#mycroft homles imagine

[mindful-of-ideas]

“I can’t believe I let you drag me into this!” you said.

“Drag you into this? It’s Christmas dinner,” Greg answered.

“Yeah, Christmas dinner is like important very important for some people.”

“Oh, not them, don’t worry about that.”

“And what if they don’t like what I got them!”

“You got them presents! Y/N, you shouldn’t have, you barely know them.”

“Sherlock just saved my life, getting him a present is the least I can do,” you replied, “And I got one for you and Molly, of course, and for Ms. Hudson, and one for Mycroft.”

“You… how did you end up getting one for Mycroft?”

“I don’t know, you talked so much about him and I just came across something that felt right and…”

“And you bought it, right. You know you didn’t need to do all that? They’ll be happy just to know you came.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Can we just change the subject please, now I’m just even more stressed.”

Greg wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you turned onto Baker Street. He grabbed the bag you were carrying, now understanding it was filled with presents. He pull you as close as he could.

Greg and you had been friends since forever. You grew up in the same small town, on the same street, and nothing could stop you from becoming friends even if you were a few years younger than him. It all started that summer when you crashed your bike right in front of his house as he was going out. You were 5 and 8 years old. As soon as he saw you on the ground, he came running to help and took you inside so that his mom could look at your wounds. You then spent the whole summer playing together. When school started, he stood up for you anytime you were getting bullied. The fact that, even if you had skipped a year, you were still too advanced for your class didn’t help with the bullying… and didn’t help with making friends. But it didn’t matter to Greg. He stuck by your side and so did you.

You briefly had to part ways when you went to university, him wanting to become a police inspector and you leaning more towards history. But you never spent too long apart and ultimately you had decided to continue your studies in history of crime. Which is how you met Sherlock, or more how he ended up saving.

See, sometimes, even the brightest private detective out there needs a little help. Especially with something as specific as a group of criminals who are copying the actions of past gangs and cults. So Greg called you thinking your expertise could help and hopefully you could work along with Sherlock to catch the criminals as soon as possible. And you did help in the end because by helping Sherlock, the criminals freaked out and captured you, a misstep which lead Sherlock to catch them. And save you. That’s why you were now standing in front of 221B Baker Street.

“You’ll be great,” Greg said, opening the door.

A flyer left in it said to just come up, so just like that, we set foot in the infamous 221B Baker Street. As soon as you got in the flat, you noticed how cozy it was. You had never been here, always meeting Sherlock with Lestrade at Scotland Yard. But there was something about this cluttered open space that made you feel right at home. You went around, saying hi to everyone, perhaps spending a little more time with people you already know. It was way easier to chat with Molly than with John if you were being honest. But you got trapped talking to the both of them as they were the only ones taking care of dinner.

“How about you let Greg and me finish this?” you asked, looking at Molly.

“Are you sure?” said John, “We don’t mind taking care of it, at least I don’t. Molly?”

“Oh, no of course I don’t mind.”

But you knew better. You once ate dinner at Molly’s flat and well, it would be more accurate to say you tried to eat what you thought was dinner at Molly’s flat.

“I really don’t mind, I actually like cooking,” you added.

“I could use a short break,” said Molly, thanking you with her eyes.

“Alright then!” said John, starting to explain what they had started.

And it was a disaster. But luckily for everyone, you were half decent in the kitchen and you had good hopes of turning this dinner around.

“Avoiding me?” Greg asked coming up behind you.

“You? Never, it’s just a lot of new people all at once.”

“I’m teasing you, it’s okay. So? What do I do?” he said clapping his hands.

If you were a decent cook, Greg was an excellent one. But he would never admit that in front of anyone, especially not Sherlock.

“You could take charge,” you said.

“You got this, I’m sure.”

“I could ask someone else for help too then. Mycroft maybe?”

“No, shut… alright we do this together.”

It was your turn to tease Greg. You didn’t know exactly what was going on between him and Mycroft, or even if there was a ‘between’ to talk about, but there was something. You couldn’t say for sure it was love since the last time Greg had a girlfriend, or any significant other, was when he was at uni, aka the only time you were apart. Still, you could tell something was going on, and the idea of calling Mycroft over just to mess with Greg was tempting, and you could always argue that you were trying to make more friends. But you didn’t even need to do anything.

“Trying to hide from the party?” Mycroft asked, sitting at the table behind you.

“No,” you said, “just trying to help out.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, don’t worry… Y/N, right?”

“Yes,” you said, going back to your work.

“Not much of a talker,” he said, now seemingly talking to Greg.

You looked down. You didn’t know Mycroft well enough to tell if he was being snarky or just didn’t have any filter. I mean, you knew Mycroft, but from Greg’s perspective, from what he chose to tell you about him.

“Guess not,” he finally said.

You bit your lip and your grip strengthen on the knife you were holding. You were trying to find something to say but it felt like your head was spinning. You closed your eyes, but someone grabbed your hand before you could say anything.

“Y/N?” said Greg.

You took a deep breath.

“Y/N? Are you okay,” he said, now whispering, “He’s being an asshole because he doesn’t know you but I’ll tell him off if you want me to.”

“It’s fine, I-”

“Mycroft, if you are scaring Y/N away and making them feel bad, I’m kicking you out,” said Sherlock, coming from the living room.

He put down a dirty plate, which was probably used for an appetizer, in the sink. He cocked his head trying to look at you, but you swiftly turned the other side. You could see Mycroft roll his eyes out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m asking questions,” said Mycroft.

“You are being rude,” answered his brother.

As the two of them kept arguing, you stood closer the Greg.

“Don’t get mad at him, but can you just change the subject… like can it not be about me being shy…” you whispered to him.

After a moment, Sherlock either gave up or won, because he went back to the living room. Greg cleared his throat.

“Well, you know what this reminds me of?”

“No,” said Mycroft.

“Y/N and their brother,” Greg said.

“How come?” Mycroft asked.

“Lots of fighting!”

You punch Greg gently, knowing he would understand that this was you thanking him.

“Spoken like a true only child,” you said, “Siblings fight all the time. And I still love my brother.”

“So do I, Y/N, don’t get that wrong,” said Mycroft.

“I didn’t say that,” you said, again feeling like he was accusing you.

“So don’t go around hurting him.”

“Mycroft come on Y/N would never!” Greg said, taking a step forward, blocking you with his body, “You don’t get to treat people like that, they even got you a present, show some respect for fuck sake!”

You softly grabbed the back of Greg’s jacket. Everyone here were adults, there was no reason to act like Mycroft was some bully on the playground. You looked up, crossing Mycroft’s eyes for the first time. His gaze was so cold, it was like he was trying to read your mind just by staring at you. Without even noticing, you were now fully gripping Greg’s jacket.

“Were the one cooking, don’t forget so either you ap-”

But Greg couldn’t finish his sentence.

“I tend to be overprotective of my little brother,” said Mycroft, cutting him off, “Just like Lestrade seems to be overprotective of you.

“It’s fine,” you said.

“No, it’s not. I’ll admit, I’m not good at making friends but this clearly was wrong. I’m sorry Y/N.”

“I’m not much better at making friends,” you admitted, “Maybe we could try again?”

“I’d very much like that,” said Mycroft, “If Lestrade let you…”

“I…I’m not…” he tried to say, definitely troubled by what just happened.

“They make their own decisions,” he finally said, and then, turning to you, “That was weird and quick, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Greg. Don’t worry too much about me, please.”

He pulled you towards him and kissed the top of your head.

“So, what are you two doing here,” said Mycroft, wanting to start the whole conversation over.

...

Not long after, dinner was ready. Greg and you went around with plates that wouldn’t fit on the table and waited for everyone to be served before sitting down. Once everyone had eaten at least one plate, people started sharing gifts. It was all a bit chaotic, but that’s what made it fun. You gave Mycroft his gift and he seemed happy enough. Surprisingly, he also had one for you. You unwrapped it, dubious, but curious nonetheless. As soon as you saw what it was, you turned to show Greg. How could Mycroft give you our favourite childhood book, but not only that, the exact same edition that you’ve been trying to find for years now? Greg just shrugged. For the first time of the night, you turned to Mycroft smiling, as you thanked him.