The Heart - epilogue
Oct. 25th, 2011 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solrosanNotes: Just a short epilogue so find out what happened afterwards, to make sure I know how it is with everyone.
The Heart and other things in this verse can be found here.
***
The door to Mycroft’s office – the minor position in the government one – was opened; still his assistant had the decency to knock and wait to be invited in. She was, though, the only person with the right to just burst in whenever she felt like it. That right was earned by the fact that she never did.
“Yes?” Mycroft wondered without looking up from the computer. How these machines had made his life easier! Even though he had lived most of his life without them he had a hard time imagine what it had been like before they took over the world.
There was no answer; no efficient reporting of the recent polls, no nagging reminders about meetings. A bit concerned Mycroft looked up and was probably not able to hide his surprise at the sight of his brother. Hard to say if the most surprising thing was that Sherlock was there or if it was the fact that he had knocked on the opened door.
“Sherlock,” he greeted with a small nod. What was it this time? Last time Sherlock had visited one of his offices…well, Mycroft didn’t want to go there. Being forced to hide Daniel from Sherlock had been one of the most repulsive things he had ever done.
“Am I interrupting?” Sherlock asked without moving into the room.
“Yes,” Mycroft was working, of course Sherlock was interrupting and his brother knew this. It was an unnecessary question which didn’t need to be ridiculed further with a false, but polite, answer. At least not when it was Sherlock who asked, because he knew how pointless it was. “It’s fine though, please come in.”
“I have some receipts,” Sherlock said and placed three receipts in front of Mycroft on his desk.
“You want me to reimburse you for” – Mycroft looked through the receipts – “A bow, a violin case and a lunch?”
“Not necessarily the lunch,” Sherlock said, “And not me, Joyce. She had to buy these items since you wouldn’t allow me to send the bow and the case to Daniel in November.”
Mycroft looked at his brother with an amused confusion but kept a stern face. No matter how easily he could read every other person in this world, he would never quite figure out his baby brother or what went on inside his head. Life would be too easy then, wouldn’t it?
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mycroft promised, “But you’ll get nothing for the lunch.”
“Fine,” Sherlock shrugged, “It was John who paid anyway.”
“How is he?”
“He’s fine.” Sherlock started at same speed as always but then, as if sudden guilt had struck him, he paused and added, “At the moment it looks like three out of seven nails will be able to grow back.”
Mycroft nodded, that was good. The doctor’s injuries hadn’t been severe enough for him to take a personal interest in his recovery, but it was still pleasant to hear that the man was getting better.
“Do you want the ‘thingies’ back?” Sherlock changed the subject and the brothers exchanged an amused look. What exactly was so funny with fruit of 8 years of research and 2 exceeded military budgets being referred to as a ‘thingy’ was hard to say, but both of the Holmes brothers agreed on it being hilarious.
“Yes please, do you have them on you?”
Sherlock retrieved two small boxes from his coat pocket and placed them in front of Mycroft. With his usual suspicion when it came to Sherlock, Mycroft opened both the boxes to make sure it was the same watch and cufflinks that he had bestowed upon them over a year ago.
It was.
“Good, thank you,” Mycroft placed the boxes next to his keyboard and opened one of his desk drawers, “I have something for you too.”
He presented a document folder to Sherlock and got a suspicious look in return; reassuring to see that both the suspicion and the mistrust were mutual. After a short staring contest Sherlock took the folder though.
“What is this?” Sherlock asked as he opened it and Mycroft couldn’t bother to answer. Instead he sat back and watched Sherlock getting misty-eyed when he read that he was, once again and rightfully so, stated as Daniel Green’s father.
Frenetic Sherlock blinked to prevent the tears from coming and, as a considerate gesture, Mycroft turned to his computer to pretend to do something highly important.
“Mycroft….” Sherlock started after a few minutes of silence but the rest of the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Mycroft looked back up, acting as if nothing had happened and held out his hand to get the folder back. Sherlock was a bit reluctant to let it go, but obeyed.
“How are they? Joyce and Daniel I mean.”
“Under the circumstances….” Sherlock nodded as to say that everything was fine with them as well and cleared his throat to get his cockiness back, “Daniel actually told me to tell you that he doesn’t hate you anymore and that you should fire the person who re-named him after a character in EastEnders.“
“It was after a Canadian astronomer,” Mycroft shook his head, feeling pleased to hear his nephew didn’t hate him.
“I’m not sure that’s much better,” Sherlock smirked, “They’re going to stay in Sheffield until the end of the school year and then they’re going to move to London if we can find a good school.”
“He’s starting lower sixth this autumn, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Sherlock didn’t even try to hide the pride beaming from his eyes, too occupied with failing to supress the smile maybe? Or maybe he realised that it was more than fine to be proud of one’s children.
“Time passes so fast,” Mycroft said in a weak moment of vocalising unnecessary clichés.
“Sometimes,” Sherlock agreed.
“If you like I can make some calls,” Mycroft offered before even thinking about it. Sherlock and Joyce had both refused his interference in Daniel’s education before. Maybe Sherlock had a point when he said that meddling came as second nature to him?
“Just make sure Joyce gets her money back,” Sherlock said with a badly disguised sigh.
“I will,” Mycroft promised, recognising the conversation as over and turned back to the computer.
“Mycroft,” Sherlock said again but when their eyes met he hesitated, so Mycroft nodded. He knew what Sherlock wanted to say or at least what he wanted to express. He also knew that however eloquent his brother might be when it came to telling people off, he did have trouble expressing feelings. So Mycroft wasn’t going to force him to, he suffered from the same condition.
They looked in each other’s eyes for a while, as if trying to say all those things neither of them thought the English language had words to say. Then Sherlock cleared his throat, nodded once and left the office without looking back.
Mycroft allowed himself to lean back in his chair and smile; that had been a pleasant surprise.
The Heart and other things in this verse can be found here.
***
The door to Mycroft’s office – the minor position in the government one – was opened; still his assistant had the decency to knock and wait to be invited in. She was, though, the only person with the right to just burst in whenever she felt like it. That right was earned by the fact that she never did.
“Yes?” Mycroft wondered without looking up from the computer. How these machines had made his life easier! Even though he had lived most of his life without them he had a hard time imagine what it had been like before they took over the world.
There was no answer; no efficient reporting of the recent polls, no nagging reminders about meetings. A bit concerned Mycroft looked up and was probably not able to hide his surprise at the sight of his brother. Hard to say if the most surprising thing was that Sherlock was there or if it was the fact that he had knocked on the opened door.
“Sherlock,” he greeted with a small nod. What was it this time? Last time Sherlock had visited one of his offices…well, Mycroft didn’t want to go there. Being forced to hide Daniel from Sherlock had been one of the most repulsive things he had ever done.
“Am I interrupting?” Sherlock asked without moving into the room.
“Yes,” Mycroft was working, of course Sherlock was interrupting and his brother knew this. It was an unnecessary question which didn’t need to be ridiculed further with a false, but polite, answer. At least not when it was Sherlock who asked, because he knew how pointless it was. “It’s fine though, please come in.”
“I have some receipts,” Sherlock said and placed three receipts in front of Mycroft on his desk.
“You want me to reimburse you for” – Mycroft looked through the receipts – “A bow, a violin case and a lunch?”
“Not necessarily the lunch,” Sherlock said, “And not me, Joyce. She had to buy these items since you wouldn’t allow me to send the bow and the case to Daniel in November.”
Mycroft looked at his brother with an amused confusion but kept a stern face. No matter how easily he could read every other person in this world, he would never quite figure out his baby brother or what went on inside his head. Life would be too easy then, wouldn’t it?
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mycroft promised, “But you’ll get nothing for the lunch.”
“Fine,” Sherlock shrugged, “It was John who paid anyway.”
“How is he?”
“He’s fine.” Sherlock started at same speed as always but then, as if sudden guilt had struck him, he paused and added, “At the moment it looks like three out of seven nails will be able to grow back.”
Mycroft nodded, that was good. The doctor’s injuries hadn’t been severe enough for him to take a personal interest in his recovery, but it was still pleasant to hear that the man was getting better.
“Do you want the ‘thingies’ back?” Sherlock changed the subject and the brothers exchanged an amused look. What exactly was so funny with fruit of 8 years of research and 2 exceeded military budgets being referred to as a ‘thingy’ was hard to say, but both of the Holmes brothers agreed on it being hilarious.
“Yes please, do you have them on you?”
Sherlock retrieved two small boxes from his coat pocket and placed them in front of Mycroft. With his usual suspicion when it came to Sherlock, Mycroft opened both the boxes to make sure it was the same watch and cufflinks that he had bestowed upon them over a year ago.
It was.
“Good, thank you,” Mycroft placed the boxes next to his keyboard and opened one of his desk drawers, “I have something for you too.”
He presented a document folder to Sherlock and got a suspicious look in return; reassuring to see that both the suspicion and the mistrust were mutual. After a short staring contest Sherlock took the folder though.
“What is this?” Sherlock asked as he opened it and Mycroft couldn’t bother to answer. Instead he sat back and watched Sherlock getting misty-eyed when he read that he was, once again and rightfully so, stated as Daniel Green’s father.
Frenetic Sherlock blinked to prevent the tears from coming and, as a considerate gesture, Mycroft turned to his computer to pretend to do something highly important.
“Mycroft….” Sherlock started after a few minutes of silence but the rest of the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Mycroft looked back up, acting as if nothing had happened and held out his hand to get the folder back. Sherlock was a bit reluctant to let it go, but obeyed.
“How are they? Joyce and Daniel I mean.”
“Under the circumstances….” Sherlock nodded as to say that everything was fine with them as well and cleared his throat to get his cockiness back, “Daniel actually told me to tell you that he doesn’t hate you anymore and that you should fire the person who re-named him after a character in EastEnders.“
“It was after a Canadian astronomer,” Mycroft shook his head, feeling pleased to hear his nephew didn’t hate him.
“I’m not sure that’s much better,” Sherlock smirked, “They’re going to stay in Sheffield until the end of the school year and then they’re going to move to London if we can find a good school.”
“He’s starting lower sixth this autumn, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Sherlock didn’t even try to hide the pride beaming from his eyes, too occupied with failing to supress the smile maybe? Or maybe he realised that it was more than fine to be proud of one’s children.
“Time passes so fast,” Mycroft said in a weak moment of vocalising unnecessary clichés.
“Sometimes,” Sherlock agreed.
“If you like I can make some calls,” Mycroft offered before even thinking about it. Sherlock and Joyce had both refused his interference in Daniel’s education before. Maybe Sherlock had a point when he said that meddling came as second nature to him?
“Just make sure Joyce gets her money back,” Sherlock said with a badly disguised sigh.
“I will,” Mycroft promised, recognising the conversation as over and turned back to the computer.
“Mycroft,” Sherlock said again but when their eyes met he hesitated, so Mycroft nodded. He knew what Sherlock wanted to say or at least what he wanted to express. He also knew that however eloquent his brother might be when it came to telling people off, he did have trouble expressing feelings. So Mycroft wasn’t going to force him to, he suffered from the same condition.
They looked in each other’s eyes for a while, as if trying to say all those things neither of them thought the English language had words to say. Then Sherlock cleared his throat, nodded once and left the office without looking back.
Mycroft allowed himself to lean back in his chair and smile; that had been a pleasant surprise.
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-26 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-26 06:25 am (UTC)...and yes, I did mean "receipts", thank you :) I wish I could blame the spellcheck...but I have to take that one, I actually thought it was the right word.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-26 05:28 am (UTC)This is a nice little epilog to let us know how everyone is faring. I know that Sherlock and Mycroft annoy the hell out of each other, but when it comes to the important things, there's nothing they wouldn't do for each other. :)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-26 06:49 am (UTC)Mycroft most likely did it for Sherlock though.