#mycroft x anthea

[afteriwake]

Mythea, 3, gold

This was also an answer to the 30 Day Writing Challenge, which gave us the title for the story. The prompt this request gave me was "Close the door behind you."

Promises Made, Promises Kept - Anthea extracts a favor from her husband for her help, leading him to think about the start of their whirlwind relationship that was years in the making.

READ @ AO3

"Close the door behind you."

Anthea did as she was told, walking into Mycroft’s office and sitting on the edge of his desk next to him. “Long day ahead?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“The Americans,” he said, placing his elbows on his desk and putting his head in his hands.

“No further explanation needed,” she said. “Representative Occasio-Cortez’s visit?”

“Yes, but she’s the least of the problems. It’s the three other people coming with her and their entourage.” He sighed and then looked up at Anthea. His assistant, his lover, his wife. He didn’t know what he would do without her. “If you take care of them I will buy you the gold earrings you had your eye on at Harrod’s.”

“I already bought them,” she said with a smile, then leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Make me puttanesca tonight and I’ll solve your problems for you.”

“Deal,” he said, reaching over for her hand and kissing the back of it. She smiled wider then got off his desk and made her way to her own area of the office, on the other side of the door. He leaned back in his seat, wondering if they had all the ingredients for puttanesca, before glancing to one of the many photographs littering his desk.

Strange, what one encounter with a homicidal sister will do to a man.

Lestrade had not left his side until Anthea arrived at his home, and he was a smart enough man to realize there were Things Unsaid between himself and his assistant. Lestrade gave her a rundown of tings he might need that evening, starting with some more brandy, and then he left, wishing Mycroft good luck.

Sherlock may have had doubts about Lestrade’s level of intelligence, but Mycroft knew the man was smarter than he seemed, at least when it came to human nature.

Anthea had waited until Lestrade was gone and poured herself a snifter of brandy, topped off Mycroft’s, and then put the decanter back, almost dropping it from how much her hands were shaking. He’d have given anything to keep the fear at bay, even if it had cost him a decanter of brandy, but after a sip she launched herself at him, holding him close.

Of course, the private feed into Sherrinford.

There was the private feed into his office. After the bomb, she must have figured it out and watched it. She had seen everything with her own eyes and knew exactly how close she had come to losing him. And when embraces became heated kisses and two snifters of brandy were spilled on the floor while they tried to find suitable space to show each other the things they had never had the bollocks to say out loud, things had changed.

It was impossible to hide their relationship, and he hadn’t wanted to. Fortunately, the Home Office felt it was in the country’s best interest for them to continue their professional relationship in addition to their new personal one, so he didn’t have to get a new assistant. Which helped matters when Anthea found out she was pregnant eight weeks after their first session of lovemaking on the desk in his study. A quick marriage later and he had to admit, he was blissfully happy.

There was a photograph from the wedding in Hawaii, the sonogram of the little boy they were having, photos of Sherlock and Dr. Hooper, who had had a similar conversation in the aftermath, it seemed. Photos of his parents and strangely enough, one of Eurus. Despite her actions, the results were favorable, and while she no longer verbalized things, it was a comfort to know she had gotten what she had wanted: her family back.

But the one that caught him the most was one of Anthea in her wedding dress, long-sleeved white and gold lace over a tight bodice and loose skirt. She was breathtaking in that photograph, wearing a lei of white orchids given to her by one of the members of the extended family who had attended, he forgot who. She was stunning, as she always would be. He turned away from the photographs to start ordering the ingredients for puttanesca to be delivered to his home, as he had made a promise to make it, and all promises, no matter how small, should be kept.

And if that meant cooking tonight to make his wife happy, so be it.

[afteriwake]

Anyone want me to write more of this AU? I'm interested if there's interest...

Also, please feel free to send me AUs for headcanons!

how about some mollcroft love? molly working as one of mycroft's agents au. some headcanons of them having a secret working relationship but also crushing on each other :~)

(I am totally planning to write this as a fic, BTW…)

Molly was scouted by Mycroft in university, when she showed an aptitude for forensic sciences that astounded him, something that was lacking in his organization. Mostly due to the fact there was a drowning victim that the students needed to watch an autopsy being done on and she was the only one who didn’t pass out or lose her lunch.

He knew his brother was bound and determined to be a “consulting detective” and he wanted someone in place to assist him that could give him details since Sherlock wasn’t speaking to him. But he also wanted someone involved in law enforcement who could help the government as necessary.

Molly was one of the few who was not intimidated by being kidnapped off the street; in fact, she hit him in the arm with her brolly and cursed up a storm because she was going to be late for an interview. He was rather impressed and actually smiled.

He told her there was no need to attend the interview as she would be, if she decided to help him, working as the head of the department at Barts. She was shocked, but then asked exactly what was needed from her.

She refused his offer three times until he threw in her flat. Once she saw the kitchen, she agreed. He felt it was well worth the cost to secure her help.

They began to have tea once a week for her to give reports. After their first meeting, he had her order memorized: mandarin orange flavoured green tea and a currant scone, with a hazelnut coffee order placed when she left. He made it a point to have all three items waiting every week after that.

Molly actually liked their conversations best when they weren’t about his brother, as Mycroft would occasionally bring up non-work related things.

Mycroft was surprised at himself for bringing those interests and other cases up, but Dr. Hooper fascinated him.

He wouldn’t call it a crush, just an elevated interest.

Anthea knew it was a crush.

Molly was slowly forming an interest in Mycroft but as he was technically her employer she feared nothing would come of it.

Anthea knew she had a crush too, and decided it was ridiculous that they not do something about it.

Mycroft found himself in Oxford on “business” that wasn’t really business when Molly was asked to attend a series of lectures at the university and present one as well.

Somehow they were staying at the same bed and breakfast in rooms next to each other. And somehow they arrived at the same time.

Anthea was considerately staying on another floor.

And she decided she felt ill and “Oh, Molly’s here? Have dinner with her.” was a thing.

There was wine at dinner.

A LOT OF WINE.

Only one bedroom was used for the duration of their stay in Oxford.

Anthea was quite pleased with herself and started looking at other ways to discretely give the two of them vacation time together…next time, without her.

SEND ME AN AU AND I’LL TELL YOU 5 OF MY HEADCANONS FOR IT

[girl-next-door-writes]

Just Because

Characters: Mycroft x reader

Summary: Mycroft hires himself a companion to show his family that he is entirely capable of making friends, but when the lines blur between the fiction and the reality is he heading for heartbreak?

Word Count: 1714 words

Prompt: Fake dating and a kiss without thinking.

A/N: This little angsty piece is for the incomparable @achromaticerebus who always sends me the most interesting Mycroft plot bunnies. Now, I know this was an angst request, but you all know me, so…

This was not where he had intended to be. In fact, if he had been in his right mind then this would be one of the last places he would wish to frequent, but he had not been in full control of his faculties for some time now. It was as if his body held some kind of autopilot, as if you had installed a homing device within his nervous system. It was infuriating and maddening and totally beyond his powers of logic, but it was the only thing that still connected the two of you and so he clung to it.

Mycroft found himself wandering around the places the two of you would go whilst in the midst of your masquerade. These were establishments he would never have set foot in previously, and yet they were perfectly you. The echoes of you were still there, causing his skin to tingle as if you had brushed against him, driving him to distraction.

Somewhere in his heavy woolen coat, his phone vibrated, alerting him to a new message. The leather gloves covering his hands made the task of opening said message more cumbersome than he would have liked and Mycroft swore under his breath, his eyes moving from the alert to his lock screen where you beamed up at him. He really should remove your picture from his phone, it was dangerous to appear so sentimental, but each time he tried to delete any traces of you he found himself entirely unable to press that final ‘delete’ button. Perhaps he should have Anthea do it for him. Mycroft knew he wasn’t really going to let that happen, but it somehow made him feel more in control pretending he had that option. His eyes flitted back to the image of you on his phone, standing in his parents garden, glancing at him over your shoulder, your eyes twinkling as you laughed. Anyone looking at this photograph may have believed the moment had been real, however, Mycroft knew the truth.

The situation was ridiculous, and he should not have allowed himself to feel inadequate, yet here he was. The Holmes family were gathering for Christmas upon his mother’s insistence and knowing that Sherlock had a whole entourage attending with him made Mycroft feel… not lonely, never lonely, but, well, alone. He had seen the joy on his mother’s face whenever Sherlock brought home a ‘friend’, and his heart ached to see that look aimed at him. That was when he had the great idea to procure a companion for the few days he would be at his family home. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult.

It turned out, that for Mycroft Holmes, it really was that difficult. He had a long list of qualities he felt required to be met by anyone he was to be spending so much time with and that person, most likely, did not actually exist.

He had just about given up and was considering paying someone to play the role when Anthea strode into his office and dropped a folder on his desk.

“I think this might solve your problem.” She gave him a knowing smile and left.

Mycroft eyed the folder suspiciously before flipping it open and raising an eyebrow as he read the content. Yes. A perfect fit.

And it really had been. He had arranged an initial meeting and the two of you had gone for afternoon tea to discuss the details. You were a professional companion, not to be confused with an escort, you simply provided your company, nothing more. You had attended family functions, weddings, work events with various men who felt they needed someone on their arm, all for a very reasonable fee.

“And so it would be for three days and two nights? Am I playing the role of friend or significant other?” You had asked so casually Mycroft nearly choked on his tea.

“Friend, simply friends.” He managed to splutter, although he could feel a heat rising up the back of his neck. “If my mother believes there is more to it then she will be planning the wedding by New Year.”

“Then I shall get the contract drawn up and send directly to you, Mr Holmes.” You gave him a polite smile and he nodded.

“I think, perhaps, given the current situation, Mycroft would be more appropriate.”

“Mycroft.” Your smile became one of amusement, but it wasn’t cruel or teasing, and it made his heart do a strange swoop.

That would not be the last time your smile had a strange effect on Mycroft Holmes. In hindsight he wondered if he should have cut all contact after that first meeting, after that first rush. It would certainly have saved him from all these ‘emotions.’

Christmas had been a roaring success. His mother loved you. His father loved you. Sherlock… was suspicious of the two of you but found you rather delightful. Of course, this then led to a whole other problem Mycroft had not anticipated. Whenever his mother decided to visit, Mycroft found himself in need of your services once more. This often led to covert meetings, somewhere convenient for you, to make sure you had your stories straight. Walks through the park, tea at tiny little coffee shops he would not ordinarily step foot in, a rendezvous at a small second hand book shop which smelled more like mold than paper… not the usual place for a business meeting, but Mycroft found himself looking forward to discovering these places which were obviously part of your world, not his.

Things had been going well, this arrangement between the two of you working perfectly for just over nine months, so when his parents insisted the two of you join them at the theatre, Mycroft saw no reason to decline. He didn’t know that accepting this invitation would be the beginning of the end.

“I really thought Roger was the murderer.” His father was muttering, still flipping through his program as if searching for a clue he may have missed earlier about the huge plot twist that pretty much everyone in the theatre had seen coming.

“It’s okay dear, I think that was rather the point. Roger was there to throw us all off.”

Mycroft saw you dip your head to hide your smile, an action that caused butterflies to cascade around his stomach. You seemed really fond of the relationship between his parents, and it warmed his heart to see that.

“Well, I had best be heading off. It was lovely to see you both again.” You gave Mr and Mrs Holmes a warm smile and Mycroft watched his mother pull you into a tight embrace.

“Next time, we should have a girls afternoon.” She beamed, cupping your face and looking at you meaningfully.

“That would be lovely, Mrs Holmes.”

“Righto, be seeing you.” Mr Holmes gave you a hug and Mycroft rolled his eyes, although there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“What is it with you two and hugging people?”

“Oh, you know you like it, Mycroft.” You had teased and he had found himself pulling you into a farewell embrace too.

“Just don’t go telling Sherlock.” He chuckled, loosening his grip but not quite breaking the hug.

“Damn it, that was the first thing I was going to do as soon as I got in the taxi.” You smirked.

“Minx.”

“Posh boy.”

“Right, off with you.” He chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

“Goodbye, Mycroft.” You had given him that smile of yours that made the corners of your eyes crinkle and he had instinctively, without any thought, leaned down and placed a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. It was an action he had never undertaken before, and he felt the shift in you before he’d even fully pulled away.

You had given everyone a wave and then hurriedly bundled into a taxi… and that was the last time he had seen you.

The next morning he had received an email formally stating that you could no longer offer your services to him. It had pointed out a clause within the contract he had originally signed that stated any physical contact was to be agreed upon prior to the event and that he had breached this.

He had sat at his desk for a long time that morning, just staring at the email. It was so cold, so clinical, so unlike the person he had come to know. Then again, he had hired you to play a role. It was his own fault that he had allowed himself to believe in the lie.

For weeks Mycroft wallowed in a malaise, wanting to throw himself into his work but unable to concentrate. When the invitation to his brothers Christmas ‘do’ came through, he initially ignored it. Then his mother asked him repeatedly if he would be attending. Then he got a text from Greg Lestrade and another from John. It appeared that his presence was required, not merely requested, at this event and Mycroft’s heart sank as he realised it wasn’t him they wanted to attend, but you as his plus one.

After an entire day miserably touring around the places the two of you would meet, Mycroft found his feet had indeed brought him to his brother’s flat. The sounds of merriment could be heard spilling from the window and Mycroft let out a deep sigh, might as well bite the bullet.

Mrs Hudson gave him a strange smile as he entered Baker Street and headed to the stairs, she was practically vibrating with excitement, and he wondered just how many sherries the woman had drunk already. As he reached the top of the stairs, the door to 221B flung open and Sherlock grinned.

“Merry Christmas, brother mine.”

“Please tell me this is not going to become an annual event.” Mycroft sighed, already itching to leave.

Sherlock stepped to one side, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and revealed the party inside his flat. There was John, talking to Molly and Lestrade, there was his father rearranging ornaments on Sherlocks tree, and… and talking to his mother was…

Mycroft’s eyes widened and his jaw fell slack.

“Merry Christmas.” Sherlock said softly, patting his brother on the back.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

J Is Just A Letter

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Chapter 1 - Bound To Me

‘Sir, it’s her again.’

Mycroft sighed, needing no other information he knew perfectly well what Anthea was talking about.

‘Where?’ Mycroft drawled. He stood up anyway and while his assistant explained the situation, he began going through every possible option he had to bring her in, knowing full well he would be unsuccessful.

They entered into the surveillance room, it was filled with screens and people and chatter and chaos, especially at times like this. They were all co-ordinating to bring up the security feed on the main screen.

J. That was the only name anyone knew her by, she was smart, quick-witted, aggravatingly ambitious and much to Mycroft’s annoyance, playful. She was very playful and often left evidence of her existence in various locations around the world. This time, it was Tokyo.

A helicopter was flying over a known – and thankfully abandoned – safehouse that the British used when transporting precious cargo. That was the seventh one in a little under two months, once a week, the exact same time, something somewhere would flag up and a message would be left from her.

First it was a robbery in a Manhattan gang den that Mycroft had been keeping his eyes on for months, with the message: “Are you ready to play with me?”

Then it was a little closer to home, a quiet storage facility in Yarmouth, Isle of White which she decided to repaint neon green and spelled out the message: “Are you paying attention?”

After that it was a safehouse in Casablanca where she had set up a rave and invited the whole of Morocco to attend and in the morning a message spelt out in champagne bottles on the roof: “Watch the movie with me?”

A car hire fronted drugs den in Rio was next, flooded somehow and a drug lord found laughing his head off repeating the same phrase over and over again: “Call me, call me and tell me I’m pretty.” The man had been driven mad by something, but that one phrase was all he was capable of saying.

Oslo was a slightly obscure one, several offices in a government building were locked down and each office had a letter spray painted inside, when Mycroft put the letters together it spelt out: “I’m not hungry, have dinner with me.” He realised that Irene Adler must have been a contact of hers, using the same flirting tactics only made him warier of her ambitions.

Then Florence happened and he knew he’d have to put an end to her antics sooner than he would have liked. It was a government ball, one that Mycroft himself was at, he’d been slipped a note by a waiter: “Do you like my dress?” He had the place locked down, no one in or out, every single person and place was searched, all he found was a memory stick with some photos on it. It was J, wearing a tight emerald green dress, with a slit that ran up to the very top of her thigh, her thick, soft dark hair pushed to one side, blood red lipstick, diamond earrings and a diamond necklace extenuating her chest, which Mycroft hated to admit had his mouth watering. She was standing inches away from him only hours earlier when he briefly spoke to the Italian Prime Minister and he never even noticed her.

Then it was Tokyo and the safehouse had blown up with J escaping through the back door, hopefully not getting caught up in the blast. Mycroft felt his heart settling when the fire began following a trail spelling out one word: “Forfeit?”

Mycroft wasn’t stupid, he knew her messages were specific to him, very few others had come to the same conclusion, but it was starting to become obvious. Mycroft checked his watch, she was right on time.

The footage showed a figure darting out of the building out the back way moments before an explosion went off. Everyone in the surveillance room barely reacted, Mycroft, however, felt his heart drop through the floor. If she had been killed by her own explosion, then this was the end of the game they were playing.

Mycroft looked at the footage a little closer, something looked off to him. He told whoever was nearest to him to keep him informed of any progress and headed back to his office to get on with some real work.

Anthea handed him an envelope as he walked past her desk, he frowned at it, but nothing seemed to be obviously wrong with it. Mycroft entered his office, closing the door behind him and noting that it was addressed to him, but it smelled familiar, like a perfume he’d inhaled once before.

He opened the envelope carefully and saw it was a collection of stunning black and white photos of J. They were classy, every curve was smooth and highlighted with gorgeous lighting and in every single one of them she was wearing no more than heels and the diamond necklace she’d worn in Florence.

Mycroft felt his mouth beginning to water again, she was exceptionally beautiful and in the six or so years he’d known her, she had only grown more so. He looked at each of the ten photographs in turn and felt himself getting warm beneath his skin. He quickly put them back into the envelope, took a soothing breath and went to put them on his desk, before changing his mind and keeping them secure in his inside jacket pocket.

‘Now, that is interesting.’

Mycroft spun around, feeling his heart racing with momentary fear. Perched on his long wooden cabinet was the woman herself. J. She looked professionally dressed in a tight black dress, one that was a square cut over her chest, nothing was entirely hidden about her beauty, but it looked more like she wasn’t trying to use it to her advantage, instead she was in his office for business not pleasure.

‘It didn’t quite seem conceivable that you would get your hands dirty in Tokyo.’ Mycroft said, gaining his breath back and shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘How did you get in here?’

‘Really? That’s the first thing you want to say to me?’ J rolled her bold green eyes and smirked. Her cheeks were defined and her jawline shapely and smooth. Her skin was lightly tanned and evident that she had in fact been abroad.

‘What should I be saying to you?’ Mycroft shot back. He sat back against his desk, if she wanted to play a game then fine, but he wasn’t going to lose.

J smiled, her eyes never leaving his. ‘Do you like my photos?’

‘Black and white tends to-‘

‘It’s a yes or no question, Mr Holmes, perhaps you could pick between the two.’

J observed his silence and a knowing look fluttered across her face. She let herself down off the cabinet in a very elegant manner, nothing was awkward, her smooth legs sliding over one another, heels delicately covering her feet as she slowly steps towards him.

‘What if the answer is infinitely more complex than that?’ Mycroft found himself saying.

J grinned. ‘I knew you’d love them.’ She said, standing barely two feet away from him. He noted the same perfume he’d smelt on the photographs and knew it was deliberate on her part. J folded her slender, tanned arms just below her chest and it only served to make Mycroft try to hide his discomfort. ‘So, do I have your attention yet?’

‘Almost exclusively.’ Mycroft said, enjoying the game somewhat. He’d reached the conclusion some time ago that J – whilst a complete nuisance and often a welcome distraction – was relatively harmless. She was having fun and that was it, no one important was getting hurt.

‘Well, don’t you know how to please a girl,’ she flirted. ‘That will come in very handy for you.’ Mycroft stared into her emerald eyes and tried hard not to get too lost in them, he knew where the line was. ‘I want to open doors, I want to misbehave and have the absolute pleasure of knowing you’re thinking about me.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly garnered my attention so far, Miss…?’ Mycroft knew it was hardly a trick, she’d never reveal her actual identity. J tilted her head, almost pleading for him to do better. ‘It seems you can already open doors and as for misbehaving, well, I have a whole file filled with messages from you written in blood and fire and champagne bottles, in turn you’ve forced me to think of you most days and how I could make plans to arrest you. Forgive me, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re asking for things you already have.’

J held his gaze for a few moments longer. She took another step towards him, her knees brushing against the inside of his and the proximity was a slightly dizzying one. He could smell vanilla shampoo and couldn’t help but find the scent a pleasing one.

‘I can’t open every door,’ her voice lowered. ‘I found those safehouses using cheap tricks, I want something more elegant than that. Mycroft Holmes, the name literally opens doors. That’s what I want. You have access to secure facilities, secret locations, lists of persons of interest. I want that too.’

‘Why? So you can destroy everything I’ve worked to build?’ Mycroft wouldn’t be beaten on this front.

J frowned. ‘Why would I want to destroy you, Mr Holmes?’

‘It’s what most people want.’

‘You’re making assumptions.’

‘If you only knew.’ Mycroft stopped, he realised what was happening, he’d been sucked into her game, he started flirting back.

J smiled, very pleased with herself, her eyes scanned his face, taking in every single part of it.

‘I promise I won’t be reckless.’

Mycroft hummed laughter. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘When have I ever broken a promise to you?’

‘You’ve never made a promise to me.’

J stepped all the way into his space, her arms dropped, her fingers traced his thighs sending warm rushes through his body, it wasn’t just her perfume he could smell, it was her. Her voice was low and Mycroft was left craving more.

‘I promise, I’ll never lie to you. How’s that?’

‘You might not lie, but you may not be completely honest with me.’ Mycroft replied, his own voice matched the depth of hers.

‘Hm, you’re a hard man to please Mr Holmes, but I’m sure I can work out what you like… and more importantly how you like it.’ The flirting had taken a new turn, one that had Mycroft seeing big red flags.

‘Why do you want to open doors? I suppose more specifically, which doors do you want to open?’ Mycroft was desperately trying to hold his focus, but her fingers had found his hips and the pressure was everything he desired.

‘You’ve spent the last two months watching me, but only because I wanted you to watch me.’ Mycroft was seeing flashes of things that were far too indulgent, he needed to remain focused. ‘I could do so much more out of sight. I could do things for you, Mr Holmes. You’ve seen what I can do on a small scale, when I’m just out to have fun, but when it’s time to get serious… or I don’t get what I want, then maybe we can rediscuss this.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t turn up at my office unannounced after setting fire to a safehouse.’

‘You don’t really think I did that, do you?’ J began to step back, taking her hands away from his thighs, he missed the contact and he knew she caught it. ‘Maybe next time you won’t be wearing the suit.’ J winked and it was everything in Mycroft’s power not to take her perfect body in his hands and worship her on his desk.

‘What makes you think there will be a next time?’

J stepped further and further back, giving him just a little more room to breathe. ‘Oh Mr Holmes, you and I are bound to each other. I’m going to make sure of it. Enjoy the photos.’

The dizziness was finally clearing, but by that time, J had already made it to the door of his office and left. He took a moment to compose himself and think on what had just happened, he routinely checked his pockets, noting she had taken nothing from him. Mycroft quickly darted towards the door and saw Anthea wandering back towards her desk.

‘How long have you been gone?’ He asked.

‘Only ten minutes.’ Anthea frowned, confused. ‘Is there something wrong Mr Holmes?’

‘I want to know the exact location of J now.’

‘Tokyo, sir. We had confirmation around three minutes ago that it was her at the safehouse.’

‘She is currently not in Tokyo.’ Mycroft could feel his frustration starting to get the better of him. ‘She’s in London, I want to know her movements, her exact location and where she is going next.’

‘Yes sir,’ Anthea picked up the phone. ‘Is there something we should be looking for?’

‘I don’t know.’ Mycroft was starting to realise what her plan may have been. ‘But I just told her “no”, I imagine she won’t take it well.’

‘Sir?’

‘Keep me informed.’ Mycroft went back into his office, closing the door behind him.

He found himself at a slight loss, not being entirely sure what made him act so out of character, what made him flirt back, she was just doing it to get a rise out of him, every move was a calculated one. Mycroft’s hand went absent-mindedly to his chest pocket where the black and white photos of J now rested. Her body was stunningly beautiful and she knew he thought that. The only question remained was how she was going to use it to her advantage.

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Main Story

Mycroft Holmes Masterlist

[adhd-merlin]

Twenty questions for fanfic writers:

(Nobody tagged me I'm just procrastinating!!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

42, but most of my older stuff is on livejournal, where it shall remain.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

193,392.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now only Merlin. I’m a ‘one fandom at the time’ kind of person.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Four out of five are Sherlock fics and I doubt anyone cares about that, so I’m going to make it Top 3 Merlin fics:

Call It Anything We Want (Arthur/Gwen/Merlin) - link

All Downhill from Here (Merlin/Arthur) - link

Unwavering (Merlin/Gwaine) - link

I like that it’s a mix of ships!

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do! I like talking to other people about The Characters. Sorry if I’ve ever rambled at you.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t really write angst. The only one I can think of is a Sherlock fic based on the theme of mismatched names in a soulmate AU (if this means anything to you). The first part was bittersweet (Sally Donovan/Harry Watson), the second part just sad (John/Sherlock)—both probably not that good. I wrote it a decade ago and I’m not going to re-read it now to see if I am right.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Call It Anything We Want. Everything gets solved and everyone is happy! The end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None so far!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sometimes! All kinds :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Generally I don’t, but funnily enough the fic of mine with the most kudos is a Sherlock x Harry Potter crossover. (It was for a fanfic exchange and my recipient had this crossover on their wishlist.) There’s nothing particularly crazy about it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone asked me if they could translate a fic of mine once and I said it was fine, but they never got back to me with a link, so I don’t know if they actually did it. I don’t think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Ooooh this takes me back. Yes—nothing that was ever published, but I did attempt to co-write a fic with a fandom friend once. We had become friends through livejournal by commenting on the same on-going fic—and when I say friends, I mean we ended up exchanging emails, photos, talking about personal stuff and chatting for hours every day.

Which might not sound like a big deal now, but this happened over 15 years ago, when people didn’t carry the entire internet in their pocket, and chatting with someone for hours meant sitting at the family computer in the living room. Also there was a 6-hour time difference between us.

It escalated to the point where we were making promises to visit each other someday and I had even told my mum about him, but one day he just vanished. (This wasn’t romantic by the way—he was gay, I was questioning; it truly was ‘just’ being friends). Never found out what happened to the guy and I was heartbroken about it for a while. Needless to say, that fic never got finished.

It was a Brokeback Mountain modern AU by the way.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I’ve never written or read any Jane Eyre fic but I’m going to say Jane Eyre/Mr Rochester. I just love them individually and as a couple.

As a fanfic reader, while I do have favourite ships, I’m fairly open-minded, and to me an exceptionally written story trumps a specific pairing any day. For example, I’ve read loads of John/Sherlock fics, but what ended up sticking in my mind years later are the fics that were very original or well written, regardless of the ship—like the one where Mycroft and Anthea are the same mind in two bodies and John ends up dating both, or the fem!Lestrade/Mycroft fic (even though this wasn’t a ship I particularly cared about), or the one where John and Sherlock have to take a seal to a sanctuary (gen). On the other hand, most of the Johnlock fics I've read have blurred together, even if (or maybe because) this was the ship I read more fics about.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There’s one in which Merlin and Gwaine go on a diplomatic visit to the Druids which has been sitting in my Google docs folder for a while, but first I want to finish another fic, because I’ve already written most of it and it’s been languishing in my drafts for even longer. I think I’ll finish the latter eventually—if only for sunk cost fallacy reasons—but I’m not sure about the Merwaine one (which might be platonic Merlin & Gwaine, by the way—I’ve not really decided).

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told by some that my characterisation was good, but I suppose that’s quite subjective.

One thing I’m trying to pay more attention to now is the overall narrative structure—I don’t write long fics, but even with shorter works you still need an inciting incident, a climax, and a resolution at the very least. I didn’t use to think about it much, but I’m trying to be more mindful of it. Just…making sure those elements are there, I suppose, and that the pacing doesn’t feel off. Not saying I’m good at it but I like to think it’s made my writing a bit better?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Basic ass prose lol. I started writing fanfic to post online when I was a teenager with a poor grasp on the English language, and what helped me immensely at the time was keeping in mind my English teacher's advice to “just KISS!!” (“Kiss It Short and Simple”).

I still think about it to this day when I get stuck, and it is very helpful when you just need to get the words out and on the page, but it doesn’t make for beautiful prose.

Sometimes I read other people’s work and marvel at their precise use of vocabulary, their inventive metaphors, their evocative language—then I look at my own writing and it’s like, “They were in a room. She was wearing a red dress. It was dark outside.” You know what I mean? But I do this in my spare time as a hobby so I don’t stress about this too much. I’m not trying to win the next Pulitzer Prize or anything.

That and I’m not good at describing stuff. I don’t like descriptions. “They were in a room”—oh, what did it look like? I don’t know! Use your imagination.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

My thoughts are: do it sparingly, do it only if there is a point to it, and try to get it checked by a native speaker (or at the very least do some basic research to make sure it is correct). I have nothing against it in theory, but it can be off-putting to a reader who happens to speak that language if the dialogue sounds unnatural or is just plain wrong. If we are talking about dead or fictional languages it’s not as important, I guess, but never assume there won’t be a nerd who knows Old English or Sindarin ready to correct you.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Brokeback Mountain. Weirdly enough, it had a very active fandom on livejournal back in the day.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I don’t remember them all, but for Merlin I’m going to say this ficlet in which Arthur and Gwen have a baby called Ygraine and Merlin is the doting third parent/uncle figure.

It’s actually part of a Merwenthur series but it can be read on its own as Arthur/Gwen + best friend Merlin. I just want them to be happy!!!

Excerpt:

Scattered on the floor around the three of them are a couple of the rag dolls Guinevere enjoys sewing, some of the wooden figurines Merlin enjoys carving, and the wooden sword Ygraine enjoys smacking on people’s heads. She’s going through a phase — which Arthur finds slightly unsettling, even though Guinevere assures him it is normal — in which she seems to delight in the mild suffering of others, and gleefully seizes the opportunity to cause it when it presents itself. The methods employed are varied and impressively effective in their simplicity: pulling hair, twisting noses, biting fingertips, grabbing ears — especially those of people who insist on making themselves an easy target by parading around with a pair that looks so easily grabbable — and other such tricks as can be devised by the devious mind of a baby who can now confidently rely on her grasping skills. (...) Ygraine’s improper handling of a sword is unimportant, since that can be easily fixed with proper training; her fledgling sadistic streak, on the other hand, is slightly more worrying, being something Ygraine cannot have inherited from her mother, and having thus prompted in Arthur a level of self-scrutiny he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with.

I also quite like An Act of Balance actually (Daemons!AU, Gen, Arthur & Merlin). I don’t think it’s the best thing I’ve written or anything, it was just fun to write.

Excerpt:

“So,” Merlin said, his voice muffled, due to him being half-inside Arthur’s wardrobe. “Gwen told me you’ve been asking questions about my daemon.” Arthur choked on the water he was drinking. “Sire?” Merlin stuck his head out, looking at Arthur in concern. “I’m fine!” Arthur rasped out, thumping his chest with his fist. Merlin grabbed a couple of shirts from the wardrobe. “Red or blue?” he asked, holding up first one and then the other, while Arthur tried to get his coughing under control. “I think blue. More flattering. I would’ve told you if you’d asked.” “That… blue flatters me?” Arthur asked hoarsely, blinking back tears. “About my daemon,” Merlin said, looking at Arthur as if he despaired of his intelligence.

tagging (if you feel like it): @agapantoblu @centurieslove @sexy-sapphic-sorcerer @holocrone @0hheytherebigbadwolf

@thefollow-spot @liviapeleia + anyone who wants to answer these (consider yourself tagged by me 🫵)

[tuckeresque]

:: ice in my heart and in my veins // malcolm x mycroft // for @governmentfairy ::

⸻

Malcolm had been having a particularly trying fucking day, indeed. He fucked off for home around dinnertime, deciding to let the rest of it all wait. He found a black car outside, idling just beside his silver Aston.

Mycroft.

Wandering over to the vehicle, he pulled the door open with a heavy sigh.

"I'm off work, about to head home. What do ye want, mate? I'm not in Opposition anymore, ye know? Been tae prison and all that rot. I'm fuckin' done. Which ye know, of course, because I just saw ye last week. I dinnae have what yer looking for. I might have a shite ton of a skeletons in this closet, but not one for this particular... situation ye've found yerself in. I cannae help ye, Mycroft."

He didn't even care about the fact that Anthea was sitting beside the man, her eyes focused on her phone. She was attuned to them, though. The shite was about to hit the fan. She was such a smart lass. She wanted to at least appear busy. The rules were the rules. They all played the game.

[chihoshisai]

A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden

Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1254 / Genre : Fluff and lighthearted / Summary : Mycroft has been injured and stumbles unpon you.

A/N : i recommend listening to "summer" by joe hisaishi while reading this!

Legwork.

There are a few things that Mycroft disliked about his work such as cocktails - interacting with people he deemed as goldfish was no fun - the worst of them all was legwork. Being on the field, having to play an active role in operations that he would usually plan from the comfort of his office were dreadful. Unfortunately, today was one of those days. Things went south unexpectedly as he had been shot in his left shoulder. The pain was one he never felt before, as he covered his wound with the hand from his uninjured arm. 

He somehow managed to get away from the scene before things got too ugly and was now walking in an open field surrounded by hydrangeas. To make matters worse, a spring drizzle of rain enveloped the area, freezing his body. Panting, he kneeled on the muddy grass ; his phone had run out of battery and he was now stuck in a flower field with no choice but to wait for Anthea to find his location. Sensing a presence, he turned his head to the left and saw you, your back turned to him, hidden behind a lilac umbrella, befitting the colors of the nearby hydrangeas.

Mycroft winced from the pain, reverting his gaze to his arm. Before he found the courage to stand back again, thinking of asking to borrow your phone, you had already approached him while putting your umbrella over both of your heads. 

“Are you alright?” You asked him before seeing the injury on his arm. 

“Well as you can see-” Mycroft was cut short due to the fact that you had now crouched to be around the same level as him, resting the umbrella on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Taking out a handkerchief from your pocket, you quietly whispered “stay still.” 

As Mycroft saw the fabric, he hesitantly moved his hand. You wrapped the cloth delicately on his wound. 

“There, it’s nothing much, but I believe it’s better than covering it up with your hand.” You raised your eyes to look into his, giving him something that faintly looked like a smile. 

“That was quite kind of you, thank you.” You stood up, still shielding both of you from the rain. 

“There is a small hospital not far from here. I can take you there if you’re interested?” In turn, Mycroft also stood up agreeing to have you lead the way. So you did, you walked next to him holding the umbrella. For a while, nothing could be heard but the sound of the rain hitting the flower field. Not wanting to inquire Mycroft about his situation you tried making conversation on another subject 

“The flowers are quite pretty at this time of the year. Shame it has to rain today.” Mycroft glanced down at you. 

“Indeed, I also would have wished to have walked upon such a place in much better conditions.”  You lowered your gaze to the ground, “so would I.”

Many questions floated in Mycroft’s mind. You being here, was it a coincidence or was there another reason for this? Were you really taking him to a hospital? Allie or foe? He had never seen you before, but as he was in a vulnerable position, and you didn’t seem harmful he had no choice but to blindly trust you. In any case, if you would dare to try anything, he was convinced he could manage to escape you like he did earlier today. 

“In normal circumstances people would have called an ambulance, why didn’t you?” He inquired, trying to deduce any clues about your intentions. 

“An ambulance is unable to come this deep in the garden. They would need to carry you back. In my opinion it’s inconvenient for you and for them. Plus you seem to be able to walk just fine so what’s the harm?” You blankly say. You did not bother looking back at him either, focused on the path before you. 

“Fair enough.” Mycroft did not discern any ill intentions from you therefore decided to press no further. 

“Plus, this is the least I can do. I can’t just leave an injured man all alone in a flower garden in such weather.” I do not need another reason to hate myself, you thought to yourself bitterly. 

These last words made Mycroft take a slight bit of interest in you. He scrutinized you ; you seemed  neither happy nor upset by the rain, while giving off an air of sorrow. Your eyes arbored no light, as if something was displeasing you. Yet, you were still strangers. It was not his place to ask about your personal life.  

“What is your name?” Mycroft tried to prevent the silence from falling back between you. 

“Let’s see… Mary Poppins.” This time, you looked up at him, a vague smile on the corner of your lips. Despite your flat response Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Very well, so you shall be.” He understood your wish to keep your identity a secret and didn't press further. Appreciating the fact that you also didn’t inquire about his identity and circumstances. Before long, the two of you reached the hospital, both getting in. 

“Thank you for your help, you’re free to go wherever you wish now.” He felt his heart clutch at those words, catching himself wanting to spend more time with you. You weren’t annoying, over talkative or too energetic. Despite your gloominess, he liked your knack for humor, was grateful for your kindness to bring him here and most importantly was drawn by the mysterious identity that you made for yourself. Of course, he could easily find all there was to know about you thanks to his minor - yet most important - position in the british government, but somehow he wanted to discover it all by spending time with you. For once, he wanted to try doing what the common people did. Getting to know each other.  

“My job is not completely over, I'm afraid. You are not medically treated yet. Until then, I shall remain and make sure you get the treatment you deserve.” You remained expressionless, but a hint of concern could still be heard in your voice. 

“Alright, suit yourself.” Mycroft smiled at you, somewhat feeling relieved. Soon after, he was making a phone call, as you patiently waited for him in the waiting room, your umbrella soaking the floor in front of your shoes. He came to you, making sure to show you his bandaged arm. 

“You seem much better, I’m glad.” You creeped an awkward smile on your face, but soon returned to your resting face.  

“My ride should be here any minute now. I cannot thank you enough for all you did. May I call you a taxi? ” Mycroft looked at you, dreading the end of this encounter. 

“It was nothing much. Anyone would have done the same. But I see, may you get home safe, free of danger. No need for a taxi.” Both of you stood near the entrance of the hospital, side by side looking at the grey scenery made by the rain. Far too soon to Mycroft’s liking, his usual black car came. You saw him off, feeling he was disheartened, before his chauffeur closed the door, you couldn’t help it. 

“I hope we meet again. Perhaps on a rainy day. I would like that.” For a split second, Mycroft saw a glint of hope in your eyes, but you had already opened your umbrella and walked away before he could reply.

-------------------------------------------------------

A/N : will make a part 2 !

[ms-a-l]

Best ship? Psych, Sherlock, and Communty

[mimisempai]

Nobody takes care of me like you do

Summary

Mycroft is in the middle of a long day's work. And although he has asked not to be disturbed under any circumstances, Anthea ventures to knock on his office door to give him a call from Greg.

Notes

Mystrade Monday  1.0  #33 - “Call on Line 1.”

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On AO3

Rating G - 720 words

"Boss." 

Mycroft looked up to see Anthea poking her head through the half-open door and sighed, "Anthea, I said I was not to be disturbed today, for anything..."

Anthea didn't let herself be rattled and replied firmly, "I know, but you have a call on line 1, it's Detective Lestrade."

Mycroft frowned, it had been a long time since Greg had called him on his work number.

He asked, "Work related or personal?"

Anthea shook her head, "I couldn't say."

Mycroft sighed, "Put the call through here."

"All right."

She gently closed the door behind her and a few seconds later, Mycroft saw the phone on his desk flashing and grabbed the receiver, bringing it to his ear.

"Mycroft speaking."

"Hello Mycroft," Greg's cheerful voice replied.

He sighed, "Greg, you know I have a lot of work to do today and I said I wouldn't..."

Greg gently cut him off, "I know that, love. So let me do the talking and I promise it'll only take a few seconds."

Mycroft relented, "I'm listening."

Greg continued in his always gentle voice, "It's 2 p.m. and I know you haven't had anything but coffee since breakfast this morning. So if you ask Anthea, she'll bring you something I left for you. Well, that's all. Bon appétit, work hard but don't overexert yourself, and I'll see you tonight. Love you."

Mycroft didn't have time to react as only the tone of the phone answered, Greg having hung up immediately.

Mycroft put the phone back down and called, "Anthea!"

The young woman immediately opened the door to his office.

Mycroft asked, "I was told you had something for me."

Anthea nodded with a smile and disappeared for a few seconds before reappearing with a small bag in her hands, which she placed on Mycroft desk. She returned to the door just as quickly and said simply, before leaving Mycroft's office, "It's good not to be the only one looking after your welfare. Detective Lestrade is a good man."

Mycroft nodded, "I know."

Then he opened the small bag containing a small thermos bottle, a bottle of water and some small sandwiches.

Mycroft's neglected stomach chose this moment to gurgle, so he couldn't resist biting into one of the small sandwiches. As he chewed with relish, he opened the thermos, and just as he thought it was coffee, he inhaled the scent and realized it was his favorite tea.

He took another bite of the sandwich he had started to eat and his eyes fell on a small piece of paper at the bottom of the bag.

He picked it up, unfolded it, and immediately recognized his lover's handwriting.

You've had too much coffee already. 

Everything better be empty tonight.

Anthea will give me a report so I know if you're lying.

Take care of yourself, my love.

See you tonight.

Yours.

Greg.

Mycroft chuckled slightly, then smiled fondly, touched by so much care. He reread the note before carefully placing it in his locked desk drawer.

He took a sip of tea, made all the more delicious by the fact that Greg had prepared it especially for him. He made sure to eat it all and showed it to Anthea when he'd finished. She just nodded, but Mycroft noticed that she grabbed her phone as she left his office.

He then grabbed his and wrote a message.

I don't know what else to say but thank you.

And that I can't wait until tonight to show you how grateful I am.

Love.

M.

Sent 2:30 pm

The answer came almost immediately.

You'll never have to thank me for taking care of you.

I am, however, looking forward to tonight.

😏

X

G.

Received 2:32 pm

Mycroft chuckled slightly and his phone vibrated again.

Ps: Anthea has already reported to me.

Good boy.

😉

Received 14h32

This time it was not a light chuckle, but an uninhibited laugh that echoed through Mycroft's office. He was still smiling as he resumed his work.

From that moment on, his working day was much more pleasant. Every time he poured himself a cup of tea or his eyes fell on the thermos bottle, he thought of Greg again. Of the way he looked after Mycroft.

And he felt cherished. Loved.

Evening couldn't come soon enough.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

Mystrade Monday 1.0 : here

[destinationtoast]

First-lines-of-fic meme! I was tagged by the fabulous @kiraziwrites

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

1. Stamped with the immediacy of a lip (Ted Lasso, 679 words):

They kiss—holy shit, they kiss—and Jamie can't believe it, but he's the one who pulls back first, who pushes Roy away.

2. All awkward-shaped with no explanation (Ted Lasso, 4K):

Jamie takes Roy and Keeley home to meet his mum, like to Meet His Mum, because they’ve all been seeing each other for a while now.

(lol, I didn't realize that I started both of my most recent stories with a sentence containing a clause that repeats something for emphasis! 😄🤷)

3. Aesthesis (House of the Dragon, 1K):

I go back and forth about whether you are aware of my visits to your father’s chambers.

4. Outgrow the shoes of expectations (Ted Lasso, 63K):

When Jamie was young, he would stare at the poster on his wall and fantasize about playing football with Roy Kent. 

(Contrary to how it appears, the majority of the words of Ted Lasso fic I've written are not actually from Jamie POV... but the first chapters often are! XD )

5. A new way forward (Star Wars, 721 words):

Rey stands in the sand, feels the warm wind brushing over her as she digs.

6. I can't go home but I want you (Hearts Beat Loud, 3K):

In her first quarter at college, Sam has her first roommate, her first B since middle school, her first enjoyable job, her first phone call to dad from more than a hundred miles away, her first solo performance, her first drunken hookup. She doesn’t have her first major breakup, because she and Rose took care of that before she left for UCLA.

7. And the bartender says, "I already know what you're having" (Sherlock, 1K):

“Good lord, why are there so many of him?”

8. The Case of the Meddling Siblings (Sherlock, 37K):

"Sir, there's one more thing that needs your attention -- I believe it's time to invoke Project Domino." Mycroft stared up at Anthea over his papers. "Harry Watson?"  

9. Take a Break (Hamilton, 3K):

“Alexander, no.”  He looks betrayed, hearing these words from me.  

10. Blame (Sherlock, 1K):

It was all Sherlock’s fault, really. The kiss was colder than I would have expected. Wetter, and redder. Tangier. Quieter, also, than I would have expected -- except for the ringing.

Anyone who wants to play, please do! I love seeing these. :) Tagging @wildwren, @aadmelioraa, @nottonyharrison, @shinysherlock, @lilalbatross, @beingatoaster, @thetimemoves, @bakerstmel, @porcupine-girl, @x-populuxe (unless you tagged me in this same meme a bit ago, which I think you might have XD )

[marta-bee]

Someone was blogging earlier about a new Sherlock Holmes project, and made the comment how projects that didn't focus on the Holmes-Watson relationship, romantic or otherwise, shouldn't qualify as adaptations.

Which irritated me partly because it's not particularly accurate of canon (lots of canon have little to do with how those two men relate to each other), and partly because it tied that reaction in with Mary Sue language (the project in question centers on Holmes and a long-lost daughter) which plays into this whole dynamic of slash fans vs. women and girls writing themselves into the narratives that don't give us many female characters to identify with qua women and girls, which rubs me the wrong way at this point just because of my past fannish experience.

Mainly, though, it made me realize for someone who enjoys a good slash fic and Johnlock in particular, and also someone who thinks S1 & S2 of Sherlock were moving toward canon Johnlock in the BBC show... nearly all of the fanfic I'm most proud of writing is gen.

ACD; Holmes and Watson uncover a literary mystery and investigate why there were honest-to-goodness reanimated corpses walking around Cardiff a few decades earlier; a Doctor Who crossover of a sort, and very much a casefic more than focusing on their relationship. (X)

ACD; Holmes goes off on his own and has a bit of an education in how science and progress isn't always the unambiguous good he has experienced when you're on the other end of the weapons said progress makes possible. (X)

ACD; in which Moriarty also survive the Reichenbach fall, and has one final encounter with a certain consulting detective. (X)

BBC; an attempt to square ASIB with what I loved about the ACD story, focusing on Mycroft and Irene with barely a mention of Sherlock or John. (X)

BBC; Mummy works out the truth about Sherlock's "death," also featuring Anthea. (X)

Looking back through my AO3 history I see there are others that are more shippy, several Holmes-Watson oneshots and one Ritchie-verse Johnmarylock PWP I'm still quite proud of, but none have quite stuck in my memory as "this is a story I've written with these characters." Which tells you, or at least me, something. Namely: there's more to love about those canon stories than the dynamic between those two particular characters, as love-worthy as said dynamic also is. And probably if I want to write more I should just let myself write more gen; as should you if you're so inclined.

[afteriwake]

Mytasha, white, 13

With this story, "The Spy & The Spymaster" is now a series! I'm running out of time to answer 30 Day Writing Challenge fics, but this is an answer with the prompt "Write a scene that describes your MC well." I promise I'll finish this (and "The Spy & The Spymaster") soon!

White Wedding (An "Internationally Intriguing" Story) - Clint and Andrea get married, and Mycroft just wants to make sure everything goes off without a hitch.

READ CHAPTER 1 | SERIES PAGE

It was strange getting used to walking with a cane as opposed to his trusty umbrella, but the woman waiting at the end of the aisle made things considerably lighter in his life, even though she was full of secrets from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

“You should have had your matron of honor and your bridesmaids wear a color other than white,” Mycroft said softly to the woman he was escorting down the flower strewn aisle while the attendees of the wedding stood and looked on.

“I still look the best, but white fit everyone’s skin tone,” she said. “I’m used to being in the shadows.”

“It’s your time to shine, Andrea,” he said. “You are the bride, after all.”

“All that matters is that Clint’s jaw dropped,” she said.

Mycroft chuckled. “Then you picked a worthy man to be your husband.”

“I’ll miss you, Mycroft,” she said when they got to the altar. She turned and hugged him.

He embraced her back. “I’ll still keep an eye on you,” he said. Then he turned to Clint. “Take care of her or I’ll sic MI-6 on you.”

“I will,” Clint said with a nod, and then Andrea moved to his side and took his hands and Mycroft watched him take a deep breath and smile at Andrea, a smile that promised he’d cherish her as long as he lived. She chose a good man, he thought to himself as he sat down and his gaze shifted to Natasha, who took Mary’s bouquet from her so Mary could take Andrea’s. She was flanked by Yelena and Molly, and even though this was simply the wedding of a government official and an Avenger, he knew there were snipers positioned around, from both MI-6 and SHIELD, and Yelena and Natasha both had knives on their person.

Just another normal wedding, nothing to stare at.

He settled in to watch the event but his gaze kept drifting to Natasha and his hand caressed the polished oak knob of his cane as he thought back to the events that had led to their relationship. He knew she still felt guilty that he had been shot, but time would lessen the guilt, and periodic reminders that he was otherwise a hale and healthy man would help. If those reminders were often in the bedroom...well, there were perks to dating a former ballet dancer.

The nuptials went by quickly and it was time for the newly minted husband and wife to kiss. Clint dipped Andrea and gave her a passionate kiss that she eagerly returned, and Mycroft felt more settled than he had in some time. There was still the reception to get through, but he didn’t anticipate any of the sniper teams would be needed tonight. Old enemies had been put to bed and new friendships, as well as romantic relationships, had come about.

All was well.

[strawberriesndaisies]

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 22 - For The Ages

Mycroft was a little nervous, he didn’t think there was much reason to be, because Bethany didn’t expect anything of him, but somehow the nerves got to him more than usual. He text her to say he would pick her up a little later than usual due to some meetings he couldn’t reschedule, and then proceeded to put on his newest dark blue suit. He’d been keeping up with his workout routine and felt he looked worthy of a dinner date with Bethany. It was the first time he’d really felt like that and he was certain she’d appreciate it.

He got through his day as quickly as he could and told Anthea to divert his calls where appropriate unless it was an emergency. She gave him a knowing smile and agreed.

Mycroft got into the car and made his way to Bethany’s home, driving past the house that was still being cleared out. He felt something of pride in his chest that he was able to help in some way.

Bethany stepped out of her front door, wrapping her grey coat a little tighter around her body, he was glad she was at least staying warm, the last thing he needed was for her to freeze on their way home.

‘Mycroft.’ She smiled at him as she stepped into the car, he could just see the bottom of the same mauve dress she wore the first time they went to dinner, her slender legs slipping into the same black heels. Stunning. ‘How are you?’ She asked, happily.

‘Fine.’ He nodded.

‘Fine? You want to talk about it?’ She offered, kindly.

‘Not at all.’ Mycroft smiled. ‘What have you been doing today?’

‘Well,’ she took an excited breath. ‘It was my turn to go over to Sylvia’s to do some housework this morning, but when I got there, someone else answered the door… her carer.’ Mycroft sucked in deep breath and nodded, pretending he had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Thank you.’ She said, quietly.

‘You’re very welcome.’ He felt her hand slide over his, her much cooler skin made his heart inflate. How was she always so soft?

Mycroft began his routine of tracing over every part of her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, taking note of every detail he could, but somehow, always, he missed out on the crucial details that told him she was a lifelong musician.

‘Have you spoken to Sherlock recently?’ He suddenly asked, turning to see that her eyes had been closed as she absorbed the feeling he had been creating unknowingly.

‘Sorry, erm, no I haven’t recently.’ She said, almost waking herself up and trying to refocus. ‘We spoke a little once I was out of hospital, he just asked me how I was. Why?’

Mycroft was a little too busy staring at her every feature to answer immediately. ‘He mentioned something about music. I’m sure he’ll get in contact at some point.’ Mycroft was suddenly completely uninterested in music or Sherlock or anything that wasn’t sitting in the back of his black town car looking into the darkened eyes of Bethany Wheeler.

He scanned over her face, taking note of her freckles lightly scattered over her cheeks and the small creases around her mouth and eyes indicating a life time of smiling and happiness. The image of her suddenly in pain as he told her he loved her, flashed in front of his eyes, it was real for a moment, he could feel his chest aching and his heart breaking. Why did he allow his mind to wander to something so painful?

‘What are you thinking about?’ Bethany asked, bringing him back to the present.

Mycroft just smiled and shook his head. ‘Nothing that will make you happy, I’m afraid.’

Bethany watched him, concerned, but not pressuring him to talk or do anything he didn’t want to. She was incredibly accommodating that way, never wanting him to be anymore or less than himself, but he was still contending with the deserving nature of their relationship, if he could indeed call what they had a relationship.

They arrived at his home and Mycroft was around the other side of the car to open the door for her in seconds. She chuckled at him, not teasing, more appreciatively and thanked Andy for picking her up. He nodded to the driver, still not comfortable calling him by any name, and led Bethany inside.

They decided to order in as once again Mycroft failed to plan, why did he always fail to plan ahead where Bethany was concerned? She was in a good mood and looking forward to settling in the projector room.

Mycroft poured her a glass of wine and watched her choose what they would watch together that night. She carefully placed the tips of her fingers over each label, biting her lip or furrowing her brows as she read the titles, some she smiled at, others she grazed over with disinterest, until she landed on one that looked interesting. He wandered over to see what she’d picked and smiled.

‘The Strange Woman,’ he chuckled. ‘How fitting. Any reason for the choice?’

‘Just seems to fit the evening, I think.’ She smiled up at him sweetly. His gaze drifted momentarily to her mouth and he would have kissed her, but his courage failed him.

Mycroft was just a little frustrated, but excitement soon took over as Bethany asked him to show her how the projector worked. His explanation was long and detailed, and he was sure in moments that she wasn’t really listening, but if he’d learnt anything in the past few weeks, it was that she was always listening.

Bethany, under his supervision, set up the film for them to watch just as the doorbell went. He excused himself to retrieve their food and felt his anxiety rising as he realised, he’d left her alone with one of his most prized possessions. He was in a small internal battle with himself as he tried to convince himself that everything was fine, but also worried as she may not have been confident at dealing with any issues that might have arisen.

Mycroft looked up as he entered the kitchen to see Bethany leaning against the door frame watching him.

‘I could hear your anxiety across the house.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Impossible. You can’t hear anxiety.’

‘Oh really? So, you weren’t just thinking about how you left me alone with your projector?’

Mycroft didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. She just laughed, shaking her head and helped him get dinner ready, he would spend hours in the following days trying to work out how she knew what he was thinking, but for the time being, he just wanted to focus on the present.

They got comfortable at the kitchen table and he asked her about her dissertation. She spent most of dinner, explaining things that he only partially understood, it had been a long time since anyone confused him with words, but it was a testament to her intelligence that she could speak with such precision and so fluidly.

Mycroft asked the occasional question, and she had an answer every time with a brief explanation. She loved the subject of science and she loved the chemical aspect of it the most, but it was becoming very clear, very quickly that Bethany knew a substantial amount about surrounding subjects as well, including biology, physics and now mathematics.

‘Numbers just confuse me sometimes,’ she chuckled, sipping her wine as Mycroft cleared away their plates. ‘Bit of a tricky conundrum in the scientific field, but I suppose I’ve got to work hard at something.’

‘That suggests that your studies, thus far, have been incredibly easy and therefore unchallenging.’ Mycroft stood up, putting the dishwasher on and shoving his hands in his pockets behind his chair.

‘It does suggest that doesn’t it?’ She chuckled.

‘Why don’t you just fast-track?’ He picked up his glass, taking a mouthful. ‘It seems obvious that you could have completed your degree well within a year, potentially taken only another to complete a masters, PhD, or whatever other qualification you desired.’

‘Yeah, I probably could’ve done.’ She nodded, sitting back in her chair, her dress moving a little further up her knee to reveal the top of her thigh, making his mouth water.

‘Then why didn’t you?’

‘Because I would need to study every hour of every day,’ she laughed as if it were obvious. ‘Mycroft, I have other things I like doing, you know, other priorities, like Rosie, like music and travelling and my friends.’

‘I understand that, but you have a mind capable of extraordinary things, why waste time not filling it with as much information as you can?’ Mycroft frowned.

‘Isn’t having a happy life more important?’

Mycroft stopped for a moment and thought on what she was saying, there was something he was missing.

‘Look,’ she said, standing up. ‘I can fill my brain with every fact under the sun, I can study, learn, fast-track through anything I want, but I won’t be happy and no one will be better for it. I’m motivated by the things I enjoy, but if I don’t take the time to enjoy anything, then what is it all for?’

Mycroft was surprised by her logic, it made sense he supposed. She smiled all the time, because she was enjoying herself and everyone around her smiled as a result, including him. He couldn’t deny his progress at work when he thought about her, she distracted him often and confused him almost always, but she always made him work harder. Maybe she had a point.

They headed into the projector room and Mycroft let her get comfortable, taking her shoes off and pulling her knees up to her chest, while finished getting the film ready. Once he was done, Bethany leaned over to get the lights. The only illumination came from the screen and in a lot of ways, Mycroft preferred that. He loosened his tie and sat down next to her.

For some reason, he automatically put his arm behind her, allowing her to shuffle closer, she knew he liked to feel her against him, it had been a topic of conversation fairly recently over the phone, but again, she wasn’t making fun of him for it.

Mycroft liked how engrossed Bethany became, she enjoyed the story and thought there was something beautiful about the film. It wasn’t one of Mycroft’s favourites, but he was starting to appreciate it in a new light. He’d tried to steal a few glances at Bethany while she watched, but every time he did, she smiled just enough to let him know she knew he was watching her.

It was just as the film was coming to an end that Mycroft realised that while one hand was behind her, stroking her shoulder gently, the other was across his waist and delicately touching her arm. It was just his fingertips, but enough to be able to feel the soft skin that was her signature. Mycroft could smell the ginger much more strongly now, he turned slightly feel her body gently pressed into the side of his and thought it wasn’t enough.

He gently pressed his lips to the side of her head, feel the soft hair against his fair and felt settled for a moment. He pulled away, the shame over his forward action getting the better of him and he began to remove his hands as well, she hadn’t expressly given him permission to touch her and the thought that he might have been taking advantage crossed his mind.

‘Don’t.’ Bethany whispered, startling Mycroft a little. She turned to face him, her eyes were heavy and black, her hand stopped his from moving away from her arm. ‘Don’t stop.’ Was it a beg? Was it a simple request? Did it matter?

Mycroft couldn’t tear his eyes away, she wanted him to continue to touch her, perhaps kiss her. He debated for only a second before giving in.

Mycroft brushed the back of his fingers down the side of her arm, his eyes focused on the way her skin reacted to his touch, the little bumps forming indicating either she was cold or… well, she wasn’t cold.

He went slow, no longer using just the back of his fingers, but his whole hand to stroke and caress her arm all the way down to her fingertips. Mycroft had failed to notice she had a few tiny scars, most of which just looked like cuts from her adventures abroad, but some he couldn’t identify at all and he was desperate to know.

Something in the back of his mind had him desperate to know every inch of skin on her body, to know what it had been through and how it worked. He wondered if it was a normal response, but he knew if he told Bethany, she wouldn’t think any less of him.

Mycroft lifted his gaze, still tracing over the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, her breathing was shallow and quick, her eyes were closed and her lips parted just slightly. She was exceptionally beautiful, half illuminated by the light from the screen that was concluding the film.

Mycroft felt himself lean a little closer, the side of her mouth twitching in a smile as she felt him moving. His eyes grazed over her face once more before he took the plunge and touched his lips to hers. Bethany let out a small gasp, but she was the one to lean in for more pressure, taking him by some small surprise. Mycroft didn’t let the chance go to waste though, he brought his hand away from her wrist to cradle her face, listening to the quiet whimper of emerging from Bethany.

He felt himself take control of the kiss and explore her mouth the same way he had done before, but still managing to rediscover her. Mycroft never thought it possible to have done the same thing more than once and still not feel fully satisfied that he knew it inside and out, but once again, Bethany was proving him wrong.

Mycroft felt her hand place delicately on his thigh and it gave him a moment of hesitation. He pulled away just enough to realise what was happening, or rather what could have happened.

Bethany smiled against his lips. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘I can wait.’ She began pulling her hand away, but Mycroft’s chest began caving in again.

‘I can’t.’ He breathed. He felt a desperation take over that he’d never felt before.

Mycroft felt her hand return to his thigh and he sucked in a deep breath, he could somehow feel the sensation running through the rest of his body and it only made him want to kiss her again. Bethany’s hand stroked just above his knee, nothing too extreme, yet the contact alone was enough for him.

He kissed her more desperately, his teeth dragging over her lip and a much breathier sigh came out, one that Mycroft was instantly addicted to. He swallowed the sigh and began his passionate attack again, repeating the motion and getting the same result. What made him stop was Bethany’s hand moving further up his thigh.

Mycroft was all too aware of the effect kissing Bethany was having on him, it was one thing to kiss her against his kitchen counter, another for her to actively seek out that part of him.

‘Mycroft.’ She breathed, panting a little, much to his liking. ‘If you’re not ready-‘

‘I am.’ Mycroft panted, desperately. He leaned his forehead against hers, again feeling like he was disappointing her. ‘I just…’ This time he could feel her smile and it grounded him once again.

‘You won’t disappoint me.’ Bethany told him, softly. ‘It’s not just about me.’ Her thumb brushed over the outside of his thigh and it sent another rush through him. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No.’ Mycroft breathed, suddenly not in control of his words anymore.

Bethany smiled, but it was the sound of the projector running out of film that broke the moment. She giggled and took her hand away, knowing he couldn’t just leave his projector like that, it had already been broken once thanks to John and Sherlock’s antics, he wasn’t risking the repairs that were made.

Mycroft pulled away and took a moment to regain his senses. His head was light and a little dizzy, it took him more than a moment to actually get up and deal with the projector. Bethany just sat, much the same a little dazed, but she couldn’t stop smiling at him and Mycroft suddenly felt a bravery take over that he desperately needed the first time he thought about her.

Mycroft held his hand for Bethany to take, she did with a small frown and stood so that she was almost pressed against him. The smell of ginger ignited him once more and he felt his courage finally take hold. He slowly leaned down to press the softest kiss to her lips. He felt the shivers running down her arms as her hands came up to his chest.

‘Bethany.’ He breathed.

‘Yes.’ She breathed back, an answer to the non-verbal question.

Mycroft took her hand in his and led her down the corridor to his bedroom. He felt himself starting to get nervous, but the second he closed the door and turned to see Bethany spinning back, her dress flowing around her waist just a little and her dark frizzy hair catching in the moonlight, his chest began caving in again.

Two strides and his mouth was on hers once more. His hands delved into her soft hair, hers were on his waist as she moaned against him. Mycroft found that the more desperate and needy he appeared, the more positively she responded. Bethany’s small sighs and whimpers, turned into moans and Mycroft devoured them all.

He felt the bed just behind her, making them stop mid-kiss. They both breathed out a chuckle and Bethany looked over every part of his face, before sitting back on top of the bed. He hadn’t quite noticed that she’d unbuttoned his waist coat the entire way, but in an uncharacteristic moment of desperation, he took it off, throwing it somewhere behind him, his tie following closely.

Bethany reached up, gently guiding Mycroft to follow her back to lie on the bed. He could feel every curve of her body beneath him, he mentally scanned down his own body, taking careful note of the connection points and memorising how they felt, the shape, the warmth, the desire it spurred on inside him.

Mycroft let his eyes graze over her face once more, she looked so happy and he couldn’t help his own smile at how happy she was. He let his lips graze hers once more before kissing her with more intensity, his hips pushing into hers, her back arching just a little every time, pushing her chest up as she felt him move against her.

Mycroft wanted to find out more about the way her body reacted, his hand came up, his thumb grazing her bottom lip, but somehow her tongue instinctively licked the tip, making him groan and shudder. He was fascinated at the way her tongue moved around his thumb and soon his hips were grinding against her as she sucked gently.

He took the opportunity to guide her head upwards so that he could press his lips to the impossibly soft skin along her jaw, moving down her neck and making her mouth open and release his thumb. Mycroft made her sigh and groan as his mouth begun to work out where her skin was most sensitive, he wanted to hear her, louder and more pronounced, to know that he was the one allowing those sounds to emerge from her at all.

Mycroft descended down her neck to her collarbone, his tongue came out to trace along it and felt her hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt. Her leg came up to his waist and on instinct alone, Mycroft moved his hand from her face to smooth skin.

The contact between his hand and her smooth leg, had Mycroft stilling, breathing hard against her chest. He’d expected to feel the fabric of her dress, but was somehow surprised that it might have fallen away. He moved his hand slowly from midway down her thigh almost to the curve of her hips, he could feel small bumps and a scar in his brief exploration and wanted to know how she got them.

‘Mycroft?’ She whispered, he’d stopped moving and naturally she was kind enough to be concerned for him.

Mycroft looked up at her swollen lips, a pride that his kiss had been responsible, and her heavy, dark eyes that showed concern for him. Her fingers traced his jaw, trying to assess his expression, but he didn’t have an explanation, he just wanted to feel for a moment.

Bethany smiled, realising he was fine, her fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt, going slow enough for him to stop her, but he didn’t want to, he wanted her to continue. The tips of her fingers caressed the hair on his chest as she exposed more of him, she was gentle and caring and she felt so good that his eyes closed of their own accord, just to block out any distraction that took away from the feel of her soft fingers.

Mycroft felt her lean up and place a light kiss to his lips, she’d made it half way down his shirt buttons, caressing his skin as she exposed more of it, but now she was gently guiding him off of her so she could stand up. He watched her, feeling the slightly cooler air of the room hit his chest, but he was heaving breath into his lungs at such a rate that he didn’t care for it.

Bethany stood just a little away from the bed and smiled, biting her lower lip. Mycroft could feel his trousers, unbearably tight and restrictive. He watched hungrily as Bethany reached behind her, pulling the zip of her dress down at the back, before gently pulling the shoulder straps away and revealing what was the single most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Mycroft sat up straight, his eyes scanning over her quickly before going back to take every single detail in. Her smile seemed to pour out of everywhere all at once, he didn’t even know what that meant, but he could see it. Her legs were smooth, toned, to be expected from all the adventures she had, her hips just a little wider than average, but gave her waist that smaller quality, which also happened to make her breasts look bigger and softer. He noticed the scar on her thigh that he’d previously felt, another on her collarbone that his tongue had found, the two from the snake bites and another that curled around her ribs.

‘Beautiful.’ Mycroft breathed, not even really able to focus on a single part of her body without getting distracted by another. He swallowed thickly and let his breath go when he realised she was smiling and what seemed to him as a little bashful. Why would she be afraid of showing him her body? It was stunning in every way, especially when it was only covered by a pure white thong.

Mycroft smiled and reached his hand out for her to take, guiding her closer so he could once again inhale the ginger that he only associated with her now. She stood between his legs, one hand intertwined with his while the other, tracing fingertips from the bottom of her thigh to her hip, made her shiver.

He felt himself lose all control for just a moment and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her stomach. A wonderful sigh escaped her chest and Mycroft remembered something. He moved his lips towards her hips and her breathing became stuttered and shallow. Her hand grasped his a little tighter and tangle in his hair, indicating just how much she loved her hips being worshipped.

Before he could really stop himself, he hooked his thumbs into the top of her thong and pulled it down just enough to run his tongue from one side to the other.

‘Fuck, Mycroft.’ She groaned, so he did it again, changing up the motion, sometimes kissing, sometimes licking and even gently biting at the thin layer of sensitive skin. Bethany responded to every movement, every intention he had to fill her with pleasure and listen to her moan, was understood by her and it gave Mycroft a courage to give into her completely.

Her hand was pushing his shirt away and Mycroft interpreted that as her own need to feel him against her skin as well. He continued placing messy kisses to her stomach, but quickly went about unbuttoning the last few buttons of his shirt and tossing it aside. Bethany gently stopped him from returning to her as she took a moment to gaze down as his body.

Mycroft felt a wave of shame, he wasn’t nearly as beautiful as she was, at least that’s what he felt, Bethany didn’t agree. She lifted his head to look at him properly and smiled a slightly weakened smile.

Bethany then did something Mycroft never quite felt he ever deserved; she began to kneel down in front of him. He felt his chest panting hard in anticipation, she didn’t break her gaze and Mycroft watched as her fingers open his belt, avoiding the obvious protrusion. She was being precise and clinical in a way, she knew what she was doing and it made Mycroft breath another laugh, making her smile.

Bethany slowed down, making sure that he was okay with everything she was doing. She then unzipped his trousers, the sensation sent small vibrations through him that made him break his gaze and take a deep calming breath. Mycroft lifted his hips so that she could bring his trousers down, revealing his tight briefs. The next part had him slightly more hesitant.

She sensed his nervousness and lifted herself enough to kiss him. The kiss grounded him instantly and the smell of ginger made him need her.

Finally, Bethany ran her fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and dragged them slowly down. ‘I’ve been thinking about this.’ She whispered, making him groan into her mouth again.

Bethany pulled away, Mycroft stared down at the most beautiful creature in existence and saw a hunger in her eyes. She licked her lips, before running her tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the very tip.

‘Oh God!’ Mycroft cried out, his hand going straight to one of the bedposts for support. He couldn’t quite handle both the sensation and the sight of Bethany working her mouth and tongue around his cock, but he hoped he would be able to at some point.

Mycroft let his head fall back and his eyes close as she moved her mouth slowly around him. The feel of her wet, warm mouth encompassing him was a feeling he would never forget. Her hands working with her mouth, over his hips, his thighs and her pacing were all on point, she listened to every small noise he made, every groan, every stuttered breath, she learnt exactly how to please him and more importantly to him, she learnt the moment to slow down and give him a fighting chance.

Mycroft felt his hand dive into her soft, frizzy hair and gently massage her scalp, anything to show his thanks for what she did, she hummed, chuckling as he did and Mycroft showed the ultimate control in not responding to it. He couldn’t afford to mess this up now.

He looked down to see her lips once again swollen and immediately cradled her face, kissing her deeply. Her lips were soft and it only made him groan. Mycroft guided her up, got rid of his trousers and briefs that were around his ankles and turned his attention to her thong. He didn’t have any nerves about peeling them away from her hips and discarding them somewhere with the rest of his clothes.

Mycroft let his eyes scan over her body once more. He breathed another laugh at how wonderful she was, how everything about her just seemed to be what he wanted without him knowing.

‘Come here.’ He said and gestured to the bed. Bethany just laughed and did as she was asked. Mycroft was once again on top of her and kissed her deeply, he didn’t dare press his body to hers just yet, he was saving that feeling for after he was done.

Mycroft looked down at her and gave a small smile, which seemed to excite her, but she couldn’t have known what was on his mind, could she?

He slowly kissed down her jawline, remembering what he had learnt about the sensitivity of her neck and exploited it to the maximum. He felt her hands running up his back and dragging her nails lightly over him, something else he didn’t know he enjoyed. But Mycroft continued to descend down her chest. He brought his hands up to feel the shape of her breasts, how soft and perfectly shaped for his hands they were. If he were that way inclined, he would have thought she was made to fit with him, but he wasn’t so his conclusion was that she was simply that beautiful.

It came as a small shock when he felt her body writhe beneath him, his tongue circling her nipple and sucking gently seemed to be something of another sensitive spot. Mycroft experimented for a moment, trying to find out what made her back arch the most, what made her moan out louder, what brought her closer to coming for him.

That was the goal, he wasn’t oblivious to what sex was all about, but everything felt different with Bethany, it felt more important in a way. Mycroft did everything he could think of, but eventually he realised that she needed something a little more. He brought his hand to her ribcage, lifting his head to capture her mouth, he lowered his hand, caressing her body gently and slowly, rubbing his thumb against the inside of her hip, feeling her mouth drop open.

Mycroft hovered over her, leaning on his forearm and wanting to hold her gaze while his hand gently moved her leg to open up to him. She was panting hard in anticipation as his fingers drifted closer to her core. Even Mycroft had to take a moment as he felt how wet she was, had he really done that to her? It was the ultimate indication that she really wasn’t making fun of him, surely that couldn’t be faked.

Mycroft’s lips grazed over hers as he slid his fingers through her folds, finding where she was most responsive, where she needed him to go, he listened and watched as carefully as he could, not missing a single thing, until he slowly inserted a single digit making her heavy eyes close and a deep moan emerge from her throat. It was a beautiful sight and a wonderfully pure sound, but he wanted more.

He began slowly pumping in and out, reaching deeper and finding a spot that made a thin layer of sweat form on her forehead. Mycroft then moved his mouth back to her neck, kissing, sucking, biting, anything to bring her higher. He descended, remembering every part of her body and the way she liked it to be treated, he didn’t stop, he kept going until he was between her legs.

It was never a strong skill Mycroft had, but he was certain he could do this for Bethany, he’d listened and made mental notes, revised them and he knew he could put them into practice. Mycroft used his tongue to lick through her folds and found the right pressure and pacing easily enough, but he needed to make her come.

‘Fuck.’ He heard her say without any hint of control. Mycroft groaned into the movements and felt the first indication that she was close, she clenched around his fingers, and it made him groan into her again. ‘Fuck, yes.’ She said again and realised that his enjoyment was what was bringing her close.

Mycroft devoured her and made it known just how much he loved what he was doing. Before he even got a chance to pick up any pace, Bethany cried out his name and clenched around his fingers, contracting against his mouth. It was bliss. Pleasure that Mycroft had never known. It was beautiful.

He slowly helped her descend and looked up to watch her chest heaving, panting more and more breath into her lungs. Mycroft removed his hand as slow as he could, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs and taking a moment to appreciate the sound of her panting, clearly with a smile on her face.

Mycroft eventually made his way back up her body, seeing it in a new light and enjoying every part of it’s new hypersensitivity. He felt her body still reacting to him, her dark frizzy hair splayed out against the white sheets of his bed and an exhausted smile on her face. Mycroft smiled down at her.

‘That…’ she panted. ‘Yeah.’ She laughed and Mycroft took that to mean he’d done well. ‘I don’t think anyone… you know.’ Bethany frowned trying to remember.

‘You mean to say I was the first to make you… like that?’

‘Don’t get too cocky about it, you’ve set the bar pretty high now.’ She teased.

Mycroft chuckled and placed a kiss to her lips, tasting a thin layer of sweat. ‘I feel confident I can exceed expectation.’ He said, lowly, making her smile against his mouth.

Bethany’s body froze for a split second, she had an idea and it excited Mycroft. She guided him to sit against the pillows on the bed, making sure he was comfortable before getting up onto her knees. Bethany swung her leg over his hips and Mycroft pushed himself a little further up, preparing himself for what he thought was about to happen.

She was so stunningly beautiful in the dim light, her body was soft and warm and everything that ignited Mycroft to no end. He looked up at her and readied himself for the moment she took him inside her. She was incredibly tight and Mycroft, again, let his head loll back for a moment. He held her hips, just trying to control her descent, to slow her down a little and Bethany was entirely complicit. She didn’t want to rush this either.

Mycroft lifted his head to see her, just to watch her pretty face reacting and smiled, finding that her eyes had fluttered shut. Her hand was on his chest to help hold herself upright, the other was gripping the wooden headboard and finally, Mycroft felt himself surrounded by her.

He couldn’t resist, Mycroft wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his body to hers and feeling every patch of skin against his chest. He took a moment to feel her hand tangled in his hair and to once again burn this moment into his memory. The smell of ginger and sex, the echo of moans and the sight of something truly spectacular.

Mycroft felt her hips moving just slightly and chuckled to himself, leaning back and watching as Bethany took control. She smiled as she moved, biting her lip, encouraging his hands to roam her body, if that was what she needed then that was what she would receive, he wanted her to come again.

Bethany’s hand released the headboard and snaked between their bodies. Mycroft was hypnotised by her, engrossed in the movement and the way she worked her body. He watched and listened and felt her get so close, just a little more and she would come again.

‘Bethany.’ Mycroft groaned, feeling her tighten around him, his voice seemed to do something, but again it wasn’t his forte, what did he say? He went with the only thing he could think of. ‘Will you come for me?’ His voice was more of a growl.

‘Fuck, yes!’ She cried.

Mycroft sat up, feeling Bethany clench tight around him, he swallowed her moans, devoured the sounds erupting from her throat and there was no stopping what was about to happen. He held her secure against his body, not leaving her mouth for a second, he moved them so he was once again on top and began thrusting into her at a pace he didn’t know he had.

He needed to see her, he wanted to look at her beautiful face, but he could feel her still reeling, still keeping a tight hold of him and her dark eyes piercing his was enough to make his whole body shudder. Mycroft thrust all the way inside her, coming hard, not being able to keep quiet and only her name emerging from his lips. It was all he could think of, the only thing in the entire world, nothing else existed.

His eyes had closed as he panted, regaining his breath, and he felt her lips graze his. Mycroft smiled, opening his heavy eyes and saw Bethany almost laughing she was so happy. He looked down and wondered how much longer his arms could hold him upright, he didn’t have much time left, they were about to give in.

Mycroft stroked his hand over her forehead and into her hair, examining her face in the afterglow and kissed her slowly. There was nothing sensual about it anymore, now it was comforting and grounding and reality was calling them back.

He slowly removed himself and sat back against the pillows, taking in the room again, still trying to steady his breathing and looked over at Bethany trying to do the same.

‘I love you.’ Mycroft frowned, not sure why he hadn’t said it since the day he thought she was going to die. Bethany looked over at him, startled that he’d said it, but soon began smiling uncontrollably. She rolled over to him and placed her head on his chest, he naturally came to wrap his arms around her body and keep her close.

‘I love you too, by the way.’ She said, making him chuckle. ‘In case that wasn’t clear.’

‘I had my suspicions.’ He teased and sure enough it made her giggle.

They stayed where they were for a few moments longer before deciding they both needed a quick shower and some water. Mycroft took note of her kindness on previous occasions and refused to let her do anything more than her body would allow.

Despite his own body not wanting to move or do anything more than he absolutely had to, Mycroft refused to let her go downstairs to get water, instead he retrieved it for her himself. He stepped into the shower with her and helped her clean her body, taking the clear opportunity to once again understand the way her body reacted in the afterglow.

Mycroft felt happy, he couldn’t remember the last time he could genuinely say that, but then he couldn’t remember very much at that moment.

They got into bed and Mycroft didn’t dare look at the time, instead he allowed Bethany to rest, and he instinctively curled his body around hers. It felt natural, no, it felt essential. Mycroft never wanted to know another day without her again.

END

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[mousedetective]

Ship: Mythea!

DO I SHIP IT?

[thesmartone]

Mycroft: I'll have just one slice of the pizza

Anthea: Good, nice effort on the diet

Anthea:... wait, did you just stack 3 slices of pizza on each other and you ate that?!

Mycroft: hush now dear, we won't want the body to know that, right?