I never planned this chapter to be like this, but these boys are just doing what they want.

I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!

John was lying on his bed and smiled at the ceiling. He felt like a huge weight had been taken off of him.
He hadn't ruined their friendship with his inconsiderate behaviour.
And Sherlock had kissed him. Kissed him.
He had told John (indirectly) that he liked it and had allowed John to continue doing it.

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all to be in love with the detective.
Maybe there was a chance that John could have both, their friendship and this new part of it – and maybe even more?
John didn't dare to let his thoughts wander down that path, but he couldn't deny that Sherlock's kiss had been ... hot.
It had sent shivers down his whole body, gathering below his navel.

Even now, just by thinking of the kiss, John felt himself blushing.
It was really ridiculous how much influence Sherlock had on him.

It was wrong. He needed to stop this.
Sherlock was his best friend. Not more - although he really wanted him to be.

John sighed and turned around. He needed sleep. Lots of it. Maybe then he would forget about all of this.

When John woke up the next morning, he didn't know why he felt so happy at first.
Then the events of the last day came back to his mind. The Kiss.

With a big smile he got up, showered (slightly humming to himself), got dressed and went downstairs.
There his smile dropped from his face for a moment.
Sherlock was sitting in his chair, completely dressed (unusual for this time of day), plugging on his violin (not unusual) and displaying a big frown (rather usual).
In the chair opposite, which was normally John's, sat Mycroft.

"Good morning, John, how good to see you."

John forced himself to smile. "Yes, good morning to you, too, Mycroft."
He didn't return the rest of the pleasantries, because he really wasn't happy to see the man. It never meant anything good to see Mycroft Holmes sitting in your chair at eight in the morning.

"Tea?"

"No, thank you, John. Please, sit down. I need to talk to you both."

That truly weren't the words John wanted to hear, but he sat down on the armrest of Sherlock's chair anyway (The sofa seemed somehow inappropriate and John hoped Sherlock's proximity might help him deal with this situation. It made obvious who's side he was on.).
A mischievous smile appeared on Mycroft's lips on this course of action and he said, "Well, I see congratulations are in order. You have finally stopped dancing around each other."

John was somehow confused about this, but Mycroft seemed to ignore it and turned to Sherlock.
"Well done, little brother. You have finally found that someone who is able to reach you, put up with you childish behaviour and is willing to stay.
And such a fine man, it is, indeed. Soldier and doctor. I had always thought it would be some kind madman, but in a way he is one, isn't he?" Mycroft was wearing his customary snaky smile again and Sherlock was furious.

"What are you implying, Mycroft?"

"I don't think it is necessary to imply anything. I'm just offering my congratulations, as you and the dear doctor have seemed to move on in your relationship lately."

"John is my friend."

"So he is, indeed." Mycroft just kept smiling as if he knew more than they did and John thought maybe that actually was the case.

Then Mycroft stood up. "Well, I see you still have some things to discuss here and you're in the middle of a case. Anyway, please accept the invitation, Sherlock. I would so hate to have to force you. Good day, Doctor Watson."
And he left.

John stared after him. What the hell had just happened?
He turned around to look at Sherlock, who was pouting in his chair.

"What was that supposed to mean?" John asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Seriously John, his intentions were that obvious, even you can't be dumb enough not to know."

When John didn't answer, Sherlock started ranting. "He has congratulated us for 'getting together' as they say and en passant reminded us that he knows everything about our lives as soon as we know – or even before. Also, he used to opportunity to tell me how absolutely socially unsuitable I am and what he thinks of me.
And now he's trying to use that against us; don't you see, John?"

"I don't know, Sherlock ... " John said sceptically. "Maybe he really just wanted to be ... you know, nice and tell you he approves of these changes?"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. Mycroft has never less than seven motives at a time."

"And what about that invitation that he mentioned?"

"Mummy's birthday party. Usually, they choose to ignore my absence because it's easier than arguing and they know I would find a way to escape," Sherlock smiled at that thought. "But it's a decadal birthday this year and it seems she expects me to come, especially now that Mycroft has told her about you. She instructed him to invite me and make sure that I'll be there. You're invited, too."

"I – I am invited? Why?!"

"I suppose because she wants to meet you, John, how would I know? That woman is even worse than Mycroft."

"Sherlock, you're talking about your mother."

"So what? She raised me and Mycroft, how do you expect her to be?"

John didn't know what to say to that. How did he imagine Mummy Holmes?
"And when is that party?"

"The day after tomorrow, at our estate. That journey will take forever! I can't leave London now. I'm in the middle of a case! Fits Mycroft to tell me on such short notice that I couldn't leave beforehand."

"Wait, your mother owns an estate?"

"Yes, do keep up, John." Sherlock groaned. "We will have to leave in the morning, because mummy won't approve if we arrive shortly before the party. She always wants the family to have dinner together the day before. She will make my life miserable if I don't participate in those dreadful customs, John! She will make our life miserable!"

"Are you sure you're not overreacting? She's your mother not some kind of witch."

"She very well could be." He pouted. "She's a genius, John, just like Mycroft and I are, but she doesn't show it. She hides under layers of fake kindness and sociality, while she controls everything that happens around her. She manipulates people."

"As if you wouldn't do that." John retorted, but Sherlock ignored him.

Then he suddenly turned around to John and gripped both his shoulders. His face was just a breath away from John's.
"John, you must be very careful around my mother. Do not trust her outer appearance, she's not who she seems to be. You must be alert at all times. She will use whatever she can get to her advantage."

John was confused about Sherlock's seriousness, but he nodded.
"Alright. If you really think that's necessary, then I will be on my guard."

"Good, then we'll go shopping now."

"Shopping?!"

"Yes. Seriously John, do you think you can go with clothes like that? And no, your suits will not be sufficient. If we have to meet mummy, than I want to you to impress her at least.
We can't have her trying to drive you away, can we?"

And with a wink, he had taken his coat and was out of the door.
John stood there for a whole minute, dumbfounded, then followed suit.