The Mycroft Ultimatum
Summary: Mycroft has a problem, Sherlock is in denial.
Additional facts: Sherlock hates sharing.
Solution: Steal John.
Disclaimer:...If I really owned Sherlock, do you really think I would be here writing instead of directing the lastest Sherlock/John on screen smut action?
Anyway, I don't own BBC's Sherlock or any other things relating back to them save for the ideas written here and chasing around in my head.
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Mycroft Holmes breathed out a groan, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose before being dragged down his face in a seldom seen gesture of frustration. His other hand slid around the top edge of his now black screen before pulling it down with much more force than necessary. Pushing himself up from his dark redoak desk with both hands, his stiffened back protested this motion, drawing out another groan from the older Holmes. Mycroft couldn't simply believe his brother sometimes.
It had been near on four weeks since the whole "pool incident" as John had so dubbed it. Mycroft, himself, had another name for it, "Sherlock's most idiotic maneuver to date." Though what he'd just seen play out on the screen threatened to nick that particular title. Mycroft breathed out again, this time as a sigh. He'd seen such behavior from Sherlock before, just after their family dog had been diagnosed terminal. Sherlock had distanced himself as far as possible from the poor creature, just as he was with John now. The only apparent difference (besides the obvious, come now people)was that the further and harder Sherlock pushed John away the more forcefully John dug in his heels. He was grateful for the soldiers understanding and resilience, even though it only earned him glares and stinging comments from his brother. Mycroft started to pace. John was loyal, and stalwart yes, but he couldn't keep this front up forever. John's soldier constitution was bound to give way at some point, besides he owed the man.
The only reason his brother was still breathing, Moriarty was not, and Harriett Watson was not rampaging through the streets of London, was John. John springing just the bullet passed through the barrel. John twisting mid-fall to toss his shoe at Moriarty's retreating feet, effectively ending his retreat. John covering Sherlock with his own body. John's back filling with shrapnel. John pulling Sherlock out of the pool. John checking Sherlock's vitals, ignoring his own. John calling 999. John slipping into unconsciousness just after help was assured. The doctor had had a two week long stint in the hospital while Sherlock had to endured only a single week. Sherlock had also visited the good doctor on many occassions, it was only after their united return to their Backer Street flat that Sherlock had, as John would undoubtedly say, 'flipped his lid'. The dective had tried his utmost to deter the army doctor from staying by his side.
Mycroft breathed a heavy sigh. You stop his pacing back at his desk. He settled himself again in his high-backed desk chair, spinning himself away from his desk. Picking up his (infamous) umbrella, he began swinging it. Back and forth like a great, pointed pendulum. Those who didn't know Mycroft well (most everyone) would say he looked a high CEO or a likewise high standing business official completely a peace. Those who did know Mycroft, (with the addition of John he now had a full hand) saw he was anything but peaceful. The eldest Holmes brother was scheming.
If he did not interfere in Sherlock would continue his self-sequestering push of John. Mycroft knew John was a doctor, and so, used to being patient with unruly sick people. He also knew John was a soldier, and so, loyal to a fault. Sherlock could be very loyal as well, but he was endlessly petulant and childlike. Mycroft huffed yet another sigh, switching his umbrella pendulum to his other hand. Maybe he was going about this in the wrong way. Sherlock, for all his brilliance, was very childlike in his emotions. Perhaps he needed to sort this matter in a manner that fitted to the problem maker. Mycroft stop his swinging, rest his umbrella against the chair side, brought both hands to rest, knitted under his chin, in a fashion eerily reminiscent of his brother.
These were the facts:
• Sherlock needed John
• John needed Sherlock
• John gets hurt protecting Sherlock
• Sherlock is pushing John away
(sub-point: Sherlock feels guilty)
This was the problem:
If John gave in, moved out, Sherlock would spiral (Mycroft was also certain John spiral too, but not quite as dramatically)
• John liked Sherlock (more than he knew)
• Sherlock possibly loved John
• Sherlock hated sharing
Mycroft's head popped up. That was it! Sherlock was always very possessive. No matter how much Sherlock was pushing John away, presumably to save himself and John heart ache, Mycroft wouldn't be surprised if Sherlock still thought of John as his.
Anyone walking and Mycroft's Office would have turned tail and run at the gleam in his eyes. A plan that, if successful, would solve so many problems, as well as prevent many more. He went and even need to involve a third party, because there was no one Sherlock detested sharing with more than his older brother.
OK, so tell me what you think. I'm kinda new to this whole writting thing so any feedback would be welcome.
Review and tell me what you think or send ideas. I might a little slow in posting but i'll try and the chapter up by next week and make it longer.