#mycroft bbc

[slushy-writes-slushy-recovers]

"Mind the Gap" - Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Warnings: None? Reader is an American living in London, Mycroft is using his powers (surveillance) to spy on you a little keep you in line. 

▒▒☂▒▒☂▒▒

You had a rare free afternoon and were using the tubes to get back home to Baker Street.

Mycroft had made arrangements, as he often did, for you to hand over your notes about Sherlock’s behavior over the past two weeks. You, unlike John, had agreed to Mycroft’s offer when it was presented and had turned around and split the sum with Sherlock.

Mycroft was well aware that you would agree before he “met” you in person, same as he was sure that you would immediately ignore his stipulation that his intervention not be brought to the attention of Sherlock. You needed the money and, while loyal, would express this by telling Sherlock the truth. Really, the whole point of the venture was to get Sherlock to accept some money, and feel like he had some control over how much Mycroft surveyed his life.

The arrangement was beneficial and simple. You had already handed over your notes, Mycroft had already gleaned what information he needed (including page three, which always included whatever drivel Sherlock insisted you include this week). And now? He was passively ensuring your safe arrival home.

He did not bother with the audio of course. There was no need and he felt no inclination to hear the repetitive “mind the gap” that was woven into the fabric of the lives surrounding you and, now that you were there, yours as well.

Except that you had missed your stop. And then the next one, and several others that would allow you to correct your course. He knew the trackers were working in perfect order, but a second glance and a more direct observation of your change of plans would surely do no harm.

▒▒☂▒▒☂▒▒

You were looking at your phone. You had a list of things you wanted to do, and a vague idea of times. An advert, when Mycroft had not been watching you directly, had caught your attention and you decided to go to a certain tourist attraction.

A beep from your phone, which you checked. “Kindly get off at the next stop and get on the correct line. - MH.”

You blinked and sent a response, “Who is this?”

You avoided more than a small twitch, an impulse to smirk at such a reply. But why not take the opportunity to mess with him? Given he had never messaged you directly before, but rather sent others to fetch you or ordered you directly.

“You are perfectly capable of realizing who this is. - MH,” came a quick response. “Get off at the next stop and get on the correct line.”

This time you smirked and responded, “No.”

No three dots, no response. You did look around for some kind of camera, and did find it. Maybe it was a bit much to wink at it, but you soon resumed ensuring you made it to your destination.

Except you didn’t, not the way you intended, anyway. You got off at the right stop for the tourist spot and made your way up from the underground. A familiar black car pulled up and a text message:

“Get in the car. - MH”

Out of surprise, when you almost tripped, you missed the next message:

“Mind the Gap. - MH.”

[iightkun]

Me, writing a thinly veiled self-reflection in the form of BBC’s Mycroft Holmes?

It’s more likely than you think.

[slushy-writes-slushy-recovers]

Repose - Mycroft Holmes x Reader

So the one I just posted? A Lesson in Sandwiches? Yeah, I went into it wanting to write this plot and somehow wrote something completely different! ▒▒☂▒▒☂▒▒ Warnings: None? Some fluff, Mycroft being very subtle about his care, reader is implied to have a chronic pain condition (lightly mentioned, reader is at least in pain). 

▒▒☂▒▒☂▒▒ You had brought dinner, a peace offering since you knew Sherlock was just finishing up a case, and, perhaps, he had felt bad about the spat the two of you had gotten into. He struggled to say it, but when you came up to his flat and found drinks awaiting you, the kind you liked, done just right, and the smell of some kind of dessert... “He left about a minute ago.” Mycroft. He was sat there, alone, and you quickly connected the dots. He had a meeting with his brother, of course, another plan to look after Sherlock and get him back on track. You suspected this was his design, anyway. Mycroft was much more calculated about his moves, but he cared so much, regardless of how much he showed it. “What are you still doing here then?” You asked, then thought perhaps that was not the best reaction. Whether or not he was offended, or felt much else, he did not indicate it. “Just leaving.” His gaze met yours. He held his umbrella out. You looked at it, then him, confused. Why was he offering-? You felt a wave and did your best not to let it show. Pain, a familiar sensation, but not one you wanted to advertise, even if you knew there was no reason to be embarrassed. You knew that there was no way that Mycroft was unaware of your condition; he knew everything and could easily get access to your medical records, amongst other things. Wait... He held the umbrella out still, tip to the ground, his gaze still on you. It was an offer. He could tell you needed it. And this was him offering you a moment of relief. So you took it, and leaned, felt for a moment a smidgen of relief as the surprisingly sturdy umbrella took some weight off of your feet. “Thanks.” ▒▒☂▒▒☂▒▒ “Good thing I prepared, just in case.” You eventually unpacked the dinner you had brought for you and Sherlock. Mycroft did not say anything besides accepting the offered food and setting your drink and dessert down for you. He looked at you once more as you both sat down. Your hand was on his umbrella and you were reluctant to hand it back after the relief it had given. “You can eat here you know,” You offered, for the hundredth time, and figured he would say no like he always did. “I can spare a half hour.” He said and settled as if it were perfectly natural, as if this were not the first time he had ever said yes instead of rushing back to the office or wherever he was needed most.

[spell-lanamarazm]

Should I finish this?

[spell-lanamarazm]

Mycroft Holmes

[spell-lanamarazm]

I lost my previous account((

Wonderful men:

[hunkyboyjim]

Sometimes I wonder about Mycroft Holmes (BBC Sherlock) and modern UK politics

[threehours-aday]

wip wednesday but i've no presentable wip so finished work wednesday instead so 'demolished' is the one fic i've written in a fandom that i cannot seem to shut up about because (a) i genuinely love it and (b) it's blatant self-projection. gatiss's mycroft is my kind of sad, tortured, loving elder sibling, and honestly aside from the fact that i don't occupy a 'minor' position in the british government and am not cleverer than sherlock, we're pretty much the same. also, this was the one fic where i kept him in the dark about lazarus, which meant he thought sherlock was dead and their mummy was mourning loudly at him and john beat him to a pulp, so he was pretty pathetic.