Smile
"Honestly, Mycroft," sighed the girl as she looped the gold earring through her lobe. "Would it kill you to smile?"
"I just spent two hours with those… girls," he murmured back, voice barely short of a growl as he wrestled with his cufflinks. "And now I have to spend more than that with the Lerouxs, who you know I hate…" He finally gave up, holding out his wrists.
"You're overreacting," she soothed, twisting the links on for him. "And I don't know what you were so embarrassed about, both of them agree you're rather handsome." A sly smile darted across her face as she turned to leave the room. "They're terribly jealous of me, you know, to have married such a prominent man."
Mycroft frowned after her as she left, but once she was gone turned his gaze to the mirror, giving an experimental smile. Heavy, to be sure… But he did carry it well, and his nose was much more refined than Sherlock's…
