Out of Sight - Part 17
Summary: Moriarty is your boss. After he helped you out of a precarious situation when you were still a minor, you started working for him. Now, he has a new job for you. Get close to the Holmes brothers to keep an eye on them for him. Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Reader & Jim Moriarty/Reader Fandom: BBC Sherlock Word count: 2126 words
Masterlist AO3
Mycroft ends up taking you to The Ledbury, one of the few restaurants with three Michelin Stars, making it incredibly difficult to get a table; except, of course, if your name is Mycroft Holmes. He had told you that you’d be eating out at a “nice restaurant” and that had indicated that it would be fancier than usual. You hadn’t expected this, however.
A tall man greets the two of you, before taking your coats and leading you to your table. Mycroft, being the gentleman he is, pulls out your chair for you and helps you sit down. He—as always—is wearing a three piece suit, this time one of a dark gray, almost black, wool, combined with a dark red, almost burgundy, tie and pocket square in the same colour. When you walked in you noticed that he’d made it a point to shine his shoes earlier today, as they looked perfect.
‘You look nice.’ His eyes meet yours as he sits down. ‘Thank you.’ He replies, a bit stiffly, as he’s not used to being complimented on his looks. Despite this, he eventually thanks you and tangles his fingers with yours above the table, holding your hand. You, instead of lingering on the topic, decide it’s best to give him his present. Reaching down, you grab the small paper bag you’d taken with you and hand it to him. ‘I didn’t know whether you wanted to do presents, but I saw this when I was in town…’ You say when he reaches into it and takes out the small box. You look at him intently as he opens it, revealing a pair of cufflinks and a matching tie bar. They’re a simple silver colour with a black square at the end of the tie bar and a small black square in one corner of the square cufflinks. He looks down at them, taking them in. ‘I know they’re not exactly the most classic but-’ ‘I like them.’ Mycroft interrupts you. ‘You don’t have to say so just because I got them for you… I still have the receipt, so if you want to exchange them-’ ‘Stop it. I just told you I like them.’ Mycroft stops your rambling and you look down when his gaze meets yours. You can feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks, something you rarely experience, so you go quiet.
When you glance up, you can see he’s taking off the cufflinks he’s wearing. ‘What are you doing?’ Your voice is more quiet than intended. ‘Putting on my present.’ He replies casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Your gaze follows his hands as he puts the new cufflinks through his shirt’s cuffs and puts the tie bar in place. He puts the ones he was wearing before into the box before placing it back into the bag and setting it down next to him.
‘What do you think?’ He asks. ‘...looks good…’ You say, still a bit flustered that he had just put them on immediately. ‘Well… thank you for this very thoughtful gift, my love.’ He says, reaching across the table to grab your hand before bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. The heat that had subsided slightly comes back in full force, rushing up your neck and to your cheeks.
‘You’re blushing.’ He observes after a beat of silence. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands and groan. ‘I fear you’re making it worse.’ You mutter and he lets out a soft laugh. ‘I was thinking…’ he says, changing the topic swiftly but smoothly, ‘how about we get out of London for a bit until the end of the year? Drive up to the country… spend some time with just the two of us.’ ‘Drive up to the country?’ You sit a little straighter. ‘Yes. I have a cottage near the north of England… we could go together. Stay until the end of the year.’ That would mean just over a week. Just the two of you. Leaving London behind. Would it mean leaving Spike behind too? Even if it’s just for a moment? ‘That… I would like that.’ You quirk a smile as you reply. Mycroft’s gaze softens when you agree. A visible sign that he cares. That he wants you there. Well… Charlie. Not you for you. He wants the version of you that you present to him. The version of you that has been tailored to him like one of his suits.
‘My love.’ His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. ‘We can leave tomorrow if you’d like. We can drive by your place tomorrow morning and start heading up north once you’ve packed your things.’ You smile. ‘Yes, I think that would probably be the best course of action.’ His thumb brushes over your knuckles. ‘I have a present for you too.’ He says before reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulling out a small box as well. When he hands it to you, your fingertips brush past his. You hadn’t quite expected for him to have a present for you as well, and when you slide the top off of the box, your eyes widen. Inside sits a Cartier Trinity bracelet with a black cord.
‘Mycroft… have you gone mad?’ You look up at him quickly, surprised. Perhaps even shocked. ‘I haven’t.’ He replies calmly. ‘I thought it would suit you.’ Your mouth opens and closes a few times like a fish out of water, and, before you can come up with a witty response, the waiter sets down the starters and pours wine into both of your glasses. He starts explaining something about the food, but you’ve zoned out, staring at the box in your hands.
The feeling of Mycroft’s hand taking the box out of yours takes you out of your thoughts once more. Rather than giving you the opportunity to protest, he moves the bracelet over your hand and onto your wrist before tightening it. ‘There.’ He huffs, grabbing his glass of wine. ‘And don’t you dare protest.’ He says before taking a sip, stopping you just as you’d open your mouth to say something about how ridiculous it is for him to buy you such an expensive gift. ‘Fine.’ You agree, albeit reluctantly.
The dinner passes quite quickly. Despite there being several courses to eat, they’re all quite small. Mycroft seems to be enjoying himself immensely, not just because of the food, but the company as well. He tells you about his family, not just Sherlock, and where he wants to take you to see near his cottage. Apparently, he’s quite fond of walking in his free time. He also asks you about how your training has been going, not just the running but also the kickboxing. You answer him honestly, that you’ve been pretty consistent, though are hoping to pick up some more kickboxing classes in the new year. Work had been interfering the past few weeks, but with things quieting down, it should go just fine. He smiles at that.
Just as you step outside after dinner, Mycroft’s phone rings. He lets out an annoyed sigh, but pulls out his phone. Looking down at the screen, he realises it’s his brother. ‘I should probably take this.’ He says apologetically. ‘Yeah, of course.’ You close your coat and reach into its pocket to grab a cigarette. Due to recent stress, you’d started smoking more often again. You know you shouldn’t. That it would be better if you didn’t. Yet here you are, lighting one up as Mycroft talks to Sherlock on the phone. From the corner of your eye, you see the man glancing at you and you offer him one. Holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he accepts it, placing it between his lips. You light it for him and he thanks you by quirking his lips into a small smile, not wanting to alert his brother. So, for the next few minutes, he stands there, talking to his brother whilst smoking. The bag with his cufflinks hangs loosely between the fingers in his other hand, swinging back and forth ever so slightly.
‘Sherlock, please… I would rather not hear about your latest case right now.’ He says. There’s a moment of silence before he says something again, seemingly responding to Sherlock’s words. ‘Go talk to Mrs. Hudson if John has gone after his girlfriend to make things up to her.’ He rolls his eyes and he takes a long drag. You smile slightly at his annoyance. ‘No Sherlock, I don’t care. I’m busy.’ You step a little closer to Mycroft, looping your arm through his and leaning your head against his shoulder as you take another drag. As you let smoke trail from your mouth, you breathe it back in through your nose. You can hear Sherlock’s voice through the phone now, saying something about Mycroft not having any friends so he couldn’t possibly be doing anything that’s remotely of importance. Hearing this, you let out a soft chuckle. Sherlock was clearly still in denial that his brother does, in fact, have a life outside of his work and family (him—cough, cough).
The car pulls up and he says something to Sherlock before hanging up the phone. ‘Sorry about that.’ He murmurs, putting away his phone and turning to you, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath is warm against your skin, especially in the cold air of winter. Before you get into the car, you both put out your cigarette with the tip of your shoe. He follows you in, staying closely behind you before taking his seat next to you. Once the door is closed, he instructs his driver to drive you both to his place.
The ride itself is mostly silent. You lean your head against his shoulder and look outside at the buildings you pass by. He, too, looks out of the window, but his hand is on your wrist, his thumb playing with your new bracelet. It’s almost possessive, how he holds your wrist, though it’s not tightly. It’s peaceful. Perhaps too peaceful. But, you suppose you’ll enjoy it for now, even if it’s just momentarily.
The following morning, after sleeping in, Mycroft wakes you around ten. He’d gotten up around eight that morning to take a couple of work calls regarding Egypt, making sure not to wake you so you would have the opportunity to catch some more sleep. He shakes your shoulder slightly, whispering your name.
When you finally do wake, you slowly open your eyes and blink at him. He, seeing you awake, presses a soft kiss to your lips. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb drawing small circles near your temple. ‘Morning, Myc...’ You murmur, still half asleep. ‘Morning, dear.’ He replies. ‘Did you sleep well?’ You nod and close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. He’s still there, crouching next to the bed and looking at you. His thumb stills for a moment as he admires you. You lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips. When you part from him, you sit up, letting the sheets pool around your waist. You’re wearing one of his old jumpers that’s quite large on you, as well as some shorts you’d left here last time. ‘Would you like oatmeal again?’ He asks before adding, ‘I have some blueberries and strawberries in the fridge.’ ‘That would be lovely.’ You slowly move your legs over the side of the bed before getting up. Mycroft, who had stood up moments before, offers his hand to you and you accept.
He holds your hand as he leads you down the stairs and to the kitchen. His grip is firm and warm, reassuring almost. If the circumstances of your relationship had been different, it would have been reassuring. If you hadn’t been the person you are, it would have been different. There’s this impending sense of doom looming over you that you are very much trying to ignore. You know that at one point this all will blow up in one way or another, and yet, you are starting to realise that you don’t want it to. You want to be here, with him, in his presence. You have to admit it now. After weeks—no, months—of denying it to yourself, you have to admit that you like him. Actually like him for him. Not just for the mission you’re trying to complete. Not just because Jim told you to get close. And, as you drive to Baker Street later that morning to go get your things you realise that you are completely and utterly fucked.
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