Work Text:
Sherlock was sitting in a grey interrogation room. He was staring at a paint blotch in the ceiling, ignoring the red blinking light indicating that the surveillance camera was recording. Or at least he was trying to ignore it. He’d been in the room for nearly three hours without any contact. His brain needed work and there was nothing in the room to keep it busy. This was forcing Sherlock to review the “incident” with Magnussen. He wasn’t sorry. Well he was, but not for shooting the man. He was sorry he had to leave John again. He was sorry he’d made Mummy worry again. He was sorry for a lot of things… His musings were thankfully interrupted when the door opened and his brother stepped inside.
Mycroft stood silently wearing his impeccable three piece suit. His face was emotionless and he didn’t look at Sherlock. Only when the red light went out did his mask slip slightly and a quiet sigh escaped him. He turned to look at his little brother.
“Dr. Watson is fine. Well, he was screaming for your release and threatening to break you out, until Mrs. Watson took him home, but he is unharmed and was released without charges.”
Mycroft’s ability to read his brother usually annoyed Sherlock, but this time he was glad he didn’t have to ask about John. Don’t want to appear sentimental after all.
Mycroft moved to sit opposite Sherlock. Neither said anything both waiting for the other to start speaking. When they were children their staring contests could go on for ages. This time however, Mycroft broke the silence after only a few minutes.
“You should have told me, Sherlock. I could have helped.”
Sherlock snorted at this. “I think my aim was just fine.”
“You didn’t have to shoot him! I could’ve helped.” Mycroft’s voice rose slightly and he was glaring at Sherlock.
Sherlock glared back at him and replied softly. “Magnussen would have destroyed John and Mary. And he would have destroyed you as well. I couldn’t allow that.”
Something changed in Mycroft’s expression and he seemed to want to say something but stayed silent. He cleared his throat and suddenly shifted his eyes from Sherlock’s.
“Lady Smallwood agreed to give you the MI6 assignment. It’s still better than going to prison, but… It’s possible I’m wrong about my estimate of the mission’s success… I …. I’m sorry little brother.” He finished lamely.
“Careful, Mycroft. You’re starting to sound almost sentimental.” Sherlock replied quietly, then added, almost as an afterthought “Caring is not an advantage.”
Mycroft looked at his brother and after a slight pause replied “No. Though that doesn’t mean I don’t.”
Sherlock lifted an eyebrow at this looking a bit confused. “Why? Why do you care?”
Now it was Mycroft’s turn to look confused. “You’re my brother.”
“Sharing some parts of DNA is not a reason.” Sherlock said almost angrily.
“You’re MY brother.” Mycroft answered testily as if this explained everything. After a while he continued softly “…you said I was lonely. I’m not lonely, Sherlock, because I know there is as least one person who understands me. Who’s like me. Who’s not a goldfish.”
Sherlock suddenly felt his throat tighten and he blinked a few times. “Yes… well… Thank god I don’t share your metabolism as well.” It was as close as Sherlock could get to admitting his feelings on the matter. Mycroft knew this and the look in his little brothers eyes had been enough to tell him that his brother cared for him as well. The sat silently again, but the tension was gone now.
“Will you tell our parents I’m sorry for ruining Christmas dinner?” Sherlock asked after a while.
“Of course.”
“And will you-“
“I will look after John as well. And his family.” Mycroft answered before Sherlock could finish his question.
Sherlock nodded and stared at his hands.
“Well, I’ll go and inform Lady Smallwood you’ve accepted their generous offer.” Mycroft stood up to leave, but Sherlock grabbed his arm.
“Thank you for… for looking after me. Even though it’s bloody annoying at times.”
“It’s what big brothers do. Or so I’ve been told.” They both smirked at this.
“Anthea will be along shortly to bring you your belongings and you will be moved to a more… stimulating environment.”
“Thank god. One can only deduce so much from one paint blotch.”
“I’ll see you shortly, Sherlock.”
“Blood.”