Hurts the Most
Karen's eyes flashed open. A moment's unbridled joy, before the memories of the last few weeks came back. She groaned, flopping backwards onto her pillow. Without her brothers case to occupy her mind and a distinct loss of a distraction in the form of him, she'd sunk deeper into a depression than she'd ever had before.
She winced at the thought distraction. That's all she'd come to think of him as, as a sort of unspoken acceptance that she felt the same way that he did. That he was merely a distraction to her, as she was to him.
"Then why do you still dream about him at night?" the evil side of her brain jested.
"Just a distraction!" she hissed, clutching her head to enforce the thought. Her inner voice laughed.
"You just keep telling yourself that..." it muttered in return. Karen closed her eyes once more, laying flat on her bed, hair splayed around her. She prayed that all of it had been a dream, which her brother was going to wake her up any moment, and was going to tell her that a man had been looking for her. A man with jet black hair and striking blue eyes, fully able to receive and reciprocate her love. Her heart gave her one single pang to remind her that it was very much real. Her brother had been dead 6 years, and no amount of imagination could have conjured up the bitterness and spitefulness in his voice as he'd uttered those words.
"I was bored witless... I was bored witless... I was bored witless" the words seemed to echo around her head, like a song that you couldn't stop singing. Except a song doesn't make you want to cry every time it enters your brain. That spitefulness. The way he'd said it. He was bored, and everyone around him knows how far he would go to stop being bored. John had told her stories. Drugs. Alcohol. Danger. He'd had her shaking her head, nearly in tears at the lengths he'd gone in the past.
John. That was another part of life at Baker Street she missed. That male friendship that just couldn't be replicated. Even after his admission that he had feelings for her.
She'd tried to meet up with him a few times, but every time she'd seen a shock of black hair and those eyes peering from over a newspaper in the corner. She doubted John had even known that he'd been followed, by him. She'd always fled before John had even noticed what was going on but many times she had heard yelling echoing from the establishment she'd just run from. Away from him.
Her brain actually refused to say his name after the first night. She'd spent it sobbing, screaming his name at the walls, whilst Giles and Sally tried to calm her down. Three nights and multiple sleeping tablets, she finally managed to sleep, and she'd cried no more. Not a single tear and she hadn't uttered his name since then. The only time she ever saw him was her dream version of him, a man more like her, who'd arrive at her door, bunch of flowers in hand, kiss her on the lips and take her to dinner or the cinema. Not someone who'd turn up at her door and drag her along to a crime scene in the middle of the night.
"You wouldn't have had it any other way" she whispered barely realising she'd said it aloud. There was a call from downstairs. Giles. He was leaving for work, still reluctant to simply leave her without telling her. She nodded aware that he couldn't see her. She sighed getting to her feet, checking her phone. There was nothing, there never was. It appeared he'd given up on her. She chucked her phone to her bed. As had she on him.
There was a brisk chill in the air. Karen wrapped her coat and scarf around her. It was a flimsy thing that she'd bought when she'd left Baker Street. Most of her stuff still remained there, most likely thrown out by him; he wouldn't want any distractions she thought bitterly. She let out a huff of breath and threw herself onto a park bench. She sat in silence, barely noticing the rain starting and her hair sending slight droplets of water down her neck. The rain turned from a light spattering into a full blown shower and yet she remained still. Suddenly as quickly as it started, the rain stopped falling on her and a shadow fell over her body.
"Hello Karen" a voice greeted her. She looked up to her right and found a familiar but not entirely unwelcome face looking down solemnly at her. She looked back down at her hands.
"Hello Mycroft" she sniffed, refusing to address him the way she normally would have. The elder Holmes. Mr Holmes. Even his surname made a pang of sorrow and hurt go through her.
"May I sit down?" he continued in his clipped upper crust tones. The accent made a shiver go through her. She remembered the night with him before it had all blown up in her face, those lips nestling into her neck, gently nipping and sucking claiming her as his and his voice whispered her name.
"You're going to anyway" she managed to choke out. The man sat beside her, she involuntarily scooted away from him, returning only when she realized that the only dry patch on the bench was under Mycroft's umbrella. She looked up at the fabric, looking at every pattern in its soft obviously expensive lining.
"I don't think I've ever seen you use this before" she muttered, to herself. Mycroft laughed a deep booming chuckle that vibrated through their touching arms. Once again Karen was reminded of his brother, that same chuckle as she accidently tickled his cheek and nose with her hair before fading away into a moan as she replaced them with her lips.
"Stop it!" she whispered defeated. Mycroft stopped almost immediately. He sobered up looking embarrassed at his loss of control.
"You're quite right. Considering the circumstances..." he trailed off, looking out into the world beyond the umbrella. Karen surveyed him. That expression as he watched a couple walking arm in arm, the man having given the woman his coat. Karen sniffed dejectedly.
"Mycroft... what do you want?" she asked after another minutes silence. He raised a brow looking down at her pointedly.
"I know you're not just here for a little chat, you always want something... what do you want?" she repeated, returning the look. Mycroft sighed.
"I... I wanted to see if you were alright" he said, pursing his lips. Karen frowned at him.
"Couldn't you just have called Giles- Lestrade" she corrected herself remembering that after their argument at his front door, Mycroft on his... brother's behalf that they weren't really on first name bases. Mycroft repeated this.
"Besides" he continued "He only would have said your fine, I needed to see for myself".
Karen snorted.
"See for myself, meaning your brother I presume?" she said accusingly. Mycroft remained stony faces and shook his head.
"You mean you came out in the pouring rain to talk to me, for no other reason than that?" she asked, sarcastically. He nodded in reply.
"Oh If you care so much how did someone like you end up with a brother like that?" she hissed not really knowing or caring what she was saying
"Karen, my brothers a good man. A little misguided and a bit out of control with his emotions, but deep down he cares as much as I do" he replied.
"But honestly, I came for me, perhaps John a little bit but mainly me" he whispered sadly. Karen softened, only having to hear his voice, not even look into his eyes to tell he was telling the truth.
"You mean you genuinely care about me?" she asked perplexed, still trying to process the information. Mycroft nodded.
"She seem surprised, is it such a shock that I worry about people, I do belong to the government you know" he answered.
"That makes it even more surprising" she muttered her face breaking into a proper smile for the first time in the conversation. Mycroft laughed again.
"That's why I like you Karen; you've got such a way about you. You remind me so much of my sister, she would have come out with something like that-" his voice faltered.
"Alexandra" she whispered. Mycroft surveyed her.
"I see you heard about her. Yes, you're very much like her, spirited, funny, charming, and energetic and then- she just fell down the stairs and got a bruise, that simply wouldn't go away. She was gone within 5 months. She- he never really recovered." He corrected himself as he saw her wince at the beginning of his name.
"You feel like someone's taken a part of you away when you lose a sibling... I felt like someone has taken my right arm when David died" she gasped. Mycroft put an arm around her. She sighed leaning against his shoulder.
"I understand more than most, younger brother correct?" Mycroft muttered. Karen nodded, inhaling. He smelt so different to him. Sure they were sitting in a bench, in a park, in the middle of London, but the difference was so evident. He had always smelt like old books, burning paper (no doubt due to his frequent experimentation) and tea. Before meeting him Karen hadn't even known there was a smell to tea, she knew now and frequently inhaled the scent before drinking. Mycroft smelt like some posh aftershave, no doubt bought for him by his assistant, him simply splashing it on in the morning. It wasn't a specifically bad smell just more grown up than his brother. She inhaled again, closing her eyes embracing the scent. This is what she needed in life a grown up.
"Karen? What are you doing?" Mycroft whispered hearing her inhaling. She looked at him, her eyes meeting his, a strange expression on her face. For a moment, she peered into his eyes, flickering to his lips, her brain willing her to reach upwards and pull the man to her. To wrap her arms around him, hold him tight and to have him kiss her back. She looked down at Mycroft's hands that were wringing together under her scrutinising glare.
"I- I can't do this Mycroft. I- it's hi-" she said, gently allowing her eyes to close and placing her face into the crook of his neck. His breathing shallowed, as her breath came warm and steady on his neck. Tears began to drip onto the skin there and small sobs began to wrack through her body. His arms enclosed around her back, hands running soothingly up and down it and the man whispering into her hair.
"I get it Karen. You love him. I've known from the first day I met you. "He whispered, only a tiny note of sadness in his voice. Karen picked up on this immediately, letting out another tiny small laugh.
"I'm sorry Mycroft. By breaking off contact with him, I've exiled myself from you. And you've done nothing wrong, you or John. I didn't mean to hurt you." She groaned, allowing her hair to fall into her face.
"The more you care the more it hurts" Mycroft muttered to himself. Karen looked up from her hands, tears and rain streaking makeup down her face. She nodded to herself.
"Yes... If you care you're the one who will suffer the most. For the one who doesn't care the pain is lessoned. Your bro- Why are you looking at me like that?" she stopped as Mycroft turned those deductive eyes on her.
"Don't be fooled Doctor Johnson, your far too clever for that, for it was not I who said that in the first place" he said, his voice back to its smooth business like tone. Karen frowned at him. Mycroft used this opportunity to place a piece of paper into her outstretched hand.
They both stared for a moment, allowing two solitary drops of rainwater to drip from the umbrellas spokes onto the paper, before Mycroft curled her hand over it.
"Look at the post Doctor Johnson" he whispered, placing his lips over her hand. With Karen still perplexed and wondering about the sudden change in situation, only looking back when he knew that she'd turned to go back to her own flat. He smiled to an unseen woman, who followed Karen, who always followed Karen, but not under his orders.