Caring Is Not An Advantage

indie selective mycroft holmes // written by hayden \\ // est. 1.20.17 \\ header by red

[mvcrofts-blog]

bbcmary:

     The words sink in slower than they would normally, and the small, almost sad, smile that appears is just as slow to appear on her lips. “Oh, Mycroft.” Mary gently puts her head on Mycroft’s shoulder, resting it there tentatively. “Sentimental idiot.” In truth, Mary still felt the same, and always has. Being with John, and loving John, had not changed what she felt towards Mycroft. She thinks she might be crying, salty tears falling onto Mycroft’s suit jacket. He’ll have to get it dry-cleaned. 

      It surprises him, the contact, but it’s not unwelcome. He waits a moment and then puts an arm around Mary’s shoulders, looking at her with the smallest of smiles. “I’m the sentimental idiot? If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who’s...” he looks down, observing the wet spots on the shoulder of his suit. “Crying all over me.” He snorts-- fondly. “I’ll have to get that dry-cleaned.”

[mvcrofts-blog]

@theholmesalone replied to your post: So uh… hi. It’s been a while. Some stuff has...

welcome back, i hope the show you were working on went well

/ thank you! it's good to be back! the show was AWESOME!!

[mvcrofts-blog]

So uh... hi. It’s been a while. Some stuff has happened, everything is fine though. I was really debating coming back here, because my Mycroft muse is all but gone. But... I logged in to see the stuff I’ve been tagged in, the follow forevers, despite the fact I’ve been MIA for almost a month, with a few exceptions here and there. The love is strong here, so I’m gonna try to stick around. I’m going to weed through my drafts, probably drop a few. If I’m gonna stick around, I need to not feel super pressured by things that are too long or don’t catch my interest. But yeah. I don’t want to disappear since Mycroft means a lot to me, as do all of you!!!

xoxo hayden

[mvcrofts-blog]

I’M BACK!

(Sorta!)

My show is done (I’m really sad about that, but that’s another story...) and while I’m still really busy, I’m not as busy. It’ll be better next week, so my activity will still be slow this week-- but I’ll be here. My muse for Mycroft is pretty low right now, so I need to ease back into him. But I have 13 drafts I’m going to work on this week, and I’ll post them slowly. I’ll log back in here on mobile so you can reach me-- I’ve been on another blog the past week or so. 

So this is just a reminder that in addition to Mycroft I have @carbuckety (a sherlock-based oc) and now @ludificatio, a character from the show I just did! Check them both out!!

Much love! xx

[losingsiide-archive-blog]

friendly reminder that the only thing keeping mine and @mvcrofts friendship alive is a joke about potatoes.

[mvcrofts-blog]

rustedsteele:

“rare t’ hear that. I’m usually just ramblin’.” He chuckled to himself a little more than to Mycroft. He didn’t move from his place on the wall, merely made sure his lighter had in fact made it into his pocket and took another long drag off of his own smoke. “Still, yuh don’t have t’ tell me. I just hear that helps when shit gets insane. You look like a man who’s got a lot t’ do in a day.”

“In my world, ‘shit’ doesn’t get insane. It just is. Mycroft shook his head. “I guess it is a good reminder. Depending on how you look at it. Although it can be easier to pretend you are not human, just to get through everything.” A delicate shrug followed by a cough, as if he was embarrassed to have shared all of that.

[mvcrofts-blog]

subsolanus:

                  “  no,  they  do  not.  they  will,  at  some  point,  but  now  they’ve  got  me  to  distract  them.  ”       —–  THEY  WON’T  FOR  LONG  remains  unsaid;  your  fingers  already  itch  for  FIRE,  thinking  that  maybe,  just  maybe,  the  heat  will  melt  away  at  the  ice  that’s  been  eating  away  at  your  heart.

                                   sometimes,  it’s  so  easy  to  forget  that  you’re  only  five.  it’s  so  easy  to  forget  that  normal  children  do  not  take  a  knife  to  their  arm  just  to  see  what’s  beneath  layers  of  skin,  do  not  spew  forth  poisonous  words  that  gets  them  EVERYTHING  they  want  ——  or  well…  not  everything.  albeit  he  had  always  done  anything  you  asked  him  to,  mycroft  had  done  so  out  of  his  own  volition.  perhaps  because  you  share  more  than  with  any  other,  or  maybe  because  he  can  understand  the  pattern  of  your  complex  cognitive  process.

               and  it’s  then  that  the  realisation  hits,  then  that  blue  eyes  seem  to  lose  their  OLDER  THAN  YOUR  YEARS  quality,  instead  brimming  up  with  tears.              “  if  you  go  away  —–  ”  a  clench  of  a  tiny  jaw,  the  tremble  of  a  rosy  bottom  lip  “  does  that  mean  there  won’t  be  any  more  plays  ??  ”

          two siblings, older but not wiser than their years, so similar, yet so different, and still mycroft is always baffled by eurus. everything about her. and somehow, her words are reassuring, because he believes her (or he knows it’s true), and maybe he’s selfish for it, but he holds onto those words. they don’t hate me as much as they hate her. not yet.

          if he could’ve known that years down the road, eurus would be gone, presumed dead, and he would’ve gotten the blame and the brunt of the work related to it all thrust upon him, he would’ve laughed at his teenager self for being so petty. why did he think his parents hated him then? because he was overweight, didn’t have good social skills, didn’t always make perfect marks, or god forbid he wanted to be an actor? how does something like that compare to getting the blame for not taking good enough care of his sister, for letting her kill, for letting her die, for letting her rot away in prison and NOT be dead, for failing his whole family? kids. 

        but the question keeps him grounded, in a terrible way, and mycroft shakes his head-- he’s so innocent, in a tragically beautiful way. “not while i’m gone,” he says sadly, for himself and for her. “but when i come back on holiday. i promise we’ll do extra plays then.”

[mvcrofts-blog]

prosaicbuteffective:

“The longer I stayed away from London, the harder it became to come back. I was consumed by this fear that he would hate me. Tell me to stay gone.”

Victor continued twiddling his thumbs, keeping his gaze fixed on them to avoid looking at Mycroft. “Did he ever mention me after I left?”

“...” Mycroft didn’t know what to say. Why was he always put into this position? And how to explain. “...No,” he said after a moment. “But he still- cared. Cares. He doesn’t hate you, by any means.”

[mvcrofts-blog]

adler-thewoman:

          “What would be the fun indeed.” She takes a final drag from the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stubbing it out with her shoe. “Nothing I ever do is harmless though. At least that’s what people tell me. I seem to have a habit of causing trouble. With no real intention to, of course…”

       “What kind of trouble?” If Mycroft seems skeptical, it was mostly just because he doesn’t expect much. But is he curious? Maybe. Maybe he wants to know anyway. “You must have quite the reputation.” As if he doesn’t.

[mvcrofts-blog]

notelementary:

“Just like you, right? We’re both just too much alike. And I hate that”

“If that was supposed to be an insult, it didn’t work. Of course we’re alike, we are related.”

[mvcrofts-blog]

pullingrank:

“Bit amateurish, that. Life tip from someone who’s been involved in more than his fair share of both ends of kidnappings and hostage situations: it’s never a great idea to threaten the person doing the kidnapping. It doesn’t tend to make them keen to treat you kindly and, if they’re an insecure yet aggressive jackass–which, to be fair, means pretty much all of them–they’ll probably take the opportunity to beat you into silence.” John’s grip remains steady; there’s the door opening, a brief walk down a hallway, another door, and the whoosh of outdoor air, chilly and damp. “It might also seem like a good idea to take any opportunity to scream for help, but,” and the knife reappeared, just a ghost of pressure with no heft behind it at Mycroft’s back, “that really just leads to more pain and isn’t worth it unless you’re very confident that there is absolutely someone in hearing range who’d intercede on your behalf.” A van door slid open; the faint scent of new upholstery and air freshener and coffee. “In you get.”

Mycroft probably would have scowled if he thought about it hard enough. The problem was he really couldn’t think. His mind was terrifyingly blank. He had no idea what to do, how to get out of this situation. Is this why he wasn’t cut out to be a field agent? He’d had training for situations like this, of course. Years ago. But he’d never had to actually deal with this, and if he could concentrate, he might’ve been cursing himself. Instead, he tried to reason-- with himself. This was John Watson. His brother’s best friend. Whatever was happening-- there had to be a reason. John wouldn’t hurt him, he wouldn’t-- A knife on his back. Barely a touch of pressure, but Mycroft’s whole body went cold, and he tried to still his breathing. To the best of his ability, he climbed into the van, having no choice. John was right, everything he was saying, and he hated it. “Fine,” he spat, and then fell silent.

[mvcrofts-blog]

brokenlittlebrother:

“I’m gonna end up crying sir!!!  I can’t help that!”  He barely got the first words out.

“B-ba-basically the short of it is… he abused me with social experiments and ruined my life… ended up killing my girlfriend… oh… my girlfriend…”  He started to weep now.

“I…was planning on asking her about our future… a serious commitment.. maybe even marriage… but NOPE.  Had to STAB me ONE last time!!!  RIGHT where it hurt the most…”  He couldn’t breath anymore.  He was crying too much.

For the love of God. Mycroft didn’t want to hear this sob story. He took a moment to compose himself, willing that the younger man would do the same. Please. “Please try to keep your emotions out of this. The more you stammer, the long this takes.” Mycroft tapped his toe on the ground impatiently. “What vendetta did he have against you?”

[mvcrofts-blog]

Goodbye.

Send me “Goodbye” for the last voice message my muse leaves for yours before they die - ( not accepting )

“John. I know this is going to be hard to hear. You’re not going to want to. You’ve lost everyone. Almost everyone. Mary. Sherlock. Now-- me. That’s why I couldn’t do this in person, because you’ll hate me, and I don’t want you to hate me while I’m still alive. Please. Keep living. I can’t. But you can. You’ve always been the strongest one out of all of us. You can do this. Anthea will keep an eye on you. Let her help. Anything you need... And one more thing. Just know that I think you’re a good man. And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, for both of us. Goodbye, John.”

[mvcrofts-blog]

letshavediinner:

  “One of many, though if it is a new or an old identity could be argued by either side and win. For the sake of simplicity however, yes.” Her eyebrows arched when he continued to speak as thought what he said would actually apply. “I think we both know that’s not true when it comes to me. I would have found a way in with or without a new identity if I set my mind to it.”

   Her lips curved upwards some as he challenged her, digging and questioning at her words. It was unsurprising in reality; that’s what all of the Holmes children did regardless of who it was or what the situation was. She’d already had several ideas floating around in her head. 

   “Because I have nothing to gain off of you or anyone else this chaos would apply to should you be caught unaware. Not a single thing. If anything, being aware could benefit myself in potentially causing some of the people involved to back off or run away like cowards. Call it tipping you off if you wish.”

   Adler was probably right, Mycroft mused. But that didn’t mean he had to admit it... thought he didn’t need to. He had a feeling she knew, and that meant she won. Oh, she so rarely lost. But when she did...

    “Mhm,” is his only response to that, not wanting to say too much. She seemed to have a way with words-- both her own and other people’s. Yes, he was a bit unnerved by the woman suddenly being in his office. Who wouldn’t be?

     “Yes, it seems everything you do is for your own gain. Nothing without a price, yes?” Mycroft crossed his arms. “I’d like to hear everything you have to say, then. Speaking in riddles and vague terms won’t help either of us, I think.”      

[mvcrofts-blog]

"Goodbye"

Send me “Goodbye” for the last voice message my muse leaves for yours before they die - ( not accepting )

What does one say to their younger brother, who they’re not on good terms with, when one is about to die? So many things would go unsaid, but isn’t that always the case with death? Oh well. Only the important things.

“Sherlock. I need you to do one thing for me, and I’ll never ask for anything else from you. I know you won’t take care of yourself, so let the people in your life keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t do something stupid. And live out your life as happy as you can. That’s all. Goodbye, brother.”

[mvcrofts-blog]

photographcr:

It was obvious that Mycroft despite him. He hated to see what he became. A criminal. A subordinate of a crazy little bastard. But he was here. And Sebastian wasn’t happy at first too to see his former boss. Not that he hated him, but because that put back in his mind tons of mixed memories. Good ones. Bad ones.

Sitting in front of the tall man, and dragging a cigarette, he sighed, hoping truly that would be less long. - “Oh don’t worry I’m not happy of this situation either. But Moriarty is actually dealing with some new stuff, and I have to keep you here the time he finish. Cigarette Mister Holmes? “

“I was hardly worried about what you thought, but thank you for sharing.” Mycroft’s patience was thin. He didn’t even want to be here, let alone talking to Sebastian. But it was all part of the job, and he had to keep up the act. He just had to. Everything was fine, because everything is always fine for Mycroft Holmes. That’s the deal.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke.” A lie. Probably one Sebastian could see through. But he didn’t care. He smoked when he was stressed, and he couldn’t show that he was stressed. not here, not now. “So.” He wasn’t one for small talk, but he was curious to see just how much he could get out of the man. “How long have you two been... working together?”

[mvcrofts-blog]

Goodbye

Send me “Goodbye” for the last voice message my muse leaves for yours before they die - ( not accepting )

“I don’t particularly know why I’m calling you. I-- I suppose because you’ll be involved, after I die. And I had to-- tell someone, but I couldn’t tell my brother, or anyone else. Keep an eye on Sherlock for me? After I’m gone. I-- thank you.”