IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
Mycroft Holmes isn't his job. But his job doesn't offer him much chance to be Mycroft Holmes. The British government cannot stop for the death of one man, and so Mycroft cannot.
The words of the article are meaningless, nothing registers, but Mycroft feels the tears gathering. He blinks rapidly to dispel them before folding and lowering the paper.
Exhale, he instructs himself. Compose yourself.
My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't told Moriarty, if I hadn't let him go…
He hadn't been lying when he told Sherlock caring wasn't an advantage. But it had been blasphemy of the gravest kind to imply he wasn't guilty of it. Sherlock has always been his greatest weakness, and in trying to compensate for it, he's destroyed him.
Because there was no key. Obvious, now. But at the time… he couldn't justify protecting Sherlock at the expense of the world. If he had just stopped to think it through, surely he would have realized.
And now his brother is dead, and Mycroft cannot let himself grieve, because he cannot stop doing his job.
He sinks back into the chair, eyes closed. Inhale. Exhale. Swallow.
When Mycroft stands, his face is impassive, not a trace of sadness. The British government has work to do, but inside, out of sight and silent, Mycroft Holmes breaks.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- I feel like I may have gotten away from the prompt unintentionally, but I hope it is at least sort of what you wanted OP anon.
Re: 221B Fill
anonymous
January 17 2012, 13:39:27 UTC
Oh I like this fill! Sorry I posted the fill below without seeing yours (there's a weird lag in posts actually appearing at the moment). I hope you don't mind.
Poor Mycroft :( I love the idea of him as his job and having to be someone else all the time on the outside
The words of the article are meaningless, nothing registers, but Mycroft feels the tears gathering. He blinks rapidly to dispel them before folding and lowering the paper.
Exhale, he instructs himself. Compose yourself.
My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't told Moriarty, if I hadn't let him go…
He hadn't been lying when he told Sherlock caring wasn't an advantage. But it had been blasphemy of the gravest kind to imply he wasn't guilty of it. Sherlock has always been his greatest weakness, and in trying to compensate for it, he's destroyed him.
Because there was no key. Obvious, now. But at the time… he couldn't justify protecting Sherlock at the expense of the world. If he had just stopped to think it through, surely he would have realized.
And now his brother is dead, and Mycroft cannot let himself grieve, because he cannot stop doing his job.
He sinks back into the chair, eyes closed. Inhale. Exhale. Swallow.
When Mycroft stands, his face is impassive, not a trace of sadness. The British government has work to do, but inside, out of sight and silent, Mycroft Holmes breaks.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I feel like I may have gotten away from the prompt unintentionally, but I hope it is at least sort of what you wanted OP anon.
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Poor Mycroft :( I love the idea of him as his job and having to be someone else all the time on the outside
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Oh, Mycroft. ;____;
Thank you for this, writer-anon.
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