[Sherlock Holmes ACD] --- Inner Truths Chapt. 1 - Hearing
Title: Inner Truths Chapt. 1 - Hearing
Author: Alaylith
Rating: PG
Universe: ACD
Characters: Watson, Holmes
WordCount: 1.593
Summary: The perfect harmony of a friendchip. If one of them just wouldn't be so stubborn.
A/N: Don't know how I found this plot bunny (or how it found me).
At first Mycroft shouldn't play such a role, but somehow I had no control over it. ^^
As usual, I'm german and translated the story, so if there are any mistakes I'm sorry!
Btw, I have two more chapters planned, but I don't know if and when I'll write them and if/when I'll translate them. :)
Otherwise I hope you like it!
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I am just setting down my tea cup, when my door bursts open and my insufferably younger brother storms into my flat.
I thought I had locked the door. And bolted.
"Mycroft, I must talk to you!" thunders Sherlock while he rushes to me and throws his coat to the ground.
He has always been an extremely disorderly nuisance.
"I thought as much, Sherlock," I answer and sigh loudly.
Sherlock starts a furious pacing in front of my dining table.
"This stubborn idiot makes me livid! Why can't he accept that I am almost always correct!"
"Because this stubborn idiot may very well know that you aren't always correct?" I ask slowly and take a biscuit. "Am I right in assuming that this stubborn idiot is Dr. Watson?"
"Who else could it be?" Sherlock answers hotly and continues his pacing through my living room.
"What was it this time?" I query, surrendering to my fate.
Sherlock and his friend have an unbelievable, very harmonious friendchip, which I can't understand (how could someone endure Sherlock over any length of time? I speak from experience) and it is a mystery how they can deal with each other for those people who know them.
However nobody knows that these two bullheads have their share of rowings. They aren't any ill-natured rowings, they are more like disagreements born out of their deep regard and respect for each other.
Only I am privy to this little secret of their coexistence and that's just because of Sherlock having the habit to come to me to fuss over these disagreements.
And my habit is to give him a piece of my mind and to send him back home. I can't waste my time on these trifles just because he isn't able to handle his feelings.
But this seems to be the lot of all older brothers…
Sherlock starts with a rant about the disagreement he had with Watson tonight.
Sherlock is in pursuit of a criminal, an extreme dangerous and ruthless murderer to use his words and this criminal noticed Sherlocks inquiries and he intimated that he would not tolerate the meddling of an amateur sleuth. If Sherlock ever dares to step onto his property he would kill him.
Sherlock of course wants to follow this invitation.
Watson of course wants to accompany him.
And of course they had a quarrel about it.
As Sherlock wanders through my living room, I look at him and let my thoughts roam free.
In the beginning I was sceptical about this partnership, eventuel friendchip.
My brother is a reserved man and stands on his own two feet. He acquired this in his childhood and I acquired to allow him his independence.
Since knowing Watson he started to change and he may still be an independent individual in the eyes of the world, who is on a higher level than any normal man, mentally he is like the moon which orbits around the earth.
In this case Watson is the earth.
These changes became especially obvious after Reichenbach.
Apart from instructions there was another important element in our sparce contacts in these three years - information about Watson.
I did not recognized my brother after his return.
The expression in his eyes as he was here in this room in front of me, hearing a report about Watson with all the details I could never write in pathetic telegrams, is haunting.
Since that moment John Watson has my full confidence and has earned my deepest respect.
This is the reason why my brother comes to me so often and why I straighten him out.
Even if Sherlock now carries true feelings inside, he isn't ready to handle them.
"He even accused me that I don't take this partnerchip seriously!" Sherlock exclaims while throwing his arms up into the air and I see my chance.
"Well, you don't, Sherlock."
Like a tiger on the hunt Sherlock leaps around and glares at me.
I only sniff with disdain.
„Come on, Sherlock. Nothing against the doctor, be he isn't young anymore and he is a cripple. He has neither the brain nor the knowledge to be a full partner in your work. He is just a by-stander on the crime scene."
"Do not dare to talk like this about him, Mycroft," Sherlock growls lowly and I wave him away.
"You're thinking the same, otherwise you would not forbid him to challenge a murderer."
"That has nothing to do with this!" Sherlock cries angrily and I can see the storm raging in his eyes.
I unbalance him. Good.
"What is it then? If he's your full partner then why won't you let him fully partake?"
Opening and closing his mouth, Sherlock looks for an answer and swallows hard when he finds it.
But then he shakes his head vigorously.
"It stands to reason-"
"It stands to reason that he is your partner and takes on the risk of this job," I interrupt him coldly.
"It stands to reason that he also runs the gauntlet. It stands to reason that he also hunts criminals. It stands to reason that it should be all the same to YOU, because it is HIS decision.
You abide reason, so why are you upset?"
His shoulders sag and the storm in his eyes fades leaving behind a light grey.
In the past it was the grey of mist for me, opaque and indecipherable. Now it is the grey after a rain shower when the world's clearing and everything is pure.
"I don't think logical. So nothing applies what you say."
"Why do you not think logical?" I ask and he lowers his eyes.
Obstinate until the end, little brother.
"You doubting his abilities to manage the criminal is not the reason why you do not wish him to accompany you.
You doubt your abilities to manage the criminal.
You doubt your abilities to prevent something happening to him.
And you doubt your abilities to cope with it if something happens to him."
Each diagnosis lets Sherlock seem younger and more helpless.
So stiffened on logic he can't cope with his feelings.
But Watson is full of feelings and like Sherlock brings logic into his life, Watson brings feelings into Sherlocks life.
The perfect harmony.
If only Sherlock would accept it finally.
I sigh knowing that Sherlock followed me this far and that I can't achieve more. At least today.
"If only you would start saying all this to the doctor, Sherlock. It would ease your quarrels if not even undo them."
A small smile graces his lips.
"Somehow I think he already knows everything."
A responding smile appears on my face.
"Yes, he seems to."
I look at the clock and shoo Sherlock away.
"Now get back to Baker Street, it's late. I wasted enough time on you."
"Always so hearty, brother mine," Sherlock teases and I pierce him with a look.
"It seems so. Sometimes more than you." Then I smile again. "But never like him."
The grey of his eyes warms like from sunshine after the rain and he nods, before he takes his coat from the ground.
"I thank you, brother," are his parting words, the door closes after him and I am surrounded by silence again.
I take my cup back again when footsteps sound behind me.
"Was there really need for the by-stander?"
A laugh grows in my chest unintentional and I wink at Watson standing at my side.
"You know how he is. Sometimes it needs the extreme for him to understand the extreme."
Watsons nods slowly and looks to the door.
"Still I am not sure if this deception is a good idea."
"It is no deception of any kind, my dear Doctor," I rumble.
"I mean everything I say to him. I don't tamper with him so he says what you wish to hear."
I stand up, step around the table to his side and lay my hands on his shoulders.
In his eyes there is a storm which needs to be calmed as well.
"But we both know that he probably won't ever be able to tell you these inner truths. And even so you esteem, respect and understand him so very much, we also both know that sometimes you just need to hear these words.
It is no weakness of yours, Doctor and no shame to admit. And if I can give him a piece of my mind it's even better."
A small laugh escapes him and his eyes shine.
I notice as so many times before that it is the same radiance like Sherlock has in his eyes.
"I thank you again, Mycroft. I am sorry that we are always troubling you."
"For what are older brothers there?" I sigh and I smile softly at him.
"It is always my greatest pleasure to assist my little brothers any way I can."
Astonished he looks at me but then a gentle smile graces his lips and he returns my look gratefully.
"Now you should return, too, otherwise he will worry too much about your whereabouts and I don't think you want to go on the hunt with an irritating detective."
Watson laughs good-natured, before he follows Sherlock out of the door and is on his way back to Baker Street.
And like on so many other evenings I recline in my chair and I feel like I accomplished more than on countless working days when I consult a whole country.
It may very well be that I am more of the older brother mentally…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author: Alaylith
Rating: PG
Universe: ACD
Characters: Watson, Holmes
WordCount: 1.593
Summary: The perfect harmony of a friendchip. If one of them just wouldn't be so stubborn.
A/N: Don't know how I found this plot bunny (or how it found me).
At first Mycroft shouldn't play such a role, but somehow I had no control over it. ^^
As usual, I'm german and translated the story, so if there are any mistakes I'm sorry!
Btw, I have two more chapters planned, but I don't know if and when I'll write them and if/when I'll translate them. :)
Otherwise I hope you like it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am just setting down my tea cup, when my door bursts open and my insufferably younger brother storms into my flat.
I thought I had locked the door. And bolted.
"Mycroft, I must talk to you!" thunders Sherlock while he rushes to me and throws his coat to the ground.
He has always been an extremely disorderly nuisance.
"I thought as much, Sherlock," I answer and sigh loudly.
Sherlock starts a furious pacing in front of my dining table.
"This stubborn idiot makes me livid! Why can't he accept that I am almost always correct!"
"Because this stubborn idiot may very well know that you aren't always correct?" I ask slowly and take a biscuit. "Am I right in assuming that this stubborn idiot is Dr. Watson?"
"Who else could it be?" Sherlock answers hotly and continues his pacing through my living room.
"What was it this time?" I query, surrendering to my fate.
Sherlock and his friend have an unbelievable, very harmonious friendchip, which I can't understand (how could someone endure Sherlock over any length of time? I speak from experience) and it is a mystery how they can deal with each other for those people who know them.
However nobody knows that these two bullheads have their share of rowings. They aren't any ill-natured rowings, they are more like disagreements born out of their deep regard and respect for each other.
Only I am privy to this little secret of their coexistence and that's just because of Sherlock having the habit to come to me to fuss over these disagreements.
And my habit is to give him a piece of my mind and to send him back home. I can't waste my time on these trifles just because he isn't able to handle his feelings.
But this seems to be the lot of all older brothers…
Sherlock starts with a rant about the disagreement he had with Watson tonight.
Sherlock is in pursuit of a criminal, an extreme dangerous and ruthless murderer to use his words and this criminal noticed Sherlocks inquiries and he intimated that he would not tolerate the meddling of an amateur sleuth. If Sherlock ever dares to step onto his property he would kill him.
Sherlock of course wants to follow this invitation.
Watson of course wants to accompany him.
And of course they had a quarrel about it.
As Sherlock wanders through my living room, I look at him and let my thoughts roam free.
In the beginning I was sceptical about this partnership, eventuel friendchip.
My brother is a reserved man and stands on his own two feet. He acquired this in his childhood and I acquired to allow him his independence.
Since knowing Watson he started to change and he may still be an independent individual in the eyes of the world, who is on a higher level than any normal man, mentally he is like the moon which orbits around the earth.
In this case Watson is the earth.
These changes became especially obvious after Reichenbach.
Apart from instructions there was another important element in our sparce contacts in these three years - information about Watson.
I did not recognized my brother after his return.
The expression in his eyes as he was here in this room in front of me, hearing a report about Watson with all the details I could never write in pathetic telegrams, is haunting.
Since that moment John Watson has my full confidence and has earned my deepest respect.
This is the reason why my brother comes to me so often and why I straighten him out.
Even if Sherlock now carries true feelings inside, he isn't ready to handle them.
"He even accused me that I don't take this partnerchip seriously!" Sherlock exclaims while throwing his arms up into the air and I see my chance.
"Well, you don't, Sherlock."
Like a tiger on the hunt Sherlock leaps around and glares at me.
I only sniff with disdain.
„Come on, Sherlock. Nothing against the doctor, be he isn't young anymore and he is a cripple. He has neither the brain nor the knowledge to be a full partner in your work. He is just a by-stander on the crime scene."
"Do not dare to talk like this about him, Mycroft," Sherlock growls lowly and I wave him away.
"You're thinking the same, otherwise you would not forbid him to challenge a murderer."
"That has nothing to do with this!" Sherlock cries angrily and I can see the storm raging in his eyes.
I unbalance him. Good.
"What is it then? If he's your full partner then why won't you let him fully partake?"
Opening and closing his mouth, Sherlock looks for an answer and swallows hard when he finds it.
But then he shakes his head vigorously.
"It stands to reason-"
"It stands to reason that he is your partner and takes on the risk of this job," I interrupt him coldly.
"It stands to reason that he also runs the gauntlet. It stands to reason that he also hunts criminals. It stands to reason that it should be all the same to YOU, because it is HIS decision.
You abide reason, so why are you upset?"
His shoulders sag and the storm in his eyes fades leaving behind a light grey.
In the past it was the grey of mist for me, opaque and indecipherable. Now it is the grey after a rain shower when the world's clearing and everything is pure.
"I don't think logical. So nothing applies what you say."
"Why do you not think logical?" I ask and he lowers his eyes.
Obstinate until the end, little brother.
"You doubting his abilities to manage the criminal is not the reason why you do not wish him to accompany you.
You doubt your abilities to manage the criminal.
You doubt your abilities to prevent something happening to him.
And you doubt your abilities to cope with it if something happens to him."
Each diagnosis lets Sherlock seem younger and more helpless.
So stiffened on logic he can't cope with his feelings.
But Watson is full of feelings and like Sherlock brings logic into his life, Watson brings feelings into Sherlocks life.
The perfect harmony.
If only Sherlock would accept it finally.
I sigh knowing that Sherlock followed me this far and that I can't achieve more. At least today.
"If only you would start saying all this to the doctor, Sherlock. It would ease your quarrels if not even undo them."
A small smile graces his lips.
"Somehow I think he already knows everything."
A responding smile appears on my face.
"Yes, he seems to."
I look at the clock and shoo Sherlock away.
"Now get back to Baker Street, it's late. I wasted enough time on you."
"Always so hearty, brother mine," Sherlock teases and I pierce him with a look.
"It seems so. Sometimes more than you." Then I smile again. "But never like him."
The grey of his eyes warms like from sunshine after the rain and he nods, before he takes his coat from the ground.
"I thank you, brother," are his parting words, the door closes after him and I am surrounded by silence again.
I take my cup back again when footsteps sound behind me.
"Was there really need for the by-stander?"
A laugh grows in my chest unintentional and I wink at Watson standing at my side.
"You know how he is. Sometimes it needs the extreme for him to understand the extreme."
Watsons nods slowly and looks to the door.
"Still I am not sure if this deception is a good idea."
"It is no deception of any kind, my dear Doctor," I rumble.
"I mean everything I say to him. I don't tamper with him so he says what you wish to hear."
I stand up, step around the table to his side and lay my hands on his shoulders.
In his eyes there is a storm which needs to be calmed as well.
"But we both know that he probably won't ever be able to tell you these inner truths. And even so you esteem, respect and understand him so very much, we also both know that sometimes you just need to hear these words.
It is no weakness of yours, Doctor and no shame to admit. And if I can give him a piece of my mind it's even better."
A small laugh escapes him and his eyes shine.
I notice as so many times before that it is the same radiance like Sherlock has in his eyes.
"I thank you again, Mycroft. I am sorry that we are always troubling you."
"For what are older brothers there?" I sigh and I smile softly at him.
"It is always my greatest pleasure to assist my little brothers any way I can."
Astonished he looks at me but then a gentle smile graces his lips and he returns my look gratefully.
"Now you should return, too, otherwise he will worry too much about your whereabouts and I don't think you want to go on the hunt with an irritating detective."
Watson laughs good-natured, before he follows Sherlock out of the door and is on his way back to Baker Street.
And like on so many other evenings I recline in my chair and I feel like I accomplished more than on countless working days when I consult a whole country.
It may very well be that I am more of the older brother mentally…
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