Discover Top Posts Tagged with #mycroftholmesworld

Let's [Not] Be Friends

Starring: Mycroft Holmes, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Irene Adler. At: The Library. Synopsis: When realizing they’re a minority in town, the Sherlockverse comes up with an agreement to avoid being left behind. But what good could come from gathering a high functioning sociopath, an army doctor, a retired dominatrix and the British government in a room?

Irene was not in the library yet, but it’d be dumb to assume she hadn’t stepped inside the whole day. In the usually calm and ordered library, there was a soft music echoing in the walls. Piano music, though there was no piano to be seen, so there was probably just some recorder hidden somewhere. Everything had been ordered thinking in the four people that would hopefully not kill each other that afternoon. Four chairs around a circular table, in which center rested carelessly a medium-sized cheesecake with strawberries, four glasses, a bottle of champagne and a package of cigarettes, everything pointing to a supposedly friendly meeting. Or something.

Sherlock hadn’t known what to make of the cryptic message he’d received from an anonymous source, though seeing as there wasn’t much else to do in the town besides wait for whatever oddities it would produce next. Whatever was in the library would be a prime subject of his curiosity and so he made his way to the building, not having an idea of what to expect. Cautiously, he pulled one of the doors open and poked his head in, looking for any signs of another soul inside. When he found nothing, the detective ventured further in, noticing the setup almost immediately. Four chairs, refreshments provided and - oh. Glancing around, he swiped the pack of cigarettes and held it in his grasp as he settled into one of the seats, having no option but to wait to see what was going to happen.

Mycroft woke up in an early hour, today he was going to the library, he needed to read Sir Doyle’s books. Mycroft became impatient to read them since when he heard about them. Actually, he already knew that he wasn’t going to like them, not because of how they were written or something into those lines, but because the books made Mycroft just a fictional character and the privacy…people already knew about him while he didn’t know anything about them. Mycroft sighed without even eating anything for breakfast, he just wanted to go to the library and deal with the truth. He walked in the library and started searching for the books then he had the intention to get out with the books when he finally found them, but he heard a locking sound from the library’s door. Mycroft rose a brow with a suspicious expression. He placed the umbrella’s handle on his wrist to have a free hand then he tried to open the door. Locked. Of course. He already knew it. Mycroft sighed “Sherlock…” he whispered, angrily. Immediately, Mycroft started searching for some useful tools to open the door. He could have called someone, but he was sure that it was just a waste of time, he could handle a locked door of course…instead he couldn’t handle questions from the eventual rescuer, especially if that rescuer turned out to be Gwen or another of Sherlock’s so-called-friends. Thinking about that made Mycroft feel worse, but he didn’t want to linger about it…he had to get out from there. So, after a while of searching he found some clips, he took two of them and changed their shape and used the changed clips into the lock. It didn’t work at first…and even a second…third….never tell anyone that he didn’t succeed at the first try…oh, finally! The door opened and Mycroft took a sigh of relief, breathing the outside air like a reward, the books were a reward too. Sherlock. He did this. Mycroft looked at his watch and saw that he had been in the library for hours by now, the next day he had that meeting …an anonymous message…and in the library…of course, very amusing. However, he decided to read the books to calm himself. The next day, Mycroft took a breath trying to calm himself, but when he saw Sherlock, well, all the calm changed in an angry attitude “Surprised to see me, dear brother?” Mycroft hissed into Sherlock’s ear, making the books fall down before him on the table. Mycroft was furious and annoyed with a little of exasperation because he had to bear Sherlock’s childhood manners “You locked me inside the library!” he yelled at Sherlock, using the umbrella to mark his words, hitting it on the floor, and he was making loud noises, especially in a library.

John arrived a bit late, rushing and running up the stairs to the doors. It was mysterious, intriguing, John thought, that someone would leave an anonymous message to come meet here. It looked relatively empty, but upon walking a bit more inwards, he spotted the table near off - well, it was sort of hard to miss with the yelling. A nice arrangement, it was. His eyes immediately landed on the bright red strawberries atop the cheesecake. Taking one briefly crossed his mind, but he refrained for now. Instead, his eyes shifted between the Holmes brothers with a glint of curiosity twinkling. “Am I interrupting something?

Irene choose precisely that moment to make her big entrance. She had spent the whole day baking the cake and making sure everything was perfect for that small meeting of theirs, but that didn’t mean her appearance had to say so for her. The reason why she left the library and returned was to get herself a new dress, one that most of the guests would recognize; the exact same black dress she was wearing the night her heart betrayed her. “I certainly hope not.” Irene replied to John, going to stand just besides him as she eyed the Holmes brothers. She realized in that moment it was the army doctor the one she hated the less in that room, but it was not exactly a surprise to her. “Would you mind pretending to have manners and let your fighting for some other time? I’m afraid we have a couple subjects to discuss.” And though she was apparently going straight to the reason why she asked them all to come, she didn’t even make a movement to take a seat. Of course, she was waiting that one of them would take the dare of offering her a chair.

Sherlock only gave a roll of his eyes when he recognised his brother’s grating, though calm voice, made more annoying by the fact that he had thought he would have stayed locked up a bit longer or, even better, not have found a way out at all. He had thought it would be amusing to annoy Mycroft for a little while at least since he would realistically have gotten out fairly quickly, as much as he liked to brag about how much smarter he was in comparison. “No, I was quite aware you would manage to get out sooner or later. I’m disappointed to see it was sooner.” He gave the faintest hint of a smirk, pleased to see the umbrella being used for emphasis. “Stating the obvious, are we?” He would have gone on but seeing John come in caused him to stop, quickly focusing his attention on the doctor instead. “Nothing important,” the detective answered with a wave of his hand. The arrival of Irene was grand enough on its own though the spectacle made him more annoyed than amazed. “Oh? What sort of things did you have in mind that required all of us here?”

Mycroft sighed closing his eyes, he needed to calm down, he was behaving like a child…like Sherlock. He opened his eyes just in time to notice Sherlock’s slight smirk and that made Mycroft even more furious inside…he was losing control because of Sherlock and his little brother knew it. Mycroft was going to answer, but he saw Watson and Irene “Perhaps the news that Sherlock started smoking again?” he mocked his little brother, but then his eyes focused on Irene’s dress. Mycroft noticed, but said nothing. Instead, he walked towards Irene and offered her a chair as an English gentleman that he was.sighed closing his eyes, he needed to calm down, he was behaving like a child…like Sherlock. He opened his eyes just in time to notice Sherlock’s slight smirk and that made Mycroft even more furious inside…he was losing control because of Sherlock and his little brother knew it. Mycroft was going to answer, but he saw Watson and Irene “Perhaps the news that Sherlock started smoking again?” he mocked his little brother, but then his eyes focused on Irene’s dress. Mycroft noticed, but said nothing. Instead, he walked towards Irene and offered her a chair as an English gentleman that he was.

John nodded at Sherlock’s answer and decided to leave it be. No more than a few seconds later, he heard Irene make her entrance. Beautiful dress she had on. He didn’t recognise it, but the first time he saw her… well. John sniffed at his own thoughts and discarded image, coming back to the conversation when he heard Mycroft speak. Oh, that must’ve hit a nerve for his detective friend, he thought, knowing how rough things had been lately. Nonetheless, he said nothing, and seeing the elder brother offer the chair to the lady, he took the initiative to take the last seat available beside Irene. “Yes, Irene, what exactly did you have in mind? With all of us here, I can only imagine the possibilities.” he decided to question, not wanting to see a drag out fight between the brothers.

Irene smiled widely when hearing Mycroft point at Sherlock’s vice, hoping it would be because of the cigarettes he was holding. Have you heard that a wounded dog barks louder to scare hunters away? The Woman seemed to take that phrase a little further. She didn’t only bark—and for this I mean of course that she would be as sarcastic as ever—, but she also liked to see others bark at each other just for the sake of scandals, or perhaps to keep her mind on something else, this was after all the first time she met Sherlock since the day after Valentine’s, and she had to make sure it wouldn’t hurt as bad. “Actually, those are mine.” She smiled, nodding politely at Mycroft when he offered her a chair. “Is good to know at least one of you is a gentleman. Must I assume then that your parents did a good job and your brother lost his manners at the morgue?” She wondered as she took a sit, and though she was talking to Mycroft, her eyes got fixed on the detective’s when she began her question, and then she extended elegantly a dainty hand to him, asking with that for the cigars. It seemed that she would leave it like that, ignore their question or perhaps let them deduce it on themselves. That was her plan, actually, but soon she realized she was perhaps trusting too much in these men’s wit. “You really don’t have a clue, do you?” It was only then when she looked away from Sherlock, at last looking at the other two. “Four. There’s just four people from our world.”

Sherlock immediately felt the urge to open up the pack, not having needed to do so before Mycroft showed up. He could have had better self control, perhaps, but it was tough when someone knew him so well and knew exactly how to get under his skin. The only benefit was that he could do the same exact thing. “Or the news that Mycroft is about to severely break his diet,” he shot back through gritted teeth, not even bothering to make eye contact with his sibling at the moment, figuring that he would probably be staring at the cake anyway. His head whipped back around to glare at the woman when she spoke, not even hearing her claim that the cigarettes were hers. “I suppose it must be nice being a doormat,” Sherlock mused, staring directly at Irene as he spoke. “Especially for someone so manipulative that she had to bribe us simply to show up.” Noticing that she was asking for the pack, he gave her a saccharine smile as he opened the pack, taking one out to place it in a pocket before breaking the rest in half over the floor. “Enjoy,” the consultant told her as he placed the empty pack back in her hand. “Brilliant observational skills. Next are you going to tell us that the sky is blue?”

Mycroft observed everything, but it was more an automatic skill that actual interest. He noticed Watson taking the nearest seat beside Irene and figuring out why, at least he thought, and also he listened to Irene’s words “Oh, he started smoking again at the party, pity that you weren’t there” he replied to Irene and took the last seat available that was near his brother, of course. When Irene talked about four, immediately Mycroft looked down at one of the books thinking about the sing of four. He wanted to talk about the books, but maybe later with less audience. Mycroft sighed rolling his eyes at Sherlock’s behavior “Then you say to me to stop treating you like a child” the elder brother shook his head, but then glared at him “Actually, I won’t and I haven’t looked at the cake” he didn’t add yet, figuring out Sherlock’s thoughts about his actions. Mycroft didn’t talk about the books and just rose a brow at Irene’s words. Mycroft didn’t like not understanding things. Actually, his mind started thinking about it giving some answers, but there were too much possibilities “Moriarty is missing, but I don’t think you want to talk about that” the elder brother kept looking at Irene trying to not look at the cake, but his craving wanted it.

John felt a bit out of place at that moment. Everyone was talking at each other and the tension was rising a mile a minute. John rose his eyebrows - though he was sure no one was looking at him. It was true. He was sure he hadn’t met everyone in the small town, but those four looked to be the only ones from their own world. He sat back in his chair and observed the bickering three at the table. Astonishing. Put them all in a room, and someone is certainly going to get it. “Hm, Moriarty.” John said a bit half-mindedly, sudden realisation then hitting. “Oh God, Moriarty. What’s he up to while we’re sitting here.” A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. Although considering his main motive was to set Sherlock off and compare mental strategies, John thoroughly doubted he was up to much since Sherlock was sitting right beside of him. He finally did snatch a strawberry off the top of the cake, not being able to resist and partially maybe just the slightest bit of hunger was waging within him. Before he sunk his teeth completely into it, his eyes locked on Irene’s. “This is for us, right?”

Irene wasn’t sure what was the dominant emotion on her heart when Sherlock dropped the cigars, if hurt and sadness for such rudeness when she could still remember him comforting her as he haunted her nightmares away, or anger for the impudence he seemed to be oh so proud of. Oh, forget the first part, it was not such a hard battle. It took almost no time for her blood to boil inside her veins as she stared at the detective with gritted teeth, doing her best not to rip away the empty box. The most colorful ideas came to her mind to ease a little the enraged beating of her heart though, the kindest of them all included using the tablecloth as a very rudimentary rope to immobilize him and make the box go inside the deepest of his intestine, though not precisely through the mouth. “And people say I am the bitch.” She smiled bitterly, whispering it low enough for only Sherlock to hear. Thank goodness John’s musing about the cake brought her back to the present, because she knew she was more than capable of doing so and her grip on the tablecloth was worryingly suspicious. “It is.” She assured, gesturing for him to get as much as he wished. She had to blink three times to get on the track of the conversation again. “I’m afraid, gentleman… and Holmes Jr., that Moriarty is not the biggest of your problems at the moment, though I wouldn’t precisely scratch his name of the things you have to worry about.” As she ordered her thoughts, she reached towards the bottle of champagne to start pouring it in the four glasses. “The two other worlds in here have very special features. Magic, angels, demons, aliens… each one of them more senseless than the previous on… oops!” That last exclamation couldn’t be more fake. What happened to make her say so? Well, remember that I said she was pouring champagne for the four of them? A little suspicious she would think of Sherlock too considering how mad she is at him, despite how much she claimed once to love him, don’t you think? Well, she just pushed his glass with the bottle just after filling it, letting all the golden liquid to fall towards him. All in purpose, of course, and if that fake exclamation was not obvious enough, then the grin in the corner of her lips should be more than telling.

Sherlock ignored his brother’s quip about acting childish as he didn’t have room to talk about anyone else’s behaviour. It was designed solely to get a rise out of him and he wasn’t about to give a reason for ending the chat so soon. The discussion moving from badgering him to speculating about the consulting criminal was a bit better, though their ignorance on the subject only proved to give him a headache. “He’s not up to anything because he’s supposedly dead,” the detective answered in a bored voice, making it clear that the subject wasn’t important to him nor something worth discussing in the least. “And if he isn’t here, I don’t see why you’re all worrying. I would actually prefer his company over most of yours.” He gave a pointed look towards John to prove his point and exclude him from the comment. Especially the woman’s at the moment as he had caught that little quip, and she was being even worse than Mycroft which was not an easy feat. With a purposefully loud sigh, he rolled his eyes to look at Irene. “Did you only call everyone here to repeat the exact same information we are already aware of? I’ve got much better things to do -” He cut himself off midway with the spillage of the alcohol, clearly an intentional act on the woman’s part. With an annoyed scoff, he rose from his seat, attempting to shake off the excess liquid. “What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded from her, turning to address the other two as well. “If you three want to sit here and have your insipid little chat, go ahead, but I’m not going to stay here and be insulted.” Retrieving the cigarette from earlier and a box of matches from the only dry pocket, he only threw a departing statement over his shoulder before stalking outside to dry off more. “Please do let me know when you actually decide to use your brains and have an intelligent conversation.”

Being polite was one of the cards in Mycroft's deck, he had to learn how to be polite because of his previous job, but Mycroft couldn’t help but smirk when Irene called Sherlock as Holmes Jr. However, he sighed looking at Sherlock and Irene “Even she was supposed to be dead, Sherlock” the elder brother was referring to Irene, obviously. When Irene made the the glass fall, Mycroft shook his head putting back the glass up on the table “I wouldn’t have ever expected such clumsiness from a woman who claims to have manners of a lady” yes, that was a sideswipe against Irene and yes, so Mycroft was behaving nicely to Sherlock in this moment. The elder brother was protective in Sherlock’s regards, that wasn’t a secret for anyone at this round table. Mycroft looked up at his brother before speaking, he was going to say something about Moriarty and the fact that probably the consulting criminal wouldn’t even have wanted to spend time with Sherlock in a all new world to discover, but Mycroft said nothing of that sorts “Perhaps is better if you get to the point” Mycroft said to Irene. This time he didn’t even look at the cake or the champagne, but he took the books from the table to prevent them from get wet.

John withheld his comments about Moriarty possibly wrecking havoc all over London in their world in search of Sherlock (because after what John had experienced only three years prior and now with Irene, nothing surprised him, and he started questioning all supposed deaths). Instead, his eyes could only watch as he saw the flute of champagne slowly fall until it was the detective’s new cologne. He scooted his chair back to avoid and ricocheted liquid, but some managed to get on his trousers anyway. “Jesus Christ,” he started, but his calls were lost in those of the man shooting up from his chair in disdain, shouting at everyone in the vicinity. John wasn’t one to just grin and bear it. He was offended by Sherlock’s offhanded remarks, and his jaw was set. “Drama queen.” he scoffed, “Get your arse back here. You’re only further proving their ‘childish’ statements. And you,” he began, throwing a pointed look directly at Irene. “That was simply uncalled for. I’m pretty positive you didn’t call us all here just to dump champagne all over Sherlock.” The doctor’s legs were crossed beneath the table as he listened - and agreed, for once - with Mycroft’s statements. “Yes, I think we should. Or else I feel like someone’s going to get hurt.. And don’t look at me; I’m off duty.”

Irene seemed unable to erase the satisfied grin from her bright red lips, only now she realized she had been wishing to do something like what she just did for a long time. She loved to hear Sherlock talk, to catch that spark of emotion in his voice whenever he found truth in his own musings, but there was a very thin line between showing off his skills—which Irene utterly adored—and being a complete, presumptuous arsehole. A part of her was entirely convinced he deserved what she just did, and perhaps even more, this is why it would be impossible to erase the smile from her lips in a while. Or so she thought. Dear heavens, who was supposed to be the genius in the room again? Yes, she was aware of being spotting the obvious, but not even with that they seemed to even follow the path she had been building stone by stone for them. “Four.” She repeated one last time, bending a little over the table to emphasize her words as she stared directly into their eyes. “What is happening inside those supposedly brilliant heads of yours? Do you really have no idea?” When no response arrived, and before Sherlock even dared to speak about how she was just saying what they all knew—because she was quite sure she wouldn’t help but slap him this time—, she sighed deeply and took a cloth napkin to offer it to the detective so he could clean himself. “We are a minority, gentleman. And though I do hope you were observant enough to realize before, I highly doubt you understand the dimensions of what this means.”

Sherlock wouldn’t have even turned around if either his brother or the woman had called to him but by a miracle, he did still like John. Maybe a little less now after that ‘drama queen’ comment, even though he knew he probably deserved it. With an annoyed sigh, he turned on his heel to slink back to the table, throwing both items in his hand onto the table, tempted to still use them but he wasn’t that inconsiderate. For now, at least. Snatching the napkin from Irene with a curt thanks, the detective patted himself dry as he reluctantly listened to her musings. “It means that by sheer numbers alone, we are outnumbered. Does that mean we still don’t have the advantage in this situation?” he asked, posing a question of his own. “But, please, tell us what it supposedly means.”

Mycroft looked at Watson and then Sherlock when he came back. The bonding with the two, Watson and Sherlock, was very interesting, they were friends and Sherlock listened to his friend. But could Mycroft really understand friendship? Mh, maybe he understood goldfishes. Mycroft then sighed with exasperation “You called us to tell that we are a minority only because we are in four…we are not just a minority because of that, but even because we can’t understand this…scifi…situation completly” for them aliens existed only in movies. And really…if Irene called just to speak about the fact that they were only in four…well…this was a waste of time. Irene didn’t even notice his comment about the woman/lady claiming, too much focused on his brother, but the elder one will ever be at his side, watching over him. Mycroft looked at Sherlock that had to seat beside him again when he decided to come back “And I hope nobody will get hurt” he said to Watson and everyone else “So, you are just worried that we are a minority in this world” he rose a brow placing his hands on the books that were on his lap now.

John listened closely to Irene’s comments, seeing her point but not really understanding the depth of it. He then listened to the other two’s commentary before piping up with his own. “Yes, there are just four of us, but I don’t think that necessarily makes us the minority. We have two self-proclaimed geniuses on our hands - even though sometimes they can be oblivious.” John scratched at his hairline, avoiding any condescending looks that may befall him now. It was an unfortunate situation, but not an impossible one. John believed the lot of them had enough wit about them to go against anyone, even those who claimed they were from different planets. “I don’t really think that was your main point though, was it? Is there something else?”

Irene seemed to relax a little with their replies. She had been actually afraid she would have to explain herself letter by letter, but they all seemed to be in the same train now, or at least they were in the correct station. “What I mean,” yet, she was unable to hold down a sigh, “is that we’re on a big disadvantage here. Not only we’re small in number, but also on knowledge. While we know nothing but perhaps the most basic subjects of their world, they have at least a pretty big idea of ours, and our lives. Specially yours, Dr. Watson.” The Woman pointed towards Mycroft, but it was not him who she was talking about, but the books he had on his lap though they were currently out of their sight. “Now, we don’t know much about this world, but if I had to bet, I’d say it’s based in magic and that advanced extraterrestrial technology, of which I presume we know nothing about. And what do we have? Two arrogant geniuses who can barely stand the beginning of a meeting before annoying eachother or the other guests, a retired dominatrix with no good motivator to go back to job, and an army doctor stuck with the childish behavior of the youngest genius. Now you understand we’re not only outnumbered in people, but also in chances?” Lowering the hand she had been pointing at Mycroft with, Irene’s fingers found their way on the table to the cigarette Sherlock just threw in the table and lead it to her lips. Not lighting it up just yet, but still claiming it as hers the very moment she stained it with her favorite shade of red. She remained a couple seconds like this as she ordered her thoughts, then spoke again. “There’s no way we can have control of this town plainly because we don’t understand what’s happening in here, and our advantages are barely nothing compared to theirs. The Holmes’s brains? Easily overtaken by that face-changing Doctor, and that’s just with what I’ve read through the blogs. Dr. Watson’s bravery? Jr. faced quite recently two of the monsters the angel’s universe can offer, I think he’ll agree not even Dr. Watson’s lion heart would be enough against them. As for my wit and strong will? I must admit even that’s weak after the traps this town has to offer.” For a couple minutes more she remained silent, her eyes drifting unconsciously to the spot where a couple months ago she had been just about to murder Sherlock. Tears came to her eyes just with the memory of that, and just now she realized what a stupid choice the library had been. She blinked a couple times to dry her eyes before looking back at the three men. “So I guess I only have my beauty as a weapon, which no one has overtaken yet.” Of course, that side of hers had to come out sooner or later tonight. “Sorry if I’m beating around the bush, but I think the point is this. Considering we’re not the most united universe, neither the hardest one to fight against, who do you think they would sacrifice if they ever found themselves in the need of doing so?” And with that, she led the cigar back to her lips and lit it up with some matches she had been saving to share with the others, hadn’t Sherlock been inconsiderate enough to throw the whole box to the floor.

Sherlock had a feeling that the books would be brought up again sooner or later, much to his annoyance. As Irene had pointed out, it was hardly fair that their lives were on complete display for everyone else to read - or had even read before, since apparently, they were all household names and yet none of them had an inkling of an idea about the other worlds. A handy brochure might have been nice upon their arrival though that would have made it too easy and, as she also implied, the strange world wasn’t likely to make it easy for them. “It’s rather simple to point out our disadvantages, though I don’t see you making any breathtaking points here to help.” He watched her take the cigarette for herself with a raised brow, wanting it now more than ever. “It’s clear to see that we would obviously be outmatched should a war of the worlds, so to say, situation were to arise. And I don’t imagine any of you have been out making nice with anyone from those worlds either.” Sherlock paused to look at each of them with a pointed glance to see if they would interrupt. “Of course not. Well, I have. Rather shocking, I know. As ridiculous as it sounds, that may work out well in our favour.” Gwen immediately came to mind, not that they were the best of friends but it was a start. “Moreso than beauty, anyway.” He threw a glance in Irene’s direction but didn’t continue on that subject. Her question was one that he hadn’t been expecting, but did cause him to think for a moment. “I don’t see why a sacrifice would ever be necessary, but fine, I’ll humour you. I suppose I would be the most logical choice. Though seeing as we’re not exactly a threat to anyone - except maybe ourselves - that would hardly be an issue.”

If they weren’t going to find a solution to this problem, then all of this was a waste of time and Mycroft didn’t like wasting his time…in this way. He looked down at the books when Irene pointed them, but said nothing instead he agreed with his brother although Mycroft was still not speaking and just glared at Watson for what he said. Yes, they were genius, just remember that Mycroft kept saying to Sherlock that he was the smart one, but anyway, they were because the others knew more. Mycroft rolled his eyes at Sherlock statement about being polite with others, the elder brother knew how to deal with people, his previous job demanded it. Mycroft didn’t say that they needed a solution because it was obvious and said nothing about the sacrifice. Mycroft would have protected his brother, but the others were more in numbers and experience…Mycroft’s mind started elaborating by its own, and maybe Sherlock could notice that because his elder brother’s eyes were fixed on the cake, but without really watching it.

John had heard about the books, but he hadn’t gotten around to reading them. The thought that they knew most about his life hadn’t crossed his mind, but it made sense. If they were written from his perspective, as his blog posts were, then no subject was off limits. They probably knew about Harry and Mary and their baby. It was hardly fair that they had their lives plastered across the pages of numeral novels, while they knew nearly nothing about anyone else except what they had heard through conversations and the occasional blog post. “Sacrifices?” John nearly choked at both Sherlock’s and Irene’s words. Could it really come down to someone from one of the other worlds picking apart the four around the table? “If it were to come to that, I don’t think they’d take you, Sherlock. You’ve got a keen eye that could be useful in finding a way out of this place — as with Mycroft, should he decide to use his deduction skills. Irene probably doesn’t have the best track record, given her talent of manipulation.” he thought for a few moments, eyeing the champagne that remained still in his glass. “Me. I think they would chose me. But I wouldn’t go without a fight. I’m a mighty fine shot, if I do say so myself.” And he was of course referring to the gun that resided, locked away, in his bedside drawer. John flexed his left hand under the table. He didn’t like to use it, but if he had to, (and he would, to save his friends - using the word “friends” loosely for the most part) he would without question.

"Be realistic, Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes and I have been here half a year and we are as close to find a way out as the first day. If he would really be useful to find a way out on his own, there would have been advances a long time ago." Irene retorted. As strange as it may seem, she was not insulting Sherlock, but just speaking her mind. The commentary might have seen unnecessary, but it certainly was, for there were a certain words in those lines that hid the reason why she invoked them all in there. Apparently she welcomed Sherlock’s quip about her beauty, because even though she didn’t bother on looking back at him, she stopped calling him by the annoying nickname she had been using for him the whole meeting, and even refrained from actually consuming the cigar before offering it to him, apparently not minding if he would take it or not. “As for the sacrifice, I was going to the most extreme case that popped into my mind. Yet, we all know that if we had to choose, we’d go for the minority. Specially when that minority is as useless and dysfunctional as we are.”

Sherlock did appreciate John’s optimism towards the hypothetical choice for a sacrifice, though as Irene would point out in a moment, he hadn’t been successful in even making a scratch on the surface of figuring a way out. There were many things he was capable of doing but it was clear that this was not one of them. He didn’t expect the doctor to know that, however, and instead enjoyed the pseudo compliment from him. His expression fell at the proposed offering of his friend instead, immediately shaking his head, forgetting that it was all hypothetical for a moment. “No. I would sacrifice myself first.” He glanced at the other two before hesitantly continuing on. “That goes for all of you. As useless and dysfunctional as you all are, you’re quite useful and functional for me, so I’d rather be taken out than have one of you taken.” The detective hoped they wouldn’t want an elaboration, having very clear reasons for saying so - nearly being locked up for John, saving Irene’s life, the familial love he wouldn’t admit to for his brother - and instead took the offered cigarette and finally lit it this time, barely minding the red lipstick already on it as he exhaled slowly. He shifted his attention back on Irene. “Moving on.” Mycroft looked at Sherlock with no surprise when he talked about the sacrifice, but Mycroft wasn’t thinking exactly like his brother, yes, he would have sacrificed himself for Sherlock, but not for Watson or Irene. Perhaps for Watson was still a possibility, but just that. However, the elder brother noticed the sorry-gesture of Irene and Sherlock, but he sighed because he wasn’t feeling really comfortable in this situation. The elder brother felt something proudish when Sherlock smoked, Mycroft knew that Sherlock started again because of him…and the cigarettes were a better choice than drugs, the least of two evils and the elder one know that the young one couldn’t go far with one of them so better he lesser one, the less distructive “So, you are saying that it is better if we get along because we should be a linked group” he summarized “That won’t ever work…there is no trust, especially if Moriarty will arrive here” John was a bit taken aback by the detective’s outburst. He wasn’t prone to them exactly; they were sort of a rare breed. But John also knew he could be passionate about things that hit near home. The doctor wanted to retort, to say that he was the one who should go, but he knew that was a losing battle that could back and forth all night. So his gratitude was shown through a twinge in his lips before he dropped it altogether. John then listened to Mycroft and found himself thinking about their situation again. “That could work. Even the least likely of persons will come together in a time of need.” said he, glancing at the three seated. “What other choices are there? We can’t befriend people just to demean them. Being a minority is better than being underhanded.”

Sherlock was silently relieved when none of them pressed the issue, possibly because they were all aware of how stubborn he was capable of being. The proposal that they all need to be better linked together seemed a bit ridiculous since he couldn’t exactly see them being the best of friends with each other, though it did seem like the only possible chance they had should something ever happen. “That’s a nice little idea in theory, but let me remind you that things have happened here beyond our control. Your best friend could turn into your worse enemy overnight.” The detective didn’t go further into detail with the warning, since it was too long of a story anyway. “I would love to hear any ideas you’ve got about finding a way out. Any at all.” He waited with an expectant look around the table, sighing in frustration after a few moments. “That’s because there isn’t any. It’s occurred to me that it’s now less ‘finding a way to escape’ and more ‘just try to survive’ and that means in our own worlds as well.”

Mycroft left out a giggle, a very tired and pissed off one “Incredible, you are all so naive as if you don’t learn from your experience” it looked like if the elder one was even the wisest one at least from Mycroft’s point of view “You don’t know Moriarty so much, apparently” a sigh “He would play us someway or another, never trust Moriarty” and Mycroft knew what he was talking about…the criminal played him too “I’m just realistic, the linked-group won’t ever work even though we should do that” yes, he agreed with Irene, enemies countries could join the battle together if there was a bigger enemy to defeat, but the countries were still enemies and would behave as such. Mycroft worked for the British Government and saw, witnessed, how all this linked-group for a greater good always ended. Not good.

John didn’t claim to know much about the happenings in the strange town, given he had only just arrived two weeks prior, but from the sounds of it, the people weren’t their only possible enemies, it was also the world itself. “Well, isn’t it at least worth a try.” John exasperated in return to Mycroft’s comments. “We don’t have to be best friends, - frankly I don’t see that happening - but we do need to form some sort of an alliance.” He looked around to each of them, pausing to linger just a touch. Quite honestly, he never pictured himself banding together with the bunch, but he never pictured himself in this situation either. They needed to set up a “vatican cameos” situation in case any one of them were in danger. Of course, they couldn’t use the phrase, because anyone who was familiar with British war tactics would recognize it. “Any other, better, ideas?”

"Oh, grow up, Ice Man. No one’s talking about Moriarty anymore, unless you’d be willing to receive him with open arms to this little agreement of ours—if we ever come to an agreement." Said Irene, holding the urge of sighing yet once again. “If you were so kind of actually listening rather than discrediting what we said, perhaps you would be aware Mr. Holmes is speaking not of our acquaintances, but of how wicked this pretty little town is.” Why was it so hard to make them understand? Well, perhaps because she was having a hard time herself to explain her idea, but she was not to blame for that, now was she? She blamed the whole situation. However, Sherlock’s musing made her had to rebuild her plan all over again. He was right, it was useless to find a way out anymore, they had to survive, and there was nothing she knew how to do best. “Okay, then let’s just follow Dr. Watson’s idea. I highly doubt an alliance would kill any of you—or so I hope. And none of us would find useless some extra information or an assured helping hand from time to time. At least as long as we’re stuck here. Once back home, we can forget of this whole business entirely and go back chasing eachother’s tails. What do you think, gentlemen?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes as the only one going on about the consulting criminal was his brother, who clearly knew nothing of his motives. Simply having to hear him speak was annoying enough, though thanks to Irene’s generosity, he at least had a welcomed distraction. “We don’t have time for your pessimism,” he answered with a wave of his hand, effectively dismissing Mycroft. An alliance did seem necessary in order for them to have any hope getting out though it was surprising coming from the woman. “I’m fine with that. I already tolerate you all to an extent. You’ve just got to learn to tolerate each other as well.” He could already see the plan crashing and burning which meant that everyone would need to play extra nice for the time being. “Good luck with that. I meant that sincerely, surprisingly.”

Mycroft shook his head “I already gave it a try” Mycroft simply replied “I won’t ever tie an alliance with Moriarty” the elder brother left out the word again “And I said that I agreed with this alliance, but I also added that it won’t ever work even if we try it” how could they be so blind? Apparently, only Sherlock could see it…or maybe not “You don’t have time for realism too, apparently you do the same mistakes over and over…and I have to stay by your side and fix them, every single time…just an example…Bond Air” the elder brother hissed the last two words looking darkly at his younger brother. Mycroft just took his glass of champagne when Irene and Sherlock talked, he felt that he needed alcohol, but then he didn’t drink looking down at the glass full of little bubbles. He rose a brow when Irene said to him to grow up when in fact he was the elder in this room and not only for the age “So, you all want this…alliance…fine...” unity made strength even when the strength was bad “…then let’s do some basic structure that every alliance must have to work and it is: no lies” Mycroft did a smile, but was a weak one “Sherlock, you fooled me because of her” he pointed to Irene “I don’t think this alliance will refrain you from doing it again, if it is for Irene or Watson or whoever and whatever…” Mycroft looked at Watson “…Doctor, sincerely, Irene can lie to you in a blink of an eye” Mycroft put down the glass of champagne untouched pointing the glass towards Irene to make her notice he was talking to her now “Let’s hope that your temperament around Sherlock won’t make this alliance…sink” and the reference of just what happened few time ago, the spilled champagne, was there in the last verb. Mycroft looked at everyone “This alliance is a good idea, I admit it, but it won’t ever work” he repeated for the nth time “I don’t do the same mistakes twice if I know I can prevent them” Mycroft stood up with the books in a hand and his umbrella in the other “Now, excuse me, but I want to put these books back” he didn’t say -have to- so he walked away even though he notice, too late, that he was till near them because the shelf was practically few meters away…so he actually didn’t go away, but he was still basically with them…that was funny, but embarrassing for Mycroft who noticed it but faked to not care about it. Apparently, the Iceman always went against the drift because he couldn’t move…as an iceberg. Perhaps Moriarty knew him too well. There were more reasons for why he couldn’t do this, the point of the iceberg was just a little part of it.

John knew Mycroft had a point. As soon as one of them found out someone was lying to them, which they all knew would happen eventually, then they would all start lying and an unfavorable chain would start. It seemed they were fighting a battle in which they were destined to lose. But as soon as the eldest mentioned the books again, an idea came to mind. “Before, we talked about those books like they were a vice, but is there any way to use them to our advantage? Takes bits and pieces from all the cases and form a strategy, at least?” he offered, not really knowing considering he hadn’t read the books. But he thought it helpful to try. “An alliance could be a short term solution while we worked towards something different - more.. suitable for all of us.” the doctor said pointedly. Mycroft kept secrets for a living, Irene had her own little blackmailing business, and he probably trusted Sherlock the most, though he suspected if it came down to it, he could hold his own in lies. It currently seemed like a no win situation.

Irene narrowed her eyes the very moment Mycroft touched a string she naively hoped they would ignore: lying. It was then when The Woman thought of retrieving from the plan with a polite smile, because she could be tricky and very, very dangerous to play with, but she did know how to respect the terms under an agreement. Her betrayal towards the detective so long ago didn’t seem to be such a thing back then. She never reached a literal agreement with Sherlock Holmes, neither she promised anything to him, but she did have an agreement with Moriarty at that moment, and that’s why she carried on with the plans even when her heart screamed her not to do it. Now, if she made an agreement that involved not lying to this four men… what would happen if there came a moment when she was questioned directly on any of them about anything about that dark past of hers? She got another sip of champagne as she thought, her eyes fixed in the oldest man in the room. Mycroft Holmes. Her mistake had been to invite such a despicable man to that meeting. “I can’t offer not lying.” She breathed at last, and though she was talking to the three of them, her eyes were still fixed on Mycroft’s back. “But what I can offer is the three of you becoming my top priority in health, protection, and information.” Though Sherlock had been her top priority in the first two for a time now, but it was not necessary for them to know. “And of course, not concealing anything definitely important to any of you. Obviously, I would expect the same from you and I wouldn’t ask for nothing I’m not wiling to give myself. Do you think we could build our agreement under this terms?”

Sherlock wasn’t about to start arguing with Mycroft again even when he was attempting to rile him again so quickly, and it would have been easy enough. Why he was so eager to bring up past mistakes rather than move on was a mystery, one that he couldn’t figure out for the life of him. “We can’t all be perfect little drones, can we?” he asked with a sharp look thrown at his brother, especially as he continued on. “I have no reason to lie to you and even if I did, it wouldn’t be because of her.” He didn’t bother looking at Irene as he said so, not needing to since it wasn’t the entire truth anyway. At John’s idea, he gave a shrug. “That’s not a completely useless suggestion. I’ve read the majority of them but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to read into them for something deeper.” The idea that it would replace whatever alliance they were hinting towards was a ridiculous one, but they needed to believe something rather than being completely opposed to working together, as terrible as it sounded. When the woman laid out the terms of what they needed to agree on, however, it was something he wasn’t entirely opposed to. He had expected them to agree on those terms anyway without needing to ask it, but for each other, it was clear they needed to be said explicitly. “Yes, that sounds reasonable enough. Health, protection and information.” Repeating the three components back to himself, he looked to the other two for their agreement or opposition as well.

Mycroft Holmes thought if their so-called creator could actually help them? Mycroft learnt something from the books…that he could change things if what was written there was going to happen for real. Yes, something did happen, not as the same, but the story was there, the major plots didn’t change. Mycroft returned putting back the books on the table even though they didn’t need them because he remembered them and gave to Watson what seemed a nice glance for once. Mycroft thought again that they should have done this in a more private location, someone could enter in here. Mycroft sat down in his chair next to his brother looking at the books written by Sir Doyle…the man who created them and so he could destroy them. it seems so. Mycroft didn’t even start when Sherlock said that he wouldn’t lie to him especially for Irene’s benefit. His little brother couldn’t see it anymore, he couldn’t see how easy it was for him to agree, Irene played well. “Perhaps you want to read them?” he asked to Watson kindly “They could be very instructional for you” he pointed them, but sighed again “Mh…you wouldn’t lie to me, but locking me in this library instead you can do that” Mycroft gave an unfriendly look to his brother. However, he felt something good, finally, when he noticed Irene’s reaction because he pointed out the lies part, however he noticed that Sherlock left him out from seeing if Mycroft was agreeding or not, perhaps he took for granted that he wasn’t already. He liked the last word…information…and maybe Irene knew that “You don’t need me too, apparently…” he gave to Sherlock another look “…and maybe I will need you instead” he said rising his brows “No, I don’t agree…I don’t trust putting my health, my protection and…my information…” the last part was said with a grave tone “…in any of your hands and this little chat gave me some more proof enough” yes, he was talking even of his brother, but maybe only his brother could understand him. Mycroft was used to be…outside of the problem…seeing it out of the box and then do something about it…so…a thing like this…couldn’t work out for him so easily.

John smiled politely when handed the books and took them with a breath of thank you. Finally, he could read the books from which everyone knew him from. He tucked them safely beneath his chair before listening to the rest of them argue on about lying. The brief thought crossed his mind that the lot of them wouldn’t survive ten minutes in a combat zone, too busy fighting over tedious things instead of putting aside their differences to combat the greater evil. Such geniuses, and yet such idiots. He put his thoughts beside him as he heard Sherlock speak, and when the question was directed to him and the other brother, he answered after the latter. “Sounds good to me. That’s the best plan I’ve heard so far. I too will offer my assistance in health, protection, and information. I say we just throw him in an embankment or something.” he said, jokingly of course, while throwing a slanted grin in Mycroft’s direction. Then his eyes found his still untouched glass of champagne and lifted it to his lips, crinkling his nose as it reminded him of what they served at his wedding - bringing back memories of the night oh however many weeks ago. Just a sip before his lifted it up and tilted it slightly in agreement.

Irene was growing tired from Mycroft almost since the afternoon began. On the first few minutes of the meeting she spilled some champagne on Sherlock, perhaps it was about time for Mycroft to taste the cake. All of the cake. Pushed hard down his throat all at once. But no, she had to control herself. Though in this sort of situations there shouldn’t be a specific winner, Sherlock and John seemed to agree with her idea already, with at least gave her the upper hand before Mycroft. “Well, so its agreed then.” She claimed, crossing her ankles beneath her chair as she straightened her back and lifted her chin, unaware of how she was adopting a dominating body language. “Dr. Watson will make his research on the books and Mr. Holmes and I will assist him in everything we can, and since apparently we are so unworthy the Iceman’s oh so precious trust, we’ll have to leave him out of this. Any objections?”

Sherlock exhaled a breath of frustration at hearing his sibling once again, wishing that he would shut up for the duration of the meeting. It was tiring to hear him talk since he never had a positive thing to say regarding anything unless it had to do with himself, though he was sure he didn’t need to point that out. “At least I didn’t lie about it,” he answered with a sneer, clearly showing no remorse or otherwise giving it a second thought. It wasn’t surprising when Mycroft said he wouldn’t be participating in their agreement, even if he could have been a vital part in making it work; the detective didn’t feel like putting the effort into convincing him. Still, it wasn’t as if he could simply ignore the man. “He’s my brother and unfortunately, I will still have to keep him informed. And alive.” He didn’t sound as if he’d stick with his word, but it still needed to be said. “But otherwise, you don’t need to address him any further. That’s fine with me even if I don’t see you finding anything new, John. You’re free to try, if you can get past your frankly dry writing.”

Mycroft made a fake smile at Irene a smile that was saying -I am not sorry if I am not the Holmes that you can manipulate as you want to because Sherlock is attracted to you so he doesn’t even bother to disagree or have an actual discussion with you anymore- yeah, a smile could say a lot of things. Mycroft didn’t behave like that with Irene usually, but his sense of protection towards his brother made him dislike the Woman even more. Then Mycroft rolled his eyes at Sherlock’s words “Because I found it out, useless lying” then he gave a glance to Watson, but it was a neutral one. Mycroft rose his brows at next Sherlock’s words and added “I don’t need to point it out seen that I have been always doing it” helping his brother. His craving was almost intolerable now, almost. Mycroft looked at his pocket watch implying the question if the meeting was finished or not.

John watched the two brothers bicker tirelessly while sitting back in his chair, already having set his flute on the table. It was interesting, seeing them having such different opinions - most of them differing because of The Woman at this moment. He nodded his head in agreement with Sherlock, until he touched upon his writing. Looking down towards the table with no prominent creases of dismay shown on his features, he whispered an answer but loud enough to hear. “At least I don’t bore people to death unlike a certain detective I know.” a look back up shown a close lipped smile, eyes wandering between the three guests. “No objections from this side of the table. We’ll all keep in touch, and only include Mycroft when it’s of the utmost importance, right? Shall we have cake?”

Irene wondered what the hell crossed her mind when she thought it would be a good idea to invite Mycroft Holmes. Oh, wait, of course she knew. Do you really think she’d be innocent enough to hope to gain something so short termed as she hoped their staying in the Pocket would be? She knew that if a deal was performed correctly by both sides, it was easy to reach a new one in the future. By inviting Mycroft Holmes, even if she only needed Sherlock and John, she hoped there would be at least a small chance where she could return with them to London. A ridiculous thought, now she realized. Yet, she couldn’t help but mourn that small possibility completely lost, but she would rather spend a whole another year running away than degrading herself to insist to Mycroft Holmes. “He doesn’t bore me.” She added to John’s quip, seeing it unnecessary to add anything else to the other’s commentaries, that had been something she just couldn’t keep to herself. Then, a simple nod showed that she consented John’s idea of at last having some cake, but she still had to add; “I’m afraid Mr. Holmes needs to leave now, as he seems so eager to do as much. Pity he won’t stay long enough to try the cake.” She mused, returning at the time a smile that was just as significant as his, you’re too pathetic to deserve my manipulation.

Sherlock ignored anything else that was being said by Mycroft, since he obviously couldn’t appreciate the beauty of himself being locked up. It had amused him for a few hours, at least. “Stop living in the past, it does no good for you,” he threw out in a mocking manner, similar to the line about caring not being an advantage his brother had told him so long ago. His gaze flickered over to John quickly, catching the whisper but not responding to it. That did sting a bit, though it wasn’t as if he hadn’t deserved it, counting it as witty banter. Irene’s added comment was enough to make a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, not turning into a full one as he was in public. The cake was less than appealing to him at the moment, but if it was being used as a taunting device towards his sibling, he would have no problem joining in. “He does seem rather impatient, doesn’t he?” he mused, giving a once-over for good show.

Mycroft shared a look with Irene that meant he understood what she meant with that smile as she had understood his one. Mycroft believed that he was smart enough to not be manipulated by her and even Sherlock would have been if it wasn’t for his attraction to her, an attraction that Mycroft couldn’t understand…he couldn’t understand how Sherlock fell for it. Was his little brother so obvious? Apparently he was because love was obvious. Mycroft was thinking about the future too, if they came out of this world. He couldn’t do this deal, he didn’t want to. Let’s do a countdown…how much time this alliance will last? Not so much. But now he was alone, adrift, with the sharks…it wasn’t the first time…he could handle this. But he couldn’t handle cake “At least, I learn from my past” he replied to Sherlock looking at him too much for trying to not look at the cake. Then he made a smirk hearing Watson’s whisper still looking at Sherlock. However, his fingers were playing with his ring and he stopped immediately when he noticed it. Sometimes he did this when he was holding himself back, but he had never done it in public before, they didn’t know what this ring-thing meant, maybe only his brother could hint it. His body wanted that cake and now, but his rational mind said to him that they were taunting and mocking him at the same time, also he couldn’t take that cake after not accepting the alliance…it was…just not right. Couldn’t show his weakness. So, he put his pocket watch back and took his breadcrumb ready to stand up, but without standing up yet, his eyes looking down at the floor as if they were inspecting it before standing up.

John felt they had accomplished at least something during their little get together. He personally never saw himself helping Irene; he never really cared for her one way or the other. But since they were all each other had, well, that made them confidants more so than friends, he supposed. Was he naive to think and believe that the alliance could work? John would like to think of himself as the bigger man for that very reason. They all searched for a hole in the plan, but the doctor trusted that when it all came down to it, they would help each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the brother who sat across from him replaced the pocket watch and held the umbrella. John knew Mycroft would leave due their remarks, simply to keep his facade. But even John thought that a little cruel. “There are only four of us from our own world. Don’t we all deserve a little cake?” He looked to the lady of the table. “Earlier, you said it was for all of us before anyone agreed to an arrangement. I think it would be unfair to retract or append that statement now.”

Irene could remember herself not liking John the first time they met, and that sensation of disliking him grew even bigger when she choose to reveal him precisely that she was still alive. She knew Sherlock would end up finding out, of course, but was it really that hard to play her game for a while? She wondered if she had changed since them, if he had, or if she was just getting to know him a little better, because she now seemed to like him much more than she did before. However, a small grimace was not something she could hold down when he reminded her her own words. “Fine, he can have cake too.” She sighed, but then the most brilliant idea came to her mind. It was just a small commentary, but she was quite sure she’d probably kill the three men’s appetite, or at least Mycroft and John’s. Oh, it was so wickedly brilliant she couldn’t help but smiling widely before even starting to talk, and she even rejoiced in that small suspense for a while, because she took the time of getting a piece of cake for her own just before speaking. It was until she had some cake on her fork that she dared to talk at last. “That is, if he doesn’t have any problem eating a cake that was baked with the same hands that have explored every, single, inch of his beloved brother.” And unable to erase her smile, she waved her fingers at Mycroft to make her statement even clearer, taking the first bite of the cake.

Sherlock was aware John was trying his best to keep the peace between the four of them, and he was to a certain extent but it wasn’t easy to do. They were all skilled in throwing out insults without being directly insulting, which may have been the most infuriating part. Still, if Mycroft wanted to have cake, he wasn’t about to stop him. The pastry did look fairly appetising, if he was to be honest, having experience with Irene’s baking skills from her apology cake. He was about to cut the chatter short by cutting everyone a piece so they would shut up and eat when the woman quite literally dropped the bomb. It was cruel enough to use the incident where he had nearly zero control over himself in the disturbing Valentine’s Day celebration, but to voice it in front of everyone was taking it a bit too far. He could appreciate her wanting to stick it to his brother, but to use the detective in a way that turned sharp cheekbones flush? Hardly fair at all. Coughing on the last bit of cigarette that was still in his mouth, Sherlock stubbed it out on the empty pack, the remnants of Irene’s lipstick likely not helping the situation. “It’s not what you think” sounded entirely cliche, though it was all he had to offer at the moment short of bolting from the table.

Mycroft felt something cold inside when Irene said…what she said, only the coughing of his brother made him speak again because that coughing made him think about when he said to his brother that his death would break his heart. But when he rose his eyes he saw that Irene moved his fingers towards him to remark her statement and that made the coldness that was trying to hold him back fade to ferociousness “Thank you for reminding to everyone his biggest mistake” he hissed like a snake, but his words were clear. There was a positive note…his craving passed away.

John felt good after Irene agreed with him. Perhaps he could learn to like her as the grin on his lips suggested. He even fancied getting himself a piece before The Woman spoke yet again. Something bobbed up in his throat as he felt he was about to be sick. “Okay, yeah, didn’t really need to know that.” he choked out, leaning back in his chair, suddenly feeling his stomach drop. The doctor knew Irene was good at blackmailing, but that.. so private.. to just say.. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.” Because the thought had just come back to him that he had actually eaten, digested one of the strawberries on top quite near their arrival. Both Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s statements went right over his head as he was busy taking a gulp of champagne. Alcohol killed any reminisce of… anything, right?

Irene tried with all her might, she really did, even tried to remind herself she would look very unladylike if she didn’t got a little more willpower from anywhere. She tried biting her lips, crossing her legs, looking somewhere else, but it all failed, the situation was so amusing she just couldn’t help but laughing. Not the laugh that was like sunlight and wind chimes, but a laugh that fitted more The Woman than Irene. This laugh was like red velvet, the most exotic fruit with just a couple drops of poison, not enough to be deadly, but it was assured it would give you a hard time. A laugh as alluring and dangerous as The Woman herself. “Oh, does that mean you won’t want to try the cake? But I worked so hard.” That was intended to sound as a complain, but her smile was so wide and her voice so amused it just made more obvious she was mocking of Mycroft, completely unaffected by his retort. It had been years since she had this much fun, and still, the idea of explaining what had really happened to ease some tension between the brothers did cross her mind for a moment, but just for a tiny moment. After all, she hadn’t had time to get a proper revenge on Sherlock not for what happened, but for the insensitive way he choose to clear it all up, and for even thinking for a moment her feelings had been provoked by something as ridiculous as a town playing them. So, instead of clearing things up, she looked at Sherlock with a wide smile and took another sip of her champagne. Surely by now he should be aware she was about to throw more wood to the fire. “Oh, don’t insult their intelligence, Mr. Holmes. Or do you really think they didn’t understand what I meant? Do you think I should make it clearer?” That being said, she placed her cup in the table and rose her hand to Sherlock’s face, getting dangerously close to his face as her finger went down his red cheekbone, and whispered. “Or would you assure us all you would never want to do it again?”

Sherlock couldn't picture a nightmare worse than the one currently happening only there wasn't any dreaming going on and the embarrassment he was feeling was quite real. "Oh, shut up!" he finally yelled in Mycroft's general direction, mostly frustrated that he didn't know the entire story yet was making such a judgment. He would likely explain what happened afterwards, even though he had been hoping it would never be brought up again, but for now, it was easier to snap than to calmly explain what the case was. John acted no better, making enough of a show of acting disgusted that it annoyed the detective. "You're acting as if it happened right before you arrived and she didn't wash her hands. I thought you were more intelligent than that, though it is nice to know your reaction to this." The breaking point had to be attributed to Irene's laughter, sounding so delighted in a situation that was clearly uncomfortable for him. He physically ducked his head away as she went to touch him, glaring at her with a scowl. "Of course I would never want to do it again. I had no means of controlling it, first of all, and second, you would hardly be my first choice." Breaking the entire pack of cigarettes had not really been the wisest decision in hindsight, though he would have cut off a limb to be able to have one at that moment.

Mycroft rolled his eyes...he couldn't even. Really? Mycroft wanted to laugh too, but he didn't instead he did something else. Mycroft noticed Watson's dramatic reaction so who knows how would he react to this, maybe nothing without even noticing or maybe yes...Mycroft didn't know and he wasn't even interested. Mycroft was interested in The Game. But when Sherlock said to him to shut up well...that did something to him that reminded him that he was the elder brother. When Irene touched Sherlock's face he whispered "Worked so hard for nothing" but everyone could hear him and of course he wasn't referring to the cake. Mycroft looked at the cake and reached to it taking a pace so he took a bite and looked at Sherlock and Irene. That was one of Holmes' apologize gesture, they didn't say -I'm sorry- like ordinary people do, nope, they proved their sorry with facts. Eating the cake wasn't a nice gesture for Irene, as it could look like at first, but for his little brother.

John went slackjawed at Sherlock's accusation towards him. "I don't know when it happened, and quite frankly that's more than I ever wanted to know. Hardly conversation to have over dinner." he shook his head. And he was the one lacking intelligence? Who in their right mind talked about such things and then ate as if nothing had happened. John didn't get it. Nonetheless, he licked his lips to clear the champagne off and watched on as Irene made moves towards Sherlock and Mycroft made an insult which held more weight than at first glance. He listened to the words being spoken by the detective who dodged her touch like she held a disease. His words had bite like the winter's cold, and even John - though at first who was appalled by the idea - felt bad for The Woman. He held his tongue about asking what he meant by not being able to control it, because that small bit of conscious was telling him to keep his head down.

Sherlock was already tired of the conversation at hand and of the people around the table, feeling as if he needed to defend himself when he had done nothing wrong of his own accord. He did notice the gesture from Mycroft, taking a piece of cake as if to dispel the tension in the room a bit, which curbed his frustration somewhat. The comment did nothing to help and seemed to be a stark contradiction from the gesture though he didn’t address either one. He ignored John’s musings about the dinner conversation as well, as it wasn’t a subject that the detective would have chosen either. There was only him and the woman now and he couldn’t quite figure out whether or not he wanted to yell more of his annoyance out for them to hear or simply ignore the situation and hoped everyone would follow suit. He had nothing to contribute to the conversation other than an explanation to tell what had happened, though he got the feeling that no one was interested in it by their reactions just a few moments ago. The cake seemed to be a good distraction from then on, though rather than join them, he reached down to find one of the broken cigarettes and plucked it from the floor, using another match to light the partial piece of it and watched the three in silence. There wasn’t much else to say, though he wasn’t about to be the first one to leave especially since there was no doubt he would be the subject of their conversation the moment he was gone.

Mycroft taste buds' told his brain that the cake was delicious...and the elder brother hated that. However, he tried to not show he actually liked Irene's cake a lot and he knew that she got hurt by Sherlock's words so that made him feel better, but his craving felt better too. Mycroft noticed something else that it was time to go and that Sherlock wanted to go too, but not for first...well, he actually understood it because he knew his brother. Perhaps it was better if everyone left at the same moment and Mycroft was used to ending meetings. The flavour of the cake was still in his mouth and really, it was bothering him because he was liking it too much. The elder brother took a sip of champagne trying to wash off the taste in his mouth. He knew he souldn't have done that because it was still a hint, but still, he needed to and besides he was sure that the Woman and Sherlock were too focused on each other to show interest in someone on something else. His elder brother attitutide returned back saying that he had to help the younger one this time too "It's getting late and seen that the deal is done..." Mycroft looked at his watch "...I suggest to end the meeting" he closed the watch and put it in the pocket then looked at everyone rising his brows to see if they agreeded or not.

John nodded when Irene was so kind as to provide clarification, still opting to keep quiet in the stillness of the room. The way it was worded before made it sound more recent, though now he was satisfied. He reached forward and cut himself off a corner, taking a bite and then another after that. With his eyebrows drawn down, - not in dismay, mind you - he had the inkling of a thought that Irene was a good baker; great baker, even. John prompted to chew quietly, because the demeanor of the room had changed from serious to shocking to as deep as the Mariana Trench at the moment. Just in, had they even been there an hour?, John had realized just how much a stare could say. And then the eldest was speaking again, and the doctor's attention was yet again diverted, swallowing the rest of the dessert and licking his teeth. It was getting late; the sun had set. John took one look around the table and nodded once - waiting for The Woman to speak, as it had occurred to him that she was the one that set up this little rendezvous.

Irene , for once, decided to agree with Mycroft. The meeting had been too long already, and heavy to her considering she was in a room fulled with men who should despise her, and she was pretty sure they did. So, with a wide smile she raised her glass as if offering a toast, and drank what was left of the golden liquid on her glass. That was more than enough to get her drunk, and she knew it, so it was just a matter of time before it made an effect on her. It was a way of forcing herself to leave. "You still owe me a drink, Dr. Watson." She reminded him as she stood up, just as soon as she was done with her drink and nodded softly with her head towards the three men. "Gentlemen." The next thing to be heard was her heels clicking towards the door, not looking back at those who had been her guests. After all, they knew how to find her if they needed her.

Sherlock was grateful for once towards Mycroft as he moved to end the meeting as it had finally reached a stopping point that hadn’t come soon enough. He looked forward to not having to interact with anyone for a while after it unless he was needed but until then, he would be similar to a ghost. He waited until Irene had left before finishing off the broken cigarette, turning to address John. “Be careful on your little date,” was all he offered to the doctor, standing up to depart from the table quickly, not sparing either men a second glance as he did so. Most of all, the detective hoped there wouldn’t be much of a need to call their alliance together, though got the feeling that it wouldn’t be long before they needed to do so.

Mycroft observed Irene walking away and then he sighed hearing his brother's words to Watson. However, it was time to go because he wanted to follow his brother so he stood up taking his umbrella. When he passed near Watson, Mycroft whirled the umbrella like when he met the doctor for the first time. He was lonely, but by his choice...he thought about an Italian saying: Meglio soli che male accompagnati. But seeing Mycroft walking alone towards the exit, left out of the alliance by his own choice...it looked like he was the villain now.

John only rolled his eyes at Sherlock's words, and after a few moments caught sight of Mycroft's twirling, feeling an odd sort of nostalgia, but he couldn't place it. He was the lone man at the table now, so he finished his champagne, - clearly not in much of a hurry - while the thought of taking the cake crossed his mind, but he didn't. Just one more strawberry for the road before he was retrieving the books from beneath his chair and making his way towards the doors. How long would the alliance last, and would Mycroft ever join? Time would only tell as his feet carried him home.

#mycroftholmesworld

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#mycroftholmesworld