"I want to go meet your brother." John said. It was mid-March and Sherlock had been staying with John for two months. Sherlock was a magnificent gambler who was fantastic at cards and had a flawless poker face. He gave all the money that he won to John's mother to compensate for him using the water and eating her food. She didn't accept at first, but when she saw that the living arrangement would most likely become permanent, she accepted his money.

Sherlock sniffed.

"Why would you want to meet him?"

"Certainly he's worried about you."

"If he were truly worried about me he would come find me. He knows I'm safe. He's probably seen me at school or something. He probably knows that I'm staying with you. He's not worried, you're just curious."

"I certainly am." John said. "I want to meet him."

"Why?" "Sherlock."

"Fine." Sherlock huffed. "But get ready to meet the most evil man in all of Britain."


The flat was pretty nice, it was downtown and John had to buzz to get in. When they knocked on the door that was said to be Mycroft's Sherlock was leaning against the wall.

The door swung open to reveal a slender man with auburn hair and a very posh air about him.

"Ah." He said, smiling at John. "We meet at last, Mr. Watson." He stepped aside and let John through. Sherlock scuffed his way in behind John and then immediately found a wall to lean against. Mycroft wasn't as old as John had expected. In fact, he couldn't be any older than Harry. "Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock Holmes's evil elder brother." He held out his hand and John took it graciously.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." John said immediately. He didn't know if it was a pleasure or not. John had only just met the man. He looked around the flat and saw that it was beautifully decorated. Delicate woodworking curled around the mantle piece, a brilliant oak dinner table sat to the side, a plasma screen television not 4 feet away. It was an incredible mixture of modern and a classic Victorian feel.

"I have to be going soon, I'm incredibly busy, but I would like to explain myself before you accept Sherlock's description of me." Mycroft said. "Would you like to recount that night, Sherlock?"

"Pffeh." Sherlock breathed.

"Mm. I thought not." Mycroft said. He straightened himself. "So the night I 'kicked him out'." Myroft used air quotes. "I was terribly busy—I work for the government, you know—and Sherlock was making a fuss about not being able to conduct experiments in my flat. I told him that under no circumstances was he to damage any piece of furniture in this flat. It's our parents', you see." Mycroft said. "He immediately got up in arms and started preparing things to conduct an experiment on the melting point of different furniture polishes." Mycroft sighed poignantly. "I turned my back for a minute and when I turn around again, he's burning the legs off of the fine dining room set." John's eyebrows raised and he turned back to Sherlock. He managed to leave this part out of his recounting. "And… I suppose…I may have gotten a bit… over-heated about the situation. I told him… I said that he should go back to Mummy and Daddy because they could at least control him by threat where I had no crux on him at all." Mycroft shifted. "But I did regret saying that, you know. I didn't mean it at all. I was beaten myself by those two. That's why I took in Sherlock in the first place. So he was offended and he just left. You know Sherlock. And I do rather think he was overexcited to stay at your home, in such close proximity to his… best friend." He loaded those words with such meaning that John looked away in embarrassment. Sherlock stopped slouching and slid his hand into John's, staring down Mycroft. It made John regain his confidence in his words.

"Wait, so if you were so concerned for Sherlock, then why didn't you reach out to him and say so? Why didn't you make him come home?"

"Because he was happy." Mycroft said. "And I had never seen that in Sherlock so powerfully before. I meant to come and fetch him. Twice. But I figured that he was staying with wonderful people. And he was happy. Had there been any confrontation and you two, I would reach in and try and rectify things. It's what I do for a living." Mycroft said. "I observe. When conflict arises, I either try and rectify things or I choose sides."

"Well that's comforting." John said sarcastically.

"I'm glad you think so, John Watson." Mycroft said. He stepped past John and grabbed a long umbrella and leaned on it. "I shall be gone for four hours. Possibly five. If you'd like to stay here, you are welcome to. Just so long as nothing in this apartment becomes part of an experiment in any sort." He glared at Sherlock. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh go run the government, Mycroft." He bit.

"I'll see you two later." Mycroft said, closing the door behind him. There was a pause before Sherlock threw off his jacket.

"You were rather… vague about being kicked out, weren't you." John raised an eyebrow as Sherlock flopped onto the couch. He pointed the remote at the TV and did not respond. "You burned a dining room set?"

"Just the leg. He's gone and had it replaced, with a rather poor copy, too. Do you see?" John started to turn around before Sherlock shouted. "No! No, you've already seen it. Now go back and figure out which one."

John sighed. Sherlock had been doing this recently. Trying to teach John to be as brilliant as him.

"Come on, John. You're not dense. I know you saw it." Sherlock prodded. John sighed again and closed his eyes. He pictured walking in the house again and saw the dining set. He had noticed that one of the chairs was not level with the others. It was a bit tilted. Just slightly tilting backwards and two the left.

"The… bottom left corner of the table." John opened his eyes with surprise. "That chair."

"Which leg?"

"Back left." John laughed. Sherlock stood, his eyes swimming with pride. He swooped in and kissed John. John lingered.

"You are brilliant, John Watson."

How could Sherlock make him feel so fantastic and be so fantastic himself? John's head swam. He flung his arms around Sherlock's neck and kissed him in a way that they had never kissed before. Sherlock held John's waist and gripped it tightly. John closed his eyes in the feeling he rested his head on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock clasped his hands together behind John's back and John did the same behind Sherlock's head. Sherlock absolutely hated excessive touching. Usually Sherlock was the one to slip his hand into John's or start a kiss. But John didn't want to leave Sherlock's arms just yet. A flame had lit in his belly.

John had never seriously entertained ideas of seducing Sherlock. They were all passing fancies that all seemed improbable to actually come to pass. But here, swaying in Sherlock's arms… all too close to Sherlock… John felt a flush brighten his cheeks and nose. Sherlock wasn't pulling away. He had just rested his chin on the top of John's head, placing tiny kisses in John's hair.

"I think you need a shower." Sherlock commented. "Your hair smells a bit musty."

"I…" John said breathlessly. He backed away from Sherlock to hide his growing erection. "I'll… I've got nothing to change into."

"I'd love to see you in some of my pajamas." Sherlock smiled, his hands in his pockets. John noticed the considerable amount of strain that Sherlock's shirt buttons were under. John was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to undo them slowly with his tongue.

"John?" Sherlock half-shouted, frowning. John yelped in surprise. "Are you alright?" Sherlock muttered.

"I….I'm just… going to have a shower then…" John said. He turned away quickly, almost tripping over the footstool before disappearing around the corner. He grabbed a towel and locked the bathroom door.

John slunk to the floor, his breathing labored. A cold shower was exactly what he needed.


Of course Sherlock would leave out details about Mycroft. That's Sherlock.

Also

Sensuality~

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