FRIDAY!

Just a random selection from Mycroft's brolly collection.

How Does That Feel?

Mycroft Holmes stood with his little brother as they got dressed together. They were very grown men now and it dawned to him they had not done such since...

"The day before you left for uni. Black trousers, a white button with slate pullover, a navy-blue tie, black socks, and lace-up brogues for you. Black short pants with braces, a tee with charcoal stripes, white knee socks and black penny loafers for me." Sherlock chuckled, speaking aloud the thought in Mycroft’s head, his usually mellifluous voice soft with bittersweet reminiscence.

For all their differences as they became men of the world, when the Holmes brothers were in sync, it was uncanny. This was one of those times.

How does that feel? he asks himself. It something Mycroft does on emotionally laden days to acknowledge the feeling, name it and move on so that he’s not overwhelmed.

“Funny how that feels.” He mused aloud.

“I know.” Sherlock nodded in understanding.

“You loved those braces. They had little yellow and black bee buttons sewn into the front of them."

"Little bee buttons that YOU had sewn into the braces." Sherlock emphasized.

"I did not know you knew." Mycroft smiled surprised, but pleased.

"Mummy refused to buy me the short pants I had seen in a store window and wanted them." Sherlock chuckled in memory. "Yes, they were shorts for little girls, but I did not care. I wanted the bees."

"Yes. And you had caused quite the scene on the asphalt I was told. You were five and already so head strong. Mummy really should have known better." Mycroft chuckled. "You were so chuffed when I presented the black braces, with the bees sewn on, to you a few days later."

"Oh, my behavior then was a pittance compared to the meltdown I had when school bully Melvin Vandenberg, popped off one the buttons, then ran off and tossed it where I could not see. I tore up the flower beds looking for it until I was bodily picked-up and carried out screaming when I could not find it. I thought it lost forever. I was inconsolable. I  thought..."

Mycroft saw the slight melancholy that creased Sherlock’s brow then and he knew.

"Though I have to say that must have been one impressive meltdown - enough to have your friend Victor and all of facilities scour the entire yard until it was found, Brother Mine, I would have never hated you for losing a simple button were it not found."

"I realized that later in hindsight. But right then and there when I already felt abandoned by you for going to uni without me, I just knew you were never coming back because I had been so careless." Sherlock shrugged and continued dressing.

So many, many years later and Mycroft could see a shadow of that hurt within his brother. It was life, he could not apologize for being off to university. Nonetheless he felt sorry for the pain his leaving caused Sherlock. It was the beginning of the chasm that formed between them. Given who they are as men, though things are certainly better between them, there still were moments when Mycroft wondered if it will ever fully close.

How does that feel? Sorrow, Regret.

Sherlock’s momentary grasp on his shoulder brought him back to the present and reminded him of how far they have come that Sherlock not only noticed, but quietly did what was needed to remind him that it might have taken them a couple of decades but that chasm has begun to close.

How does that feel? Good. It was a good feeling.

"Victor found the button later and gave it to me and then walked up to Vandenberg and punched him in the nose making it bleed." Sherlock looked askance for a moment a small bittersweet smile played at his lips. In less than a two year from that day is when Sherlock loses Victor because…her.

And it is Mycroft’s turn to grasp Sherlock’s shoulder to ground him.

"No one did anything like that for you again until John...and the cabbie..."  Mycroft said carefully, years of being who he is reminding him ears can be anywhere listening.

"Not until John." Sherlock confirmed.

"And that’s why you're marrying him."

"One of the many reasons why."  Sherlock tied a perfect double-Windsor knot on the second try. "None other cares for me the way John does."

"Oh?" Mycroft hmmed tying a perfect double-Windsor knot on the first try. When Sherlock did not respond, Mycroft said nothing as he finished dressing.

John, for all he does care for Sherlock, he has only been in his brother's life the past eleven years. Even Gregory Lestrade, who certainly cared for Sherlock, had five more years than that. Except for the years in uni and the first few as an agent, Mycroft has spent his life, especially the last near thirty of them protecting Sherlock in so many ways. Yes, things were better, but there was still something of a strained relationship between them as adults. He could not help the twinge of hurt he felt at the seeming dismissal of it all.

How does that feel? Disappointment, with a tinge of resolve. It was not a good feeling.

"You two about ready in there?" Greg, John's best man, knocked on the door just then.

"We are." Mycroft went to the door, grateful for the diversion.

Gregory looked at him, the unspoken “You okay?” in the raised brow.

Mycroft gave a single nod in an equally unspoken “I'm fine.”

“How's John?" Mycroft knew his husband would understand he changed the subject on purpose, but would let it be for now, knowing he'd explain later.

"Left him with Mike, checking off the new, borrowed and blue." Greg stood at the door looking to Sherlock, "He said you had something for us…?"

"That reminds me, Sherlock, where is your something ol...?" Mycroft started to ask.

He stopped when Sherlock reached into a toiletry bag and handed him a small box. He raised a curious brow as he opened it, then gasped aloud as he looked at his brother completely stunned. "Oh Sherlock!"

"Myc?” Greg entered the room fully at Mycroft’s stuttered breath in contrast to Sherlock’s pleased but shy smile. He closed the door behind him. “Sherlock?"

Mycroft held the box out so Greg could see the contents.

"Bees and safety pins?" Greg looked from the little bee buttons inside the box to the two brothers staring at each other.

"You…" Mycroft’s usually cool blue-grey eyes were suddenly warm with unshed tears as he found his somewhat choked voice. His fingers gingerly touched the buttons as though he would not believe they exist without doing so. He stared at his little brother. “…you kept these...?”

"Of course." Sherlock reached into the box, "You got them just for me. You defied Mummy who was stuck on the gender bias of their coming from a girl's outfit. She told me years later how you argued with her for me to have them when you explained exactly how you knew I would wear them."

“Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Rosie are wearing similar, but different bee buttons that I gifted them as important in my life. But these original buttons are ours…” Sherlock picked up two bees and safety pins and secured them to his brother’s lapel. "Though young yourself, you fought for me. You understood her points, but you fought for me to be me, even at that tender age. Yes, you left for uni soon after, and I simply could not understand that, but I have never forgotten that you did this for me Mycroft."

Mycroft was speechless as he watched Sherlock pin him. He remembered the buttons, but they were both young children when he had given them to Sherlock. He had thought the buttons to be long lost to history. That Sherlock had kept them through the years since floored him.

How does that feel? Frankly overwhelming, but good.

"It was the first of many such battles. Between I and our parents until they finally understood I had to find my own way and they had to accept it. Other than the drug use, you have never stopped me from being me, even if you don’t always agree with my choices. John and Greg also accept me as I am and will each get one bee, but you were the first, so you get two.” Sherlock continued speaking as he straightened Mycroft’s lapel. “And for all the trouble I have given - and let's be honest will continue to give you, today, I wanted you to know while I outgrew the short pants, and the ability to easily tell you such, I have never outgrown my need for someone to understand the dragon slayer, when no one else does. Yes, I have John, Greg and even Molly, but they are not you. None other cares for me the way John does – save one. And right now, I want to acknowledge that one and say thank you. Thank you, for everything, Brother Mine. Thank you."

Hearing the words from Sherlock, the open acknowledgement, Mycroft was ashamed of having just thought his brother was apathetic to him. He should have known better. For all the strain between them growing up, Sherlock was very much like him in certain ways. Sherlock just was not one for such outward displays of affection.

Mycroft gave a tremulous smile at the memory of the conversation held as they smoked in front of their parents' house that long ago Christmas when he called Sherlock a dragon slayer. He was further shamed to realize that had been the last openly tender moment between them as brothers.

Until now.

Mycroft understood that heartfelt thank you was Sherlock's way of saying he loved him. It was as good as he was going to get with his brother.

And the unshed tears flowed. “Oh, Sherlock!”

Sherlock then picked up two more bees with safety pins and held them out to Mycroft. "Can you?""

"Oh, of course!" Mycroft took the items and pinned the bee buttons to Sherlock’s lapel. As soon as he was done, he did something he rarely did with his brother as an adult: pulled Sherlock into his arms and held him tight. "I love you, Sherlock."

Though he would never forget it, Mycroft will be eternally grateful to Greg, whom both brothers had all but forgotten was in the room with them, when in a few days will present him with a framed photograph of the moment captured on his phone.

The moment when Sherlock himself did something even more rare: hugged his brother back tightly and then said the actual words.

"I love you too, Mycroft."

How does that feel? Absolutely Wonderful!

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OMG ! It’s so beautiful ! I cried my eyes out …

Hand-made cards from Sherlock and Mycroft.   Happy Mother’s Day!

She ended up buying fifteen boxes.  

Because that’s hella intimidating.

Looking sharp in the 70s.

Bonus:

J: Errr... Whose go is it?

S: Mycroft is taking his time to make a dramatic finale

J: You mean he can win from here? We've only been playing five minutes.

M: I'm simply thinking my actions through.

S: And those actions are 'get cheese' and 'win game'.

M: How little you think of me, brother mine. I'm actually thinking 'humiliate you two at children's game'.

J: Next time I'm playing Solitaire.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Quote from @incorrectlysherlock !

Happy Valentine’s Day

Mycroft is taking forever to pick his selection from the candy pile.

Just a random selection from Mycroft's brolly collection.

perfect for today, it's been raining all day.

That would be Ain't Seen the Sunshine (Since I Don't Know When) by emungere, and it's well worth a read!

yes! this is one of my all time favorite fics in this fandom, i have re read it many times! there are some followup stories in the set, and there might still be the blog, i haven't looked that up in a while, but it continued the story for a long time. top shelf.

Sherlock: You’re smarter than me, why do you need me?

Mycroft: Because you actually ENJOY floor time :/ and talking to people :///

Mycroft was always so serious when he played the spoons.

“I’m living in a world of goldfish.”