punchmeitssubtext: (John! We're gay!)
Sherlock Holmes ([personal profile] punchmeitssubtext) wrote2012-06-10 12:29 am

sto morendo dal crepacuore, fratello mio

It was something of a given that the Holmes brothers tended to intrude on one another's privacy without either warning or apology. After a difficult adolescence and young adulthood, it had very nearly become habit (which, in retrospect, probably explained a good deal of the resentful and angry behavior), although that habit had somewhat faded after Sherlock's false death and resurrection.

Until today, at least.

The door of Mycroft's home banged open, and Sherlock stormed in, bringing a gust of the rain and muggy air from outdoors with him as if it were generated by the billowing drape of his coat. With no explanation aside from several furiously muttered obscenities, he slammed the door behind him and then practically threw himself onto his brother's couch, curling up in an awkward, angry ball.
the_government: (Default)

[personal profile] the_government 2012-06-12 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
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?"
the_government: (Brothers)

[personal profile] the_government 2012-06-15 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
Mycroft waived his hand airily. "I suppose we could succeed at those if we cared enough to try. And I beg pardon, I've always been ridiculous? Where you prance around in flapping coats and too-tight shirts? Hmph" His voice is sharp, but a twist of his mouth and the twinkle in his eye shows he's making fun in jest.

He fingers the knot in his tie, still perfectly taut as always, the pin keeping it from slipping. He sighs, leaning back on the sofa, his hand returning to rest on his brother's shoulders- a point of contact, keeping them grounded together in physicality is doing wonders for their relationship so far.

"It is different. It matters. Why is this sentiment, why this one man matters to you above any other."

A thought occurs to him, and he looks at Sherlock quizzically. His brother had always flamboyantly rejected normality, pushing any human emotions out of his system. But this emotion...even though it pained him, his brother clung to. Much the same as he himself had clung to his wreck of a brother, even as the downward spiral of drugs turned him into someone unrecognizable.

"You haven't tried to quell this attraction using chemical means, though. That's...quite interesting."