2. Mycroft's manipulation

'Why were you so... cordial with Mycroft?' Sherlock spat, wrinkling his nose and throwing his hands up.

'Sherlock, he's still your brother.'

'I don't see you extending such courtesy to Harry.'

John felt himself slapped. 'Well, it's easier with Mycroft.'

'How so?'

'I didn't grow up with him, I suppose,' he smiled.

'Be thankful you didn't.'

'I am.'

But Sherlock was extremely annoyed, now and then throwing him a baffled sideways glance.

The way he looked at Mycroft, what did it mean? And why is he smiling?

...

Mycroft had noticed it too. John had treated him subtly different this time. It left him slightly amused. An attempt to gain my sympathy? He noticed that Sherlock had seen it too. He is jealous! He smirked, this confirmed his initial suspicions. It would be most amusing to use this to spite Sherlock. He made a mental note to be more attentive to the doctor in the future, to use this knowledge to his best advantage.

...

John came downstairs one morning to find both brothers glaring at each other in opposite chairs. Mycroft was sitting on "Sherlock's chair", which he knew was intentional. And if he knew it, both brothers did too.

Mycroft turned his head towards John, but his eyes followed a little later, still challenging his brother. 'And good morning to you, John.' His face changed and he even smiled.

'Good morning, Mycroft.' Uncertain, he tried to diffuse the tension. 'Erm, would you like some tea?'

'That would be lovely, thank you, John.'

As John turned towards the kitchen, he heard Mycroft turn back to Sherlock, sighing. 'Sherlock, this is important. I cannot let this fall into the wrong hands. The matter needs discretion.'

'You have a secret service, why me?'

'Clearly this was an inside job. Secrets still leak and we cannot afford this. We do know that there are at least three other countries interested in this information. We would like you to track this file down and retrieve it for us. And handing over who's behind the mole in the process, too. Obviously.'

...

Mycroft extended the folder to Sherlock, who stubbornly refused to take it. So he got up and walked to the sofa where John sat with his tea. He was only going to hand it, but had a sudden inspiration. He sat down facing John, a little closer than he normally would, but not enough to alarm the man. He knew his brother would notice and would be watching. 'John, as I see my brother is still being childish and petulant, I will hand this to you.' Unconsciously, John shifted to face him, his position mirroring and copying the elder Holmes's, following his lead. John took the file and opened it, looking at the photos inside.

'I trust you understand this cannot be made public. A matter of National Security, you see.'

John looked up long enough to say 'Of course, Mycroft. I would never blog about this type of case. But it's up to Sherlock to accept the case, you know?' He glanced at Sherlock, then returned his attention to the photos. Mycroft took this opportunity to rove his eyes up and down John's body with a calculated amount of lust and a smirk. 'Thank you John.' Then he got up and stood before Sherlock, who was - he knew - seething underneath that mask of calm. 'Sherlock, if you decide to take this case you can be sure...' and he let his eyes dart to the sides, as if pointing at John behind him, then lifting an eyebrow, with the smirk still in his lips.

John's eyebrows shot up, his forehead wrinkling as he looked up at the two brothers. He saw Sherlock's head go up a fraction, nostrils flaring minutely, barely disguising his anger, even to John. Mycroft had his back to him, so John couldn't tell what else was behind that unfinished sentence.

What did that mean?

After a couple of heartbeats, Sherlock made a grudgingly small nod, looking away, a sour expression on his face. His brother smiled triumphantly, turned halfway to John and said 'Thank you for your help, John.' Then, as an afterthought, turning around he bowed slightly, 'Oh, and thanks for the tea. Perfectly brewed.'

John replied the usual words, but felt embarrassed without knowing exactly why. As soon as the door closed downstairs he was about to ask what that last exchange had meant when Sherlock got up and yelled 'What is the matter with you?'

Stunned, it took him a few seconds to respond. 'What? What did I do?'

'Promptly offered him tea, used the expensive loose blend, not the bagged kind, served in our best china. Then sat silently as he abused me, showing him respect and awe.'

'What are you talking about? He's the British Government, for God's sake, I can't just hand him a chipped cup, can I? And when did he abuse you?'

'Of course, I forget what an idiot you are. You see and never observe.'

'Gee thanks! At least he is nice to me, and doesn't call me an idiot. All I see is sibling rivalry, how is that my fault? It's been going on for only you two know how long; long before I offered him tea. This had nothing to do with me, though. Am I right? What exactly did he mean with his last words to you? Was it a threat of some sort? That's what you meant by his "abuse"?'

Sherlock didn't answer, just whirled around and swept to his room, slamming the door.

...

Once alone, Sherlock paced around, furious. The message had been clear. If you take this case I won't take him from you. He stopped in his tracks. Could he? Mycroft had always been discrete about his conquests, so Sherlock had no idea what his brother actually liked. He had never been interested in knowing, just knew they existed. Whether or not he would be interested in John was irrelevant. His brother must have also noticed the difference in John's manner on their last interaction and most certainly had figured out Sherlock's... interest for his flatmate. So he knew how to threaten Sherlock's peaceful life with John Watson. Despite always protesting he wasn't gay, there was that deference John reserved for Mycroft. It showed in his body language today. Could it be that John was attracted to his brother? Or star struck? He had never thought about how others might see him before. Growing up together, he never thought of his brother as handsome or ugly, only annoying, smug, full of himself. He tried to analyse it dispassionately.

Mycroft:

1. Is tall (-er than I).
2. Has piercing and intelligent blue eyes (beautiful eyes? Can't see it, don't know).
3. Has straight hair that remains perfectly in place, combed (albeit receding, he added with venom).
4. Is always immaculately well dressed (not to his credit, his job requires it).
5. Is (admitting it grudgingly) smarter and better adjusted. Socially better equipped.
6. Has been annoyingly good at maintaining his diet lately and is currently in good shape.
7. Oozes self confidence and control. He always knows when and how to use his charm to his advantage.
8. Has an aura of power around him. He's the British Government, for God's sake, John had said. Power is the best aphrodisiac, said... irrelevant.*

He sank on his bed.

After an hour, Sherlock finally managed to emerge from his room. 'Come on, John. We have a case to solve.'

The faster I solve it, the sooner Mycroft will leave us alone. He promised that. I will not risk losing John to him.

His brother's mantra echoed in his mind, 'Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.' He made sure Sherlock understood it now.

* Henry Kissinger said that. I just didn't think Sherlock wouldn't have deleted such trivia. Quite a disgusting thought that it worked for Kissinger! It should work for Mycroft though. ;)

Disgruntled grumbling: can I just say I absolutely hate the editing capacities of this site? Just had to vent...