Chapter Text
He hadn't been thrilled by the discovery of being my soulmate, I'd thought that with time his opinion would change. Plenty of people were apprehensive of there being a person whose soul fit perfectly with their own, and it was understandable for someone so high up in the government to worry about having a pressure point like that.
That's what I told myself anyway, always reminding myself that Mycroft was a busy man with more pressing matters than making time for his soulmate.
It still stung whenever I'd wait the allotted half hour for him on a date, only to get a text from Anthea after exactly 30 minutes had passed that he wouldn't be able to make it tonight. It didn't take long for me to stop waiting for him to show up on these dates, I became good at being alone at tables reserved for two.
But I didn't want to be alone forever, and I certainly didn't want to be waiting for someone who would never love me back, nevermind actually like me.
So I stepped back. My daily texts to Mycroft stopped, I stopped haggling with him about making time for each other, and I stopped tugging on the fraying bond between us. Stopped sending strength and reassurance across the tenuous link connecting our very separate existences.
And I noticed that once I let go of the imaginary rope between us it felt slack. Like after all this time I'd been a delusional fisherman who'd thought they'd found the catch of a lifetime, but really it was just an impossibly strong current on the other side. Always giving the impression that there was something hooked and ready.
Or that there was just a waterlogged boot on the other end, I preferred to think of it like that. That maybe I did have something, but it wasn't worth the effort of fishing it out of the murky waters.
And when your hook got caught on something not meant for you, you didn't keep yanking on the line. You cut it.
The soul bond clinic in London was a sprawling pristine building tucked away in the heart of the busy streets. They were the specialists of the nation, focused entirely on soul bonds and their effect on human physiology. People could walk in for all manner of problems and generally they'd find help for them.
I walked down the sidewalk, holding my umbrella low over my head in the slight drizzle. I wouldn't put it past Mycroft to have his pressure point tailed by watchdogs, and I certainly did not want one of them running back and telling him about me entering a soul bond clinic. He'd guess at the reason far too quickly and I still held hope that there was another way of resolving our problems.
I ducked into the clinic and closed my umbrella, hooking it over my forearm as I stepped forward into the clinic waiting room and immediately encountered a friendly nurse handing me an application form and directing me to the seating area.
"Just give your application to reception when you're done and they'll tell you where to go." I returned her warm smile and took a seat. The form took only minutes to fill in, it was just a way of sorting people into different categories to make the whole ordeal quicker and more effective. I hopped up from my seat and went to fidget at the reception desk, shifting from foot to foot as the gravity of what I was doing finally hit. I didn't even notice the receptionist reading my form upside down, seeing the check marks for reason of visit, and giving me a pained look and touching my arm gently.
"Come on then, I'll take you to the west wing." He came around the corner and nudged me into moving alongside him.
The man exuded a calming presence that kept me grounded as we walked through the white corridors. He grabbed a set of pamphlets from a rack that we passed and handed them to me.
"Here, these give you more details to go over once you're home. It can all be a bit overwhelming when you're here."
I thanked him and put the wad of papers in my coat pocket. The waiting room we entered was much smaller and emptier than the first. The receptionist gave me a small wave and a reassuring smile as he left. It didn't take long before my name was called and I stepped into the doctor's office, feeling like I'd started down a path from which there was no return. I closed the door behind me with decisive click. This was what I wanted.
When I came out of the clinic an hour later, I emerged with a sheaf of paperwork and more pamphlets shoved in my pockets. There was a sense of hollowness inside, the kind you felt when you did something difficult but necessary. I knew that relief would come later, but right now I only felt like shit.
And to add to the shitty feeling I smacked straight into the second last person I wanted to see.
My papers were crumpled against my chest as I collided with too much overcoat and purple shirt.
I automatically apologized before stopping midway as I caught sight of high cheekbones and the signature Holmes look of superiority.
"Sherlock." I said dully and he cocked an eyebrow.
"No need to be overjoyed." He greeted back dryly as his gaze flicked over me automatically, collecting information before he even started to deduce. I sighed and gave him a moment to catch up to his instincts.
His eyes darted between the corner of the pamphlets poking out my pocket, the slightly worse for wear paperwork and then finally the clinic we were outside of.
He opened his mouth to say something but it was like he was buffering as nothing came out.
"Can we do this in private?" I half begged the detective, and he gave a swift nod and tugged me into an alley way I hadn't known was there.
"So what did my idiot brother do?" He asked, not even doubting that it was Mycroft who had screwed up. I let out a small chuckle at that.
"He's not great at the human thing."
"Acting human or interacting with humans?" He asked with a half smirk.
"Both." I laughed and that made him smile a little. "You're not going to tell him?" I asked even though I knew that Sherlock wouldn't.
He shook his head and his messy hair fell into his face.
"We both know he doesn't like feeling like he's failed at something. He'd do something stupid if he knew."
Somehow we'd ended up on my street, just a short walk away from my flat. The two of us lingered at the grungy mouth of the alley, still having so much to say about the person connecting us but unwilling to open the floodgates.
"He's going to notice that something's changed." He leaned against the wall and looked very dramatic as he was shrouded in the shadows.
The flair for drama was definitely genetic.
"And if he doesn't then his shadows will," his eyes flicked over the busy street, cataloguing and counting.
"What do you suggest?"
"I've got no cases and plenty of motivation to confound my brother. And nothing," Sherlock smiled smugly "would annoy him more than having his soulmate more interested in me."
"That's..." A very good idea actually, and I'd always been curious about what the younger brother was like when my bonded wasn't nagging him. "Only if I get to wear the hat." That got me another genuine smile from Sherlock and he handed my phone back to me from when he pilfered it earlier.
"Text me."
And with that the other Holmes brother twisted on his heels and strode back into the alley with his coat billowing behind him. I shook my head fondly and crossed the street, not bothered if any eyes saw me emerge from an alley.
Once in my home I felt like I could finally relax, let my stiff back slump back into bad posture as I fell onto my couch. I was contemplating a nap as my phone vibrated from my pocket.
I grunted in annoyance and pulled it out to read the message.
Fancy a flight to Tokyo? -MH
I'd always wanted to travel, but the last thing I wanted to do right now was be near Mycroft even though the ache in my chest felt worse at the thought of saying no to him.
It was probably only for a social event. He didn't actually want me there. I was just an image booster.
For a fancy date or fancy event? -
I hit send and kicked off my shoes and got comfortable.
Fancy event. You'll be back in time for dinner tomorrow. -MH
Nah, I'm good here. Enjoy tho.-
I didn't expect to get a reply after the rejection and started to drift off. My phone started to vibrate again, insistently. I sighed and answered the call, with my eyes still half closed.
"Good evening, my dear." He greeted smoothly and I felt some part of me ease at hearing his voice. Drawing myself so far from the bond for so long had taken it's toll.
"Mmm, hi." I said sleepily.
"Are you all right? I noticed some... Something amiss." He sounded as reluctant as ever when it came to even talking about our bond.
"Just feeling under the weather today." That was hardly convincing, but I was too tired right now to think of something better.
There was a thoughtful hum from his side of the phone.
"Mycroft." I murmured quietly.
There was hesitation.
"Yes?" He was so composed.
My chest felt like it could collapse from the forceful pounding of my heart. I could tell him, I could tell him that I missed him, I could tell him that I couldn't bear to keep scraping and pulling at a bond that barely reached his end anymore. I wanted to tell him that I needed him, right now and right here.
I remembered the one time I'd asked him to come home early and he'd scoffed and said that he couldn't leave the fate of the British government in the hands of the barely competent just so that he could satisfy the wants of one person who happened to have a claim to his soul.
"Goodnight." I said instead and hung up.
------
After the phone call it was like a truly conscious effort had been put into trying to decimate the bond myself.
Something which had always been stressed to us in school as being a terrible idea.
I'd always thought they'd been exaggerating the consequences. But in reality, they were understating them.
It began with body aches, flu like fevers wracking my body with shivers and sweats. No medicine alleviated the pain, and even if it did there was none left in my flat to use. After the first week of my emancipation from Mycroft the dying bond started to really rip into me.
I was exhausted all of the time, loathe to move or wake up. My bed was soon abandoned for the cold tiles of my bathroom, and it only got worse.
My body seemed to reject everything, food and water were things that were no longer allowed near me.
I needed to get to the clinic.
I needed Mycroft, I needed Mycroft.
No.
No.
My chest ached and burned like a festering wound.
Where was my phone, I needed my phone to call... Someone.
I couldn't move from where I was locked up on the floor.
Everyone had heard horror stories like this before, a bond between partners goes terribly neglected and wrong and someone ends up trying to reject the bond. Except the body doesn't know what to obey, the mind or the soul.
Horror stories didn't begin to convey what it felt like.
I wanted to die on that floor. A bitter part of me wanted Mycroft to feel it, to feel like something integral was being ripped out of him.
I would have died if it hadn't been for a nosy doctor and an even nosier Holmes brother.
Blissfully cool fingers pressed against my throat and I whined and moved closer. Different hands cradled my face and coaxed me into opening my eyes. All I could see was hard blue eyes and slicked back blonde hair.
"We're taking you to the hospital." A faint voice told me and I curled up tighter around myself as someone tried to lift me and my muscles spasmed and seized.
"Careful, Sherlock." The voice admonished as I groaned and pressed my face into a thick jacket. So bright. So bright.
Everything was bright until it wasn't.
I woke up in pain, feeling heavy and weighed down in a stark white bed. I moaned and scrabbled around for anything to hold.
"Ah good, you're awake." My movements stilled at the sound of the voice. "Don't even try to pretend to be unconscious."
I opened my eyes and there he was, comfortably seated at my bedside.
"Mycroft." I rasped flatly.
The confirmation that I could speak was all he seemed to need to know before he launched into one of his tirades.
"What do you think you were doing? No one had seen you for two weeks, the only reason you're alive is because of John Watson and my brother. Do you know how much of his baiting I'm going to have to endure now..." I tuned out his rant and focused on the bags beneath his eyes and the gauntness to his face that spoke of sudden weight loss. His tie was crooked, his pocket watch was missing and he'd let his collar turn up somewhere along the line.
"Why are you here then, Holmes." I asked him tiredly.
"Because without my presence right now you'd be in excruciating pain and possibly die." He shot back, teeth flashing like he was snarling. "Do you have any idea how stupid it was to hurt yourself like that?"
"I just wanted the bond to end. I just wanted to stop loving you." I murmured and looked up at the ceiling.
There was silence for a few moments.
"You were trying to break our bond yourself, that's-"
"Dangerous, I know. Which is why I scheduled an actual appointment to get it done by a professional."
"You... You were going to dissolve the soul bond between us?" There was a distant sort of surprise to his voice.
"Yes."
"Without telling me."
"You would have tried to change my mind. I was just so tired." I let my eyes close before turning my head and looking at him. "Why didn't you come when you felt it?"
He sighed and massaged his temples as he leaned forward in his chair.
"It's complex." He started.
"It's not," I interrupted softly. "it's simple. You chose the other option. You always choose the other option."
He reached out to cover my hand with his and I hated how the pain and confusion abated at his touch.
"I can't place one person above a country." He tried to explain.
"Then why not just dissolve the bond from the start, I could have gone on and lived my life without you and without this." I gestured with my free hand between the two of us and he seemed taken aback by my bitterness.
"Because I... I grew fond of you."
I could already feel a part of my resolve soften at his supposed admission. I couldn't let myself be drawn back in.
"I want the bond dissolved, Mycroft."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible right now." The voice of my doctor informed us. "With the state you and your bond is in now the backlash would be quite nasty, and you're not healthy enough to handle it."
"So how long until I'm better?" She gave me a doctorish look.
"It's not just about your physical health, the bond between the two of you needs to not be a livewire for it to be dissolved."
"What would happen if we did it anyway?" I interjected and felt Mycroft's hand tighten around mine. The doctor looked serious.
"There's a large chance that you would be... scarred from it. That's only if you survive."
Great. Just great.
I let my head fall back against the pillow as I listened absently to the list of do's and don't's when it came to repairing a soul bound you were going to sever as soon as it was possible.
I was cleared for release later that day. Something I would have been relieved about if Mycroft hadn't been hovering over me the whole time. I painstakingly changed into my own clothes and started to dial a cab on my phone.
"That won't be necessary. My car is outside." He brushed past me to hold open the front door and I sighed in resignation. Why waste money when there was a perfectly good government car available?
I got in and scooted to the far seat, where I could lean against the door. Mycroft sighed and climbed in after me, staying on the other side of the backseat and allowing me space for the first time.
"This only hurts you more." He sniffed while looking out the window. I crossed my arms and hunched in on myself, the car was cold and the body aches were back now that I wasn't touching him.
"I'm used to it by now." I snapped back, feeling childish. I saw him roll his eyes.
"It doesn't have to be like that." His voice was almost gentle, almost enough to make me cave.
I decided not to reply.
The car stopped outside of an understated manor, removed from the craziness of central London. I turned to Mycroft to glare at him. He was already climbing out of the car and waiting for me to do the same.
I growled under my breath and hoisted myself out of the car, the gravelled driveway crunching under my feet as I walked straight to the door and bypassed the owner of the house. The door swung open as I stepped onto the porch, I stared doubtfully at the doorway.
"Ghosts." I said with utmost conviction.
"Biometrics." Mycroft disagreed as he hovered at my side.
"Why'd it open for me then?"
"You're keyed in of course."
The house was still as I remembered. Beautiful, and so very empty. There wasn't enough Mycroft to fill such a big house. And there was a lot to him, mostly ego.
I headed straight upstairs, making a beeline for the guest bedroom I'd used last time.
"You remembered." He sounded surprised when he appeared at the doorway to what was sort of my room.
"How could I forget the only three times we spent more than a day together." I said with my back to him as I let myself fall on the massive bed. It was nice to stop standing, it was even nicer to kick off my shoes and bury my face deeper into the impossibly plush duvet.
"We need to discuss this." He tried to sound reasonable but I managed to poke his knee with my socked toe and provoke an irritated scoff out of him.
"I'm going to sleep."
"It's four in the afternoon!" He sounded aghast at the thought of sleeping. Which didn't surprise me, wakefulness seemed to be another Holmes family trait.
"I'm not going to argue with you when I could be sleeping instead." I mumbled into the duvet and Mycroft sighed but left the room anyway.
I ignored the tightening of my chest and let myself doze off.
I woke to a sense of relief followed by confusion.
Why didn't my entire existence feel awful? And why was there a warm body lying alongside my back?
I twisted and scowled at the suspect.
Mycroft lay on his side, his back arranged to fit perfectly against mine as he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Paperwork and his phone covered most of his stolen half of the bed and he'd clearly fallen asleep midway through doing something.
There was an awful bitter voice inside me that urged me to move away. I'd be in pain but so would he and that made it worth it.
But I was tired, and this was something I'd wanted- needed for so long.
So I pulled the duvet tighter around the two of us and let myself go back to sleep.
"Here is today's itinerary," He informed me the next morning while we were up far too early because one of us hadn't been able to sleep and we weren't quite sure who.
"That's a funny trick," I said dryly without glancing at the sheaf of papers he'd slid across the kitchen counter to me.
"It's not a trick." He said through his teeth as I continued to mostly ignore him.
"I'm not going to be paraded about for your public image, Myc." I emphasized the shortening of his name to annoy him more.
"I'd hardly want to parade a dying soulbond around." He spat and I couldn't help but stiffen at his words.
I knew I'd pushed him too far, but he'd been pushing me away for months.
"Then don't. Go to work and I'll go home. I'll see you for the mandated 'recovery' time tonight." I sneered at the term the doctor had used for the time we were supposed to be touching and being close.
"And if you suffer another fit before then?"
I finally looked at him and narrowed my eyes in a glare.
"Then I guess I'll die because my soulmate is a workaholic sociopath."
He was grinding his teeth, something he did without realising when he was reaching the end of his patience. He was even getting that sulky set to his jaw.
"I can't just take the day off." He bit out and I shrugged.
"Thought you only occupied a minor position in the government?" I felt a rush of satisfaction at poking a hole in his story.
"I need to go get ready for the day, I suggest you do the same." He dismissed and stood up from his seat.
There was a distinctive rigidity to his posture that betrayed his anger.
This all felt so bitter.
I was in the guest room, packing my meagre belongings after I'd showered and dressed in the spares I'd left here so long ago.
Mycroft was on the phone to someone, his frustrated voice muffled through the walls but I assumed it was linked to me.
I was grabbing my phone to call a ride home when he entered the room with a cursory knock on the door.
"You wouldn't even make it home in your condition." He said with a sigh.
"Bet."
His only reply was a sigh as he came and sat on the bed.
He looked tired, with his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up and his jacket placed carefully next to him.
I felt too much when I saw him like this. When he wasn't hiding what he felt, when he let down pretenses, when it was just us.
"Why must you make this so difficult when it is already challenging enough?" He asked softly and I could feel a physical ache start in my chest.
I went and sat on the bed and looked down at my hands. Nails bitten down to the quick and still quivering every now and then.
"I can't get closer to you just to tear myself away." I choked and balled my hands into fists as the shaking started again. "Why couldn't you care this much when it counted?"
He looked startled, like I'd slapped him instead of asked him what had been on my mind since I'd woken up in the hospital.
Tentatively he reached out and laid his hand over mine. The instant cease of the shaking and discomfort caused a painful sob to push it's way past my clenched jaw.
"What's wrong?!" He asked panicked and I let out a weak laugh as my eyes started to water.
"You shouldn't be the one to make me feel better when you're the one that made me feel like this!" I pushed his hand away and stood to pace anxiously, back and forth.
"I dreamt about what my life with my soulmate would be like okay! And I always thought that it would be making dinner together and playing bad music that we could sing to! And I dreamt about lazy Sundays and coming home to them after work and feeling better about my shitty day because they're there and they're smiling!"
"And I thought about how our tiny overpriced flat would be warm and cosy and big enough for us and a cat. And I dreamt about how everywhere would feel like home if they were around. And it's seems like the universe has a sense of humour because I'm your soulmate and you've never wanted any of those things! You'd prefer your soulmate to be some super smart person or a politician or dead."
My jumble of words came to an abrupt end as I said that and I looked at Mycroft with wide eyes.
He was pale and frozen in the face of whatever emotions I was crumbling underneath.
"I-I need some air." I mumbled thickly and left the room, feeling like I was going to be sick.
The feeling got worse as I moved further away. I had to stop when I reached the back garden porch. I could feel Mycroft still sitting in that quiet guestroom, something sharp and strained still connecting us.
Dead. I'd never considered that before. It was one thing to think your soulmate didn't want you as theirs but when they wanted you to be someone else or nonexistent that was... Rough.
I didn't want Mycroft to be anyone else. I just wanted him to be there.
I wanted to have memories of the two of us sitting on the bench I was sitting cross-legged on instead of having a vague recollection of how his home looked from the few times I'd visited.
I wanted so many little things that maybe they'd added up into something impossible to ask for from the Ice Man.
I let my head fall back and let a heavy shuddering breath as if to get rid of the excess of emotion sitting in my chest.
I could feel when he started making his way towards me. Trying to find me in the big house before relying on the tug he must have felt.
He was hesitating at the back door. I heard the door handle click as he stepped out. His slow, measured steps took him to the edge of the porch where he seemed to anchor himself against the railing.
"I don't want you to be anyone else." Mycroft said lowly. "I just want you."
His voice was strained and I could see the tendons of his hand flexing as his nails dug into the wooden rail.
"Do you mean it?" I asked softly.
"Yes."
No smart comment or fancy sidestepping. Just a straightforward one word answer.
Would it be so bad to give in?
I stood and walked over to him. He kept stock still, as if afraid of scaring me away.
Wrapping my arms around his middle brought a sense of peace now that it wasn't warring with resentment towards him.
Mycroft was warm and I let myself lean against him. Slowly he relaxed and let one of his hands rest on top of mine.
And for once, between the two of our smart mouths, we were content to be silent.