Unlikely Pair || Mycroft Holmes x Reader

➾ Chapter Eight

You were shaking as you sat in a small interrogation room by yourself. The walls felt like they were closing in and suffocating you as your anxiety spiked greatly. You were worried about what would happen once more, but with Sherlock, John, and yourself, along with your relationship with Mycroft.

You wanted to see him terribly. You wanted to hug him and hold him. You were so troubled by your thoughts and concerns that they were racing and jumbled up in your brain and you wanted it to stop. Everything that happened crashed down on you like a hurricane as you say on the cold, metal chair and you almost started to cry.

Your father was dead and you had no family left. What would your mother think of your being okay with with his passing? Hers had haunted you for years, yet his seemed easier to deal with because of who he was, but did that make you heartless? You didn't think so, but there were others who may think differently.

You just wanted to go home.

You were waiting for another twenty minutes with your leg vibrating nervously under the table and your nails clicking against the tar until the steel door finally swung open. Mycroft walked in and you jumped up to throw your arms around him, but he stopped you with a single glare.

Your breath hitched audibly at the look he gave to his enemies, the one he was searing into your gaze right then. You sat back down like an obedient child and bowed your head in shame with your hands folded. Mycroft sat across from you, leaning back in the seat.

"What happened?" he asked lowly.

You looked at him slowly because you were scared he would yell or freak out at any second like your mother used to when you would get a note wrong on the piano. The situation felt do similar where you were the target of all scrutiny and anger.

That was what Mycroft deduced when your glassy eyes met his and his chest constricted because it was protocol for him to interrogate witnesses without mercy and sympathy, but you were never just a simple witness or person. You were... you.

You explained everything to Mycroft from start to finish. You knew he would be able to dicifer truth from lie if you so much as tried, do the entire truth spilled from your lips like a waterfall while you ebbed the tears away. You thought Mycroft was immeasurably disappointed and furious with you with how he acted as you told him the story and feared the events would be the cause to the end of your relationship.

"Thank you, Miss (L/N)," Mycroft said, standing.

You remained sitting with your gaze cast downward as he left the room. The space felt even more secluded after he went and you wondered if there was hope of coming back from the whole thing and repairing what was shattered.

After ten minutes of your isolation, a man walked in to escort you somewhere, but when you recognized the hallways, you knew it to be Mycroft's office. You were anticipating and preparing for whatever would be said or done once you entered, and after you did, you kept your hands by your sides and looked anyway but his face.

You saw Mycroft stand after the door shut behind you and appraochef your figure, taking his time as he buttoned his blazer on the way. You were merely a toe's length away from each other when he spoke.

"(Y/N), look at me."

You did, but you still couldn't make out his emotions although that was something you had been able to trace so easily before.

"Why did you go?"

"I was trying to stop them," you whispered remorsefully.

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Because you were in danger and your job was at risk," you muttered, staring straight into his blue orbs.

"I'm disappointed."

You swallowed. "I'm aware."

Mycroft sighed and closed the distance between you by wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace. You returned it instantly and buried your face in his shoulder as you longed to do the entire night.

"But I still love you, (Y/N). Don't think that I would stop because of something such as this. You made choices, some wrong and some right, but you're okay," he said.

A tear slid down your cheek. "You're not mad?"

Mycroft rubbed a hand up and down your back in reassurance. "No, my dear."

You were happy because you sincerely suspected your relationship might have been over and it hurt in unimaginable ways to even think about, but there were others matters that were weighing heavily on your mind.

"What's going to happen to Sherlock?"

Mycroft sighed, stepping back and going to sit at his desk. "I'm trying to work something out so he at least doesn't need to be incarcerated; he wouldn't last an hour in prison. Maybe sending him on that mission that would prove fatal to him is the only option."

You sat across from him and composed yourself. "You're not thinking of... sending him to Sherrinford, right?" you questioned worriedly.

"No, absolutely not," he replied hastily. "Sherlock cannot know of Sherrinford's existence whatsoever. It would ruin him."

"He'll find out somehow," you warned. "The truth always has a way of coming out, and something this huge will break through eventually."

Mycroft started typing on his computer, ignoring your comment because deep down, he knew it was the truth. He knew all too well of how secrets get out of their cages and ruin the foundation they were supposed to protect, but if he could do anything about it, the biggest secret of them all would continue to be locked away.