Sherlock thought he was sick the time John Watson moved into his complex. He always felt hot and dizzy. This increase in temperature was caused by the rapidity of the blood that moved faster when he was near him. This same increase in blood flow happened elsewhere in the detective's naive body when he would catch glimpses of John's bare body (an inevitable feat that accompanies having a roommate).

It would be a reaction that could only be relieved in the privacy of the restroom with his hand lubricated in his saliva and pre ejaculate liquid. He would always turn on the faucet to the deter the noises that he was ashamed of making. Noises he would never thought to have made, let alone noises made with John Watson in his mind.

My body is just transport, is what Sherlock always told John when they went out to restaurants after a case. His body was nothing else to him after all. Or at least that's what he thought before John looked at him with his eyes. They held a mixture of concern and annoyance so much so that it forced Sherlock to pick up his fork and eat.

My body is just transport, Sherlock would repeat in his head. He had to think of it that way whenever his body was filled with the urge to touch himself to the thought of John Watson. He just had to relieve its needs before he could carry on with the next case. But who the hell was he trying to convince? John didn't know what he was doing to the detective and Sherlock felt that he would die if John nfct did know. If it was only his body that was being affected, then why was his mind always clouded with the non sexual images of John?

It is because you love him. He would imagine Mycroft telling him in a condescending tone. Was Mycroft always that condescending or was that just the way he imagined him from the constant anger he felt towards him and alienation he felt from everyone else?

Mycroft would always say nice things but in Sherlock's mind, it would turn into something sinister intentions. Of course anyone would think that if they were forced to live in the shadow of a particular person. Mycroft was always the handsome older brother with the annoying little brother he was stuck with when he was with friends. Mycroft was smarter.

Sherlock became quieter because of this. He too became intelligent like his brother but it worked out for him in a non positive way. He now understood why people act a certain way and their eyes were the worst part. The anger in them. The hatred.

Of course now Sherlock was more handsome, but by thee time his looks were more appreciated he was too introverted to be able to talk to anyone correctly. He felt vulnerable at their ability to criticize everything he did, hence the reason he deduced everything about them that he could; he wanted to feel superior. He wanted to feel as if their opinions of him didn't matter. But oh they did matter. And they hurt no matter how much the detective tried to think the emotion otherwise. He made his actions brief and his speeches swift whenever in the presence of others so that he could escape the judgement lingering behind their eyes.

Caring is not an advantage. "I know," Sherlock would silently snap to his brother's voice in his head. For Mycroft was right.

He would have been one of the top detectives that was actually part of a group if he wasn't so concern about their opinions.

He would have been the boss. Just like Mycroft. Maybe higher.

Yes, all of that was true when it came to caring. But for once, he wasn't sure that caring wasn't an advantage when it came to John. For example, he had to care about John's opinion whenever he said something offensive. He would always dart his eyes to John or crane his head slightly to make sure what he said wasn't too much.

It is because you love him

That, he was sure the Mycroft in his redundant mind palace was right about... just like many other things. Sherlock loved John. Love. So. Much. And because of this, he had to stop thinking about what he saw earlier so that he would be able to function properly around both him and Mycroft during the party. John had picked. Why so gloomy?

Sherlock sighed as he leaned his head against his quivering hand as he awaited the party to start. A party to celebrate Mycroft's promotion. And his coidus with John. His head was heavy with tears that threatened to slide down the curve of his cheekbones.

He thought back to the halls. He heard noises. Mycroft speaking. John puffing. They weren't having sex. What bothered him the most however was the fact that he didn't know if he could pleasure John in that way. Could he really please his body that way...in a way that made him create the same noises that Sherlock made when he pleasured himself to John. Did he have that ability to make John squint his eyes out of fervor and and...Sherlock wept.

Why are you crying? Caring isn't an advantage. You're body is just transport. Right

"Sherlock?" He heard John's voice as he sat next to him at the dining table along with the other guests barely arriving.

He swiped at his face and in an instant feigned nonchalance...like always.

"I have an announcement to make." Mycroft's posh tone shook him into reality.

The shift in attention was immediately noticeable. Mycroft always had that power. He was so smart and handsome that his voice would be a sin to not be heard.

"Thank you," he said, when everyone stopped talking. "As you all know, I was promoted not too long ago." Sherlock let out a small small chuckle that signified the fact that it was already well know. John nudged him, Sherlock drank more, and Mycroft continued. "The reason why I brought that up," Mycroft said to clarify his point. " Was because my previous position is still open and I would like Sherlock to take it."

"What?" Sherlock choked on his drink.

"Brothers working side by side!" Ms. Hudson exclaimed in her usual happy tone. "That is so lovely"

"No," Sherlock said low enough to still be a whisper but loud enough to be audible. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no! Sherlock's ears began to pound. His head began to ache.

Why was Mycroft doing this to him...What was he trying to accomplish?!

"No?!" Ms. Hudson asked in astonishment. As well as Molly and Lestrade.

A plethora of thoughts began to swell behind his eyes, causing his vision to become blurry. He stood up with his hand faintly lingering on the table to keep him steady. So many thoughts…

Was he trying to gloat at the fact that he won? Was he trying to show Sherlock that he could do anything because he had the control of everyone's opinions? Yes, that had to be it. What other reason would he have to announce this in front of the whole table filled with people that were supposed to be the most important people in his life? Mycroft forced him into a situation in which denying his offer would make him look even worse in front of everyone…

everyone including John.

John!

Sherlock's gaze settled on the army veteran that sat next to him with those eyes. The only eyes that had never judged him and that only creased out of concern.

John was staring at him and Sherlock didn't care about anyone else in the room. He tried to communicate with him with his own eyes.

John, what can I do to make you love me? Why did you pick Mycroft? Do you not know that I know more? Please tell me...

"Sherlock, are you alright?" John finally said, not answering his silent interrogations. John touched him. It burned so much

With this, Sherlock stormed out of the room in an attempt to leave before anyone could see the emotions that were about to cloud his face.

It wasn't long before he heard Mycroft's footsteps behind him. It had to be Mycroft for his footsteps were laced with determination.

"Sherlock," Mycroft said, putting his hand over his shoulders. "What is wrong? Did I do something to offend you?" Mycroft stood closely to Sherlock's back and Sherlock could feel his brother's presence behind him. Not body heat however, his brother seemed to have the body that contradicted his pushed facade of extravertism. He was always cold to the touch.

"Sherlock," Mycroft repeated, grabbing brother. "Speak to me!"

"Leave me be Mycroft," his voice said with as much hatred as he could speak.

"You were always like this. So anti social even when i offer you something like this. Are you alright. Why did you storm out?" Mycroft asked. "You're acting like a child- ."

"You think you know everything Mycroft? Yes? The big and bad MYcroft Holmes that basically runs the British government!" Sherlock said his name in third person, as if he wasn't there. He knew what he was doing. He did it purposefully. Mycroft hated being acknowledge but not being addressed to. "Well, you can't deduce better than me," Sherlock let out a bitter weak laugh. "Or at least can't deduce him better than me! I've tried so hard to understand him and now I do! I can already tell what he's into you know! My brother, Mycroft Holmes may be good at deducing things but not in the area of sex. I figure that's why you didn't make it as far as you could have."

"Sherlock, what are you talking about?" Mycroft said through his teeth, trying to stop himself from yelling.

"You don't know how to get his rocks off do you? Probably just pound into him with silence and nonchalance," Sherlock laughed again. "As if you know what makes him happy. You're unaware that he likes things rough but passionate. You can't tell that he likes being dominated though the army put him in innumerable positions that would suggest otherwise. He also likes it personal, he likes having his name being called but other than that he doesn't like to hear any other sounds. No dirty talking or play on words. Just moans and groans from the other partner and the slight wet sounds and perhaps slapping skin. He only likes the dirty talking to be used only in foreplaying."

"Sherlock I don't understand but let me drive you to your apartment and wait until you're sober before you make yourself out to be some kind of a fool," Mycroft suggested with genuine concern.

Sherlock laugh almost instantly. It was the force of which made him continue laughing till he was exhausted.

Oh the irony of the statement! Sherlock, drunk? At this moment? Mycroft acted so stupidly ignorant that Sherlock accepted that Mycroft's naivety be under the influence of alcohol before thinking he was this...this stupid.

"Was that not John's legs your head was in between?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft turned around as if making sure no one else heard.

His tight face reddened.

"You...you saw that?" Mycroft asked.

"Well?"

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Well, yes. If you really must know we have been together for a while and we were actually planning on announcing it tonight after I announced you working with me in the government. He was...aroused and…" a pause. "But honestly, I don't know what this had to do with anything do explain."

Sherlock's hard facial features relaxed into dread as he felt the tears coming out. He turned.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft looked at his shaking brother with a look of pained confusion. He stepped closer, reaching out his hand to touch his brother who was now facing away from him. "Sherlock— ?"

Sherlock let out a choked sobbed once Mycroft tried to touch him. Mycroft gasped, eyes wide as he stepped back from his visibly shaking sibling.

"You take everything away from me!" Sherlock shrieked, his voice nearly becoming raw from years emotions being forced out at once.

It was a side of him that Mycroft hadn't witnessed. He's seen him drunk and delirious. He'd seen him panic and shake...but crying? Mycroft Holmes hadn't seen him like that until now and for once, Mycroft Holmes did not know what to do.

"Sherlock..." Mycroft whispered, nearly mirroring the pain in his brother's face. "What have I done to make you like this?"

He grabbed Sherlock by both arms, almost shaking him. "Sherlock!"

"John. John Watson. I could talk to him. I wasn't scared of him like EVERYBODY ELSE! I spent months trying to understand. I spent months trying to see what he likes. But no matter what I couldn't figure out the type...the type of person he loved. But it turned out to be Mycroft Holmes." He laughed incredulously. "I loved him...so much." He hadn't realized he was using past tense.

"Sherlock...I'm sorry...I didn't know." Mycroft gulped.

Sherlock laughed. Incredulously Bitterly

"I didn't know Sherlock." Mycroft said. "Do you hate me to the point that you believe that I went out of my way to hurt you like this?"

"YEs" no

Mycroft stared in bewilderment and then gulped. "I understand," he said, then "I'm sorry Sherlock." before he left the room.

For once, he seems apologetic. For once.

He knew that he shouldn't be feeling this way for Mycroft didn't know. But he wanted to be angry.