Caring / Chapter 2 Mycroft x Reader

“Apologise!”

“NO.”

“Sherlock Holmes, if you do not apologise right now, I will not be afraid to punish you.”

“You wouldn't.”

“You know I would.”

“With the stick?”

“You think I still have that after all these years?”

He looked at you with a knowing face, arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

“Yes, I still have it.”

With a huff, the younger Holmes turned to the cake covered Mycroft and mumbled out an apology.

“Say it louder.”

He turned to you with a desperate expression. You knew how much this tortured the male, but you couldn't help it. Not only was it fun, but Mycroft seriously deserved the apology. Who experiments on cake? It should be an unspoken rule never to do that. It is rude and disrespectful to the delicious treat.

“I am sorry...for making...the cake..explode. There. Happy, (Name)?”

“Quite,” you pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock's cheek before laying a tender hand on Mycroft's upper arm. The part that didn't have bits of cake on it. “Now, let's get you cleaned up, hmm?”

Sherlock instantly switched from his mischievous attitude and became a grumpy, mopey child, flopping down on his seat with a grunt. With a roll of your eyes, you gently nudged the Holmes boy off toward his room in the shared flat.

Before you could enter the room with him, however, Mycroft put a hand up to stop you. “At the very least, let me change without your prying eyes.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, a smirk gracing his handsome features.

“Right. Good point,” you chuckled, swiping your finger down the side of his cheek to remove some residue. “I'll grab some towels.” Your heart stopped at the soft smile he offered you and before you could make of fool of yourself, you dashed off to gather the necessary materials.

Sherlock could only glare at you from his chair, desperate to get you and his brother in the same room so that he might embarrass, well, both of you. It would be the only thing fair since you seem to cause him such a feeling on a daily basis. Scolding him like a child. He puffed his cheeks. He was not a baby.

You, having obtained the all important cleaning objects, knocked on Mycroft's door lightly. He opened up not a moment later, smiling all the while and stepping aside to let you in. Not hesitating to get comfortable on his bed, you sat down on the edge and patted the spot closest to you for him to take. The man did so without question and allowed you to set to work. In all honesty, it would have been just easier for him to clean up entirely by himself, but the guilty look you had on your face when you saw the aftermath of the explosion made his insides twitch.

He would have felt terrible if he would have just brushed off your offers of helping. It's also quite nice to watch you fret over him. And with you so close to his face like this, it was a wonder how he had not yet just...

“Mycroft?”

His attention snapped to you, breaking out of his little daydream at the sound of your voice. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am. Have I done something that would make it seem I am not?”

“No, just...making sure. Sherlock can be a brat, you know.”

He stopped himself, tilting his head just that slightest to the side. You silently cursed your hesitation in your head, knowing full well that Holmes was now trying to read you.

Off in the distance, “I heard that!”

A smile crept up on both of your faces, eying the doorway to see if he would burst in. After a few minutes of extra silence, Mycroft spoke up.

“He can be, yes. But he is my brother. I cannot change family. One learns to adapt and endure.”

You giggled under your breath, giving a small tap to his nose with your index before falling back on his bed. “Honestly, what would I do without you two for entertainment?”

“Die of boredom.”

Your (e/c) orbs sparkled with amusement, a broad grin permanently etched on your face. Mycroft 'carefully' pushed you off the bed which in turn caused you to yelp and Sherlock to bust through the door at the sound of a loud thump.

“What is going on in here?”

Your reply?

“Rough sex. Now get out.”

Sherlock gaped like a fish, staring between his brother and you before slowly exiting and closing the door behind him.