Date: 2012-06-12 11:44 pm (UTC)
the_government: (Default)
Mycroft pulls away slightly, his arm moving from around Sherlock's back to grip his nearest shoulder. He takes a deep breath.

"The last time I said it was the day I left for university."

It had been through a layer of solid oak, and the blasting of Verdi's "Dies Irae" (dramatic even then) had made sure no sullen pre-teen ears had heard.

He stops for a moment, thinking about what Sherlock had just told him, and then his somber expression cracks into a faint smile.

"Do you realize...you've just asked for a rule book? My brother, following rules?" He grins wider, ruffling Sherlock's unruly curls. "I would suspect some sort of grave illness had befallen you."

He looks at his brother, thinking how much he's changed. How much they've both grown, mistakes made along the way of course, but they're solving them now. Learning that being "the best" isn't always being the smartest or the most in control.

"Look at us, brother. Sitting here bemoaning ourselves. We're being ridiculous." His smile is wider now, the first smile that's felt real to him in a long time.

"Has there ever been anything we couldn't do?"
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Sherlock Holmes

February 2017

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