) Any mistakes occurring are off course mine.
A/N: I've taken a leap at the deep end of the pond and give you... Mycroft...
Doctors, Detectives and the Government
Mycroft's PoV
He rested his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned back into it. For obvious reasons he had to put a stop to this nonsense and, unfortunately, he had to be more blunt than he cared to. John, being the good little soldier that he was, wouldn't just accept the vague suggestions, hints or threats he normally preferred to use.
The door to the office opened and John walked in to the room. He held his back straight, looking like he was ready to fight, which was of course ridiculous because there would be no fight. Mycroft would give him his reasons, lay out the facts, and John would see his point and do the right thing – he did care about Sherlock after all. Even though he often reacted instinctively, he still had some rational thoughts running through that blond head of his.
"Mycroft," John said as he stopped in front of the desk, looking like he deliberately ignored the chair next to him. Mycroft straightened his back and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk and stapled his fingers in a manner he was uncomfortably aware of resembled that of his little brother.
"Doctor Watson, always a pleasure," he replied with his most polite smile, and nodded at the chair on the other side of the desk, "Please, do have a seat."
He could see the muscles in John's jaw tighten before he, without a sound, seated himself in the chair. Mycroft leaned back again and looked at the soldier in front of him. He had to admit that he could see why his little brother found him attractive, fascinating even. And he had to admit that he had found himself a little too interested in the recordings from the CCTV he had received a couple of days ago.
"Mycroft, this…" John looked at him and raised his eyebrows to indicate that he was both being serious and annoyed, "This is really not a good time."
"Well, considering that your phone was switched off yesterday and you did not answer the text I sent you, I saw no other option." He eyed the blond man, acutely aware that events had taken a different turn than he initially had expected. He did not need to have a surveillance camera in their flat to know what had happened there – this knowledge could be derived from the fact that John and his little brother had left Bart's together and that John's body language was now reacting in a most peculiar manner – both too relaxed and too tense at the same time.
"Oh, your text – I had other things on my mind than to respond to your riddles," John said in the utmost polite tone – too polite to be sincere. In fact it was so polite it revealed a hidden insult.
"Riddles? It wasn't a riddle, I was merely stating the obvious…"
"The obvious?" John rudely cut him off.
"Yes, the obvious – every action necessarily produces a reaction. May it be a good or bad reaction, it's a reaction nonetheless." He raised his eyebrows and looked at John, who had begun looking a little confused. It was almost endearing.
"In the text I sent you I was simply referring to the fact that you chose to make my brother fond of you, and then you chose to have a pint with DI Lestrade." Mycroft put on his best blank face, and was doing his best to suppress the images from the videotape.
"How did you know about me and Sher… Never mind, I don't even want to know. And I didn't make Sherlock fond of me, and Greg and I are friends, simple as that. And you, of all people, would know that we've only had a couple of pints." John shot him a defiant glance; Mycroft could see at least a part of why Sherlock had fallen for the soldier.
The transcript of the tape had been explicit enough, there had been no real reason for him to watch the recording as well.
Ignoring John's reference to the CCTV, Mycroft let out a deliberately exasperated sigh,
"I do hope you realise that my brother has no experience in this area," he said as he made a vague gesture to underline what he meant by 'this area' – although it probably was unnecessary since John had quite a record of experience in 'this area', even if his experience was limited to people of the opposite sex.
Mycroft watched as John's expression hardened even more. Really, there was no need for this behaviour, Mycroft thought. He had both Sherlock and John's best intentions in mind, after all.
It had been without sound, but it had not been necessary – even if he hadn't been able to read lips, there would have been no doubt in his mind about what was being said. The images spoke for themselves.
John sighed, "You don't have to lecture me on Sherlock's shortcomings – or lack of experience when it comes to relationships – I'm well aware of them. If you are so keen on having this discussion with me, then I can tell you that I'm sure we are going to figure it out."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow in amusement. It was truly fascinating to see how John would seem to do almost anything for his little brother, no matter what the costs might be for himself.
"Oh yes, it would seem that way, wouldn't it? But don't get your hopes up, tying my brother down is like trying to handcuff quicksand, you can try all you want, but you won't succeed." He put on a soft, concerned smile and looked at John, who by now seemed torn between being angry and being offended on Sherlock's behalf.
The image of John pushed against the wall, screaming of pleasure, still lingered in the back of his mind and was making his pulse go a little faster.
Mycroft leaned forward and tightened his lips. It would seem that he was talking for deaf ears.
"I have quite a lot of sympathy for you, you know. You may be blind to some things, but you are very faithful. I would hate to see things go badly between the two of you." He raised both eyebrows and tried his hardest to convince John of his sincerity. To his own surprise he found that he was, for once, being at least partly sincere.
"Sentiment is not something Sherlock nor I are capable of – it is a weakness. You wouldn't want to give Sherlock such a disadvantage, would you?" He asked the blond-haired man who was, if possible, looking even more furious.
John stood op from the chair with a violent movement, and for a couple of seconds the chair threatened to fall backwards.
This shouldn't be so hard, Mycroft thought, but it would seem he had to go through every little concern he had ever had regarding his brothers involvement with the dear soldier. Leaving out, off course, the positive effects he had had on Sherlock.
His little brother's firm grip on the blond-haired man's hips as he violently pushed himself into him came to his consciousness and threatened to reveal its presence in his eyes.
John curled his fingers into tight fists and shot Mycroft a firm glance,
"Thank you for your concern, but I don't think you have to worry about that," he said before he turned around and moved towards the door. This had been, to say the least, a catastrophe.
"John!" Mycroft called out and John stopped dead in his tracks as he visibly stiffened.
"You see I do, I do worry. I know my brother, better than you I might add, and at some point he will either grow tired of you or do something foolish which will hurt you." Mycroft could have bitten off his own tongue, this was an expression of sentiment, and he didn't like it in the slightest.
At these words John turned around, walked back to the desk and placed both his hands on the wooden surface so he could lean in.
John's fingers dug into the brick wall in an effort to keep himself grounded, his lips gasping for air and his face revealing that he had completely given over control to Sherlock.
"I think you are wrong, on both accounts. And I'm sorry, but I think I know him better than you do," John sneered in the most dramatic manner. As compliant as John could seem, he could be equally thick-headed – in other words: a true soldier.
This might be the time for a change of tactics, since appealing to John's self-preservation didn't seem to work.
"Or he will end up getting himself hurt. You know what he is willing to go through for the few people he cares about." Mycroft stood up; he didn't want to have the disadvantage of being shorter than the person he was trying to convince.
John tightened his lips and for a second he appeared to be considering what Mycroft had just told him.
Then his eyes grew firm again.
"Sherlock and I have had that discussion, thank you. And he has long ago sworn to me that he will never lie to me like that again," he said as he shot Mycroft a glare that told him he had overstepped a boundary. Mycroft didn't care; this had unexpectedly evolved into a power play. If he did not succeed, he would have to take more drastic measures.
"But you know he will. He is not fit to be in a… relationship. So before he becomes even fonder of you and then messes it all up, it would be better if the two of you were to… go your separate ways," Mycroft said.
"What?" John looked at him with a disbelieving expression. Amazing how he had not seen that one coming, it wasn't surprising Sherlock found him to be a good audience for his thoughts.
"And what you two have together gives him a very real, very grave, weakness. You will end up getting him killed. That is a reaction to the action of getting emotionally involved with Sherlock."
This, Mycroft thought, would be the final blow. John would die before he let anything happen to Sherlock. He had to admit that it had been a dirty trick, but he had no doubts in his mind that at some point John would end up being the reason for an even worse breach in national security than Miss Adler had been –and probably get Sherlock killed in the process.
John's face went blank for a couple of seconds before he finally spoke,
"I… I would never let it come to that," he said in a low voice.
"No, but there is a very real chance it would come to that nonetheless," Mycroft said softly. It seemed necessary under the circumstances,
"As I've expressed before, I'm concerned about the both of you."
"You do realise that if I do as you suggest, he might do something stupid anyway. He…" John broke off and fell back down in the chair.
"Yes, off course I do. But I would be there to catch him – something I cannot guarantee under… different circumstances." Mycroft sat down as well and took in John's broken expression.
Perhaps he had been a little too harsh, but it had been necessary to avert the potential damage. And had Sherlock not been so stupid as to let himself become involved with the blond man who now sat in front of him, this wouldn't have been necessary at all. Mycroft knew exactly how far Sherlock would be willing to go for the people he cared about – the question he did not want to see answered was how far he was willing to go for the person he loved.
And he wouldn't have had to appear as the villain if Sherlock had just continued being Sherlock. He had honestly hoped these last few days would have taken care of the problem.
A/N: I hope you liked it, please R&R
