moonliteknight: (melodrama)
[personal profile] moonliteknight
Title:Brotherly Love
Pairing: Gen, though implied incest but not really
Word Count: 841
Summary: Sherlock is sulky, John threatens with cats, and Mycroft is indignant.
Written for the prompt:
Character A:"I kissed Mycroft!"
Character B:"What!"
Character A:"He told me I had to."
Mycroft: "I did not!"

A/N: This is my first time writing in this fandom, so I apologize for any OOCness. Oh, and WARNING: implied incest but not really. And a bit cracky.


Sherlock walked into the flat around half past noon. That should have been John's first warning. Sherlock never walked anywhere. He strode, ran, swooped, jumped and, on occasion, skipped. He never quietly walked anywhere.

Which was the second clue that John missed. Sherlock never entered the flat quietly unless they'd had a row, he was trying to hide something, or he was pissed.

Well, they'd had a nice breakfast together before Sherlock headed off to Barts, the last case they'd had had been dealt with the day before yesterday, and not enough time had passed between cases for Sherlock to grow weary with the world yet. So unless something had happened after Sherlock left the flat, there was no reason for Sherlock to be quiet.

As it was though, John didn't truly realize there anything was wrong until Sherlock collapsed haphazardly onto the couch and didn't move.

"Sherlock?" John asked, saving the entry that he'd been writing up and turning towards Sherlock. "You’re back early. What’s happened? Did Molly kick you out?"

Sherlock didn't answer, which wasn't unexpected. John waited a few moments before prodding, "Okay, one of your experiment go wrong then?"

No answer. Or any sort of movement to imply that Sherlock was even conscious.

If it weren't for the fact that he could see Sherlock's chest rising with each breath he took, and there was a lack of blood drops on the floor, John would have grown worried. However, he knew Sherlock by now, and this had all the makings of a sulk. Granted it was bigger, and well, more dramatic than any sulk John had yet encountered, but it was definitely a sulk all the same.

Now the question was what had caused it.

It could be practically anything, but John had some guesses.

"Did you run into Anderson?"

Sherlock’s leg twitched, but other than that, no response. Not him then.

“Er, was it—”

“John, do kindly shut up .” Sherlock snapped, his voice muffled from the couch cushion, but still clear enough to be understood. “I’d rather not listen to your idiotic chatter—”

“Mycroft then?”

Sherlock would deny it later, in fact he'd deny it for years to come, but, honest to God, John heard him whimper.

Curiosity piqued, John continued. “Okay, Mycroft then. What did he do?”

Sherlock stayed mute.

“Sherlock, I can sit here all night if I have to.”

No response.

“I’ve got my laptop right here. And you know, I found a really nice video of this cat flying on a rainbow that I’ve been meaning to show you.”

Sherlock tensed and mumbled something into the cushion.

“Sorry, what was that? You’ll have to speak up. I won’t be able to hear you over the singing of the cat in the video I’m just about to put on.”

Sherlock raised his head just slightly and hissed, “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, John. I said, I kissed Mycroft.”

John chocked, accidentally hit play, and the cat’s auto tuned singing filled the air before he slammed his laptop shut, cutting it off. “You did what?”

“He told me I had to!” Sherlock wailed letting his head drop back into to couch.

“I did not!” Mycroft insisted from behind John.

John jumped and spun around. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“You’ve answered yourself, John.” Sherlock growled. “Go die Mycroft.”

“Oh do grow up.” Mycroft said rolling his eyes. “This really isn’t as big a deal as you are making it out to be, Sherlock.”

You—”

“Sorry,” John cut in. “I just—why did you tell Sherlock to kiss you?”

“As I stated earlier, I did not—”

“Yes you did!” Sherlock shouted from his couch, still refusing to look at either of them.

John ignored him and focused solely on Mycroft. “Sorry, I just can‘t get over this. Why would you tell your little brother to kiss you?”

Mycroft turned to stare at John, his forehead lightly furrowed. “It was a kiss on the check. I assume that’s still socially acceptable?”

“Oh.” John said, feeling supremely idiotic, an emotion that he was not unaccustomed to experiencing in the presence of the two brothers. “Yeah, ah, that’s alright then. I think.”

“It’s fine for children .” Sherlock finally shifting around to glare at them. “Children. Not for two grown men.”

“One grown man.” Mycroft said, frowning at his brother who proved his point by giving him a one fingered salute.

“Okay, but why—?” John started to ask.

“It was for a Christmas Card for Mother.” Mycroft answered. “She likes to know that we’re getting along.”

“Right.” John said. He paused for a second before saying, “Think I could have a—?”

“Finish that sentence,” Sherlock said, shifting his glare to John. “And I will kill you too.”

“I’ll send you one.” Mycroft said, neatly sidestepping the Union Jack pillow that came flying at his head.
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