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Mycroft watched Gregory from his car. He had a rare chance to get out early and had decided to surprise his lover on the crime scene he was investigating hoping they could share some minutes alone before he went back to New Scotland Yard, maybe he could even offer to give the man a lift…
He observed the silver haired man speaking calmly with the blonde doctor that was his brother’s lover, the two of them having formed a strong bond between them which pleased him. The man was trustworthy, and in love with Sherlock, so there was no chance of him trying to take the detective inspector from him, moreover, he was probably the only person to whom Lestrade could go to vent or simply talk about their relationship. Since it was obvious that the other was the only one who could understand the ups and downs of being with a Holmes
If John Watson was close, then his sibling couldn’t possibly be far, since the brunette was at least as jealous and possessive as he was. As children their Mummy had explained to them that they couldn’t go kidnapping and keeping the people they liked prisoner just so they wouldn’t go anywhere else… so they had eventually released their nanny, he had reluctantly let his favorite language teacher out of the secret room in the cellar and even later Sherlock had revealed where he had tied up the chemist who was an old friend of the family. The last had been the only one who had ever went back to the Holmes’ manor, and he always make sure to bring the brunette a little something to keep him busy and to stay away from any room where there wasn’t at least another person… he specially avoided the library. They had learnt two important lessons from all that: people tend to get freaked out when physically imprisoned, so it was better to trap them somehow in more subtle ways and once the person is captured never to release them.
He and Sherlock had grown up a lot since then; they had taken on different paths, made different lives from themselves, and yet had remained, in several ways, exactly the same: they were still fiercely selfish and did everything they could to keep their loved ones close to them and away from everyone else; they were also incredibly overprotective, as Sherlock’s “death” had proved. At that time he had understood his sibling’s reasons but had feared that the former soldier wouldn’t be able to take it, that he would attempt to do something drastic and dramatic like killing himself but then John Watson had surprised him: he had kept on living, fighting another war, this time to clear the consulting detective’s name. He had tried to make people interested on his cause and eventually a small but increasing movement had begun to flourish and the “believe in Sherlock” had become a roar in the streets. Eventually had reached the media, several journalist began asking the right questions to the right contacts and the story hit the first pages of the news, this time portraying his sibling as a tragic hero. It had taken some time to decide what to do about it but he noticed quick enough that no one disputed the suicide just the causes of it so there was no risk letting it roam free. It served several purposes at the end: the publicity of the matter forced the superintendent and several other police officers to give a lot of explanations, let his brother know that Moriarty hadn’t won since he was unable to take his fame from him and it had brought a smile to John’s face, giving him the strength he needed on the darkest hour. And the movement had brought some peace to his Gregory also, he had helped to fuel it by telling to everyone who would hear on, and mostly off, the record that he had always believed in the man.
He was actually happy that it had all ended nonetheless, the criminal consulting and his accomplices dead or captured and his younger sibling back in England, mostly safe and sound, reunited once again with his lover. It hadn’t been an easy road, especially the last part of it.
The former soldier had been dating a young woman he had met pasting a big “We fight John Watson’s war” on a previously blank wall, Mary had been a client of Sherlock and truly wanted to help the blonde man on his quest. By the time the consulting detective decided to return the other man was seriously contemplating the idea of proposing her. Mycroft would never be sure if the reason to do it hadn’t been the fact that he had heard of the seriousness of the doctor’s romance, after all, Sherlock still had many eyes and ears around the city.
It had been a violent reunion, the younger Holmes had appeared on a rather theatrical fashion as an old patient who caused a ruckus on the waiting room in the clinic where the doctor still work thanks to Sarah incredibly sympathetic disposition and his own influence. After the Reichenbach incident they had giving him some unofficial time off as if he had been a grieving spouse, other doctors and nurses conspiring to cover up for him. The older Holmes and the former soldier discovered that first day when he had been sent home that there was a lot of people who actually cared for him and the consulting detective, who understand their relationship was beyond simple friendship who acknowledge it even before the blonde did it.
By the time Sherlock returned the doctor was once again working long hours, eating less than was healthy and keeping away from Scotland Yard even if not from Gregory. It wasn’t easy at the beginning, the silver haired had felt so guilty he had tried to stay away from the blonde, but he had talked some sense on his own lover, and finally convinced him that the good doctor needed a friend and Mrs. Hudson couldn’t provide by herself enough distractions for the man.
It had been quite a stressful time for Lestrade, too. His own career endangered and his will to fight almost lost. The man felt a traitor who didn’t deserve to keep the badge after he had failed to protect the consulting detective. If had almost broken Mycroft heart to keep silent about the truth, but he had done it because it was the brunette’s call not his own, and because he couldn’t risk the man knowing, showing the least sign that he wasn’t grieving.
Eventually, the detective inspector, now mostly assigned to desk duty while under investigation texted the former soldier and eventually was able to work his courage and ask the other if he wanted to share a pint at the bar. That was the first of many nights he had to share his silver haired lover with his sibling’s but he didn’t comply… too much.
Yet, he felt amazingly relieved when his brother had decided to make his return, since it meant Watson’s danger nights were over and he could have once again Lestrade’s pleasure filled ones.
After some punches, several tears shed and a couple of passing outs Sherlock Holmes and his blogger went back to 221b Baker Street where they proceed to tear each other’s clothes and have passionate sex on the floor, the couch and the bed. In that precise order.
He had felt like a voyeur watching them get reacquainted with each other’s body, but being the caring older brother that he was he had been terribly worried about what could happen once they were alone. Mycroft had feared for a moment that the doctor wouldn’t be satisfied with just some blows to his sibling’s face and upper torso and the hard, excruciatingly painful, knee to the crotch he had grazed upon the newly alive consulting so he had kept watching until they were naked, kissing and scratching –what they did at first couldn’t be called caressing- each other. The older Holmes turned off the cameras once they were rutting in the floor, but turned them on some minutes after, a persistent voice telling him he should keep his watch since Sebastian Moran was still at large and could very well attack the other two men at their most vulnerable.
Once, between the couch and the bed acts his brother had picked up his phone and texted someone. A few minutes later, he would discover it was Lestrade. Since the man had called him beyond furious at someone “attempting to make himself pass for Sherlock”. It had taken him two minutes to transfer the vigilance feed to another phone of his, make a sign to order that a car be ready to pick him up at the front door and coordinate a green light wave among other things so he could reach Gregory in less than ten minutes while he reassured his lover that it was all under control and that he would explain at once, but in person and inside their home.
The talk wasn’t nice at all, but he didn’t think it would be. His face was hit and his lip split open, while he was called all the horrible things the detective inspector could think of, including the implication that his mother wasn’t faithful to his father -which he knew to be a lie, since they had inherited their possessive natures from both their parents- but at least the man didn’t attempt the knee thing. It took half an hour for the man to finally ran out of things to yell at him and for him to sat down and began to cry, half mad and half relieved of knowing that Sherlock Holmes was still very much alive; five minutes after that, the man stopped dead on his tracks and asked if John already knew. Mycroft told him that his brother had just showed himself to the man in the hospital and showed his a few minutes of surveillance of their reunion at Baker Street.
The yarder looked barely looked at the video and gave back the phone telling him he was not the one who liked to watch on their couple. Once he heard those words he could breathe normally again and let go of all the plans he was tracing to effectively restrain the silver haired and keep inside his house until he could make things right again… even if it took the rest of their lives.
Gregory told him he was an idiot once again before going to the kitchen and coming back with some ice for his face and proceed to tell him what his brother was attempting to do at the empty flat across the street to his own home.
Fortunately, things went mostly smooth and the tiger hunter was hunted by the consulting detective with no lives lost and Sherlock could go once more into daylight for all to see. The mass media went crazy over the story, his younger sibling had become quite a sensation but being the man he was he had send the journalist running the other way the moment he was tired of their intrusion by revealing some of their most unpleasant secrets while the cameras were still on. The “believe in Sherlock” movement didn’t quite disappear but began to move into a different direction whose final form was still to be seen; he was keeping a close eye on it. Mary accepted easily that John Watson wasn’t going to be hers now that the younger Holmes was in the picture again. Presently she was dating Dimmock and Molly much to everyone’s -minus his and his brother’s- surprise and John unconditional support. The doctor had taken Sherlock back and they were working on healing their relationship, having more sex than was probably safe or sane for any man, and solving crimes once again.
“You think it’s the right time to propose?”
The ginger haired turned his head back to see his tall, lanky brother following his former line of sight with his grey eyes.
He opened the door of the car and invited the other in. It was obvious this was an important matter and he preferred it to be discussed in some privacy.
His sibling accepted the invitation and sat right at his side, watching him intensely.
“Do you think you are ready for it, Sherlock? Taking such a big step?”
The brunette nodded swiftly.
“He was looking for rings when you decided to come back, he was about to ask Mary to marry him” he said, not wanting to hurt the other but feeling that he should know, or at least acknowledge the fact that there was the chance that John still wanted the old traditional family.
“I know” Sherlock said simply “but he didn’t buy them, did he?” he asked with a knowing, arrogant smile “he may have entertained the idea to start a family with her but he knew better than to give himself to other person. He is mine, Mycroft, and I want for everyone to know it, I have wanted for some time now, you know.”
He did know, his brother would have proposed the first week if he hadn’t stopped the other in time, and again after the whole Blind banker thing, and while they were still breathing hard and out of the pool during the Great Game end game… he would have done it an hour before Reichenbach.
“He wasn’t ready for it” he provided with a soft smile
“I know, you made me see it, but now?”
“Do you still feel like tying him up in the secret passage you manage to build unbeknownst to us in the library?” Mycroft asked
“Yeah” he said nodding absently “but this time I won’t be convinced to turn him over to anyone, not even Mummy.”
It was the surety in his tone, the way his eyes shone so dangerously that convinced the older one that it was time to let the other do what he had been wanting to for so long. With a quick move, he took the ring of his finger and gave it to Sherlock.
The brunette’s smile could eclipse the sun in its radiance. The consulting detective engulfed his older sibling in a tight hug and ten seconds later was out of the car.
“I’m getting married!” He shouted while closing the passenger’s door.
The older Holmes looked at the other with one of his most sweet looks.
“Yes, you are.”
None of them even contemplate the idea that the former soldier could refuse the taller one.
“Sherlock…” he called lowly before the other could disappear completely.
“I still have yours, but you should work things out first!” He answered the unasked question.
The ginger haired nodded, things were still a little ruffled between he and his lover -that’s why he was there that day, among other things, waiting patiently for Lestrade to finish for the day at the scene- so he knew it wasn’t the right time for him, but still he needed the reassurance that the younger one hadn’t lost the precious gold ring he had entrusted on the other.
Mycroft watched the consulting detective vanish and a moment later he saw the man drag the good doctor out of sight presumably to catch a taxi that would take them home where he could proceed with his plan.
Gregory looked astonished at his brother display but then shook his head and decided he probably didn’t want to know.
It was his time, thought Mycroft, and with confidence he took the umbrella and stepped out of the car. Fortune favors the brave… and he had never been a coward.
The end