The feud night

Clara got home from work at half past four. She set down her bag and walked into the kitchen to cook a meal. When she opened the fridge, her eyes widened. Leaning back she called out: „Sherlock! I told you, no body parts in my fridge!"

„It's only two fingers of the agent who drugged me two weeks ago", came the bored answer out of her living room. „Besides, I've put them in a plastic bag!"

The young woman sighed and closed the fridge again, her appetite gone. It was really difficult to live with Sherlock. She couldn't help but wonder how John had survived so long with him. Well, before the detective had left, letting all of them believe he had died.

And now Sherlock Holmes was back, inofficially. He had been drugged and somehow had found his way to her appartement which she had been living in for two months only. He still had not explained it to her and Clara doubted that he ever would. Both Sherlock and Mycroft would not tell her what was to come next. They had informed her that the younger Holmes had to hide in her appartement for there was nowhere else he could have possibly gone without being seen. She was not allowed to tell anybody about him which went without saying and she should go with her daily routine as normal as possible. She had accepted, of course. Both men were her friends and she would help them in any way she was capable of. The fact that Sherlock had first thought of her in his trouble showed that beneath his arrogant surface he knew he could trust her. And she felt almost honored by that. Even though she could not shake the feeling of being used because she was so forgiving. She had not forgiven them yet, not really. She would not talk about it because there were other priorities now.

Their mission was not over. Sherlock would leave again. The thought brought up fear in her chest and she took a deep breath against it.

Entering the living room she found the detective laying on her couch, staring at the ceiling. He was wearing a white T-Shirt, Clara had bought him last week and the same pair of jeans he'd come here in. His shorter black hair was combed back and turned one's attention to the sharp outlines of his cheekbones and his upper body. He had changed, she found. His arms and chest were way more muscular than she remembered them. Sherlock had been hadnsome before but now he almost looked like a warrior, a soldier maybe. She didn't like it. She didn't like this kind of look on him.

„Three days", he stated. „I'll leave then and you won't have to stand my presence any longer".

Clara sat down next to his laying from on her couch and looked at him. „That's not what I want and you know that", she said quietly. With a sigh she let her head sink down on his chest, hugging her arms around his shoulders and closed her eyes. Much to her surprise, his arms came up around her back. His body felt like made of steel. „I've missed you", she murmered. „I went to your grave, you know. I thought I would never see you again." She could hear his heartbeat right under her ear, the one basic proof that he was alive. His body heat was radiating through his shirt, his breath dissolving on top of her head. Even though he looked strange and different to her, his sounds, his voice, his heartbeat had remained the same. Clara had never realised how much she enjoyed the sound of his heart. The steady beat was calming down her fear and she whished for him to stay and come back to life completely so everyone would know.

His fingers stroked her hair softly. It was intense, it was intimate but completely platonic. He was her best friend after all. „I know", he swallowed. „I'm sorry. I've missed you, too." She hummed a yes and felt herself relax, the stress of the past two weeks leaving her body. It would all be fine in the end. He would return and come back to life. He had a plan that he would fulfil. Soon, John and him would go back to solve crimes, even though John had a girlfriend now. Clara had met Mary Morstan once. John had called her one day, apologized for his behaviour and invented her for dinner with him and his partner. Mary was nice, she was funny and sassy and Clara liked her very much. Actually she was the first of John's dates she took seriously. But Sherlock did not need to know that, not now when he still got a mission to finish. They all kept their secrets to keep each other safe. Maybe she wasn't any different.

She almost jumped when she heard somebody clearing his throat and sat up in a rush, staring at Mycroft who stood in the door frame, wearing a grey suit and a blue tie. His expression was blank. „I am sorry", he stated. „I did not mean to...interrupt something". He raised his eyebrows arrogantly, in a way she hadn't seen him doing it for a long time. A self-defensive way. Before she could say anything, Sherlock snapped: „Well, you did" and sat up as well giving his brother the most resentful look. Mycroft stared back for a minute before he turned to Clara. „Would you excuse us for a minute or two? There are certain things to discuss about Sherlock's leave in three days".

She nodded and stood up. „Can't wait to get rid off me, again, then.", Sherlock huffed, Mycroft sighed and Clara turned around once more. „You could be a fraction less childish, Sherlock", she said, crossing her arms, standing next to the elder one. „You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him, so stop fretting or shut up!" The detective looked at her with wide eyes, clearly confused. Then, he began: „He-"

„What did I say?", Clara gave him a piercing look and felt like facing one of her students. Sherlock lowered his gaze and crossed his arms in annoyance but kept his mouth shut. Clara smiled tightly before she turned. „Good boy".

She passed Mycroft who was looking at her in amusement. He escorted her to the door, always the gentleman and helped her into her jacket. „I should have called you earlier", he confessed. „He seems to be quite obedient when it comes to you". She shrugged. „Teacher perk", she said with a smile. „I've delt with quite a few stubborn kids".

„I can hear you!", came Sherlock's voice out off the living room and her smile widened. Mycroft rolled his eyes and she opened the door, leaving the Holmes boys alone in her flat. „Just don't burn anything down while I'm gone", she added.

As soon as she was out the door, Mycroft returned to the living room, only to find his brother staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost. The politician sat down in the armchair and Sherlock leant forward, his elbows on his knees. „What have you done to her, Mycroft?"

He looked better, well again. His cheeks had regained some colour and his eyes were all curious. - Distrust towards him, worried about Clara

„Of course, I worry about her!", the younger one snapped. „So, again, what have you done to her?"

„I have no idea what you-"

„She was defending you."

„She never liked it when the two of us were in an argument, all she did was intervening before it turned worse."

Sherlock crooked his neck and narrowed his eyes at him. He then leant back against the couch. - Angry, annoyed

„When I left I asked you to look out for my friends, not to flirt with them."

„Why would I flirt with Miss Oswald?"

„That's it, why? What do you want with her? How could she be of any use for you?"

„I can assure you that I am not interested in taking advantage of Miss Oswald in any matter."

„Liar."

„Do shut up, would you?"

His brother leant forward again, studying his face. Mycroft ignored him and turned his umbrella in his hand. It was his favorite, the dark blue one, the one he had saved Clara with...

Looking up at his brother again, he watched his face enlighten with knowledge and slight amusement. He hated this expression on his brother's face. Pure arrogance!

„Oh, I'm right", Sherlock said quietly and leant back again, obviously satisfied with himself.

„The Ice man got attached, remarkable."

„Sherlock, desist. Now!"

„Well, I never thought I would see this day, you know."

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes briefly. He was getting a headache again. „Whatever you say", he answered demonstratively bored.

„Covering someone's sleeping form with a blanket is one thing", Sherlock went on. „Could've been interpreted as gentleman's behaviour." The younger man looked around the room. „Stroking someone's cheek while that person's asleep is another. A sign of longing, don't you think?"

Mycroft felt the anger boil in his stomach, his grip around the umbrella tightened.

„Maybe even...desire?", Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

„I'm not having this discussion with you, brother", Mycroft knew it was futile to deny it, denying was just another form of confession. He stood up and walked around the living room. Facing Clara's bookshelf he heard the younger one do the same. Some English classics, Spanish authors, „100 places to see before you die"...

„Clara is my best friend, she saved me several times, she saved me last week even though she didn't have to. And even though she is ruled by emotions, they never get in the way of her mind." Hearing his own thoughts about the young woman spoken by his brother made Mycroft feel cold. Sherlock was looking for something to put him through the hoops with, as usual.

„But not when it comes to you", Sherlock continued. „You may have noticed her attraction towards danger?"

Of course, he had. It was obvious, even for Sherlock. This unhealthy urge of hers to run straight into any possible danger there was. Some may have called it brave, some may have called it stupid. For him, there was only one suitable word for it.

„An addiction of hers, it seems", the elder one said and turned around to look at his brother. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. „Well, guess what, I told her you were the most dangerous man she'd ever meet and she ran straight into your arms".

„She did no such thing."

Sherlock shrugged unconcernedly and the politician felt the strong need to punch him.

„Clara is naive", Sherlock went on while he walked back to the couch. „Naive enough for your manipulations, making her believe you're a good man. For some reason she wants to see the best in everybody even in you and me. Furthermore, she wants to feel needed. So it appeared only natural to her to turn to you after I left. Nobody would think of you but her. Nobody can actually stand you which was never bothering you until...". The detective looked at his brother, studying his face. And whatever he found there made him smile in amusement. „Well, it seems that even you need friends." Mycroft sighed and sat down in the armchair again. He touched two fingers to his dimple.

„Shut up now, Sherlock".

„Denying feelings is not the same as not having them".

„I do not have any feelings for Miss Oswald".

„Keep on denying, Mycroft. It's going to happen anyway".

Mycroft looked at him strangely.

„And what exactly do you think is going to happen, may I ask?"

Sherlock snorted and his mouth twitched.

„Oh, come on. Don't tell me you didn't notice the way she's looking at you, pretty obvious. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one".

Mycroft felt the challenge and leant forward to give Sherlock his most threatening look.

„I am the smart one, brother mine.", his voice dropped lower. „Which is why we need to discuss the following events, now."

„Stay away from Clara Oswald".

„Excuse me?"

„She is my best friend and you've already gotten her so far that it would only take a word from you to make her surrender."

„You know, I will be leaving a week after you".

„Absence makes the heart grow fonder", Sherlock lilted.

„Oh, for God's sake, are we discussing proverbs now?"

„This isn't about words, Mycroft, it's about you and what you're doing to her."

„She threw herself at me, not the other way around"

„And you cracked. Caring is not an advantage, remember?"

„Sherlock..."

„Well, it seems you've been lying to me my whole life." Even though his brother tried to hide it, he seemed offended, hurt even. Mycroft shook his head and gave up on the subject.

„About Serbia", he began and finally Sherlock obliged.

Clara returned about an hour later. She had bought some bananas and cherries, she was holding in a bag. Maybe she could convince Mycroft to stay for dinner this time, even though that meant she had to keep the brothers from each other's throats. She smiled. Sometimes she felt like a mother to them. She opened the door and had it half way closed behind her, when Mycroft came in sight. She looked at him and her smile died on her face. He looked strange, something wasn't right. His face appeared blank but there was something in his eyes she could not quite describe. Was it sadness? He let his mouth twitch just like the way Sherlock did, an excuse of a smile on his features.

„I am going to leave now", he stated, his voice thinner than she'd ever heard him speak. „Thank you very much for everything you have done. I owe you a debt." Clara let her eyes drift to the living room, where she could see Sherlock moving. She smiled, trying to hide her upcoming panic.

„No, I..of course. I mean,..Mycroft what's wrong?"

This time he smiled his real smile but in a shattered way, a way that scared her to the bones. What had happened? The tall man reached out and cupped her cheek gently, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a step towards her, pulling her in slowly until she felt his lips on her temple and Clara could not help but close her eyes at his touch. It took her much effort to suppress a sigh when she felt a shiver moving up her spine. She wanted to pull him closer, she wanted to keep him this close and tell him to stay with her like this forever. His scent and warmth was surrounding her and she felt safer than ever before. With him. Giving in, she raised her free hand and touched it to his wrist, close to her neck. He lingered for about two seconds longer than it was necessary. This felt like goodbye. She heard him inhale deeply against her temple before he withdrew and his warmth left her. Her eyes found his again, she felt like he'd just pushed her into a pool of ice water. „Thank you for all that you have done", he said quietly. Overwhelmed by all the emotions whirling through her veins she found herself unable to speak. Why was he saying goodbye? Was he going to come back? Was he leaving her?

Mycroft dropped his gaze to the floor and walked past her straight out of the door and was gone. It took her a moment to realise what had just happened. He had not said the word goodbye but in his words what else could he have meant? She blinked and rushed into the living room, finding Sherlock sitting on the floor, his legs crossed. „Sherlock, what happened?", she asked sharply.

Without looking up, he answered: „Stay away from Mycroft". Her eyes widened in disbelieve. „No", she exclaimed. „You can't tell me who to be with! What are you thinking?"

The detective turned his face towards her very slowly, his eyes cold. „He is dangerous, even more now".

Now? What was he talking about? What had changed? She shook her head and without saying another word to Sherlock she turned, following Mycroft, the bag still in her hand.

She left her door open carelessly, Sherlock could find himself a place to hide, the attic or even the cellar, she could not have cared less. Mycroft was already down the street, approaching the black Jaguar waiting for him. The light was dimm already and the sun was fading but it was still warm.

„Mycroft!", she called out and he stopped his tracks immediately but did not turn around. When she had finally cought up with him, she stood in front of him, searching his face. „What are you doing?", she asked bluntly.

„I am going to drive home", he answered, knitting his brows and she felt like slapping him again. „Shut up, you know what I mean!", she hissed. The politician lowered his gaze, not looking at her. „Listen to Sherlock", he said, his voice all quiet again. „It is better that way".

Clara felt tears moving up her throat but she pulled herself together. „No", she said, shaking her head. „No, don't say that".

„It is for your own good."

„How do you know what's good for me? How do you even dare to suggest...", her voice was shaking.

„Clara, please", at that she held her breath. Her own name had just sounded like a plea. Mycroft pleaing? Never, she decided.

„Let it go", he said, his expression impossibly soft now. As much as she wanted to look at him like that a little bit longer, she knew it would break her. And she would not break, not this time. So she swallowed and closed her eyes, knowing that this was the end. „I am sorry", she heard him whisper and then the sound of his shoes along the pavement. She waited until the sound of the car had vanished into the distance and walked back to her appartement, not looking back.