angelzash: (Sherlock London)
[personal profile] angelzash
Title: Mycroft's Plan
By: [personal profile] angelzash
Genre: Romance, Drama
Pairing: Mycroft/John/Sherlock, Mycroft/John, Mycroft/Sherlock, Sherlock/John
Rating: PG so far
Warnings: Incest
Word Count:~2,200
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Chapter: 2/?
Summary: Mycroft's in love. The problem? He's in love with two men who are already together, and one of those men is his brother. But that's alright, because Mycroft also has a plan.

Notes: This is a response to this prompt on the BBC Sherlock Kink Meme.

John was being a bit of a pain this time. Not that I blame him really, poor guy. But that's why this took a bit to get out. Hopefully Sherlock will be better in the next chapter. Anyway, this is edited, but not my best editing job, I'll admit it freely. Also, it's unbeta'd. Might need to find a beta for this... But if you see any problems or have any constructive criticism, let me know and I will love you forever.


Chapter 1

Sherlock’s funeral was a somber affair, but still far more populated than Mycroft had ever thought it would be. There was a veritable legion of people Sherlock had helped over the years; a good-sized representation of the Met, which included a surprisingly teary-eyed Sally Donovan and a grim-faced DI Lestrade; Mrs. Hudson whom it was discovered got on famously with Mummy Holmes; and of course Dr. John Watson.

John didn’t cry at the funeral, though he did seem to ignore just about everything around him. Even Mummy Holmes and Mrs. Hudson together couldn’t cajole more than a thank you out of him. When Mycroft finally approached him, John’s eyes were puffy and glazed over, as though he was shedding invisible tears. His mouth was set in a tight line that told Mycroft as much about his state of mind as the cane he’d resurrected since returning from the Reichenbach Falls. It was almost enough to make Mycroft give in and tell John the truth.

Mycroft comforted himself with the knowledge that they would all be happier in the end if this worked. And if he saw it wasn’t working, if John turned out to be absolutely miserable without Sherlock, Mycroft could always tell him the truth later.

“Dr. Watson,” Mycroft said, his voice as gentle as he could make it. He waited for the other man to focus on him. “I’ve taken care of everything with 221b Baker Street. You will have no need to worry about staying there.”

His lips twisting slightly, John nodded and blinked hard several times. “Thank you,” he croaked, tears just beneath the surface of his voice.

Happiness that he’d gotten a response from him fought for dominance over the worry for how grief-stricken his love was. Mycroft shoved them both ruthlessly aside and leaned forward on his umbrella.

“Now is not the time to be considering such things, but you’ll want a new job soon, I’m sure. Something to keep you and your mind active, I believe. When you are feeling better, call me. I might have just the thing.”

John’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mycroft gave him a small smile of reassurance. “No spying involved this time, I’m afraid.” He sighed as if he considered this a very sad thing indeed and watched for John’s reaction. “Just something that would be suited to your skills and experience.”

Narrowed blue eyes regarded Mycroft for another few moments. “Why?”

A new word! Should Mycroft consider this a victory? Probably not given how suspicious John looked, but somehow it felt like it was. It was still more response than anyone else had gotten.

“For my brother. And because…” Mycroft took a deep breath and steeled himself to admit to at least a small part of the truth, “I have grown fond of you over the years. I don’t want to you to waste away alone in a job that you wouldn’t enjoy.”

John studied him again, his gaze seeming to cut away at Mycroft’s secrets to reach his very core. And then he nodded, and Mycroft felt the air rush back into his lungs.

“Alright,” John croaked again. “I’ll…consider it. Later.”

Nodding, Mycroft tried to keep his smile from turning too triumphant. He glanced over to see his assistant (Was it Atalanta today?) standing in the doorway waiting for him. She always did have impeccable timing, even if Mycroft would have liked to stay a little longer with John.

Soon… Soon… He must be patient.

“I must be going now. I’ve a few important matters that cannot wait.”

John looked over at Atalanta and scowled. “But it’s your brother’s funeral!”

It was gratifying to hear the indignation replacing the grief in his voice. Mycroft only wished he could make the pain of this whole affair disappear so easily.

“Yes,” Mycroft sighed, injecting just the right amount of despondency into his voice. “But wars must be averted. I will talk to you later, Dr. Watson.”

John scowled a bit more, but nodded. Mycroft could feel his eyes on his back as he walked back to Atalanta, and if there was a bit more spring to his step than there had been, Mycroft figured he could write it off as overcompensation.

Mycroft didn’t have long to wait before John came in to see him. He’d expected there to be a delay of at least a few months, not the three weeks it actually ended up taking. By the look on John’s face, he was already having second thoughts however.

That just simply couldn’t be allowed. John might be addicted to adventure and danger, but he was neither a fool nor one to regret any decisions he made. If he left here now, and he was close to it if the way he was restlessly shifting and looking about was any indication, then Mycroft knew John would never be back.

Standing suddenly snapped John’s attention back to Mycroft, and Mycroft smiled reassuringly at him. Irritation prickled at him as John’s eyes darkened with suspicion at the sight of his smile. He wasn’t that much of a bastard, was he?

“How have you been doing,” Mycroft asked conversationally, despite knowing full well how John was. Even if he hadn’t had John’s every move watched and his therapist’s notes to tell him, the haggard appearance of his clothes as they hung from his frame practically screamed it.

He motioned for John to come with him as he passed where he sat and made his way to the door.

“Fine,” John told him, his tone uncertain. “I’m…fine. Excuse me, but what are—I mean where—I thought you wanted to talk to me about a job?”

“Of course, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft fell back to walk alongside John, allowing himself to enjoy the other man’s presence beside him for once. “But I do believe a working relationship, or any at all to be truthful, is one that should be begun with as much honesty as possible, don’t you?”

Mycroft gave John another smile. “So, how have you been doing then, Dr. Watson?”

John scowled at him, and Mycroft knew the other man was dragging up all his reserves of patience and will power to not growl at him. As it was, he gritted out, “I’m sure you know better than I do. You’ve probably read my therapist’s notes already.”

“Ahh…” Mycroft nodded, smirking a bit. “She’s gotten better at hiding them from you, I see.” The sound of grinding teeth was unmistakable, and it made Mycroft wince in sympathy for John’s poor dentures. “I do believe the personal touch is best in matters such as this. And I like to think of us as practically family, so it should come as no surprise that I’m…concerned for your welfare.”

John’s eyes narrowed as he considered Mycroft for several moments. Finally, he nodded, seeming to melt under Mycroft’s scrutiny.

“I’m…not really ready to talk about how I am. I just… miss Sherlock,” John told him, sounding subdued and far more heartbroken than he’d probably meant to. “I see him everywhere in the flat. I changed the sheets and washed all the blankets, sprayed Febreeze over absolutely everything, but I can still smell him everywhere I go. And when I go out… Everything I see reminds me of him. I can’t do anything without thinking about him, wishing he was here…knowing it’s my fault—“


The protest was barked before John’s statement had even finished registering. Mycroft cleared his throat and tried again.

“No. None of this was your fault,” Mycroft told him before pausing to give John a reassuring smile. It was harder than Mycroft thought it should be. He found himself truly distressed that John should blame himself for any of this, especially since it had been Mycroft’s plan to make him believe Sherlock was dead. “Sherlock sent you back to protect you. He honestly does—did love you. More than—More than anything or anyone else in his life.”

John frowned at Mycroft and Mycroft cleared his throat again. He had a feeling his hurt at not even being cared for as Sherlock’s brother had shown through loud and clear.

“He cared for you too,” John told him in a gentle voice that forced Mycroft to look away as he blinked hard against the sudden moisture in his eyes. Surely he wouldn’t have to have the entire building’s sprinkler system looked at, would he? “He might not have shown it, but he did care.”

Clearing his throat, Mycroft nodded before taking a deep steadying breath. He stopped just outside a door at the other end of the hall from his own office.

“Well, we’re to discuss your working here, with me, for the government, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” John blinked at him, seeming slightly taken aback at the stop and sudden change in topic. “Um… I mean, you never said. What the job was, I mean.”

“Ah. Yes,” Mycroft said, nodding as he realized he hadn’t. “Well, you’d be our… ah…”company” physician. Accompanying me and others, investigating certain matters in which your…various areas of expertise would be invaluable, and various other such duties.”

John blinked and stared at Mycroft for a moment, a look passing through his eyes that Mycroft wasn’t sure how to interpret for once. He licked his lips as he obviously considered Mycroft.

“You want me to work with you?” John’s voice was low and skirted the edge of dangerous.

Mycroft kept his face impassive as he settled back on his heels and regarded John quietly for a moment. Perhaps what had attracted both him and Sherlock was the fact that John was not always easy to read. In fact, just now Mycroft was sure that John was angry about something, but he had no idea what. Was the idea of working with him so offensive? It couldn’t be working for the government that offended John, after all. He’d not only done that before, but he’d taken a bullet doing it.

“Yes. You would be working with me, quite often in fact,” Mycroft finally acceded. “Unless you would prefer not to?”

“What are you playing at, Mycroft?” John’s eyes snapped angrily in time to the snapping of his voice. It was a breath-taking enough sight that it actually nearly distracted Mycroft. He pulled himself firmly back in line, however, as John continued just as angrily. “Isn’t this taking sibling rivalry a bit far? Or are you simply trying to—to “care” for your dead brother’s widow? Because I’m not that desperate yet.”

Oh….yes, he was angry. Furious as only the newly grieving could be. Frustration, pain, and indignation all radiated from John even as he went unnaturally still. Ironically, this reaction only made Mycroft admire him more, even as he scrambled for a way to soothe John’s ruffled code of ethics.

“I’m not playing at anything,” Mycroft answered, allowing a frown to slip out. “I simply know you will need a job to keep yourself busy and…sane. Another position with a clinic would be fine, but you are special,” Mycroft emphasized the last word and paused to ensure the desired effect. “Not only were you able to stomach living and working with my brother, a hard man to get along with at the best of times, but you thrived under those conditions. After that, a clinic would bore you out of your mind and you’d be back to using your cane full time before the year was out.

“No, Doctor. This is not a pity position. I’m offering you this job because you are more than qualified for anything it might demand of you. I already know I can trust you, with my life if necessary, and… Yes, I have no wish to watch as my brother’s beloved falls apart needlessly.”

A flush had broken out over John’s skin, and he looked away as Mycroft finished speaking. John clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, reminding Mycroft of their first meeting together. He’d stood tall and proud then too, though that time it had been to defend a man he’d just met. This time it was only pride that stood in his way. Mycroft could only wait him out now.

It took a minute, during which time Mycroft felt his hopes for this plan to work sinking, but then John looked back at him, his gaze steady and sure.

“Alright,” John told him, still sounding wary. “I’ll hear you out. Tell me about this job and exactly what would be expected of me.”

Mycroft couldn’t have stopped the smile that spread over his face if his life had depended on it, but he did manage to keep it small somehow. >

“Of course, Doctor. Behind you is the door to what would be your office, if you’d be so kind…?”

John turned and opened the door, leading the way into the small yet tasteful office. Mycroft had had it set up to be a room where John could see patients as well as work and he was glad to note the look of pleased acknowledgment on John’s face as he looked around. Shutting the door behind him, Mycroft settled into his role of reeling his love in with notably more satisfaction than he usually felt when he knew he had won.

(no subject)

Date: 2011-08-24 11:51 pm (UTC)
coolcia: (Default)
From: [personal profile] coolcia
It's wonderful!
I hope you will upload next part soon!

(no subject)

Date: 2012-02-15 09:08 pm (UTC)
black_shiro: ([TW] captain jack)
From: [personal profile] black_shiro
I do hope you'll continue! I love it :D


angelzash: (Default)

September 2011

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