Re: Fill (possible multi-parted)
anonymous
April 30 2011, 14:54:46 UTC
The first time Mycroft had to rescue him from people he'd pissed off, the kiss was a little more desperate. But Sherlock didn't feel pampered or safe from his brother's embrace and soothing words because he would be unconscious for the next three days.
When Sherlock woke up in the hospital ward he was greeted with a tuft of generic get-well flowers with a card that read: "Twenty-five and I still worry about you, constantly."He had preferred the card over Mummy's tearful visit. He really disliked upsetting Mummy.
The first time Sherlock had to rescue Mycroft form people he'd pissed off was a lot more severe in casualties. It's a rule of thumb that the people Mycroft pisses off had bigger guns and are generally more twisted (Moriarty being the exception).
As Lestrade and half of the police department along with some of Mycroft's men lead by his assistant in heels secured the parameter Sherlock was by his brother's side with the good doctor.
"Put some pressure on his wound," the doctor directed while checking Mycroft's vitals. "Don't take the knife out. He should be fine if the ambulance gets through the fucking parade alright."
John was stressed, contrasting greatly with Sherlock's well composed demeanor. No one had bothered to point out how clam Sherlock's been throughout the kidnapping. First, they just didn't have the time and second, they guessed the consulting detective must be frantic on the inside and didn't want to fan the flame. And they would be correct. Sherlock was freaking out like a six year old stuck in a pitch black closet. But he needed to think. Tears never helped his brain in the least.
Just like how he found that blanket when he was six, this time he found Mycroft. But there was no one to kiss his forehead and no matter how hard he tried nothing can stop the stabs of fear inside him.
"Look Sherlock, the assholes got shot are dying too," John winced for unwittingly adding the 'too' in the end but he continued, "er, unless we don't want any suspects after this thing blows over, I should probably take a look."
Sherlock nodded mutely not taking his eyes off his brother.
“Don’t die,” were the first words he muttered since they found the warehouse.
“I thought for a while that... that you won’t be bothered... to find me.” Replied the seemingly unconscious Mycroft lying on wet concrete.
“Didn’t bother to let us know you were conscious, I see,” Sherlock retorted a tad balefully.
“Saving my energy.”
The tension seem to lessen after that. Sherlock didn’t inquire further but simply put a hand to his brother’s damp forehead and caressed lightly with his thumb.
“Yeah, well in that case you'd better not bloody die. There's no CCTV in the afterlife.”
“Thought... I’d apologize... in case... I... can’t make...” Mycroft seem to disregard Sherlock’s attempt to digress away from the I’m-dying speech.
“You never made such promise, now stop talking. You are delirious,” by this point it was very hard for Sherlock the contain his tears, but he willed the flood gates to remain closed.
It shouldn't surprise anyone who's acquainted with Sherlock that even as a toddler he was proactive with his curiosities. Combine that with a large house and even larger garden, you've got plenty of opportunities for 'boo-boos' as Mummy to called it. But as the Holmes were comfortably situated in high-society with their balls, parties, and endless societal obligations, Sherlock wouldn’t have survived to see his fourth birthday if it weren’t for his older brother Mycroft.
Not that the nanny was neglectful, but ever since Sherlock learned to craw and mastered the stairs, it’s become a endless game of hide and seek. It wasn’t until a visit to the zoo did the Holmes family truly appreciated the nanny’s misery. Not even half an hour in, little Sherlock disappeared into the reptile section.
Mycroft was the one to find his baby brother, but not before he’s managed a broken arm and tear stained face. The pure misery on his baby brother’s face made Mycroft’s heart break a little. Although he’s been preventing sherlock from falling down stairs and swallowing foreign objects for three years now, for the first time ever, he picked his brother up and looked straight into those blue eyes and vowed to protect that smart little head of his, always.
---hope this is what you are looking for... didn't have time to proof read much (sorry) gotta run---
Not the OP, but I'm loving this! I have a very soft spot in my heart for brothers!Holmes stories - and yours is beautiful. (...) there's little weight and meaning behind it all unless Mycroft does it (...) As I said, beautiful. Thanks for writing.
Mycroft is moved as well and calls you a "messenger angel" (well ,actually "angle", but that was obviously a typo).
When Sherlock woke up in the hospital ward he was greeted with a tuft of generic get-well flowers with a card that read: "Twenty-five and I still worry about you, constantly."He had preferred the card over Mummy's tearful visit. He really disliked upsetting Mummy.
The first time Sherlock had to rescue Mycroft form people he'd pissed off was a lot more severe in casualties. It's a rule of thumb that the people Mycroft pisses off had bigger guns and are generally more twisted (Moriarty being the exception).
As Lestrade and half of the police department along with some of Mycroft's men lead by his assistant in heels secured the parameter Sherlock was by his brother's side with the good doctor.
"Put some pressure on his wound," the doctor directed while checking Mycroft's vitals. "Don't take the knife out. He should be fine if the ambulance gets through the fucking parade alright."
John was stressed, contrasting greatly with Sherlock's well composed demeanor. No one had bothered to point out how clam Sherlock's been throughout the kidnapping. First, they just didn't have the time and second, they guessed the consulting detective must be frantic on the inside and didn't want to fan the flame. And they would be correct. Sherlock was freaking out like a six year old stuck in a pitch black closet. But he needed to think. Tears never helped his brain in the least.
Just like how he found that blanket when he was six, this time he found Mycroft. But there was no one to kiss his forehead and no matter how hard he tried nothing can stop the stabs of fear inside him.
"Look Sherlock, the assholes got shot are dying too," John winced for unwittingly adding the 'too' in the end but he continued, "er, unless we don't want any suspects after this thing blows over, I should probably take a look."
Sherlock nodded mutely not taking his eyes off his brother.
“Don’t die,” were the first words he muttered since they found the warehouse.
“I thought for a while that... that you won’t be bothered... to find me.” Replied the seemingly unconscious Mycroft lying on wet concrete.
“Didn’t bother to let us know you were conscious, I see,” Sherlock retorted a tad balefully.
“Saving my energy.”
The tension seem to lessen after that. Sherlock didn’t inquire further but simply put a hand to his brother’s damp forehead and caressed lightly with his thumb.
“I’m sorry if I don’t... make it-”
“Why do you have to go spoil the mood like that.”
“I promised... promised I'd always... always protect you.”
“Yeah, well in that case you'd better not bloody die. There's no CCTV in the afterlife.”
“Thought... I’d apologize... in case... I... can’t make...” Mycroft seem to disregard Sherlock’s attempt to digress away from the I’m-dying speech.
“You never made such promise, now stop talking. You are delirious,” by this point it was very hard for Sherlock the contain his tears, but he willed the flood gates to remain closed.
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It shouldn't surprise anyone who's acquainted with Sherlock that even as a toddler he was proactive with his curiosities. Combine that with a large house and even larger garden, you've got plenty of opportunities for 'boo-boos' as Mummy to called it. But as the Holmes were comfortably situated in high-society with their balls, parties, and endless societal obligations, Sherlock wouldn’t have survived to see his fourth birthday if it weren’t for his older brother Mycroft.
Not that the nanny was neglectful, but ever since Sherlock learned to craw and mastered the stairs, it’s become a endless game of hide and seek. It wasn’t until a visit to the zoo did the Holmes family truly appreciated the nanny’s misery. Not even half an hour in, little Sherlock disappeared into the reptile section.
Mycroft was the one to find his baby brother, but not before he’s managed a broken arm and tear stained face. The pure misery on his baby brother’s face made Mycroft’s heart break a little. Although he’s been preventing sherlock from falling down stairs and swallowing foreign objects for three years now, for the first time ever, he picked his brother up and looked straight into those blue eyes and vowed to protect that smart little head of his, always.
---hope this is what you are looking for... didn't have time to proof read much (sorry) gotta run---
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(...) there's little weight and meaning behind it all unless Mycroft does it (...)
As I said, beautiful.
Thanks for writing.
Mycroft is moved as well and calls you a "messenger angel" (well ,actually "angle", but that was obviously a typo).
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I welled up. Just a tiny bit..
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