Cally's Sherlock drabble thread #1 442/442

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

So cute.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Awww! I love this! And Sherlock...and Lestrade...and the already-adorable relationship between the two of them.

[matilda3948]

Aww! I love your Sherlock and Lestrade stories. Something about Greg and a photic response is super cute.

[AngelEyes]

Sherlock smirked, a smug look on his face.

Lestrade sniffled wetly. “Point taken,” he said dryly.

I don't know why, but this totally cracked me up. It's like a foreshadowing of so many moments to follow at crime scenes. Delightful!

[cally]

So cute.

Thank you!

Awww! I love this! And Sherlock...and Lestrade...and the already-adorable relationship between the two of them.

I like writing pre-series Sherlock and Lestrade. It's a fun pairing.

Can I just say that every single page of this thread is brilliant? Because they are.

Why thank you very much!

Aww! I love your Sherlock and Lestrade stories. Something about Greg and a photic response is super cute.

It just really fits, I think.

I don't know why, but this totally cracked me up. It's like a foreshadowing of so many moments to follow at crime scenes. Delightful!

So true. Sherlock looking smug about something really does it, you know?

I did some work yesterday, so I rewarded myself with writing this.

194. a chance meeting

When it was all said and done, Mycroft was unsure how he ended up being the one returning the files to New Scotland Yard. That was normally a task that Anthea would have undertaken, but considering he was on his way home, he felt it made sense to return the files himself.

Having returned said files to the Chief Constable, he was making his way out of the building, looking forward to an evening at home. His antihistamine had long worn off, and he was feeling increasingly symptomatic by the second. As he turned down the corridor, his eyes were tearing up, and his nose was threatening with a deceitful tickle. He gave an inaudible sniff, and pressed his index finger under his long nose. So preoccupied he was in getting out of the building unscathed, that he wasn’t watching where he was going, and suddenly walked directly into someone.

DI Lestrade was heading back to his office; mind focused on the cold beer he was planning on cracking open when he got home, when he managed to knock into Mycroft Holmes. Embarrassed, he began to apologize profusely until he realised that the younger man wasn’t saying a word. Unable to speak; Mycroft was caught up in trying to keep himself from sneezing all over the handsome detective inspector. Failing, Mycroft made a breathy, gasping inhale and nearly pitched forward with the force of the suppressed sneeze, just managing to get his wrist up to his nose in time.

Ahhh…heh…MmmpfTIGisssshh!

Mycroft flushed a deep crimson. He was aware of Lestrade’s eyes on him and he was also cognizant of the fact that the tickle had not abated. Sniffling, he began to fumble about for his handkerchief; unaccustomed to being so flustered (he didn’t walk into people every day) he was torn between searching for it and cupping his hands around his traitorous nose.

Luckily for him, the detective inspector wasn’t stupid. He pulled out his own handkerchief and pressed it into Mycroft’s hands. And then, without a word, led him down the corridor and into his office, away from the prying eyes of the Yard.

Mycroft employed every ounce of mental control he had left to keep from sneezing right then and there. Ignoring the allergic tear that had made its way down his face, he pressed his tongue to the top of his mouth and didn’t dare breathe.

Lestrade was just able to get Mycroft seated before he curled in on himself with the harshness of sneezes long held back.

Hmmmmpffish! Mmmmmpftish! Mmmmmpftish! Heh’INGTISH! Heh’TISSSHH! Heh’MMMPFTISH!

Lestrade was torn. He wanted to look away because it was the polite thing to do, but was unable to, caught up in how utterly debauched Mycroft looked; an errant curl had freed itself and was splayed across his forehead. Finally, the fit of sneezes abated, and Mycroft was left tending to his dripping nose.

“God bless you,” Lestrade finally said, having waited until Mycroft was done so he would be heard. “Are you alright?” He asked, leaning on the edge of his desk.

“Thank you. I do apologize, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft said, dabbing at his nose. “I was caught off guard in the corridor,” he added unnecessarily.

“Greg, please,” he said. “I should be the one apologizing to you! I wasn’t looking where I was going. Off in my own world there.” Lestrade gave him a broad grin, trying to shake the embarrassment off.

Mycroft sniffed delicately, wrinkling his long nose. His sinus passages felt like fire ants had invaded them. He gave a soft hitching breath before bringing the proffered cloth up to his nose again. “Do ahhhh hehhh excuse me,” he managed to just breathe out before succumbing to the relentless tickle.

Heh-hhhmmpftish! Mmmmmtighish! Heh-hhhhtish! MmmmINGHtighsh!

“Christ! God bless you again! Are you sure you’re alright?” Gregory frowned, concerned, as he sat down next to Mycroft.

Mycroft quietly blew his nose. “Thank you, and again my apologies, Gregory,” Mycroft finally said. He sounded tired and congested. “It is merely a minor irritation,” he added.

Gregory raised both eyebrows in disbelief. If that was a minor irritation, he would hate to see what something major was like, he thought.

Mycroft rose from the chair. “I should be going. Thank you for your assistance. I shall see you get your handkerchief back,” he said stuffily. He sniffed unproductively and frowned. He was looking forward to getting home, taking his evening medicine and getting some rest. He was feeling considerably worn out.

Lestrade rose too, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. He walked around his desk and shut down his computer. “I’ll walk you out.” He suddenly found himself not wanting to end their time together. He found Mycroft fascinating and very handsome. He hoped it wouldn’t be presumptuous to ask if he wanted to have a drink; after all they had known each other for some time.

Allowing Mycroft to go ahead of him, he shut the door, and the two made their way down the corridor. As they got to the main doors, Gregory finally got up the nerve to ask.

“It’s alright if you can’t, but I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink.”

Mycroft stopped, his hand on the door. He looked up at Gregory and found that the older man was nervous, and expecting him to say no.

“I would like that very much so, Gregory. If you do not mind, could we have this drink at my residence? I do not believe I am fit for public consumption this evening,” he replied.

Gregory’s eyes widened. “Sure, that’s fine,” he said, still surprised.

Opening the door, the pair walked out into the early evening sunshine. Gregory immediately turned away from Mycroft, sneezing a pair of harsh sounding sneezes into his fist.

HRDSCHHhhh! Huh’huhrahhhSHHhhhooo!

“Good heavens Gregory! God bless you!”

Momentarily dazed, Gregory sniffed and then chuckled. “I’ve really got to remember to buy a pair of sunglasses,” he said. “And thank you,” he quickly added, sniffling again.

“You’re welcome.” Mycroft frowned. He couldn’t offer Gregory his handkerchief back, nor could he offer his own, he worriedly thought as Gregory sniffled damply.

They made their way to the town car; Mycroft allowing Gregory to enter first. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a small packet of tissues, which he handed over to the detective inspector. “Here,” he offered.

Gregory blushed slightly. “Thanks,” he said before taking one out and blowing his nose. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Mycroft must think he was completely disgusting.

“Do not think anything of it,” Mycroft said, trying to put Gregory at ease. He could see the inspector was feeling self-conscious; not that he had any reason to, after his own display a few minutes ago. “How long have you had a photic response to sunlight?” He asked, curious.

Gregory wiped his nose and shoved the tissue into his pocket. “I’m not sure. I didn’t even know what it was until Sherlock told me,” he said, laughing. “I don’t think I ever really noticed, until he mentioned it.”

Mycroft smiled at him in wonder. Gregory was like a breath of fresh air. Other than his slight embarrassment of blowing his nose, he didn’t seem to be worried or bothered about anything. Whereas Mycroft spent an enormous amount of time worrying about his actions, and employing a tremendous amount of mental control, especially in springtime. In his line of work, any minor ailment could be seen as weakness and used to his disadvantage. . . . He hadn’t realized he was lost in thought until Gregory squeezed his hand.

“Hey, you alright?” Gregory was looking at him with a look he couldn’t quite fathom.

“I do apologize. I was, as you said earlier, off in my own world for a moment.” Mycroft gave him a rare, genuine smile.

Gregory returned the grin. He wondered what Mycroft had been thinking about. He had looked very wistful and a bit sad. He was so different and so similar to his younger brother all at the same time. He felt like his soul was bared wide open every time Mycroft looked at him. He found he rather liked it, and dared himself to hope, just a bit.

[AngelEyes]

Gregory raised both eyebrows in disbelief. If that was a minor irritation, he would hate to see what something major was like, he thought.

Oh Gods yes!

Momentarily dazed, Gregory sniffed and then chuckled. “I’ve really got to remember to buy a pair of sunglasses,” he said.

LOL! He's so freaking adorable!

He had looked very wistful and a bit sad. He was so different and so similar to his younger brother all at the same time. He felt like his soul was bared wide open every time Mycroft looked at him. He found he rather liked it, and dared himself to hope, just a bit.

I love this brotherly comparison. And I believe I would feel like he was staring into my soul if I was faced with Mycroft! And Greg likes it. Awwww!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

"Lestrade was torn. He wanted to look away because it was the polite thing to do, but was unable to, caught up in how utterly debauched Mycroft looked; an errant curl had freed itself and was splayed across his forehead. Finally, the fit of sneezes abated, and Mycroft was left tending to his dripping nose."

Yeah... I wouldn't want to look away either. That curl gets me every time. Great story. I hope you get more work done so we can have more stories. I know, completely selfish...

[bangbang]

Getting-to-know-one-another fics are my favourite. Love it.

[Skyler]

Aww! I'd love to see a continuation of that last drabble

[cally]

I love this brotherly comparison. And I believe I would feel like he was staring into my soul if I was faced with Mycroft! And Greg likes it. Awwww!

He does. He's had a crush on Mycroft for some time.

Yeah... I wouldn't want to look away either. That curl gets me every time. Great story. I hope you get more work done so we can have more stories. I know, completely selfish...

It's ok. I'd rather be writing these, to be honest!

Getting-to-know-one-another fics are my favourite. Love it.

Thank you! I'm enjoying writing these, they're awfully fun and have so many possibilities!

Aww! I'd love to see a continuation of that last drabble

Ask and you shall receive!

195. library

When they arrived at Mycroft’s townhouse, Gregory was installed in the study/library while Mycroft excused himself for a moment. He heard Mycroft sneeze as he walked down the hallway and thought about calling out a blessing after him, but decided against it. Instead, he began to read the titles on the spines of the books on the impressive bookshelves along the wall.

Mycroft headed to his bedroom, attempting to stifle a sneeze along the way. Once there, he removed his tie, jacket and waistcoat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Hastily stifling yet another sneeze, he made a disgusted face as he felt moisture from his nostrils begin to gather and drip. Repulsed, he fetched a clean handkerchief for himself, and one to replace the one he took off of Gregory. With a sigh, he blew his nose and headed into the ensuite to fetch his evening antihistamine.

When he returned to the study, he found Gregory engrossed in the titles on his bookshelves. He smiled at his enjoyment and set about pouring them both a drink.

“This is incredible,” Gregory said, gesturing toward the shelves as he accepted the drink. He smiled, seeing that Mycroft had relaxed his attire. He tried not to gawk at his freckled forearms. “Cheers,” he said, raising his glass.

Mycroft allowed another smile to cross his face. “Thank you. I enjoy reading when I have the time to devote to such pursuits,” he said. “Oh, and please accept this,” he added, handing over the handkerchief. He had to keep his face neutral on hearing his voice; unfortunately he had continued to grow progressively congested as the day had gone on.

“You didn’t have to. It was no trouble,” Gregory said. “But thank you.” He took the luxurious feeling cloth and slid it into his trouser pocket. “Feeling any better? You sound a bit heady,” he remarked, gesturing to his sinuses. Mycroft blushed and turned away with a congested sniff.

“Hey,” Gregory said. He reached out and put a hand on Mycroft’s arm, forcing him to turn. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was just . . . . concerned . . . that’s all.” He allowed his voice to trail off when Mycroft didn’t immediately reply.

Before Mycroft could respond, he felt the previous irritating twinge return. Having no choice in the matter, he quickly brought his hand up to shield his nose as he turned his head away from Gregory once again. With a breathy inhale; he gave into the ticklish paroxysms.

Heh……huh……ING’SHHHHH! Heh’DNGISH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH!

“God bless,” Gregory offered softly, once Mycroft finished sneezing. He led him over to the sofa and took his glass from him. Mycroft removed his handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose, grimacing at the sound. “Thank you. Apologies,” he said a moment later. He gave his head a slight shake, as if to attempt to clear the congestion that had settled in his sinuses. The stuffiness and antihistamine were making him feel slow, befuddled, which he did not enjoy.

“You’re welcome,” Gregory said. He felt terrible for Mycroft; he seemed to be suffering something awful and he couldn’t imagine how it must be for him. Making an attempt to change the subject, he took a sip of his drink before speaking. “So, what would you recommend to an old copper like me to read, eh?”

Mycroft sniffed and slipped his handkerchief back into his pocket as he rose. He walked over to one of the bookshelves, and after a moment returned with a volume entitled Naming Jack The Ripper. Gregory accepted it and read the title, a smile spreading across his face.

Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if the tome would be appreciated, but he believed that Gregory was like him, someone who brought his work home with him and in more ways than one. “I have not had a chance to read it myself, so your insight would be welcome and appreciated,” Mycroft said.

As he spoke, he could feel the prickling return within his beleaguered nasal passages. However, this time he was able to eek out a warning. “Do hhhh hehh excuse me,” he whispered, quickly retrieving his handkerchief; his eyelids fluttering shut automatically as he caged the cloth over his nose.

Ahhhhh….. heh……..Mmmpftinghsh! INGHtighsh! MmmpfTIGisssshh! INGISHHHHH! Huh’Hng’ISSH! Hng’mmpftish’ooo!

Mycroft blushed again, having failed to stifle the last nasal expulsion. He blew his nose carefully, not wanting to trigger any further outbursts. Glancing over at Gregory, he was surprised at what he saw.

Gregory was sitting quietly, glass of scotch in hand, regarding him with a soft, fond look in his eyes. Mycroft noticed he had reached over and brought the box of tissues from the other end of the coffee table to closer to them.

Satisfied that Mycroft wasn’t going to sneeze again, Lestrade finally spoke. “God bless you again, he said emphatically but quietly.

“Thank you Gregory. Apologies.” Mycroft dabbed at his long nose with his handkerchief, contemplating what that look could possibly mean.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Ohhhhhhh I just loved this one start to finish. I love Greg's appreciation of Mycroft. (First the curl in the last drabble and now forearms in this one.) Greg being solicitous of Mycroft is so sweet. And Mycroft being so embarrassed about his allergies made it even sweeter. Thank you Cally!

[matilda3948]

Not sure what's sexier--the sneezing or Mycroft giving Greg a book. Books are sexy.

[Skyler]

Aww, adorable! Poor Mycroft

[cally]

Ohhhhhhh I just loved this one start to finish. I love Greg's appreciation of Mycroft. (First the curl in the last drabble and now forearms in this one.) Greg being solicitous of Mycroft is so sweet. And Mycroft being so embarrassed about his allergies made it even sweeter. Thank you Cally!

You're very welcome.

Not sure what's sexier--the sneezing or Mycroft giving Greg a book. Books are sexy.

Books ARE sexy.

Aww, adorable! Poor Mycroft

He's suffering so much, the poor dear.

196. ticklish

Gregory waved the hand that wasn’t holding his drink. “No apologies are necessary, you know.”

Mycroft gave him a look that could only really be construed as amused horror, which quickly changed as the tickle reappeared in a rather alarming manner. Grabbing for the tissues that Gregory had so kindly moved closer to him, he pressed a handful to his twitching nostrils.

Heh’NGISH! Heh’TISSSSHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! MmmpfTIGshooo!

“God bless you! Only four this time, so the antihistamine must be starting to work,” Gregory teased.

Nose buried within the depths of the tissues; Mycroft glared at him. “Thank you,” he murmured stuffily.

Gregory chuckled. “Well, it’s true!” He took a long sip of scotch and waited for Mycroft to compose himself.

Gregory watched as Mycroft blinked a few times, causing a tear trapped in his eyelashes to slowly trickle down his cheek. Mycroft was about to swipe the tear away, when Gregory reached out and cupped his cheek, gently wiping it away with his thumb.

The touch was so soft and intimate, that Mycroft immediately forgot the slight teasing comment. The touch was also terribly, terribly ticklish and unfortunately Mycroft had to turn away and duck his nose into his shoulder, stifling a pair of sneezes.

INGISHHHHH! Huh’Hng’ISSH!

Gregory pulled his hand away. “God bless,” he said quietly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to irritate you further.”

Mycroft reached out and grasped Gregory’s hand. “Thank you. I do apologize. I am not normally so sensitive.”

Gregory smiled. “Didn’t I say no more apologizing,” he remarked before caressing Mycroft’s cheek again.

Mycroft leaned into the touch and looked up into Gregory’s wanting face. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes look nearly black. Desire was seeping from nearly every pore.

Gregory unconsciously licked his lips and watched as Mycroft’s eyes widened, glancing from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again. Lestrade lightly caressed his cheek again, and then leaned forward and kissed him.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Ohhhh...ummm...more, please. This is absolutely delicious.

[ID2006]

I think my lungs forgot how to breath for a moment

[AngelEyes]

He tried not to gawk at his freckled forearms. “Cheers,” he said, raising his glass.

Greg does love him some freckles!

Gregory was sitting quietly, glass of scotch in hand, regarding him with a soft, fond look in his eyes. Mycroft noticed he had reached over and brought the box of tissues from the other end of the coffee table to closer to them.

Satisfied that Mycroft wasn’t going to sneeze again, Lestrade finally spoke. “God bless you again, he said emphatically but quietly.

“Thank you Gregory. Apologies.” Mycroft dabbed at his long nose with his handkerchief, contemplating what that look could possibly mean.

Oooooh, The Look.

“God bless you! Only four this time, so the antihistamine must be starting to work,” Gregory teased.

Nose buried within the depths of the tissues; Mycroft glared at him. “Thank you,” he murmured stuffily.

Gregory chuckled. “Well, it’s true!” He took a long sip of scotch and waited for Mycroft to compose himself.

Ha! I love this!

Mycroft leaned into the touch and looked up into Gregory’s wanting face. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes look nearly black. Desire was seeping from nearly every pore.

Gregory unconsciously licked his lips and watched as Mycroft’s eyes widened, glancing from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again. Lestrade lightly caressed his cheek again, and then leaned forward and kissed him.

I can totally picture the wheels spinning in overdrive in Mycroft's brain as he processes, eyes pupils lips tongue, Oh! OH! Ha! I love it!

[katy693]

So much love for this, please continue!

[cally]

Ohhhh...ummm...more, please. This is absolutely delicious.

Why thank you!

I think my lungs forgot how to breath for a moment

High praise, indeed!

I can totally picture the wheels spinning in overdrive in Mycroft's brain as he processes, eyes pupils lips tongue, Oh! OH! Ha! I love it!

YES. This.

So much love for this, please continue!

Oh, I may continue it.

And now for something completely different.

200. Migraine, or a bit of brotherly love

It was a warm spring afternoon when Mycroft made his way to Baker Street. He hadn’t heard nor seen his brother in over a week, and with John now married, he was forced to do the legwork himself.

He let himself into the flat, which was dusty as always, but also dark. He was wondering if Sherlock was even there, until a soft moan took him by surprise.

Sherlock was curled up in a ball in his chair, his dressing gown pulled over his head. Mycroft winced at the position his dear brother was in; it looked rather uncomfortable, as he walked over and sat in John’s chair across from him.

Sherlock didn’t move, but he did make another sort of whimpering sound. It took Mycroft an additional moment to figure out what the problem was. Frowning, he crouched down next to Sherlock. “Can you move?” He whispered softly. Sherlock hissed at the sound of his voice before shuddering out a stifled sneeze, hissing in pain.

Hngxt!

“God bless you. Now, do come along Sherlock.”

Sherlock carefully unwound himself, and squinting, glared at his brother. “What for?”

Mycroft huffed and rolled his eyes. “Your migraine certainly is not going to improve in that position. Now, do come along!” Mycroft’s voice rose in pitch and Sherlock winced from the increase in volume. It took him a moment, but he finally stood and unsteadily made the walk to his bedroom.

Mycroft followed, stopping in the kitchen to see what supplies were not available. Pretty much everything, he confirmed. He found a bowl and filled it with water and ice, and brought it along with him. He found Sherlock in bed, his pillow over his face. Mycroft fought back the urge to roll his eyes again.

Mycroft quickly pulled the curtains shut as much as he could, darkening the room. Having been unable to locate a tea towel, he opened Sherlock’s bureau and found two clean handkerchiefs. One he placed on the bed, and the other he placed in the bowl. He then removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves before siting down next to Sherlock. “I’m going to need to remove the pillow,” he murmured.

Sherlock sighed, but allowed him to do so, and soon the ice cold cloth was placed on his forehead. He shivered from the change in temperature and brought his wrist up to his nose as he sneezed again.

HngISHxt!

“God bless you again,” Mycroft whispered, placing the second handkerchief in Sherlock’s hand. He then removed his mobile from his pocket and quickly fired off a text message to Anthea, asking to bring the necessary items to Baker Street. He knew she would know what was needed, given she was frequently called on to do the same for him.

Mycroft removed the cloth and rewet it, and placed it gently on Sherlock’s forehead again, pushing back the unruly curls. He then began to feel along Sherlock’s neck and the back of his head to see if there were any knots that could be contributing to the obviously debilitating migraine.

Sherlock hissed as Mycroft pressed on the base of his skull. Mycroft eased the pressure off, and began to slowly rub around the effected area. A few moments later, footsteps were heard, and Anthea entered with a carrier bag. She put it down and cocked her head at the situation. Mycroft scowled at her, and she smiled at him before she left just as quietly.

“Sherlock, you need to drink this now,” Mycroft said as he opened a small can of Coke.

“Mmmf. What for?” He mumbled again, groggily.

Mycroft was close to losing his patience and storming out of the flat, but took a deep breath before continuing. “While you may not believe it, I do not wish to see you in pain or come to any harm, brother mine. Now, please sit up and drink this.”

Sherlock opened one eye and regarded his brother. With a soft sigh, he propped himself up on one elbow and took the can. He took a hesitant sip, while Mycroft removed the painkillers from the bag and handed them over. Sherlock swallowed them down, along with the rest of the small can.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock shrugged. "What’s today?”

Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thursday.”

“Mmmm. Tuesday, may-heh maybe.” Hngxt!

Sherlock hissed in pain, and tightened his grip on the duvet.

“God bless you. I don’t suppose you would consider eating something right now?”

Sherlock carefully opened one eye again, a look of revulsion on his face.

“I didn’t think so. Will you drink this, then? If we can balance your electrolytes at least, then maybe you will feel better faster.” He handed Sherlock a bottle of Lucozade.

Sherlock eyed it suspiciously, but unscrewed the cap and drank several mouthfuls down.

Sitting up was taking its toll on Sherlock, and he handed the bottle back to Mycroft and gingerly laid back down. Mycroft produced a sleep mask and an eye ice mask and put both of them over Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock shivered a bit at the cold, but didn’t make any additional sudden movements apart from gripping the duvet again.

Mycroft uncapped the small vial of oil and resumed rubbing the tense spot at the back of Sherlock’s skull. Unfortunately for him, the oil had a minty-peppery scent and he had to quickly duck his head into his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the flurry of sneezes.

Mmmmpfx! Mmmphmfp! Mmmpftish! Mmmpfx! Mmmpfch! Mmmpfxisssshhhmpf!

“My apologies, Sherlock,” he murmured, sniffling damply.

“Bless,” Sherlock mumbled softly, almost as if it was an afterthought.

The corner of Mycroft’s lip twitched. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He continued his ministrations until Sherlock fell into a fitful doze. Somehow, Sherlock had managed to end up with his head partially propped up on Mycroft’s thigh, and there was no way that he could move without disturbing Sherlock. He leaned back against the headboard and removing his mobile, attempted to get as much work accomplished as he could from where he was sitting.

As the time passed, the allergic irritation began to plague Mycroft. His eyes burned and his nose buzzed and twitched. He employed every bit of mental control he had; he didn’t want to disturb Sherlock unless it was absolutely necessary. He had wiped his hands off as much as he could, but the minty scent was still present, not to mention the general hazards of the British springtime. Finally, he could no longer ward off the prickling tickles deep within his sinus passages and he gave in to the sensation. His head tipped back and he could feel his nostrils flaring in eager anticipation.

Hng’mmpftish! INGHtighsh! MmmpfTIGisssshh! Huh’Hng’ISSH!

The last of the quartet caught him off-guard and he was bent nearly double from the force, most likely caused from trying to hold them back for quarter of an hour. When he opened his eyes and caught his breath he found Sherlock sitting up and staring at him.

“Bless,” he murmured. Mycroft could feel the pain radiating from him still, but the crisis was over for now. “You should have moved me,” he added quietly before rising from the bed and padding unsteadily to the bathroom.

Mycroft gently blew his nose and waited for Sherlock’s return by picking up some of the gathered items and putting them back in the bag. Sherlock came back a moment later and sank back down on the bed, putting the eye mask back on and curling up. Mycroft thought he looked like a small child when he did that, and he once again regretted leaving his younger brother for so long when he obviously needed him so much.

Sherlock didn’t say anything when Mycroft left the room for a few moments, and then returned with two mugs of tea. Sherlock barely managed a few sips before lying back down again with a dramatic sigh, exhausted from the effort of sitting up.

Neither of them said a word when Mycroft didn’t leave. He merely cracked another ice eye mask to put over Sherlock’s eyes and then began to rub soft, soothing circles on Sherlock’s scalp until the consulting detective was fast asleep once again.

[matilda3948]

(Makes sweet happy purring noises).

Big brother looking after Sherlock

[stargazer]

So sweet to see Mycroft taking care of Sherlock.

[AngelEyes]

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock shrugged. "What’s today?”

Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thursday.”

“Mmmm. Tuesday, may-heh maybe.” Hngxt!

So Sherlock. And I can totally see Mycroft's expression and sigh.

Neither of them said a word when Mycroft didn’t leave.

Awwww. I love their deliberately unspoken caring of each other when it really comes down to it.

[cally]

(Makes sweet happy purring noises).

Big brother looking after Sherlock

I really, really loved writing this, and I may continue it.

Sick Sherlock + caretaking = happy me

I am glad you enjoyed!

So sweet to see Mycroft taking care of Sherlock.

It was very sweet, and I hope that I can continue it a bit.

So Sherlock. And I can totally see Mycroft's expression and sigh.

Sherlock can be so trying!

So, yesterday I was having a bad day and to cheer me up someone sent me a little fragment of Mystrade. So of course I had to make it into something for here. Because it's me. Just some domestic Mystrade per usual.

201. document

Mycroft sighed and pushed the document he was reading to the side and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted, but he knew there was a connection here; he just needed to find it. Pulling his now well-used handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at his long nose. It was nearly impossible to think when he felt this way. With another sigh, he pulled the document to him and began to read it again.

Gregory hesitated at the door of Mycroft’s office. He knew his partner was exhausted and had been working for nearly 24 hours now. He also knew that Mycroft was still suffering from a rather persistent head cold and was likely to work himself into pneumonia if he didn’t intervene. Bracing himself for the inevitable argument, he opened the door.

Gregory found Mycroft seated at his desk with his head tipped back, handkerchief at the ready. The younger man didn’t have time to acknowledge his presence before he succumbed to a fit of rather unpleasantly congested sounding sneezes.

Heh……….Heh’INGTISH! Heh’NGISH! Heh’DNGISH! Heh’MMMPFTISH Heh’TISSSSHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH!

“Oh love. God bless you,” Gregory said, coming around the desk and rubbing Mycroft’s shoulders gently.

Mycroft blew his nose, wincing at the sound, not to mention the state of his handkerchief. He shoved it back into his pocket with an annoyed sigh. Gregory removed his from his trouser pocket and offered it to his lover.

“Thag you, Gregory. By apologies,” he croaked out. Gregory frowned and bit his lip; he hadn’t realised how ill sounding Mycroft had become.

Mycroft sighed and attempted to blow his nose again. Still rubbing Mycroft’s tense shoulders, Gregory weighed his options, deciding on the direct approach. “Love, you need to get some rest. Please. You’re not doing anyone any favours like this.”

Surprisingly, Mycroft agreed. “I am unable to think clearly, Gregory. And I have to admit I am feeling rather unwell.” He looked up at Gregory, blue eyes tired and misty from exhaustion and illness.

Gregory very nearly rolled his eyes. That was the understatement of the century, he thought. “Alright love. Let’s get you to bed.”

He helped Mycroft up and out of his chair; he swayed as he got to his feet and Gregory had to brace him. Frowning, he began to lead him out of his office and toward their bedroom.

Suddenly, Mycroft stopped in his tracks and gasped out another flurry of painful sounding sneezes, just able to pull the handkerchief Gregory had given him from his pocket.

TNSGH’SHHHH! Heh’NNNG’SHHHHH! Heh’mmmmpfTISH’ish! Heh’TISSSHH-ooo!

Gregory squeezed his arm in support “God bless you,” he said worriedly, as they resumed their journey to the bedroom.

“Thank you. My apologies once again, my dear,” Mycroft said as he tended to his nose.

Once in their bedroom, Gregory sat him down on the bed, and began to undress him, starting with his shoes. Mycroft sat there in a daze, swaying a bit from exhaustion. It took them a few moments, but finally Mycroft was undressed, in a pair of warm pyjamas, and bundled up under the duvet.

Gregory brought him a dose of Night Nurse, and then gathered a box of tissues, several soft handkerchiefs, and a glass of water, and put them on the bedside table closest to Mycroft.

“Thank you,” Mycroft rasped out, as he slid further under the duvet.

Gregory smiled at him and he too began to get undressed for bed. He went into the ensuite to brush his teeth, and when he retuned, he found Mycroft already asleep. Smiling fondly at him, he placed a gentle kiss on Mycroft’s forehead, before he got into bed beside him.

[AngelEyes]

Mycroft really must be feeling poorly to acquiesce so easily. Sweet Gregory.

This totally made my night. It was a total clusterfuck going on. But hopefully now I can go to bed with happy thoughts and have sweet dreams.

[cally]

Mycroft really must be feeling poorly to acquiesce so easily. Sweet Gregory.

This totally made my night. It was a total clusterfuck going on. But hopefully now I can go to bed with happy thoughts and have sweet dreams.

I am glad it improved your evening!

Ugh. This one was so much better in my head earlier

202. migraine part 2

Sherlock slept for some time, which was the best thing for it, really. Reluctant to leave him until he was sure that his younger brother was well, Mycroft set about reviewing some of the documents Anthea had left for him.

After a while, he realised he was rather hungry, and given the lack of options in Baker Street, he placed a takeaway order for soup and sandwiches. The order had just arrived when Sherlock yawned his way out of his bedroom, running a hand through his very unruly curls.

Seeing that Mycroft was still present, he rolled his eyes. “You’re still here,” he grumbled.

“What an astute deduction, Sherlock. How ever did you come up with that?”

Sherlock made a rude gesture in his brother’s direction.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, ignoring the childish behaviour. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Sherlock shrugged indifferently, but walked over to where Mycroft had laid out the soup and sandwiches. Picking up a sandwich, he sniffed at it, and then took a large bite, throwing himself into a chair at the table.

Mycroft shook his head at the lack of manners and sat down across from Sherlock, taking a bite of his own sandwich. The two ate quietly until Sherlock began to spoon soup out of the container, slurping noisily.

“Honestly, Sherlock,” Mycroft began, but he was cut off as Sherlock abruptly whipped his head to the side and sneezed harshly.

Hngxt! HngISHxt!

“God bless you, brother mine,” Mycroft said, frowning.

Sherlock pulled the handkerchief that Mycroft had given him earlier out of his dressing gown and swiped at his nose. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome. Are you feeling better now?” Mycroft asked, opening the container to his own serving of soup.

Sherlock shrugged. “It’s not nearly as bad as it was,” he finally admitted.

Mycroft took a mouthful of soup, neatly dabbing his lips with his napkin after. It was hot but soothing, and had an undercurrent of spices in it. He took another mouthful, savouring the taste. Unfortunately, a moment later, the soup had the same effect it had on Sherlock and he dabbed at his nose with his napkin hoping, but failing to delay the inevitable.

Hehhhh…….Mmpfx! Mmmphmfp! Mmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh!

“Bless you,” Sherlock mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich.

“Thank you. My apologies, Sherlock,” Mycroft said dabbing at his nose again.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the properness of his brother. He had no idea why he needed to apologise when it was just the two of them. He popped the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Mycroft carefully resumed eating his soup, not wanting a repeat performance. Sadly, the spices proved to be too much for Mycroft’s sensitive nostrils. He quickly put his spoon down, and reached for his handkerchief, managing to get it and his hands cupped around his nose in time.

Ahhh…heh…MmmpfTIGisssshh! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftinghsh! INGTish! INGHtighish! AhhhhTISH!

He took a moment to compose himself and blow his nose. When he was done, he found Sherlock watching him intently.

“Again, my apologies,” Mycroft murmured as he began to clean up the detritus from their meal.

Sherlock mumbled something that sounded like a blessing as he rubbed his temples. “Leave it,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Very well, Sherlock. Please make sure that you drink something and you should probably take something again for your headache,” Mycroft said. He was still very concerned about Sherlock; the head rubbing had not gone unnoticed.

“Well then, I guess I will leave you to it. Please call me if you need anything else, Sherlock.” Mycroft gathered his files and prepared to leave.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he carried the rubbish into the kitchen. When he returned to the sitting room, Mycroft was gone.

Sherlock yawned and picked up a bottle of water off the table. He was about to head back to bed when he saw a small white box on the table. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he removed a cookie.

A few minutes later, Sherlock was in bed having finished the cookie, the water, and taken the painkillers as instructed. He picked up his mobile and sent off a quick text before falling asleep.