Mycroft watched as Sherlock slowly walked out on stage. He could see how nervous Sherlock was, wanted to go on stage and tell him it would be alright but knew...Mycroft knew if he moved Siggerson would reprimand them both. So he remained seated, watching as Sherlock scanned the crowd. Giving him a small smile and wave, Mycroft glanced over at his parents. Sherlock was an exceptional child, a prodigy that his parents ignored for their own pursuits.
Watching as Sherlock took a deep breath, Mycroft waited as he picked up his bow and violin. His beloved Stradivarius, a gift from Mycroft on his fifth birthday, meant everything to Sherlock. It had taken Mycroft almost three months to find the perfect violin for his brother. Especially one that neither of his parents could or would take from Sherlock.
When the first sounds of the strings filled the air, Mycroft smiled. He remembered how hard Sherlock practiced on his piece. Had stayed up with him on nights when Sherlock felt there was something missing. Now, in front of everyone, Mycroft watched as Sherlock showed the fruits of his labor. The piece was moving, the melody haunting in its intricacy. It touched ones heart, giving them the feeling of euphoria mixed with a fleeting sense of sadness. A hint of remorse for such small pleasures that flowed with the wind.
When Sherlock finished, the crowd stood, clapping and cheering, Mycroft included. When he glanced over, Mycroft was surprised to find that both his parents had disappeared. When, he couldn't be sure but they had left without saying a word. Shaking his head, Mycroft turned back to the stage, bright gaze colliding with the sad one watching him. It was then, with that one look, Mycroft vowed to never miss anything important for Sherlock again.
Sherlock glanced around the backstage area, a small frown curving his lips down. He'd insisted Mycroft find a seat instead of following him to the back. Now...he wished he'd let his brother come with him. Letting out a soft sigh, Sherlock turned and headed towards the stage. He couldn't stop thinking about what happened to John and Greg's dorm room. Sherlock knew who had done it, the question he could not answer was why? Why would they tear apart John and Greg's room, what were they after?
"Are you ready, Sherlock?"
Turning, Sherlock glanced at the petite woman behind him and smiled. "As long as my accompanying pianist is ready, I am ready." He turned to the blond behind him. "It is very good to see you, Emilie. Did you see Mycroft, was he still..."
"Mycroft is sitting front row third seat. You know he will always be where you can see him."
Sherlock nodded, turning back towards the stage. "How are classes, still having trouble with Chemistry?" At the light laugh, Sherlock grinned before turning around. "Do you miss me yet?"
"You know we do, there is no one who can entertain us as much as you and the professor's."
Grinning, Sherlock shook his head as he turned, reaching for the edge of the curtain. "Yes, well, Mycroft felt I was not reaching my full potential." He said softly, eyes searching the crowd, Sherlock released a sigh of relief. Mycroft was exactly where his friend stated. "Do you think he will ever tire of showing up? He always seems to enjoy himself, yet..."
"Has he said he does not wish to be here? You know how he is Sherlock, once Mycroft makes up his mind..."
"It is for ever set." Sherlock finished softly. He gave his brother a small wave, grinning when it was returned. Despite his usual despising air for his brother's high handedness, Sherlock loved Mycroft. So much so that when Greg and John sat down next to him, Sherlock began to worry. The usually stoic face was now a light pink, a first for Sherlock to see in public but not unusual behind closed doors. "If the rumors are to be believed..." Sherlock started softly.
"Ooo, who is that next to big brother? He looks absolutely dangerous, doesn't he?"
Sherlock glanced over at Emilie, aware of her taste in bad boys. "He is a friend, do not interfere Emilie, Mycroft is aware..." Sherlock paused at the angry glare he was given. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock shook his head. "You and I have known each other since childhood, Mycroft, however is my brother. I will not allow anyone to upset him for any reason. Your interest in Lestrade would upset him, so please, do not interfere." Turning back, Sherlock watched as both John and Greg engaged Mycroft in conversation. He felt a small smile curl his lips at his brother's expression. The smile that curved Mycroft's lips was shy but easy, one that was usually reserved for those closest to him. "Do you think he will hurt Mycroft?"
Emilie placed a hand at the small of Sherlock's back. "Do you believe he would do so? You know him or you would not allow him within ten feet of Mycroft. He does not appear to wish him harm. Look at him Sherlock, past your protectiveness for Mycroft. Tell me, what do you see when you look at the man next to big brother?"
Sherlock studied Greg, forcing back his worry concerning Mycroft, he looked closer at Greg. Despite the black leather jacket, Greg worked hard to maintain his grades. He was a captain of the football team, and he enjoyed hanging out with his friends. Greg paid close attention to details and tried his best to mediate any situation. "He is athletic, a hard worker, and loves his family. Rather protective of those he considers friend or family and will not tolerate any level of disrespect." Letting out a soft breath, Sherlock shook his head. "Mycroft would be able to laugh more around Lestrade. The easy manner he has attracts others to him. His desire to help those in need will help him when he chooses a career in law enforcement."
"Now how do you know all of that? He looks like he's a bad boy through and through."
"Looks, as we both now, can and are deceiving." Sherlock let his gaze drift over to John. The small blond looked unassuming, a laid back young man with an easy going smile. Until crossed, then John became almost feral, his entire demeanor making the other think before reacting.
"And who is the one that you keep watching so closely, hmm?"
"Lestrade's roommate." Sherlock stepped back and turned away from the curtain. He did not want to answer the questions he knew were about to be asked. When Emilie remained silent, Sherlock glanced over at her and frowned. "Em?"
"As long as you and big brother are happy and safe that is all that matters."
Sherlock nodded, turning towards the stairs he let out a soft breath. Despite his worry about Mycroft, his privacy was just as important. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock turned. "That does not mean..."
"I am well aware of what it means Sherlock. Do not worry, I will not interfere unless needed."
Turning, Sherlock gave Emilie a small grin. He pushed back his concern and let his mind drift to his solo. He had been practicing with Emilie for almost a month. Sherlock loved his violin, it offered him a chance to think or escape. To let the music flow as his emotions slowly found its way across the strings. Sherlock loved playing in front of a crowd as well. It gave him the attention and adoration he craved. Mycroft gave him the same but Sherlock expected it, from strangers it was either offered or not and Sherlock wanted what was offered. "Come, we are after the next group and I do not wish for there to be any mistakes."
"Does he know it is for him?"
Sherlock shook his head, sighing s they stopped n front of an empty room. "Mycroft often wonders where the music comes from. He has yet to realize he is the inspiration behind most of the pieces." When Emilie nodded, Sherlock turned and entered the room. Tonight was one of the most important nights of his life. Tonight, Sherlock would be given the greatest gift he would ever receive in his entire life...the gift of love.
