Summary: Mycroft and Sylvia kiss again. A mission fails. A heart is broken. Mentions of depressive thoughts.

Chapter 14 - Cold, cold heart

In my room, I decide to slip on a simple white sundress with little roses in the pattern to show off my legs. It's a bit chilly so I put on a pair of stockings and a light coat over the dress. I walk down the stairs to the kitchen and find Mycroft isn't there. I wonder if he's in his office. My stomach rumbling, I make my way towards the fridge to heat up some leftovers and eat them. I'm gonna need my strength if I want to tease Mycroft and we end up…well, making out with abandon. I eat some fruit too, and pop a mint in my mouth after I'm done just in case. I still haven't smoked today and I feel proud of myself. Suddenly my phone buzzes and it's Sherlock calling me. He never calls anyone.

"Sherlock?" I pick up, slightly apprehensive.

"I heard Moriarty tried to attack you. Are you alright?" With all that's happened I completely forgot to tell Sherlock. He must have called Mycroft.

"I'm alright. He was very creepy. But he didn't hurt me."

"I'm sorry this has happened to you Sylvia, you were very brave. What did he say to you exactly?"

"Just…creepy stuff and threats. He wanted me to steal Mycroft's laptop and said he'd kill him if I told anyone." I pause, then continue in a lower voice. "He also...said he'd read my diary Sherlock. He must have broken into my flat. And he wrote See you soon with a smiley face on the bathroom mirror."

"Yes, I've read your diary as well. Your poems were quite cringey, but I'm glad someone feels that way about my brother. As for Moriarty's message, I wouldn't read much into it. He enjoys scaring people." Sherlock replies, in his usual robotic tone.

"Sherlock! How could you do that? That's private!"

He scoffs. "Please. No such thing as privacy."

"Did you break into my flat? Did Moriarty?" I ask frantically.

"Obviously and yes, I suppose so. He must have done it while we were out."

"My God." I bring my hand to my forehead in frustration.

"I assume you and my brother have made progress in your relationship."

"What?"

"I can tell by your high pitched and slightly out of breath voice that you were most likely engaging in a salacious activity and are attempting to hide it."

"Sherlock! Shut up, that's not-we didn't...Shut up!"

He chuckles warmly. "I see. Well, do use protection. We don't want an accidental Holmes child being brought into-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

"Have fun, Sylvia."

Click.

I throw my phone down on the counter a little too hard and huff, holding onto the marble. I can't believe Sherlock deduced this through the damn phone! Or maybe he had already spoken to Mycroft and deduced it from him.

"Everything all right?"

I jump and turn backwards to see Mycroft in the kitchen doorway. How long has he been standing there? "Yeah I was just…Sherlock called." I creep into a smile and let out a chuckle, remembering Sherlock's comments.

"What?" Mycroft asks curiously.

"Nothing he just…" I let out a sigh. "He said he read my diary too. Apparently everyone has!" I throw my hands up in frustration.

"I haven't."

"And you never will." I grip the counter again.

"Why? Is there something about me in it?" He asks, stepping into the kitchen.

"No!" I reply a little too fast. "It's just…my poems, you know."

"No, you haven't shown them to me. Like you said you would."

"I'm waiting for yours first, Mister."

"Patience, my dear." He replies with a small smile.

I bite my lower lip and smile at the ground. God, he's so sexy when he banters like that. And calling me my dear is the icing on the cake. I decide to try and seduce him a little and pull myself up onto the kitchen counter. I sit and cross my legs to show them off. "I can show them to you…if you order it."

His eyebrows shoot up when he sees me sit on the counter. He glances at my legs with his mouth slack and I bite my lip again to control myself. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing. I'm just talking to you."

"Get down from there right now." He says in a stern tone that makes my insides squirm in delight.

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that an order, sir?"

"Yes." He replies in a stoney voice.

I climb down, making sure my dress slightly hikes up my legs as I do and he moves to stand in front of me, trapping me between him and the marble counter. I breathe in with anticipation. He takes a step closer to me, our bodies almost touching and asks in a low voice: "These kisses of yours…do they have to be on the lips?"

I frown slightly disappointed. "Well, I'd like them to be…but…you can kiss me anywhere you want." I reply, almost whispering.

He smirks and lowers his head, bringing his lips near my neck. My breath hitches. I feel his lips brush against my skin and just when I think he's bringing them closer to kiss the crook of my neck he moves them over my ear. "Oh, by the way, have you been trying to stop smoking like I told you?"

"Yes." I reply breathlessly.

"Good." He whispers back and I feel a shiver throughout my whole body. Then, he finally brings his warm lips to my neck and plants a delicious soft kiss there. I gasp and he lets out a satisfied hum and his breath tickles my skin again. I bring a hand to his shoulder and grasp the fabric of his coat, my other hand around his bicep. He kisses me again, closing his warm lips around my skin, slightly lower this time, and I shamelessly moan, my eyes closing. Then, he pulls away and I whimper: "Wait, that was too quick! I want longer kisses."

He lets out a soft chuckle. "I seem to remember you saying you'd be able to control yourself and not ask for more, Miss Sylvia." He replies in a low voice. I move my fingers resting on his shoulder and arm. I could stay like this forever, so close to him. I glance at his lips as he continues: "One kiss in exchange for every order."

I bring my face closer to his, one hand hanging onto his neck. "No, I said you'd have to kiss me for every order I obeyed. I never said how many." And I bring my mouth to his, tasting his lips hungrily but softly. I caress the nape of his neck and press my body to his. I plant soft kisses on his lips, trying to get in as many as I can before he pulls away.

His hands softly grip my wrists and he brings them down to my sides, as he pulls his lips away from mine. "That's quite enough Miss Sylvia, get a hold of yourself."

"But it feels so good." I whimper into his lips. Why can't this man just stop thinking and make out with me already? This starting and stopping is torture.

"I know. But I have some work to do, I'm afraid. I'll see you later, okay?" He says with a soft smile that melts my heart.

"Okay." I smile and grip his hand, slightly caressing it as he turns away, heading towards his office.

I bring my fingers to my lips and close my eyes, savouring the feel of him before it fades away. I try not to read too much into what he said. He probably just actuallyhaswork to do and can't afford to be distracted by me. I wonder if he gets aroused thinking about me and can't concentrate on his work. Probably not as much as I do but he had to a little, right? I was pretty sure I could feel him get hard when we pressed our bodies together, but maybe he just had a cucumber in his pocket. Oh shut up Sylvia, I think as I chuckle into my hand.

I spend the rest of the afternoon reading another of Mycroft's books in the garden but as the sun starts to descend, I feel the chill on my legs and make my way inside. I put Mycroft's book back in its place on the shelf in the library, and think back to the time he played the piano. I decide I'm going to try and convince him to teach me how to play some more. I remember how close we sat together, our arms brushing against each other. Oh God Sylvia, you really are horny for this man. Calm down and be cool, you don't want to seem desperate.

I find Mycroft sitting in the dining room, his head in his hands, an almost empty glass of whiskey and his phone on the table in front of him. Two gigantic iron knights sit atop their horses, one on each side of him. It looks like a dramatic scene from a tragic play. I silently approach him and place my hand on his shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

He flinches away as he raises his head, so I remove my hand. He leans back in his chair, looking defeated. "Moriarty. He's found out about a secret mission we've been planning for years because of Sherlock and that...woman. All that effort, months and years of planning. Finished."

"Oh…I'm so sorry. Wha-what can we do?"

"We can't do anything, Miss Sylvia. I have to go and meet Sherlock."

"Can I come too?"

"No, please don't try to help, you'd only get in the way. Stay here."

"Alright. Good luck." I reply quietly. He seems really upset over this and I don't want to infuriate him. He rises from his chair and leaves the room wordlessly. I hear him walk towards the foyer and fumble around, putting on his winter coat I assume. I gaze out of the window and see him walk towards one of his cars, umbrella in hand.

After a couple of hours, and me trying to unsuccessfully distract myself with my phone and attempting to play the piano, I go up to my room and sit by the window to await for Mycroft's return. As I see a car arrive, I perk up, waiting to see him in his winter coat and umbrella. Instead, I see Sherlock get out of the car, followed by a beautiful woman and, at last, Mycroft. Irene Adler, I think. I remember Sherlock showing me her website and Twitter page after he'd been at her house. We all thought she was dead. I decide to get out of my room and climb down the stairs silently, to listen in on their conversation.

I sit on a step, my face in the space between the wooden bars, and peer into the dining room. I can make out Mycroft and Irene sitting at the table. I listen to Mycroft's threats, Irene's witty comments and struggle to hold in a chuckle when she says: "Explosive. It's more me." She really was something. Then, she sits on the table between her and Mycroft, her legs crossed and dangerously close to him. I feel a heat of jealousy creep up my neck. She looks stunning and she is very seductive. She calls him the Ice Man too. To my great relief though, Mycroft rises from his chair and comments: "And here you are. The dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees. Nicely played." and I cover my mouth again to hold in a giggle at hearing him say the word dominatrix and knees. I feel like a schoolgirl staying up way past her bedtime to spy on the grown-ups' party.

But it's not over yet, because Sherlock interrupts the moment: "No." Confused at first, I hear his deductions as he takes Irene's wrist, and just when I think he's about to kiss her, he whispers: "Because I took your pulse." He takes her phone from the table and types each number of the passcode, pressing the buttons dramatically, each beat in sync with his fast-paced speech. He holds up the phone then, revealing the code. I can't see the phone screen from where I'm standing but I'm on the edge of my seat, or step that is, gripping the railing as I listen to the thrilling conclusion. Then, Sherlock leaves and Mycroft is alone with Irene. They exchange a few words and he walks her out of the house. I assume they are going back to one of his cars. The jealousy tugs at my heart again, turning my stomach. She is far sexier than me and was probably attempting to seduce Mycroft into protecting her as I waited for him to come back like an idiot. The seconds feel like hours as I eagerly await for him to return, sitting on the stairs like a fool, because I'm afraid he'll see me peeking through the ground floor windows at the car. When I hear the door opening and Mycroft emerge from it, my heart leaps with relief and I hurriedly climb down the stairs to meet him. He eyes me surprised and slightly annoyed.

"What was the passcode?" I ask excitedly.

"What?" He replies wearily.

"The phone passcode that Sherlock guessed. What was it?"

"Oh. It was Sher locked." He replies dryly, putting emphasis on Sher.

I chuckle. "Really? Wow, that was so cool! So what's gonna happen to her now?"

"Cool? Do you think this is a game, Miss Sylvia?" He eyes me with fury in his eyes. "This was a highly dangerous mission, one that failed before it was even started because of my little brother trying to impress a damsel in distress. We lost everything we worked for and our nation and the safety of its citizens were in the hands of a fugitive sex worker. Thankfully, Sherlock was able to acquire the information she was blackmailing us with. Now that she no longer has that protection, she will most likely be dead in six months. And you find that cool?"

I curse myself for acting like an excited kid. Mycroft has probably been through a lot today. We all have, really. "I'm sorry Mycroft, I only meant- I meant Sherlock's deductions, that's all."

"Of course. I'm glad my little brother's parlor tricks were amusing to you. You had no business listening in to our conversation."

"I was waiting- I was just curious. I won't tell anyone about it."

"I should hope so." He walks past me, towards his office, looking positively pissed.

"I-I'm sorry Mycroft, I didn't mean to offend you." I plead one last time, not wanting him to be mad at me.

He turns towards me, angrily. "I'm not offended. Just keep your comments to yourself from now on. I have important work to do, if you don't mind." He sneers and turns away, heading towards his office. I look down at my dress and feel so silly having been so excited to tease him today. And anxiously awaiting his return, thinking he'd be happy to see me. He probably has already forgotten about our kisses after what he went through. I feel exhausted and defeated so I make my way to my room and try to sleep.

The next morning I awake at around 8:30 and groan. Another awkward morning of not knowing how to act or what to say around Mycroft. I put on some jeans and a jumper and walk down the stairs to have some breakfast in the kitchen. Mycroft's words from last night are still turning in my stomach and our fabulous kisses are still tugging at my heartstrings. I see him standing in a grey suit with a dark blue tie and a white pocket square.

"Good morning." I say shyly.

"Good morning." He replies flatly. Then, probably noticing my sad and apprehensive demeanour, he continues: "I have some good news. We were able to catch the rogue terrorist. He was working for Moriarty."

"Oh, good." I reply cautiously. "So, we can go back home now?" Mycroft raises his brow quizzically so I continue. "We were staying here because of him. If he's caught then we don't have to stay here anymore, right?" I ask, trying to hide my disappointment by reaching for a coffee mug from the cupboard.

He inhales and tilts his head in thought. "Yes, but Moriarty's break-in and threat changed that. It's best if you stay here. I will have to go back to work of course, but you're free to spend your time-"

"I'm not staying here by myself all day!" I reply, annoyed.

"Miss Sylvia, please-"

"No, it makes no sense. If he broke-in here, he can break-in anywhere. I can just go back to my flat."

Mycroft clenches his jaw and looks down, appearing slightly guilty. "It's much safer for you to stay here under my agent's surveillance, than your flat."

"Well, I don't want to and you can't make me…" I reply, fidgeting with the handle on my coffee mug. "Even if you kiss me in return." I add quietly, looking down.

Mycroft clears his throat. "I- about that. We can't keep playing that little game, Miss Sylvia. It's…simply inappropriate."

I look up at him slightly hurt. I don't understand why he's acting like this. "Why are you so cross with me Mycroft?"

He huffs. "I'm not cross, you're a security concern. Moriarty took an interest in you and because of that, you need extra security. You're one of his targets now, and it's all my fault."

"No, it's not, a terrorist escaped from the ball Mycroft, you couldn't have predicted that, no one could. And as for Moriarty making me a target, it's not because of you."

"He was able to deduce you have feelings for me. That's why you're his target." He narrows his eyes at me.

"Yes, well…that wasn't your fault, it was mine. And since the damage is done already, we might as well make the most of it." I smile at him, attempting to lighten the mood and ease his concerns. I don't understand why he's so conflicted with this. Moriarty knows I like him, who cares? Can we go back to making out now?

"Miss Sylvia-" He breathes out and runs a hand through his hair, looking away.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes?" I reply with another small smile, stepping closer to him, trying to show him everything's alright.

"We can't do this...kissing game. It's...I don't want to get your hopes up." He looks up at me coldly now.

"What do you mean?" I ask with a furrowed brow.

"I don't want a relationship with you Miss Sylvia, I'm not…attracted to you."

I blink to get a better look at his face. "B-But…you kissed me back." I reply, confused.

"I took pity on you.But couldn't bring myself to continue." He replies with a horrible smirk.

"Wh-what?" I feel like I'm in a movie. This can't be real.

"You heard me. I felt sorry for you and didn't want to crush your self esteem, so I played along with this little game of yours. I was afraid if I rejected you, you'd fall into depression again. But I can't bring myself to keep going. You need to know the truth." He says this in a monotone voice, his upper lip twitching with disgust.

"No, you…I felt…you can't fake that Mycroft." I shake my head from side to side, not wanting to believe what he's saying.

"Believe me, I can. It's quite simple. And it was pathetic how easily you fell for it. You must really be desperate for attention." He places his hands in his pockets nonchalantly and smirks as if he's making fun of me.

My face drops and I fight back the tears that are stinging at my eyes. "You…don't mean that. Don't-"

I could feel the frost come over his features and his gaze become cruel. He straightened up. "Enough Miss Sylvia, this is getting too desperate even for your standards. I am not attracted to you. I don't have feelings for you. I am nothing but your employer and our relationship is nothing more than acquaintances, at best. I apologise for leading you to believe there was anything more between us."

I feel an ice pick go through my heart and my stomach. That was cold. But I could be cold too. I lived in the cold. My mourning turns to hatred. "Okay..." I clear my throat and look up at him. "Okay." I reply, my hatred growing stronger by the slight twitch of surprise on his eyebrows. He was expecting me to protest more. To beg for his affection. Boy, was he wrong. "I am never speaking to you again, Mycroft. And I never want to see you again, either."

I turn and climb the stairs to my room, tears flowing down my face. I put my few belongings into a small bag: my phone charger, a pack of tissues, my nightguard, a bottle of water and my wallet. I head towards the bathroom to blow my nose and try to compose myself. I put on a winter coat and leave the room I started calling my own behind. I would return the clothes I was wearing to Mycroft after having them cleaned. I don't want anything from him, ever again. I descend the stairs and head towards the door. Mycroft must have heard me because he stands with a glass of whiskey at the living room doorway.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks. I can hear the annoyance and worry in his tone and it pleases me.

"Home. I don't need to stay here any longer." I say while turning the handle of the front door.

"You can't leave, Miss Sylvia! Moriarty-"

"I don't give a fuck, Mycroft!" I glare at him with disgust and anger. I was determined to not speak a single word to him again but seeing his shocked reaction made me feel slightly better about the dark pit of sadness inside my chest. "I'd rather live with him than stay a second longer in your presence. Goodbye."
He opens his mouth to speak but I'm already out the door and slamming it behind me. I walk down the stone pathway and open the metal gate, ignoring the driver climbing out of his car. He probably assumed I was going in it. I'm never getting inside one of Mycroft's cars, ever again. I want him out of my life, every trace of him. I walk down the street and pull out my phone to look for the nearest tube station and it starts buzzing, Mycroft calling me. I decline and block his number. To hell with him and his concern. If I've been such a nuisance in his life, he could rest assured in knowing he would never have to worry about me again.

I walk furiously and it feels good. I want to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I'm never speaking to him again. I open the map app on my phone and see I'm a few kilometres away from a train station. I wonder if I should call an Uber but decide against it, feeling like I need to be alone and walk to calm down. I click on the directions on the map app and the tears start falling again. No more distractions, back to my horrible thoughts inside my horrible brain. How could you have been this stupid Sylvia? You thought he liked you? He could never like you, no one could. You're disgusting. You're desperate. You're a sad stupid girl. I bet Sherlock doesn't like you either, or John or Mrs. Hudson. They laugh at your jokes, of course, but that's because you're weird and off-putting. They laugh at you behind your back. They're repelled by you. You know this, you've always known this. Sink deep into the sadness and hatred again. Close your heart and lock it shut, so no one can break it again. Drown your thoughts. Go have a drink when you get home, and smoke too. Fuck Mycroft, fuck everyone, fuck the world.

I wipe at my face as the icy wind stabs my wet skin. It feels good to hurt myself in these small ways. I wince at the cold. My quivering lips stiffen into a resolute frown, much like Mycroft's features did in front of me. I am going to do whatever the fuck I want, and I have money for it too. My cement frown turns into a satisfied sneer. I'm going to fuck myself up as much as I want, with abandon.

Notes:
I hope I didn't disappoint you, dear readers. I was enjoying Sylvia and Mycroft's time at the safe house but didn't want to stretch it out too much. Also, I love some anger and angst. xD
I have now successfully uploaded all the chapters I've written so far into fanfiction dot net. You may expect weekly updates from now on. There is more banter and funny arguments to come. Also, don't worry, because this story will have an eventual happy ending!
I'd love to know your thoughts, do you think Mycroft was lying or telling the truth?