#mycoft holmes

[crazydaymycrazyway]

Albert: I heard from Will that you once abandoned Sherlock in France when he was ten?

Mycoft: Yes, I did

Albert: Why?

Mycoft: He said he can navigate around the place on his own

Albert: Weren't you worried he'd be kidnapped?

Mycoft: Worried about who? Sherlock?

Mycoft:

Mycoft: They'll give him back after a while

Mycoft: They'll most likely contact me with a message like "We beg you to come get him. Forget the ransom. Even wild animals are better tamed than him"

[mmouseymodesty]

@Giftober ►Day 13: Fashion◄

[lacelynpage]

My last recital

Summery: Sherlocks funeral hit Mycroft a little harder then he expected.  

Word count: 521

Warnings: Mention of Sherlocks faked death, nothing else <3

A/N: Hello Darlings! This idea popped into my head earlier and I just had to write it. Thank you all so much for your support! I hope to be publishing the second chapter of Regency soon, so keep an eye out. 

Sherlock wasn't dead.

Mycroft knew that, 

He had helped plan it all. 

Had watched the plane take off. 

But to see the funeral… 

To look at the name on that grave… 

His arrogant little brother. 

His perplexing little brother. 

His irritating, 

Relentless, 

impossible, 

…Little brother. 

You could feel it in the shakiness of his hand as you walked out of the church. 

You could see it in his eyes when they lowered the empty coffin into the ground.  

But now you could hear it.  

It rang out as clear, clean notes on the piano.  

Hidden, just out of his sight, in the door to the ballroom, you listened.  

With elegant and gentle touches Mycroft played the piano for the first time in years. 

You had often asked him to play for you, but he never did. 

He had hated the years of lessons he had been forced to endure as a child. 

Sherlock had loved them, but Mycroft never quite took to it. 

Still, there he sat; eyes closed as he let his memory take over.  

It was a beautiful song, with a lovely yet haunting melody. 

Somehow it felt unfinished, 

Like it was only part of something. 

There was a sigh after the last echoes of the notes had faded. 

You watched from behind as he took a sip of the scotch in his glass, setting it back down with a heavy hand. 

“It's a duet.”  

Mycroft's voice startled you out of your trance. 

The rasping in his voice gave away his past tears while he stared at the piano. 

As you walked closer you gently rested your hand on his shoulders. 

He made no move to look at you, preferring the thin veil of privacy it provided him. 

Sharing his emotions was not one of his specialties. 

“We played it together at my last recital.”  

There was a melancholy to his voice. 

“Sherlock always hated that I quit playing, held it over me for years.” 

Another slow sip of scotch, 

“He would send me things at uni. His compositions, things he thought I might enjoy playing.”  

You smiled sadly to yourself a bit.  

Mycroft was truly sentimental once you really got to know him. He had many very obscured trinkets in his estate. Small things that other people disregarded in favor of the historic paintings, but all had an incredibly important meaning to him.  

With a very deliberate hand he opened a leather-bound book that sat on the bench next to him.  

Inside were several stapled packets of handwritten sheet music. They are initialed and dated at the top. He looked through, briefly, and pulled one out. 

S.H. 1988, age 12 

He places it on the piano and begins. With a delicate melody Mycroft plays the expertly composed song.  

He began to lose himself in the peace. 

Remembering his little brother who, though he wasn't dead, was in an incredibly dangerous situation. 

Slowly you backed away, giving Mycroft the space, he needed to process his emotions. 

A swell of music followed your ears as you walked into the kitchen to start making a tray of Mycroft's favorite cookies.

[joe-roger-bish]

I need to stop with all of these fandoms

@luci-ivery-colt

Welp....

[imaginemycroftholmes]

A woman being sent to assassinate Mycroft?

WARNING! THIS IS GOING TO BE CRACK BECAUSE WHY NOT?

It was in the darkness of his dimly lit office that Mycroft was working alone. Why alone? Because he’s one of the few people in existence that can do the amount of complicated problems without killing everyone off that’s why!

Ain’t nobody have the patience and skill like this Holmes brother-not even Sherlock.

Anyway, Mycroft was working alone in his office in the dead of night (because he distracts the HELL out of everyone every time he pauses to talk) in one of his expensive three piece suits that gets everyone so hot and bothered because holy fuck he’s one sexy motherfucker when he’s all dolled up.

God damn.

He sits behind his enormous desk trying to get the rest of his work done so he can take a satisfying shower when Mycroft hears a noise with his super genius ears.

Immediately he can deduce where and who its coming from. “I know you’re there,” he states confidently not even grabbing for his brolly. Instead he leans back further into his big plush chair big enough for two and spreads his legs in a wide stance.

From out of the shadows appears an assassin; lovely and deadly as she stalks closer.

“Mr. Holmes I’ve come to kill you,” she declares unsheathing her gun from her belt holster, “and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

A delicate sexy eyebrow rises at the declaration. “Oh really?” he questions curiously.

“Yes, nothing now shut up and let me-wait! what are you doing?” the female assassin asks quizzically as Mycroft starts to undo his tie.

“Nothing,” Mycroft replies taking off the tie and then shedding his suit jacket. It was too seductive for words.

The assassin feels her body temperature rise as the jacket came off along with the tie and worse still-he was going for his collar.

“Please stop,” she begs weakly as her sense are being overwhelmed by his hotness.  Everything is starting to feel tingly and there’s no way she can cope with all these flesh in person.

“What was that? You want more?” Mycroft asks innocently as the first 4 buttons of his shirt as revealing a teasing taste of skin.

The whole room seems to have reached sweltering levels for the poor assassin as the vest comes undone. She knows that she has to run before its too late but she is hypnotized by Mr. Holmes’ beauty and his body.

“No-please-I can’t!” she pleads as her target lifts up one elegant pant leg onto the desk.

“We’ll see about that,” Mycroft states smugly as he rolls up one expensive pant leg to reveal an expanse of creamy leg.

And it is like an immediate explosion as the female assassin rushes over the sturdy wooden desk and takes him.   

They fuck like animals for almost the entire night and in as many different positions as possible that even the when he regulars came in they were cast out of the building lest they start an orgy of Mycroft’s god-like sex prowess.

And in the end-the day was saved thanks to Mycroft and his irresistible charms, his suits, and his legs.

the end.

[crazydaymycrazyway]

Mycoft and Albert getting married-

Mycoft: Is there anything you want to do after marriage? Any specific conditions?

Albert: Do you have a cat?

Mycoft: Yes?

Albert: Then buy fifteen more identical ones and don't tell anybody. Whenever someone comes to visit you, just say you have one cat who is really fast.

Mycoft: ....

Louis: ...I'm adopted

[crazydaymycrazyway]

Mycoft: Sherlock was a wierdly empathetic child

Albert: Wierdly empathetic? How?

Mycoft: My brother didn't mind seeing dead bodies or the thought of touching them. But once when I slapped a mosquito which bite me, he said that the mosquito was just trying to get food and asked how would I feel if I went to the fridge to get something to eat and it slams the door shut and snaps my neck

[crazydaymycrazyway]

Sherlock when he hears someone saying Mycoft is cool: When I was eight, I used to get nosebleeds. One night I had this heavy nosebleed and went to Mycoft's room. I shook him, and he woke upto a child's face covered in blood and saying 'help' in the dead of the night. I can still hear him screeching like a banshee while falling off the bed.