u + me = <3 - Mycroft Holmes x Reader
notes: for these lovely anons that i took inspo from and then kinda lost the plot to both of them.
Mycroft Holmes was a relatively secretive and work-oriented man. Which is why when his younger brother notices a lapse in his routine, it transfixes him. Mycroft had been sending telegrams with someone multiple times a day, and it didn’t seem to be work related. Sherlock knows this must be costing his brother a fortune, but he continued to do it.
“I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s not the type to spend so much money for no reason,” Sherlock rants to his friend James.
James sighs and looks at his friend. “If I told you that we should stay out of it, would you listen?”
One afternoon, Sherlock was pacing Appleton while Mycroft seems to be preparing for something important. The smell of cologne on Mycroft is more noticeable than usual, which is odd for a work day in Her Majesty’s Foreign Office. Yet, it was Saturday. The banks weren’t open on Saturdays, and Sherlock doubts there was an exception for the Foreign Office, at least for someone with lower ranking like Mycroft.
“You have plans.” Sherlock muses aloud, causing Mycroft to turn slightly to look at his brother.
“Brother mine, Saturday is the ‘day of rest’.”
“Sunday is the day of rest, brother mine, not Saturday. And I don’t remember why it interests you.”
Sherlock scoffs, not quite knowing how to respond. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t seem affectionate, which was greatly unlike him. With no other options, Sherlock does what he does best: analysing people. Mycroft’s cologne, elevated level of personal grooming, and nicer clothes pointed to something important to him. “You’re going out.”
“Very astute,” Mycroft says sarcastically.
When Mycroft isn’t looking, too busy perfecting himself in the mirror, Sherlock steals a look at the planner on Mycroft’s desk. Mycroft’s journal was a piece of his mind, orderly and precise. The name listed on the dinner appointment details was one Sherlock didn’t recognise, but he knows James probably would. “Have fun, brother.”
At Sherlock’s comment, Mycroft turns in suspicion, but Sherlock is already gone.
Sherlock immediately went outside to find where he knew James was lurking. Sherlock repeats the name listed in Mycroft’s journal, and a look of familiarity passes James’ face. “You know them?”
“There was this girl at Oxford who was friends with them. I remember the name, not much else. Yet…”
“Yet what? James, Mycroft could be courting this person! This isn’t a time to be forgetful!”
“If I remember correctly, I’ve been to their flat before in London. There was a party there last summer, I believe.”
“Do you remember the address?”
“Obviously. Who do you think I am?”
Half an hour later, James finds himself outside the flat from his memory while Sherlock was trying to figure out how to get inside.
“The likelihood of them being in is incredibly likely, so we’ll have to find a way to be discreet about this.”
“Your plan is to break into the flat of someone Mycroft may not even be romantically interested in?”
Sherlock rolls his eyes before saying, “I know they’re romantically involved. And it’s not like you have a better plan of how to get inside!”
“Really? One I haven’t alrea–” Before Sherlock can finish his sentence, James has already knocked on the front door to the flat.
You open up the door to see the two men on your doorstep, confused as to who they are and why they were calling on you.
“Hello, my friend here and I were wondering if you know a Mycroft Holmes?” James asks you, laying on the charm.
“Are you his brother?” You ask Sherlock, looking past James. The question you ask shocks Sherlock, since you had probably never been shown a picture of him before.
“I am, how did you know?” Sherlock asks, curious as to how you knew while you let the boys inside.
“He has your same face. And your eyes are quite similar.”
Sherlock found himself smiling at your deduction. If Mycroft was bent on something with you, at least you weren’t a complete imbecile. “What do you truly think of my brother?” He says before sitting down on your sofa that you gesture to.
“I must admit I’m rather fond of your brother.” Your comment, said so matter-of-factly, causes James to smirk at Sherlock’s discomfort. Sherlock can’t fathom why anyone would like his pompous brother, let alone someone who cares enough to entertain the thought of marrying him.
“Are you prepared for what comes with loving a Holmes?” James asks. This causes Sherlock to look at him, his interest piquing with James’ intervention. “Modern love is cruel, darling, and a Holmes is even worse.”
“You don’t know my relationship with Mycroft. And to your comment I say, ‘fuck it, whatever’ because you don’t know me, and you clearly don’t know Mycroft enough. Now, if you excuse me, I am no longer in the mood for company.” You bite back defensively at the questions and concerns the two unknown men have.
Even with Sherlock and James now kicked to the curb, Sherlock can’t stop himself from laughing. It seems the laughter is infectious as James joins him. “I like them,” Sherlock says despite himself. It was true, this mystery of whom Mycroft fancies has caused Sherlock and James to find an end to it that was quite satisfying.
An hour later, you get a knock on your door again, but this time it was a different Holmes brother. This one came bearing a gift, a box of Cadbury chocolates. Mycroft had noticed you eyeing them the last time the two of you went out, and he thought it would be something you should try. “I cannot believe how many minute details you remember. How does your brain not explode?”
Mycroft chuckles at your comment as the two of you stroll to the restaurant not too far from your flat. “That’s an excellent question, and I do not know the answer.”
After dinner while you and Mycroft are walking at the park, you find it’s the right time to broach the subject weighing on your mind. “I met someone today.”
Mycroft looks at you in intrigue, “do tell.”
“Your brother, I believe. And an Irishman.”
Mycroft grimaces at your comment, “how can I begin to express my apologies?”
“You don’t need to, they weren’t too bad.”
“They must have vexed you.”
“Yes, but they were only asking about you.”
This causes Mycroft to pause. “They didn’t ask anything about you?”
“Only if I actually care for you.”
“I’ll talk to them. Again, my deepest apologies for the discomfort they must have caused you.” Mycroft’s eyes show how honest he is. You can tell he was worrying over whether or not they had offended you.
“Good, because there was something else I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”
You tilt your head, telling him to go on.
“I was a bit unsure if this was too soon, but if you can survive James and Sherlock without help, then you’re much, much stronger than I give you credit for. I… I would like to spend more time with you.”
“You know you can always visit me, Mycroft–”
“But that’s the problem. I don’t want to visit. I want to come home to you being there. I want to wake up and fall asleep beside you. I want a place we can both call home, and I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.” At the end of this brief speech, he stops walking to get down on one knee.
“Mycroft…” you say, words failing you. Seeing him, with hope in his eyes looking up at you… It was too much, yet somehow not enough.
Mycroft pulls out a ring box, to reveal a silver band with an opal in the middle surrounded by diamonds. “I often find myself thinking that I’ll never want anyone else. For me it’s you, only ever you.”
“And for me, it’s you.” You say, nodding at him. He slips the ring onto your finger, and you rush to put your arms around him. He holds you close, as if you’re the most important thing in the world. And to him? You are.
You grab a rock off the ground and etch your names into a tree saying your names and that Mycroft had proposed here. Mycroft, in the moment, takes the rock from your hand and draws a lopsided heart around your message. It was perfect, and it was right. It was him and you forever.
