More Mycroft-centric short fics!
Title: Repairs
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Mycroft does John a favour, and gets a kiss in reward.
"Oh, hi Mycroft." John mumbled wearily, stumbling through the living room and into the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle. "Tea?" He called, taking down a second mug.
"Please."
He set about making tea and quietly processed his night. Sherlock had dragged him half way across London, he was tired, he ached and... why was Mycroft in the living room and what was he doing with his computer?!
Practically tripping over himself John shot into the living room.
"Wh...what are you doing?" He tried not to sound angry but this was his third laptop and laptop + Holmes, not a great combination. He hovered slightly over Mycroft's shoulder, staring at the lines of code the older Holmes was inputting.
"Oh. Sorry. Sherlock said something about a virus."
"A virus?" John repeated. Great.
"But," Mycroft hit 'enter' with a slight flourish. "All sorted. I suggest you ensure your anti-virus protection is up to date." He moved the laptop onto the coffee table and stood.
John stared at him, "you...fixed my laptop?"
"Well I presume that Sherlock was responsi--" without thinking, John leaned up, balancing on his tip toes and kissed Mycroft on the cheek.
"Mycroft, thank you. That was...really sweet."
Mycroft flushed, "I..I...well, t...thank you."
John grinned and patted him on the arm. "I'll just get that tea."
Title: The Card
Rating: PG (warning for implied suicidal thoughts)
Synopsis: Mycroft keeps a gun in his desk drawer. Anthea worries. Post-Reich.
Few people knew that Mycroft Holmes kept a gun in his desk drawer, even fewer knew that it had belonged to his grandfather. A sleek Webley Mk IV .38/200 calibre service revolver. It would have been passed down to Mycroft's father but he had left shortly after his tenth birthday so it had come to him. He's kept it in excellent condition, cleaned it regularly and occasionally taking it down to the police firing range. His grandfather taught him to shoot, much to his mother's dismay, he's never fired it in aggression or in self-defense though.
Three days after what had been quietly dubbed 'The Event' (it annoyed him, Sherlock had committed suicide - he saw no need to dress it up as anything else) he found himself unlocking a drawer in his office, removing a plain wooden box and carefully lifting the lid. He looked at it, nestled neatly it the fine red silk before gently returning it to the drawer.
The fifth time he repeated the routine, he found that the gun was gone, replaced with a blank bereavement counsellors appointment card. He took it from the box and stared at it, turning it over in his hand to see 'Please?' written on the back in a familiar blue ink. He sat back in his chair, glancing at a photograph he had taken from Sherlock's bedroom - they were so young. He stroked the picture gently before reaching for the telephone.
The next morning, Anthea was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers on her desk. Reaching out, she pulled the card from the flowers and smiled.
Carefully, she added the time and date to Mycroft's personal diary before taking him his morning coffee.
A/N: I know nothing about guns but Google told me that the Webley .455 was one of the issued hand guns during WW2. If this is incorrect or doesn't make sense, please let me know and I'll change it :). Apparently in the 'Scandal in Belgravia' Q&A, Mark Gatiss revealed that there is a photograph in Sherlock's bedroom of him and Mycroft as kids (not viewed on screen but it's there). I thought that was quite sweet :)
Title: The Photograph
Rating: PG
Synopsis: A response to this photograph of Lisa McAllister (Anthea).
Anthea emerged from the bathroom, self-consciously adjusting herself. Mycroft raised an eyebrow as she fiddled with her stockings, she caught his eye and winked, grinning as he blushed and quickly turned his attention back to the camera.
She glanced at him before hoisting herself onto his desk, making herself as comfortable as possible. She gave him a quick nod and wordlessly he began taking her photograph.
Fifteen minutes later she slid off the desk, headed back into the bathroom and changed back into her plain black trouser suit. Mycroft handed her the SD card as she re-emerged, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and helped him put his desk back in order.
Three weeks later, an exhausted, lonely squaddie opened his post in the middle of a sand storm and smiled.
A/N: More photos here
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Mycroft does John a favour, and gets a kiss in reward.
"Oh, hi Mycroft." John mumbled wearily, stumbling through the living room and into the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle. "Tea?" He called, taking down a second mug.
"Please."
He set about making tea and quietly processed his night. Sherlock had dragged him half way across London, he was tired, he ached and... why was Mycroft in the living room and what was he doing with his computer?!
Practically tripping over himself John shot into the living room.
"Wh...what are you doing?" He tried not to sound angry but this was his third laptop and laptop + Holmes, not a great combination. He hovered slightly over Mycroft's shoulder, staring at the lines of code the older Holmes was inputting.
"Oh. Sorry. Sherlock said something about a virus."
"A virus?" John repeated. Great.
"But," Mycroft hit 'enter' with a slight flourish. "All sorted. I suggest you ensure your anti-virus protection is up to date." He moved the laptop onto the coffee table and stood.
John stared at him, "you...fixed my laptop?"
"Well I presume that Sherlock was responsi--" without thinking, John leaned up, balancing on his tip toes and kissed Mycroft on the cheek.
"Mycroft, thank you. That was...really sweet."
Mycroft flushed, "I..I...well, t...thank you."
John grinned and patted him on the arm. "I'll just get that tea."
Title: The Card
Rating: PG (warning for implied suicidal thoughts)
Synopsis: Mycroft keeps a gun in his desk drawer. Anthea worries. Post-Reich.
Few people knew that Mycroft Holmes kept a gun in his desk drawer, even fewer knew that it had belonged to his grandfather. A sleek Webley Mk IV .38/200 calibre service revolver. It would have been passed down to Mycroft's father but he had left shortly after his tenth birthday so it had come to him. He's kept it in excellent condition, cleaned it regularly and occasionally taking it down to the police firing range. His grandfather taught him to shoot, much to his mother's dismay, he's never fired it in aggression or in self-defense though.
Three days after what had been quietly dubbed 'The Event' (it annoyed him, Sherlock had committed suicide - he saw no need to dress it up as anything else) he found himself unlocking a drawer in his office, removing a plain wooden box and carefully lifting the lid. He looked at it, nestled neatly it the fine red silk before gently returning it to the drawer.
The fifth time he repeated the routine, he found that the gun was gone, replaced with a blank bereavement counsellors appointment card. He took it from the box and stared at it, turning it over in his hand to see 'Please?' written on the back in a familiar blue ink. He sat back in his chair, glancing at a photograph he had taken from Sherlock's bedroom - they were so young. He stroked the picture gently before reaching for the telephone.
The next morning, Anthea was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers on her desk. Reaching out, she pulled the card from the flowers and smiled.
Carefully, she added the time and date to Mycroft's personal diary before taking him his morning coffee.
A/N: I know nothing about guns but Google told me that the Webley .455 was one of the issued hand guns during WW2. If this is incorrect or doesn't make sense, please let me know and I'll change it :). Apparently in the 'Scandal in Belgravia' Q&A, Mark Gatiss revealed that there is a photograph in Sherlock's bedroom of him and Mycroft as kids (not viewed on screen but it's there). I thought that was quite sweet :)
Title: The Photograph
Rating: PG
Synopsis: A response to this photograph of Lisa McAllister (Anthea).
Anthea emerged from the bathroom, self-consciously adjusting herself. Mycroft raised an eyebrow as she fiddled with her stockings, she caught his eye and winked, grinning as he blushed and quickly turned his attention back to the camera.
She glanced at him before hoisting herself onto his desk, making herself as comfortable as possible. She gave him a quick nod and wordlessly he began taking her photograph.
Fifteen minutes later she slid off the desk, headed back into the bathroom and changed back into her plain black trouser suit. Mycroft handed her the SD card as she re-emerged, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and helped him put his desk back in order.
Three weeks later, an exhausted, lonely squaddie opened his post in the middle of a sand storm and smiled.
A/N: More photos here