Chapter Text
Sherlock closed his eyes. No. He couldn’t deal with this now. Why ever had he called him earlier? What had he been thinking? And why had his brother refused to come to the wedding just to wait for him in his flat now like a spider in its web? All Sherlock wanted was to be alone. Take a hot shower, go to bed, pull the blanket over his head.
He knew that he was being pathetic. Fine, John was married now. He would soon be a father. Perhaps he would never join him in solving cases again. But this was life. It had been to be expected that John would eventually have a serious relationship. After all he, Sherlock, had been away for two years… And he had never wanted anything from John! Apart from his assistance. Going grocery shopping. Keeping Donovan and Anderson away from him! And he liked Mary. They were great together. Only sometimes… he thought something was strange about her… But that was no jealousy. Just his typical suspicious mind… Or a deduction he could not grasp? Didn’t matter.
He put the knocker into its rightful position and entered the house. It was silent. Of course – Mrs Hudson was still at the party. Perhaps Mycroft had given up waiting for him and left already? Or some passer-by had straightened the damn thing?
When he had entered his flat after dragging himself upstairs, he saw at once that he wasn’t that lucky. The umbrella was leaning against the wall like a bad omen. Mycroft's coat was hanging at the wardrobe, oozing perfection like his brother did.
And the man himself was sitting in Sherlock's armchair when he had, sighing, entered the living room after putting the bag with his violin onto the corridor floor and hanging up his coat next to Mycroft's. “You can as well leave, Mycroft. I’m fine.” Not that he really thought that his brother was here to check on his well-being. He would only lord his weakness over him. People like them didn’t ‘get involved’… Caring was not an advantage… Sherlock had gotten it long ago.
“Good evening, brother. Sit down.”
“You’re sitting in my chair.”
The older man gave him a false-friendly smile. “I know. Take the other one. Or the client’s chair. Or the couch. Or the floor, if you prefer.”
Sherlock bit his lip. He wouldn’t let Mycroft provoke him. With crossed arms, he let himself drop onto the couch, trying and failing to feign indifference. “What do you want? My help on another case that is too difficult for you to solve?” As if he didn’t know that Mycroft would have never seriously needed his assistance on cases. He either demanded from him to take care of them to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t get high or because he was simply too lazy to do it himself. Or too busy, maybe. Or because he liked to give orders. Anyway…
“In fact I’m here to offer you my help,” Mycroft said calmly. “You asked me to come to the wedding.” He said the last word as if it was a ghastly illness. And in his eyes, it probably was. Actually in Sherlock's eyes it was just the same…
“That was just a spur of a moment thing. Forget about it. I’m sure you have something else to do and I don’t need you to hold my hand.”
“And yet am I here to do exactly that,” Mycroft deadpanned.
“Sorry what?”
Mycroft sighed. Nobody could express so much exasperation, annoyance and impatience in a sigh like his brother could. “Let me explain myself.”
“Now that can take ages...”
Mycroft rolled his eyes (another reaction he had mastered like nobody else). “Can you just keep silent and listen to me for a minute, Sherlock?”
“If I must...”
“Fine. I analysed your behaviour earlier when we spoke. Silence! And I have come to the conclusion that you reached out to me because you did lose your dear friend Doctor Watson in a way you might have not realised yourself.”
He paused and Sherlock grimaced. “Spare me this lecture, please. John is my friend and nothing else.”
“Really? Have you never imagined having some physical contact with him?”
Sherlock blushed, much to his own chagrin. “No.”
“Of course not. You came back from your mission to find him in a relationship with someone else. Did that not disturb you?”
“No.” Yes. Of course it had…
“He was even rather ghastly to you when you confronted him, and remember I told you to prepare him.” Mycroft was scrutinising him in a most unpleasant way.
“Yes, yes. You know everything better, you’re the smart one...”
“I am and you know why?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Because I’ve never made the mistake of taking to the goldfish. They are beneath us, Sherlock, in every way and under all circumstances. Still we have basic needs. Our body demands some sort of attention from time to time and I’m not just talking about holding hands. It is fine to use the goldfish to some extent to meet certain needs but of course without getting emotionally involved.”
Sherlock needed a moment to understand what his brother was on about. “Sorry, what? You are telling me you have… sexual… needs and have… sex with usual people? People you otherwise despise?”
“Sometimes. But only in a very limited way.”
Sherlock gaped at him. He just couldn’t imagine his cold, calculating brother indulging in sexual acts with whomever. And how did these people have to feel, getting used for his satisfaction and then sent away as if they had brought him his dinner or cut his hair? Because he highly doubted that Mycroft reciprocated their attention. Or perhaps he did… But he didn’t cuddle with anyone for sure. And why were they talking about this at all?!
Mycroft sighed again. “I can see all your pathetic little preconceptions. In fact I find it annoying enough to bother with them. Which brings us to the point. I always thought that you were completely averse to this kind of thing. I did interrogate Miss Adler to find out if you had any physical contact with her after her plane landed in California as I’d gotten suspicious about your involvement with her.”
“What? You know that I saved her?”
“Oh, Sherlock. You’re leaving the country to make sure she keeps her pathetic head on her skinny shoulders? Of course I know it. And she told me that you hadn’t even wanted to... kiss her.” He grimaced at the last words.
“Of course not,” Sherlock mumbled. “I’m gay if you must know. A gay virgin. She was just a fascinating puzzle.” Where was she now? Come to think about it – he had never heard from her again… Not once had his phone moaned in this annoying way. Had Mycroft let her go after his ‘interrogation’? Or had Sherlock saved her from getting beheaded in Karachi just for her to find her end in a dark street or the desert? And why had Mycroft bothered to fly to the USA just to ask her about this? Damn, his brother was really a control freak...
“I am gay as well, as you might have figured out. Why are you smirking?”
“Nothing. Go on.” With what, exactly? And he understood it even before his brother opened his mouth again and he almost slid off the couch in shock.
Mycroft regarded him calmly. “So you do have desires, deeply hidden, and bonding with humans as of late has brought them to light, and it makes you want to get involved with someone beneath you. Even if the little doctor had agreed – I couldn’t have had this. As it is, you won’t get him anyway but before you throw yourself at the next meaningless human, like your Inspector Lestrade, I rather offer you my assistance.”
“Your what?” Had he landed in a parallel universe? Had he hit his head on his way home? His brother was offering…
“We can have physical contact and find numerous ways to reach sexual satisfaction. In fact it would be most convenient for me and I can assure you that it will be in your interest as well.”
“This conversation is not happening. You’re my brother, Mycroft. It’s incest, it’s forbidden, it’s...”
“Ah, forget about that. The laws and morals of the goldfish are of no interest to us. You have never cared about them anyway. There is hardly a law you haven’t broken already. And of course we will make sure nobody gets to know about this as I do want to avoid having to get rid of blackmailers or other people who find it necessary to interfere as it only causes hassle. It will solely happen in my house even though I am quite sure that tonight it will be safe to have sex here. Your landlady will stay away for at least another hour, I estimate.”
“But… Why?” This question was too simple, he knew. He didn’t understand this in an all-encompassing way.
The sigh was the deepest one Sherlock had heard from his brother since he had last gotten high. “You are the safest option. I have seen your blood tests. You will be discreet. You are very attractive and I have always admired this plush behind of yours and I can, frankly, hardly wait to lick your rosy little hole and thrust my considerable penis into it until you scream. In pleasure, not pain, naturally.”
Sherlock could do nothing but gape at him at this wanton statement. This wasn’t a parallel universe. This was… There was no explanation for this whatsoever.
“You are in very good shape these days and nicely trained. And so am I, despite your childish weight jokes. I will make sure you will reach the highest climaxes a man is capable of. I will also let you pound my arse if you want this. One step at a time though. We shall start with lending each other a hand so you’ll slowly get used to sexual activities. We might even begin with non-sexual contact as this will be the easiest activity for you and the one you might have thought about doing with your nasty little doctor.” Mycroft stood up. “I suggest we go into your bedroom and lock the door, just in case Mrs Hudson comes back earlier than anticipated.”
Mycroft wanted to, what, really cuddle with him and then exchange hand jobs before they would do what – suck each other off? Then have anal sex? “You want...”
“...an arrangement to our mutual benefit, yes. I am willing to do whatever you find you need. But I will not agree to pain play or pissing.”
“Piss...” Sherlock rubbed his eyes. “Tell me that I’m hallucinating this conversation, Mycroft.”
“Come on. Let’s not waste any more time. My cock is already hard.”
Sherlock’s eyes widened – and then they were magically drawn to the tent in Mycroft's trousers. A large tent… “Oh God...” Mycroft wanted him to touch this… kiss it… and take it up his… He felt like fainting.
“Do not worry. I know how to use it. And now let’s go.” Mycroft gave him an impatient look before leaving the living room without looking back again, obviously convinced that Sherlock would join him instantly.
And after five seconds of standing frozen on the spot, Sherlock followed him.