CHAPTER 10.
For my sister, who is better at being Mycroft than Mycroft himself. I love you, baby, and one day you'll find your Lestrade :)
John isn't enjoying his date. He isn't enjoying it at all.
Well, he basically only went for this date to a) forget about Sherlock, and b) prove to himself that he isn't, in fact, gay. Which, as he now sees, was ridiculous. Cause, seemingly, he failed.
Emma, whom he met in surgery week ago, when she came there with her teenage brother, who broke his arm, was very nice, and pretty, and all, but the problem was, she just wasn't Sherlock.
She was that petite, charming creature, and couple of years ago he would be more than happy to pursuit relationship with her, but now she has no appeal for him.
So when the text from Sherlock comes, he is more than happy to leave her, saying sorry but not suggesting different time, and catch the first available cab.
Of course it didn't change the fact, that he isn't going to make any move towards his brilliant flatmate, but at least he can be with Sherlock, solve the case with Sherlock, and be friends with Sherlock. And not sit in cinema and pretend to be interested in Emma.
Twenty minutes passes and there's no cab. John knows, that he is by no means the person to be described as "good at catching cabs", but it's a bit too long even for him. He got cold, and he is fairly sure that Sherlock is already on the crime scene – and how is he going to manage with solving case while simultaneously taking care of Hamish, John really doesn't want to imagine.
Just when exceptionally expressive profanity slips from his mouth, the long, lean, black car slowly stops by.
At this point John already knows it's Mycroft.
"In the need of a lift?" John is surprised to find out that Sherlock's brother himself is driving. And there's no sign of Anthea.
Nonetheless he gets into the car. He is indeed in rather desperate need of a lift.
"What are you even doing here?" Asks John, not unable to take a hold of his curiosity.
"I assure you, dr. Watson, it's not only you and my dear brother who have private lives, I also am in possession of one." Myroft smiles rather restrained smile.
"So you're...visiting Lestrade?" John frowns. "On the crime scene?"
"I am, as a matter of fact, on my way home, and taking him with me after he's done on the crime scene." Mycroft sounds amused. "And I've been given information that you has trouble getting at place."
"Well, thanks." John decides not to ask more questions, since he's grateful, and also since it's Mycroft and he probably isn't going to give him any more information either way. Just like John didn't already know that Mycroft's CCTV cameras are literally everywhere.
They drive quietly through the city immersed in darkness.
"So, are congratulations in order?" Mycroft breaks the silence.
"Sorry, what?" John has no idea, what is he about.
"I'm talking about progress in yours and my brother's relationship." Man holding in his hands future of whole England looks in his eyes so innocently, that John wonders for a second that maybe he is the insane one here.
"There is no relationship." Blurts out John. "And, also, it's not your bloody interest."
"Ah. So you're still dancing around each other like a pair of blind idiots then?" Mycroft's eyes don't leave his for even a split second.
John furrows his brow.
"What do you mean?"
"That Sherlock, obviously, harbours certain feelings for you. Feelings, that, as I perceive, you fully reciprocate. But none of you is courageous enough to let the other know."
John is startled. He sits, mouth agape, and stares at Sherlock's brother, shocked.
"Now, that you understand that, I highly advise you to go, and do something in that matter." Mycroft smiles, now his smile less reserved, and more sincere.
And John doesn't know if he should be afraid, offended, or thankful, but he really doesn't care. Cause he is positively sure, that he has never been happier in his whole life.