Caring / Chapter 3 Mycroft x reader

“Asshole.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady.”

“You left me outside in the freezing cold and rain. Mycroft will kill you when he finds out about this, you know.” You glared at the jerk across the room from under your thick blankets, still shivering. Of course, Mr. Smarty-Ass-Pants over there wasn't willing to help. Wait til Mycroft gets home.

“It was an experiment, (Name). I had to leave you out there.” Was his smug reply.

“What kind of an idiot doesn't know that you get sick after being stuck in the cold without the proper attire?”

Sherlock had a quick look of hurt before it was gone again and replaced by a smirk. “That wasn't the experiment.”

“Whatever. Just bring me tea.”

“Fine.” And so he did as was told, for once, and brought you tea. He sat beside you with an intense gaze, watching your every move. It was a little frustrating. Why the hell couldn't he just leave you alone? You were already pissed at him. Was he trying to make it worse?

When his mouth opened to speak, his brother let himself into the shared flat with his work in his hands.

“Oh, Mycroft. You've decided to join us.”

“M-My-Mycroft. Do me a favour. Hit your brother.” His eyes immediately took in your shivering form, a curiosity evident on his face.

“What has happened to you? I go away for the weekend and-Sherlock, what did you do?”

“Experiment,” he said so nonchalantly with a wave of his hand. Mycroft glared at his younger sibling, leaving his things on the table to tend to the more important matters. You.

He knelt down in front of you, hands grasping the sides of your face carefully as he inspected you. “You're sick,” his voice was sympathetic before it turned to a growl as he glowered at Sherlock. “Why?”

Sherlock's smirk could only grow. Success. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing the pair of you harbored affection for each other. It certainly was 'fun' to test his brother's limits. “For knowledge.” And with that said, he left for his room to write a few things down.

“I am sorry, (Name). Maybe I shouldn't have left you..”

“No. You had to do your work. That is one place I will not go,” you smiled and gently tugged at his hands so that he might join you on the sofa. “But it's alright. I was bound to be ill eventually, might as well get it over with now.”

Mycroft could only frown as he sat beside you, a hand on your shoulder, the other in his lap. “That does not excuse my brother's behaviour.”

You rested your hand over his, fingers lacing with his. Right where they belonged. “I told you, it's okay. Promise. You're here now. That makes it just a smidgen better.” He chuckled, not daring to break the contact between you and him. He enjoyed much more than he would let himself admit.

It was the little things that you did. Smile, hold his hand, laugh. Isn't that what a strong relationship is based upon? The simple things two can do for each other? The bigger things are just an additional benefit.

Could anyone imagine it?

You being his wife? The little things you both could share in? The memories of his annoying, but wonderful brother and the three of you and your time together or the years upon years that you and him have been, well, friends. Could he even begin to imagine the two of you with little ones running around or growing old?

Stop.

What was he thinking?

“Mycroft?”

He was positive that his face was scrunched up in thought. He needed to stop daydreaming. It was affecting his thinking processes.

“Yes, my dear?”

“I'm tired. Can we.. Can we,” you bit your lip, eyes cast downward.

“Come on.” The simple thought of catching your illness never even crossed his mind as he escorted you to his room, tucked you in and rested beside you.

Sherlock, though, could only grin and laugh. Everything he predicted was happening.

It was fascinating, what love does to a person's brain.

He licked the corner of his mouth and sat down on his seat in his thinking position. What to do n-

ACHOO.

Oh no.