"Brother," Sherlock smirked, as if he knew a joke he wouldn't share. "Brother," he leaned closer, lips hovering over Mycroft's ear. "Brother," his hand over Mycroft's.
"This doesn't have to mean anything, you know, us being brothers." Sherlock smiled earnestly now, and all Mycroft could think was how beautiful he was. "It's not like we're going to make babies anyway." He leaned for a kiss, but Mycroft turned his face away.
"Mycroft?"
"Stop it. Little brother." his tone was firm as he pushed Sherlock away. The younger man glared at him, challenging, but Mycroft had made his decision.
Their world stood still.
***
It was spring in London, and life was going great for Mycroft Holmes. He had graduated from Oxford last year and was now climbing steadily through career in British government. The entry level job was too easy for him, and he was quite confident that a promotion would come in near time.
Not only in the office, he also began to expand his web of acquaintances in the society. Journalists, businessmen, workers and labourers all were in debt with him for "small favours" that he did for them with his extraordinary observation skill. Simultaneously, the information they freely provided him for said favour easily revealed their dirty little secret, keeping them in check.
People, resources and informations were chess pieces to him, the world its chess board. Even so his mission was not to take over the king. His game was more of Go than Chess, playing to gain as many field as possible. He intended to take over the whole board.
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Holmes," one of the front desk ladies said to him, which he replied politely before leaving the building. Even the oddly bright sky for spring seemed like representing his life, he quietly thought. Life was going smoothly. Life was going according to plan. Life was,
So.
Boring.
It was at times like this, when no challenge presented, mycroft stalled. And when he did, he would start falling. Great mind needed to be constantly engaged, always needing something new, always moving on, while he knew at the moment he needed to be patient and wait for his plan to bear result. Impatience had been his downfall several times in the past, and boredom often lead him to less than healthy thing (sugary, high fat food). He couldn't fall again.
So today he took a different way home, just to fend off boredom a little bit.
***
Which proved to be a fatal mistake, as he found himself inside a secluded little pastry shop that smelled heavenly. He had been staring at some mouth watering chocolate cake for five minutes when a voice snapped.
"Oh, just get it if life as civil servant is that stressful to you. Your diet isn't working anyway."
Mycroft turned his head to the direction of the voice, and found a young, dark-haired twenty-ish something man looked with annoyance at him. When he blinked, the man said again,
"You're in my way," and as if remembered something he added, "sir."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Mycroft moved aside, only then realising how small the shop was, as he still bumped into the painful edge of the young man's elbow.
He talked briefly with a clerk, took a package, paid and looked ready to dash as soon as humanly possible.
"Wait," without thinking Mycroft grabbed his wrist. The young man turned and glared at him.
"How do you know about that? Civil servant and all?" the young man tried to pull his arm free but Mycroft held on. "Look, I wasn't stalking you or anything, okay? It's just so... Just a lucky guess. You look and dress like one, and the building is only five minutes from here. You're on diet because you stared at the cake having internal debate or something. And the stress is... Just a guess, but I'm quite certain you need the diet because you turn to food for comfort. As for it isn't working, your belt has recently been adjusted, hasn't it? Now if you'll excuse me, I have to..."
"Faint smell of various chemistry, and..." he turned the man's hand. "Some traces of chemical burns. The university ten minutes from here has chemistry department. You are quite smart, but a professor this young will attract local attention. So, student. You can't stand the smell of sweet but buy the cake, for someone important then. If it's for your friend's birthday, more likely that you'd come here with your peers, or not come here at all since you hate sweet. Family. Not a child, you'd buy colourful, printed icing cake this shop doesn't sell. Sibling - possible, but the ice cream cake in the center of the city is more popular for younger population. My wild guess is it's for your mother. Oh, and I can't help but overheard that your name is Sherlock?"
Sherlock blinked, then grinned widely.