Based on Greenleaf's Daughter's prompts: jealousy, Sherlock, siblings.
Takes place during earlier chapter, Rain.
Sherlock sneered bitterly. He couldn't believe that everyone was tiptoeing around Greg and Mycroft's disgusting display of affection. They were canoodling on top of a police cruiser in the middle of a crime scene, which was nauseating.
A little girl had died in a gang shooting and everyone on the scene was distressed, including the high-functioning sociopath, and yet they seemed perfectly at ease in the middle of the chaos.
"Aw look, the freak is jealous," Sally Donavan snarked behind him.
"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock said nastily, spinning around so quickly that his coat slapped at his thighs.
She narrowed her eyes. "Jealous. You. Of your brother," she said slowly, as one would talk to a mentally handicapped child.
"I most certainly am not," he replied indignantly.
She rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure."
"Speaking of jealousy Sally, I heard that Mrs. Anderson is pregnant again. Tough break."
"Fuck off freak!" she spat, turning on heel and stalking off.
Sherlock sneered again and resumed his survelance of Mycroft and Greg. Mycroft was now cradling Greg's face in his hands and whispering something undoubtedly sickeningly sweet to the DI.
Jealous of Mycroft. Psh. Sure, there were times he wished his social skills were as smooth as Mycroft's. He had wondered how Mycroft had stolen all the charm in utero while still having an intelligence level far above the plebeian norm. Yes, Sherlock was still infinitely more intelligent and observant, but sometimes he wished he could say things and not offend everyone in the general vicinity. Especially John. He would have gladly sacrificed several of his precious IQ points if it meant he wouldn't hurt his doctor again.
He felt a pang of emotion as that thought crossed his mind. Though he would never admit it, he did wish he could comfort John the way Mycroft could comfort Greg. He had never felt the need for that sort of empathy, but John made him wish he was more human in the emotions department.
He bit the inside of his cheek and looked over towards John, who was speaking to the head of forensics, looking very solemn. He longed to be able to take John's face in his hands and whisper sticky-sweet nothings to him, just to be able to see his blogger smile.
Fucking hell, he was jealous of Mycroft.