(I got a review that wasn't from my wonderful beta/muse/handholder! thank you very much! I'm going to try and post another 2 or 3 chapters today as they are all shorter chapters.)
Murphy made his way to Sherlocks certain that he would drop dead any moment from the amount of adrenaline pumping through is system. He was edgy and nervous even as the soothing sounds of the bar surrounded him. Although the mission had gone smoothly, he could never completely settle until his brother was seated next to him, drink in hand. Murphy checked his watch and realized it was only 8:30. They had already been separated for an hour.
"Hey bartender can I get a Guinness and a shot of Jameson please?" He called pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighting one.
As his mind wandered back over their mission he unconsciously started to gnaw on his lower lip, replaying every detail of what they had done, making sure that they had left no loose ends behind, that everything would go just as he and Connor had planned.
He was jolted out of his thoughts as the bartender placed his drinks in front of him. Murph took his shot quickly and lit another cigarette, having finished his first in a few hard, nicotine flooded drags.
He checked his watch again and realized only a few moments had passed. Regardless he kept his eyes on the door, waiting for his brother, unable to shake the nervous feeling in the pit of his belly.
"Are you okay?" the voice startled him, and Murphy jerked around to see the bartender standing before him, an empty glass in hand.
Murphy nodded the response to the man before returning his attention to the door, silently cursing himself for making Connor take the bags back to the apartment.
He hated being the one waiting and was sure he'd go through his entire pack of cigarettes before Connor even got there. He was already on his third and it had only been twenty minutes. Sighing, hoping to dull the anxiety with alcohol, he ordered two more shots.
Thirty minutes later, six more shots, two beers and ten cigarettes later, Murphy sensed his brother before he saw him.
Connor felt his brother relax when he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, feeling the tension there disappear. He groaned inwardly as his brother turned and gave him that impish lopsided grin that clearly meant he was half in the bag.
Fuck, he cursed to himself, he should have made Murph take the bags home, he was always better at the waiting game than Murph was. Although he had to grin when he saw the barkeep place another beer and four shots in the spot next to his brothers.
"Jaysus boyo, I leave you alone for two hours and look what a mess ya are." Connor placed two pack of cigarettes on the bar, pulled two out of the already opened pack and lit them, handing one over to Murph, as was habit. Connor took two of the shots down quickly, sighing as the alcohol burned its way down.
He sat down on the barstool beside his brother and spoke in soft French.
"We did good tonight Murph, quick, easy, clean and well deserved. Relax now, we're done. I'm here, no injuries, and with the money from tonight, we can take some time off."
"Aye I'll drink ta that brother." Slurred out Murph, his grin widening as the last of the tension left his body. "But Jaysus what tha fuck took ya so long?"
"I took the long way home, put our bags away, caught a shower and came here." Replied Connor grinning. It was just like his brother to bitch about how long it took for him to arrive, even in his inebriated state.
"What the fuck is the long way home?" Spat Murphy, eyeing him blearily.
"Don't worry bout it, lets drink up and get tha fuck outta here and home. I'm tired yer trashed ye fucking light weight, and we've got plans to make." Teased Connor, dodging the unsteady swat that was coming toward his head.
"Fuck ye," Murph said, his words slurring, "I'm not a fuckin' lightweight and ye know it, ye fuckin arse. Besides, I had to make the time pass somehow while you prettied yerself up."