A little bit of everything Multi Fandom Imagines Book Three

Nemesis - Sherlock - Part 5 - Mycroft x Sherlock x Reader

"I see you scared him off." (Y/n) remarked, as she made her way back into the office. Her eyes focusing on the older Holmes. Mycroft still carefully perusing his copy of The Times.

"Scared who.................?"

"Oh please, Mycroft. Save the 'I don't know or care' crap for someone else. It doesn't work with me. You scared poor Sherlock away............"

"There is nothing poor about Sherlock. Annoying. Irritating, perhaps, but nothing poor..............."

"Why do you do that, Mycroft? Why do you pretend that you don't care about Sherlock? Because I know, that despite all appearances to the contrary, if there is one person in this world that you care about, other than yourself, of course. It's your brother. Is it so wrong to admit that you care about someone? That you love someone? To let down that wall that you have built up. To stop being a fucking cold hearted bastard for just one minute. To stop being a Holmes. I don't give a damn if you never cared about me. I came to terms with that a very long time ago. I came to terms with the fact that all the sweet words. That all the loving touches, were just your way of getting what you wanted. And when you were bored of me. When you had got what you wanted. You threw me away. That's fine. But I will not let you pretend that Sherlock means nothing to you. When I met him all those years ago, I felt sorry for him. He didn't know how to have fun. How to laugh and just be a kid. He didn't know what it was to be understood and loved. So, I did my best to show him that. To show him that those emotions that you and your family thought of as beneath you, were good things to have. That it was alright to care. But you and your parents took that away from me too. I was turned away from the house when I tried to see him after you broke up with me. I wrote him letters to explain what had happened. How I hoped that he and I could still be friends. Yet I know in my heart that your parents never let him see them. Well now, I am not going to let you stand between me and that sweet boy again. And if you don't want to admit that you give a damn. Then I will just have to give a damn for the both of us." (Y/n) scolded, as she stood on the other side of Mycroft's desk. The older Holmes taken aback by her words.

He had no idea that she had been to his parents' home. That she had been turned away. That she had written Sherlock letters, and he had not been allowed to see them. Though he couldn't pretend that he was shocked by it all. It was because of his parents that he had broken things off with (Y/n) in the first place. It was because of their wishes that he had given up the best thing that had ever come into his life. So, why would it be any different with Sherlock. Though what was shocking him, was the emotion in (Y/n)'s voice. She had been so cool. So calm and detached since she had taken over his office. His nemesis only seeming to smile when she managed to get under his skin. But here, talking about her time with Sherlock, Mycroft could see the same girl that he had fallen in love with all those years before. He could see the reason he had been neglecting the club. Choosing instead to stay home and look through his box of memories. To wonder if he had been given a chance to make all this right.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I have better things to do than argue with a brick wall. I am off to Buckingham. I am to look over the security arrangements for the Prime Ministers trip to Chequers next month. But when I get back, be sure that Sherlock and I will be having tea. And there is nothing you can do about it." (Y/n) added, with a sarcastic smile. Making her way over to the umbrella stand and pulling out the bright thing that she insisted on using. Mycroft always telling her that it would be more suitable to carry a black umbrella like he did. That it would be more dignified. To which (Y/n) would always respond by saying that if a black umbrella would turn her into something like him, then she wanted no part of it. That she was happy to stick with the bright one that she had. And she had no need for the sword that was hidden in his umbrella. Mycroft watching in silence, as she made her way out of the office.

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"I want to stop at a bakery." (Y/n) suddenly said from the back seat of the car. The driver looking at her through the rear view mirror.

"Pardon ma'am............?"

"A bakery, Johnson. I need to stop at a bakery. I can't turn up to tea without something sweet for Sherlock and the dear doctor. Its just done. And despite what they might say, the Holmes boys have the biggest, sweet tooth I have ever come across. If Mycroft wasn't always on that rotten diet of his, he might actually be a rather happy, portly gentleman." (Y/n) explained. The driver chuckling as he listened to her talk about the much feared Holmes in such a way.

"A bakery.......Of course ma'am. I know just the one. It was my wife's favourite place when she was pregnant with our daughters. Johnson replied. (Y/n) smiling, as she relaxed back into her seat.

It had been a long week in Buckingham. But after much work, the country home of the Prime Minister was ready to receive the PM and his guests. And (Y/n) had taken the opportunity, on a last night, to call Sherlock. To arrange that when she returned to the capital the next day, she would make her way to Baker Street, to have tea. So that was why she was now speeding, in a government car, through the streets of London. The rain that fell from the grey sky not dampening her enthusiasm about seeing the younger Holmes again.

The years had rolled back, as she and Sherlock had spoken on the phone. She could hear a hint of happiness in his voice. A hint of the childlike glee that she had managed to get out of him that summer, as they had sat by the riverbank. Or as they had walked through the woods. As they had laid on their backs and looked up at the clouds, when they had come across a clearing filled with bluebells. And she had to admit that she had liked it. That it had taken her back to her own youth. To better times. To the time that she had been happy and in love.

"We're here, ma'am." Johnson told her, as he pulled up the car outside the small shop. The driver dutifully getting out of the car and opening the door for her. A large umbrella shielding her from the worst of the inclement weather, as the pair made their way into the bakery.

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"Will you stop fiddling with your collar." John chuckled, as for the hundredth time, Sherlock ran his finger around the inside of his shirt.

"What.......I am doing no such thing............" Sherlock retorted. His protest just making John laugh all the more.

The doctor had to admit that he had never seen the great Sherlock Holmes look so nervous about someone coming to tea before. Yet, given what Sherlock had continued to tell him over the week about (Y/n). Given the emotion that he had not only heard in his friend's voice, but seen in his eyes. It was obvious that this tea, was not going to be like any other.

"I don't think (Y/n) will mind if your collar isn't right..............."

"My collar isn't right...........?" Sherlock interrupted. The consulting detective jumping to his feet and making for the nearest mirror.

"No, I didn't mean........what I meant was..............." John tried to explain. His words cut off, as a soft knock came to the door. Misses Hudson smiling as she poked her head around the edge of the slowly opening ingress.

"Sherlock, dear. You have a visitor." The older lady explained as she opened the door fully. A smile coming to Sherlock's lips, as (Y/n) made her way into the flat.