Mycroft looked up from his desk as John entered. "Ah. Doctor Watson". He put his pen down. "I heard you and my brother had a small... altercation, recently.

John frowned, accepting the "minor government official"'s gesture for him to take a seat as he was also sitting "I heard you kidnapped and tortured your brother, recently". He got a typical, fake smile in responce "touche, doctor Watson. Now, I wanted to talk to you about my brother. He seems somewhat troubled". John knew enough of them to be able to recognise the honest concern beneath the obvious arrogance.

Because he did, he replied honestly. "No, we didn't as much as I pushed him a little bit too far. He doesn't seem to hold it against me. He never does". Mycroft nodded thoughtfully. "You cannot overwrite bad memories with other bad memories, John" his voice was unusually kind, obviously he for once wasn't trying to play a cold villain or indeed, Iceman. "You must move forward so slowly that he barely realises, and make him like it". The disturbing smile was back "that ought not to be too hard for you, after all".

John rolled his eyes and rose, tired of this conversation already, but it seemed that Mycroft wasn't, as the door was shut and one touch assured John that it was locked. He turned around, somewhat impatiently "what, Mycroft?"

"Take care with my little brother's heart" the cold man said blankly, but John still knew how sincere he was at a mere glance, even less than that, in fact.

John decided, in the black car taking him back to Baker Street, that, for once, he would take Mycroft's advice, as he, if indeed anybody could, might really understand just how Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, actually worked. He guessed that at least sometimes, it might really take one to know one, and when it came to a Holmes, he suspected that was the simple truth.

He had already determined it best to take it slowly, after all, to enjoy what they had and not rush it by being too brave, as his work with Sherlock had taught him that there indeed was such a thing, and he now felt more determined than ever. He was going to savour all the good they had been granted and not dwell too much on the bad.

Pot and kettle, Mr M Holmes. All recognisable content belongs to its respective owners.

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