A/N: If you read Ink and the Reaction a Story of John Watson's tattoos, you might be interested to know I added another chapter. It didn't exactly fit in as one of these stories but my fingers itched to write it. Enjoy!

John and Mycroft

Mycroft Holmes's black car pulled up in front of Baker Street. As he stepped out, he glanced up at the windows of the flat his brother and John Watson shared. Mycroft hadn't heard from his brother in over a week. That fact in itself wasn't unusual, but he hadn't heard a peep from John either. Mycroft doubted they were in any trouble, but it was unusual. He also needed to check on the case he had given to Sherlock almost two weeks ago. He had expected his brother to solve it rather quickly considering how many times he said bored during Mycroft's visit. He assumed John and Sherlock were off solving cases that didn't pertain to national security. Sherlock would do anything to irritate his brother.

As he walked up the steps, he heard nothing from the flat above which was unusual as well. He expected explosions, shouts or even gunshots. Suddenly he heard John chuckled as he reached the door. Mycroft didn't bother knocking anymore because Sherlock always demanded that he not be admitted.

Mycroft opened the door and stepped inside as two heads turned. What he saw gave him reason to pause. He had seen many things in 221B and nothing unusual shocked him about his brother usually and John was predictable. Even so, he rarely experienced a shock like the one he had now.

John was lying on the couch in front of the telly with Sherlock lounged across him. The scene itself was amusing. The long lanky detective looked like he was trying to trap the doctor on the sofa. The two of them were focused on the TV. When John saw Mycroft he immediately turned red up to his ears, but the relaxed look on Sherlock's face vanished replaced by a scowl that was only for Mycroft. Mycroft regretted the change. He had rarely seen Sherlock relaxed or at ease since he was a child.

"What is it now Mycroft?" Sherlock asked without getting up. Mycroft observed his younger brother wasn't wearing shoes, another peculiar development. Always ready to dash off after a criminal, Mycroft wasn't sure when he had seen Sherlock in socks last.

"I see you two are having a nice afternoon," Sherlock glowered at his brother as Mycroft spoke.

"I didn't get anywhere with your case. Leave," Sherlock ordered.

"Obviously there isn't anything important going on…"

"You are interrupting something very important," Sherlock interrupted to inform him. His brother was still glaring at him as he stood up.

"Really? What is so important?" Mycroft asked. The sarcasm hung in the air. Sherlock looked over at John who got off the couch as well. John nodded. Another interesting development.

"A date," Sherlock told him. Mycroft's head snapped up and he looked over at John. For the first time he observed that John's jumper was discarded on the floor and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. Mycroft observed his brother again and noticed his clothing was in fact ruffled as well. His eyes jumped back and forth between the two men. John's smirk was irritating as Mycroft tried to process this information.

He noticed a patch of color on John's bare chest and squinted to try and see it better. Sherlock stepped towards his older brother and effectively blocked his view of John.

"Now, Mycroft, you know the flu epidemic has been affecting London for the past month or so. Today is John's first day off from work in that long. I think I should let him have a day off before I start running him all over London looking for criminals. I need him at his best and if he is exhausted he might miss something. So, if you will be so kind…please leave," Sherlock was polite, but his tone told Mycroft that there would be hell to pay, if he didn't get out of the flat now.

"I suppose your correct brother. John, do rest well," Mycroft resigned annoyed. He knew he would get nothing from Sherlock if he stayed and irritated him. Mycroft bid them good bye and walked out of the flat. He was shocked actually. There were few things that Mycroft did not expect Sherlock to do. Sherlock would do almost anything, legal or otherwise, to solve a case, but being in a relationship with his flatmate was something he hadn't expected. As he left, he heard John speak.

"A day of rest? I don't think what I've been doing today qualifies as rest at all."

"I didn't say rest. I said a day off from work. I think you'll agree what we've been doing isn't related to the work." Sherlock growled. There was laughter then Mycroft heard a body slam onto the couch and he hurried downstairs.

Hours later Mycroft received a text.

Give me at least a week to solve your case. New distraction. – SH

A picture message was attached which Mycroft wasn't sure if he should open. After a few moments of deliberation, he clicked to open the photo.

John stood bare-chested and scowling at the camera. On his chest was the patch of color that Mycroft had noticed before. It was a tattoo. In fact, John had several tattoos on his torso. The one that stood out though was the one in the center of his chest. There, right across his heart, was a violin. It stretched up to John's throat and Mycroft marveled that he had never seen or imagined that John had tattoos. Obviously his choice in jumpers was in part because of desire to hide the designs. He zoomed in to see the strings which seemed to be in a design as well. He gaped when he realized the strings were drawn to write his brother's name. The S was designed to look like it was burned into the wood of the instrument. In truth, it was a beautiful design. Mycroft opened a new message on his phone.

Congratulations to the new happy couple. I hope you didn't force him to tattoo that design Sherlock. Emotions are not as permanent as ink. – MH

Moments later Mycroft received a response.

I got this tattoo when you were telling me to move on and your brother was dead Mycroft. I still believed in Sherlock when you thought he had died. When you were responsible for the circumstances that lead to his death, but you still thought he wasn't clever enough to escape. –JW

John's malice never surprised Mycroft, but the timing of the tattoo did. He sat in his office and stared at the wall while he thought. He was in shock. He never realized how devoted the doctor had been to Sherlock during that time even though they worked together to clear his name. The tattoo was testament to a whole new level of devotion. Then, not for the first time, he felt ashamed that he, the man's own brother, doubted him in his worst hour.

Mycroft didn't approach the flat for almost two weeks, but from that day forward he always gave warning. He didn't need that kind of shock twice.

A/n: If anyone would like to suggest a scene, person, time that I haven't written yet, I would love to hear it. I'm running out of ideas but these are so much fun to write!