Chapter Text
Mummy is on the phone with Mycroft, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Sherlock rolls his eyes, figuring she has managed to bully his brother into coming home for Christmas and he’s not one bit surprised: she sounded horribly convincing this year, going on and on about how she and Dad are getting older and how they never visit and how lonely they are…
If Sherlock could be guilted into visiting, of course his brother agreed too.
The moment she finally hangs up, though, he knows there’s something else going on, judging by Mummy’s delighted squeal.
Dad comes running, looking worried. Sherlock spares a quick look in their direction and turns his attention back to his phone, not one bit interested on the going ons of his brother’s life. While they both live in London now, they barely see each other and yet, he doesn’t particularly care what the other is doing.
“Did you hear that, Sherlock?!” Mummy questions excitedly, coming out of the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear and making Sherlock more than a tad worried. “Mycroft is bringing someone for Christmas!”
Sherlock blinks once. That- that’s- “What?” he questions dumbly, for it crashes horribly with everything he knows about his brother. His older brother, Mycroft Holmes, the Iceman, the caring is not advantage, that brother is the one bringing someone home to meet their parents?
“Isn’t it great?” Mummy questions undeterred, turning to look at her husband, who is smiling a bit warily. “A doctor, ” she adds, evidently delighted by Mycroft’s choice of partner. “ An army doctor. Isn’t it great?” she repeats, looking at Sherlock earnestly.
He hesitates. Mummy looks entirely too thrilled with the development and regardless of what people might think, he’s not heartless. He loves Mummy very much and he does want her to be happy, but- this is Mycroft they’re talking about. “Did he say this… doctor was his boyfriend?”
“Oh, no,” she says, still smiling brightly. “He said he was a friend, but if he’s bringing him along, he must be someone important to him, huh? Besides, Christmas is for family. You don’t bring random acquaintances to your parents’ house during Christmas.”
She might be somewhat right, but then again- this is Mycroft they’re talking about. “Maybe he’s a co-worker,” he musses out loud. “Or something like that. It’s just- this is Mycroft we’re talking about.” His brother doesn’t do friends, least of all boyfriends , so what’s up with this doctor of his?
But Mummy looks so pleased that Sherlock can’t find it within himself to say something, simply letting her carry on making plans for the whole meetup. Dad looks slightly concerned, but just as Sherlock, he loves her too much to burst her happy bubble.
Still, there’s something very weird going on here.
And Sherlock is determined to find out just what.
Dr. John H. Watson.
Sherlock looks at his brother’s friend curiously, looking for any clues that might point him in the right direction of what’s Mycroft’s game. The man looks normal enough; there’s nothing terribly interesting about him. Average intelligence, average height, average looks. Just dull.
And yet-
If he’s indeed dating Mycroft (and Sherlock very much doubts it, but let's pretend for a minute that that’s the case), there must be something more remarkable about him. His army training is evident in the way he holds himself and the way his eyes swept over the room, taking everything in and looking for escape routes if needed. He smiles charmingly at Mummy and Dad, the first looking a little teary. He’s all polite chit chat and polite smiles and it’s just so very frustrating!
And so Sherlock finds himself sputtering all his life story, based on the little clues of his clothes and his stance and his body, hoping to irritate him and get an actual, honest reaction. Mycroft rolls his eyes and Mummy sends a quick glare in his direction, but John Watson merely looks awed and murmurs amazing.
Sherlock’s heart stops in his chest and he narrows his eyes at the shorter man, who is still smiling at him pleasantly, not one bit put off by his rudeness or his deductions. In fact, he looks… eager to hear him say something else. Sherlock scowls and turns around dramatically, hurrying towards his room, ignoring Mummy’s calls.
He can hear Dad apologising for his behavior, but John simply brushes it off. The introductions continue and he can hear them heading towards the kitchen, where Mummy has cookies and chocolate ready for them.
He lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling frustrated with himself.
Just who is this John Watson and what’s his deal?
“Is my brother paying you?”
John looks up from his ridiculous detective novel, head tilted to the side curiously. Sherlock finds himself staring a little too intently at his eyes and promptly chides himself for his foolishness. “I’m sorry?” the blond man asks finally, frowning a little.
“Is my brother paying you to pretend to be his friend?” Sherlock asks calmly, observing the other closely, waiting for a reaction that will tell him what’s really going on. “Only it doesn’t make much sense; Mycroft has never cared to lie to our parents about the state of his social life and if he had finally tired of Mummy attempting to set him up, he would have introduced you as his boyfriend. Also, you do know each other well, you take on his unspoken cues quite well, so that makes the whole “paying for your company” more unlikely.”
“Does it?”
Sherlock hums. “One usually hires unknown people for these stunts, no people you’ll actually have to see again once it’s over.”
“Do you now?” John questions lightly, almost teasingly. “Have much experience, do you?”
Sherlock huffs and turns around dramatically once more, stalking out of the room. He can hear the doctor chuckling softly to himself and the sound of him rearranging himself on the sofa, going back to his reading shortly after.
Curiouser and curiouser.
“You’re not actually dating, are you?”
John looks at him curiously, looking oddly calm for a man that has just been woken up in the middle of the night by a man who’s asking weird questions while perched at the edge of the bed, looking for all intents and purposes like an overgrown bat.
Sherlock does know how to cause an impression, after all.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” John replies, seemingly not bothered by the odd conversation. “Did your parents never tell you it isn’t polite to get into people’s rooms without their permission?”
“It’s my house,” Sherlock protests, pouting a bit.
“No, it’s your parents’,” John corrects calmly. “And in any case, I’m a guest. The same rule should apply.”
Sherlock glares, before turning around and stomping out. “Close the door after you!” the doctor calls after him and the younger man clenches his jaw, before slamming the door closed, knowing it’s petty, but not caring one bit.
“Sherlock!” Mummy’s voice comes from her room and he cringes. “What have I told you about slamming the doors?”
From inside the room, Sherlock can hear John chuckling.
“So, what’s the deal between you two? Who is blackmailing who?”
Mycroft sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, looking frustrated. John doesn’t look up from the morning paper, simply arching an eyebrow. “What purpose would that serve?”
Sherlock sulks, dropping himself unceremoniously on the empty chair. “My brother doesn’t do friends. Although I’m still unsure of why would he have someone coming over to meet our parents.”
John hums and Mycroft glares. “Sherlock, drop it,” his brother warns darkly, but as usual, the younger man ignores him.
“So. What does he have over you?” he asks, turning to John once more. The doctor sighs, finally putting his paper down, looking, for all intents and purposes, thoroughly bored.
“Nothing at all,” he replies simply. “On a related subject, I turned off all the surveillance cameras you left in my room. Would you like them back?”
Sherlock glares and Mycroft now looks impossibly smug. “Yes, please,” he murmurs unhappily and John nods, smiling brightly at him.
“Great. I’ll return them along with the microphones in a bit.”
Sherlock stands up and stalks out of the room, his face warm, telling himself his blush has nothing to do with the fascinating man and all to do with frustration at having his plan discovered.
How is he ever going to find out what’s really going between those two if John won’t provide him with any clues?