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#bbc mycroft
forevers-world · 6 months
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A Mycroft Holmes appreciation post.
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What a beautiful specimen of the human race. 👏👏👏
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sakshisahu · 3 months
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Recent pictures of Mark Gatiss aka our Mycroft Holmes.
Source: National Theatre on FB
Have you seen this?
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himegureisu · 9 days
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4 | the Woman
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Summary: There are times when cases need a woman's touch. This is where you finally introduce yourself to your brother-in-law. This is set at the end of S2 E1 A Scandal in Belgravia.
Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Female Reader
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“There are people we can get into this,” Mycroft said,
“I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try for six months,” she bragged, “Sherlock, dear, tell him what you uncovered through that x-ray of my phone,”
Irene Adler, professionally known as the Woman, a dominatrix of significant influence was obvious. Her only advantage was the fact she was playing against men.
Half a year, the Holmes men stumped at what to do. What a sight, however, it’s best to end their misery.
The Woman hands over her list of requests. However, that’s not going to happen, not on your watch.
“Oh, that’s a shame. Can’t I join in the fun?” you said.
Their eyes shifted as you entered the study in your battledress. Her exchange pauses as you stand behind Mycroft. Your brother-in-law quietly observes and thinks by the fireplace. His head towards the three of you.
“I did hope Sherlock would get this one,” you sighed, as you stretched your hand out to Irene, “May I?”
“Be my guest,” she offered.
“You’re rather transparent,” you twirl the mobile in your hands, “You don’t need a genius to unlock this. Just a woman that understands her kind,”
“Oh, do go on,” she stands, to sit on the edge of the table.
“There are times when women are affected by their interests. Others would say this is a disadvantage. Yours are the Holmes men, specifically, Sherlock. There was no other way to get to Sherlock without committing a crime except in your profession, you could pursue a different avenue,” Your eyes rest on Mycroft as they start to figure it out, “Two birds in one stone. Agitate the older brother, you get the younger. Women play a different kind of dirty and you played a game against men that was your advantage. God, did you pull their strings well but that ends tonight. The psychology of women, gentlemen, is that the most obvious is sometimes the most overlooked,”
“Craving the distraction of the game I sympathize entirely but sentiment?” Sherlock stands, walks over, and reaches out to you for the phone which you finally hand over, “Sentiment is a chemical element found on the losing side,”
Oh, Sherlock how wrong you are on that. Love and sentiment can be an advantage.
“When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait,” Sherlock mused, facing the Woman, “How true of you. The combination to your safe, your measurements, but this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head.”
“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” you interjected.
“Everything I said, it wasn’t real,” she whispered, silently pleading to Sherlock, “I was just playing the game,”
“This is just losing,”
I AM SHER LOCKED
“Thank you for the additional information,” he addressed you, “It was enlightening,”
“There you are, brother,” he passes the device to Mycroft, “I hope the contents may make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight,”
“I’m certain they will,” Mycroft assured. His brother started to stare out the window, “If you’re feeling kind, lock her up otherwise let her go,”
Willaim Sherlock Scott Holmes was nearly outsmarted by a woman. What a brilliant turn of events.
It wasn’t long until someone escorted the woman away leaving you to the Holmes men.
“I thought he wouldn’t get it,” you address Mycroft, sitting on the chair he previously occupied to observe Sherlock, “Then again if he knew where to look for the safe code, he would get it eventually,”
“Why are you here?” Mycroft said. You give a look and say, “You know why I’m here,”
“Who are you?” Sherlock asks.
“Do make a deduction, Mr. Holmes,” you challenged, standing up for a better view, “What can you say about me? Oh, I heard you’re quite good at this,”
His eyes quickly take a once over you. To the way you did your hair, makeup, and casual clothes. His brother, your husband, hovered on the other side of the table.
What will Sherlock say about you?
“On your dominant hand, your middle finger is calloused from how you hold your pen, suggesting office worker. In a high position, by the value of your shoes. Your makeup suggests you like to be presentable but not elaborate or gaudy. Your clothes are clean except for a few loose strands of hair. No pets. Your engagement and wedding rings, shiny and clean, happily married then. Your husband is successful in his career by the size of that diamond and…”
His ramble paused. His eyes meeting yours, you give a casual curious gaze. His senses were on overdrive, recognizing the particular scent of leather of a car that often escorted him to his brother.
“No, that’s not possible,” Sherlock withdrew, “Has my brother found himself a goldfish?”
“No, not a goldfish, brother mine,” Mycroft defends. His ring, matching yours, shines in the firelight, “No, she’s out of their league,”
“How long has that taken him?” you asked Mycroft, in front of you as Sherlock remained speechless, “A minute,”
“A good minute, yes,” he confirms, as he goes to stand by your side, “I do wonder why you decided to reveal yourself, my dear,”
“I was fed up. You two dancing in her tune for half the year,” you complained, “You ditched Christmas Morning traditions,”
“I promised to make it up to you, my dear,” Mycroft reminded, however, unable to act on his plans yet, “And I did return earlier than expected,”
“Six years, Myc! We never shirk on trad —”
Before you can finish your ramble, Mycroft leans in and presses his lips against yours in a tender kiss. It was a pleasant interruption.
One Sherlock didn’t appreciate.
Your eyes widen for a moment before you melt against him. Your arms wrap around his waist, returning the sentiment. Sherlock clears his throat, breaking the moment between you and Mycroft.
“Years?” he remarked, “I never knew the Iceman could melt,”
“No, just thaws from time to time,” you cheekily smile at Mycroft who rolled his eyes, “Are you two finished? I’d like to turn in before the sun comes out, ensures at least one of us gets sleep,”
“We are finished,” Mycroft affirmed, walking toward the door, “Do us a reprieve, brother mine, don’t take cases on the weekend. You don’t know what it does to our schedule,”
“It was nice meeting you, brother-in-law,” you teased, your smile caught him off guard, as you walked to Mycroft’s side. He didn’t remember the last time someone was pleased to meet him. They were often annoyed or irritated. “Have a good evening,”
His brother has been married for years, and he didn’t know. How could he not know?
“Shame I’d wanted to see the Woman in cuffs,” you comment, as you walk side by side through the halls, “It would have made for an interesting night,”
“Would you like that, my dear?” Mycroft asks.
“If you’re open to it,”
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7-percent · 4 months
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This wonderful image above combines ACD text with BBC Sherlock's Mycroft is by @bbcsherlockftw.
Where Conan Doyle's version of Sherlock is clear-eyed about his brother and willing to praise his strengths, it is interesting that Mofftiss chose to make their relationship more combative.
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strongacetheticvibes · 11 months
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incorrect sherlock quotes
Mycroft: I haven't seen John and Sherlock for fifteen minutes now. Outside a nearby window, a car without a driver inside is seen rolling down a driveway, with John and Sherlock running after it in a panic. Mycroft doesn't look outside at all. Mycroft: That probably means they're getting into trouble.
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thegoldfishbowl · 1 year
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Sickness and Health Ch.3
Day 7
“Hello Y/n,” Sherlock greets you in a hushed voice, taking up Mycroft’s post at your bedside. He adjusts the blanket near your arms so your hands are fully covered again. He knows you get cold very easily.
“You look very pretty today,” he acknowledges. “Did your mother style your hair like that? No, it was my mother. Well, either way, I like it. It’s very flattering.” Sherlock pauses for a moment, as if waiting for you to respond to him, but he knows it’s highly unlikely and goes on anyway.
“I’m glad they have been doing that for you. I know how you always like to look your best, and how mad you would be if you knew it was a mess. You should be allowed to be as comfortable as possible. I was talking to Mycroft about your wardrobe last night, actually. These blue hospital gowns are absolutely hideous, and if anyone knows how uncomfortable they are, it’s me, right?” He laughs dryly.
“Anyway, I thought you might like to wear something a little more fashionable, so he and I spent about an hour looking at the Harrods catalog together. Can you imagine? Ha! We did find a few things though. A dressing gown, some flannel pajamas, that kind of thing. Oh! We also got some of those ugly socks you like, with the grippy things on the bottom, even though it pained me to do it.” He smiles fondly at you.
“Mycroft wanted to have them delivered, but I made him go out to get them. He hasn’t gone out much this week and I thought he could use the Vitamin D.
He’s taken a Leave of Absence, you know. Did he tell you that? Told that nasty PM that the government owed him 15 years of vacation and sick leave, and that he would be taking it effective immediately. How I wish I had been a fly on the wall for that meeting!” Sherlock laughs wickedly.
“King Charlie called later on though, and smoothed out everyone’s feathers. Sent you that big bouquet of tulips over there. Will and Kate signed the card too, so that’s kind of cool.”
Sherlock pauses for another moment and takes in your serene looking face. There are still a lot of tubes and wires blocking your beauty, but he knows how you look underneath it all, and that’s how he prefers to think about you. He blinks back a tear that threatens to fall and goes on talking.
“I brought my violin with me today. I thought maybe I could play something for you. I’ve been working on some more modern stuff lately, like you suggested. Some Billie Eilish and some Ed Sheeran. Mary said it sounds pretty good, so I’ll pull that out later and see what you think. It puts Rosie to sleep so I’m not sure if I’d call that a glowing review or not. I’ll still play it for you though, good or bad.”
Sherlock goes quiet then, slowly leans forward a little to place his large, warm hand over the top of your blanket covered one and gives it a tiny squeeze. “Come back to us, Y/n.” He whispers. “Please? We need you here. I need you here.” He swipes at his eyes quickly, to whisk away the moisture, and settles back in to his chair again.
“You know what I was just thinking about the other day?” He asks you. “The very first time you said you were my sister. Do you remember that, Y/n?”
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Sherlock’s Memory
Mycroft and Y/n had a whirlwind courtship and married after only 6 months of dating. Mycroft said he had waited long enough to find his perfect match, and he refused to wait any longer for happiness. Y/n simply said “When you know, you know.”
She blended seamlessly into the Holmes Family, and filled the gap Eurus’s death had left in the family a few years before. Dad loved sharing his old records and 45’s with Y/n, teaching her about the Real British Invasion, as he liked to call it. Many weekend visits found the two of them dancing in Sieger’s garage together, laughing like lunatics while trying to do “The Pony” or “The Watusi.”
Mummy and Y/n got on like a house on fire as well. The both loved antique shopping and musical theatre, so for the first time in decades, no Holmes man was forced to sit through CATS or Les Miserables again. It was a perfect fit.
The only Holmes not spending large amounts of time with Y/n was Sherlock. Not because of conflict or hard feelings, just time and opportunity. Sherlock’s case load was picking up immensely, especially working with Scotland Yard, and there were many, many nights he didn’t see the inside of his bedroom, let alone see social visitors. On weekends or holidays back home, Y/n was usually swept away into the hurricane of Mummy and Dad as soon as she arrived, and Sherlock often didn’t see her again until it was time to go home.
All that aside, Sherlock liked knowing that Y/n made Mycroft happy, but she also gave him hope. If one cold, hyper intelligent Holmes could find their true love, maybe someday, the other one could too.
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When Mycroft and Y/n had been married for a year, they decided to take a vacation, and Sherlock was asked to come along. 8 days aboard a small vessel, cruising down the Nile River sounded like fun, so Sherlock readily agreed to go. They spent their days sunning on the deck of the ship or traipsing about the desert, and the nights were filled with champagne and laughter and stories of their long-lost youth. It was wonderful.
On the third day of the voyage, Sherlock met Christopher; a blonde haired, blue eyed, American man who swept Sherlock up into his first ever love affair. Christopher was a Biochemist who loved classical music and extreme sports. They seemed to be a perfect match, and spent every day and night together trading passionate kisses, and getting to know each other better. Each evening they dined with Mycroft and Y/n, and though he would never say it out loud, even Mycroft found Christopher to be very much NOT a goldfish, and was truly happy for his little brother.
It was absolutely heartbreaking for the men to part on the final day of the voyage. Many promises were made about daily phone calls and texts, traveling to see each other, and finding ways to make long distance work. Sherlock had never been so happy to feel so terrible before. He had met his “One” and he was not going to give him up easily.
For 6 long months Sherlock and Christopher’s love grew strong. There were weekend trips to Paris and London and Sherlock even spent a week in Seattle so they could have time together. Everything was perfect until one cold day in October.
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*BangBangBangBangBang* Sounded a fist on the door at Baker Street.
*BangBangBang*
“Sherlock?” Y/N’s voice called out. *Bang*
“William Sherlock Scott Holmes! You open this door right now!” *BangBang*
“Don’t make me call Mycroft because you know I will!”
“Clearly you’ve already talked to him.” Sherlock yelled back. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here! Please go away, Y/n, and stop pounding on my door! I want to be left alone!”
“I’m not leaving, Sherlock! I can stand out here all day, but I don’t want to do that! Let me in you little shit, before I drop something!” *Bang*
Sherlock jerked the door open with a murderous glare in his eyes. “Your language is absolutely appalling, Y/n. Do you kiss my brother with that foul mouth?”
“Yeah, I do,” she snarked. “He loves it. Now, take these bags and let me in.” She thrusted two large shopping bags at him and pushed her way into the apartment.
“What is all of this? Why are you here? Big brother spying on me again?” Sherlock asked warily.
“They’re breakup supplies and you know he doesn’t do that anymore.”
“Supplies?” He repeated and shook his head, dumping the bags onto the kitchen table. “If Mycroft didn’t send you, why did you come?”
“Christopher called me,” Y/n replied quietly.
“Oh really?” Sherlock asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “He dumps me and then calls my brother’s wife to tell her about it? Classy.”
“He was worried about you! It wasn’t easy for him either, you know. Antarctica might as well be a million miles away, and he doesn’t want you to sit at home waiting for his call or a text when cellphone service is almost nonexistent there. It’s his job, sweetheart. You know he has to go.”
“He told me to see other people!” Sherlock shouts. “Why would he say that unless he wants to do the same? I thought he loved me?” Tears began falling down his cheeks.
Y/n wrapped her arms around him to let him cry for a minute. “That’s why he said it, Sherlock! He loves you too much to let you be alone and unhappy. Didn’t he say he would try to keep in touch, if at all possible?” Y/n asked gently.
Sherlock gives a small nod.
“Then there is still hope and love without hope will never survive.”
Sherlock took a fortifying breath and slowly composed himself.
“Thank you, Y/n. I appreciate your coming to see me. I don’t really want to be alone with this. I was just being a jerk before. Will you tell me what is in the bags now?” He asked, drying his eyes on the sleeve of his dressing gown.
“Of course!” She exclaimed, moving over to the table and naming each item as she removed it. “There’s ice cream - chocolate or strawberry. Chocolate sandwich biscuits, some brownies - this package has walnuts in them, this one doesn’t, whipping cream in a can, microwave popcorn and Smarties, some Cadbury bars, and some crisps. Oh, and a bottle of wine. We’ll need to order some pizza or Chinese food eventually, but I’ll leave that up to you. I thought I brought my DVD of The Notebook, but it looks like I forgot it. We can go without or we can pack this all up and go back to mine. Mycroft’s movie room is perfect for a night like this.”
Sherlock smiled, a real genuine smile, and in a moment of insanity threw his arms around Y/n in a fierce hug. “Thank you so much, Y/n,” he whispered. “I didn’t know how much I needed this.”
“That’s what sisters are for, Sherlock; to talk about boys with and to provide the snacks. Now get your shoes on,” she ordered, tossing their goodies back into the bags. “We’re moving this party to my house.”
Sherlock blinked once, unsure if he had heard Y/n correctly, but he had no time to dissect her words. His Sister(!) was ready to go and was waiting for him.
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“We drank so much of Mycroft’s wine, I was nearly sick! All that sugar too! We never did order any take-out so you ended up making me a frozen pizza - but we burned it! The smell was horrible!” Sherlock giggles.
“Mycroft was so mad when he got home, but I wouldn’t let you take the blame. I walked right up to your husband and poked a finger into his chest and said ‘My SISTER made that pizza! She can’t help it she’s a bad cook! She just wanted to make me feel better because she’s my best sister EVER!’”
“Mycroft laughed so hard he actually decided to order us a real pizza and then put us both to bed. He even cleaned up our mess and made us breakfast in the morning. You became my real sister that day and I’ll never forget that for as long as I live.” He wipes away a lone tear.
“Well anyway, that’s enough sentiment for one day. How about a little music, sister mine?”
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reina-writes · 1 year
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Being Holmes’ mastermind criminal sister would include
Requested by anon.
Being Mycroft and Sherlock's sister, however being a master-mind criminal, and a very wild person (wild like joker type of crazy) thank you! I love your writing, always makes me look forward to new writing material! ❤
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The brothers knew that there was something off about you since you were young.
You have fun for scaring the shit out of Mycroft, which Sherlock would find amusing.
At first you created an alter ego so that you could challenge Sherlock. After all, you don't want to make things too easy for him.
But then again, your alter ego, Y/N, is much more than just a persona. It's something that you've been hiding deep inside for a long time, and now it's starting to come out. Your alter ego is a way for you to indulge your wild side and test your limits. You enjoy the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline rush that comes with danger and risk-taking.
Despite your criminal activities, you still make an effort to have proper dinner dates with your family and act like everything is going well. 
Your relationship with the family is difficult and even though you may act like everything is well, there are times when you feel outsider and misunderstood. You just can’t resist the sweet lure of the underworld.
You still manage to scare Mycroft, despite his years of experience dealing with difficult situations. Sherlock still finds this amusing. 
You have a career of your own choosing, which you use to cover your illicit business dealings in the underworld.
You have a deep love and admiration for your brothers, despite the fact that they may not always understand or approve of your criminal activities.
You have a dark sense of humor and a tendency to play mind games with people around you. You enjoy manipulating people, especially your brothers, and seeing how far you can push them before they break.
You also relish the challenge of trying to outwit Sherlock, who you see as one of the few people who can match you.
Sherlock would likely be concerned for the safety and well-being of those around him. He would try to intervene and stop your criminal activities, but would do so with a sense of curiosity and a desire to understand your motivations and thought processes.
His reaction would be a mix of curiosity, concern, and a desire to outsmart you. 
He would see the situation and you as a puzzle to be solved.
Mycroft would feel a sense of responsibility for not having been able to intervene earlier in your life and prevent you from going down this path.
He may also feel a sense of guilt for not having been able to protect you from the darker elements of the world that you have now become involved with.
Mycroft would probably try to intervene and stop you even if that meant putting you in jail or otherwise taking drastic action.
Though he may or may not find your intelligence and resourcefulness impressive. Not that he’s going to admit it.
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BONUS
Playing your own games with Moriarty. It would be entertaining, long-lasting relationship which would satisfy all needs for both of you.
While it is possible that the relationship could be entertaining and satisfying for both of you, it is important for you to carefully consider the risks and consequences before deciding to engage in this type of activity with Moriarty.
After all, Moriarty is a highly skilled and unpredictable criminal mastermind.
But hey, that’s what makes it so much fun.
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the-forgotten-lily · 5 months
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Y'all...
So a few months ago I decide to watch bbc Sherlock and being a devoted childhood fan of Sherlock since childhood I immediately become infatuated with the series.
Also.... Mycroft Holmes is a fucking all seeing genius and that mf knows it.
But....BUT
Hear me out y'all....
After seeing and completing the series I swear strange things have just been happening in my life which can only be described by the word "co-incidences".
Also, now wherever I am looking, my eyes are only somehow finding the infamous Sherlock Holmes novels and a picture of fucking MYCROFT HOLMES. I went to watch the new Mission Impossible movie for a change and who do y'all think I found in that one government scene? MYCROFT EFFING HOLMES! Again!!
I mean ...I admit that I might have cracked some jokes regarding Mycroft and his cake obsession but I swear I didn't mean any harm!
I swear people Mycroft is either haunting me or hunting me or BOTH 😭😭😭😭❤️💕
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multific · 2 years
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Not Lonely
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“I’m not lonely Sherlock,” said Mycroft with a slightly annoyed and shocked expression.
“How would you know?” Sherlock asked with a slightly quiet voice.
“I’m literally right here.” you said behind the two making Mycroft and Sherlock turn to look at you. You stood there, motioning at yourself.
“Indeed you are.” said Sherlock.
“So, how could he be lonely if he has me?” you asked as you turned to your left to see Mrs Hudson walking upstairs with tea in her hands. As you turned to go and help her Mycroft pulled out his phone as it started to ring. You helped Mrs Hudson just as Mycroft turned.
“We have to go, Brother, Mrs Hudson, good afternoon.”
“Bye bye!” you said as you followed your husband. You got into his car as the driver started the car. “You’re not lonely are you, Myc?”
“No, Sherlock just wanted to start some drama, that’s all. How could I ever be lonely around you, My Love?” and it was true, Mycroft could never be lonely, you spent most of your days with him, never letting his attention wander off of the important things.
And he loved you for that.
Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow​ ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster​ celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll​ snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow​ @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs​​​​​
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
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chihoshisai · 11 months
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A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden
Chapter 2
Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1395 / Genre : Fluff and lighthearted
A/N : I recommend listening to "everyday is a gift" by Yuki Kajiura (it's quite short so put it on repeat!) / you can find Chapter 1 here / the amount of time I spent looking up pastries let alone furniture name is embarassing oops / i'm turning this into a full fic so there will be more parts :)
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You remained as a simple yet pleasant memory in Mycroft’s mind as the young lady he met on a rainy day - Mary Poppins - surprising himself by watching the movie that same night. From time to time he found his mind wandering back to this day, replaying the conversations over and over. However, time can be evil. It didn’t take long for him to fall back into his work routine whilst dealing with the stunts his brother Sherlock pulled here and there. 
That day, Mycroft sat in his office, taking a look at a flyer advertising a limited edition of multiple exclusive bavarois’. Under normal circumstances, he would have tasked Anthea to fetch it for him, not being fond of frequenting such places. Though, as it was a high end tea room, he convinced himself that it wouldn’t be too bad. He would simply have a tranquil afternoon tea after work and leave. On his way, the already ashen sky of London started to darken even more. It seemed as though rain was on its way. 
As expected, the line was quite lengthy. Mycroft didn’t need to concern himself with the way of the common people - waiting in line -  as he exited his car, making his way towards the entrance. At this moment, you came running, a look of desperation on your face, being late to an event you had been looking forward to for so long, dreading the long line that was ahead. 
“Why did matters at home had to take so long?!” You complained without noticing the man that was currently stepping out of his car. You abruptly stopped in your tracks, almost bumping into him. 
“I’m so sorry.” You glanced at the tall figure standing who, also taken aback, shot an annoyed look in your direction before his expression changed to that of surprise. At this moment, the feelings Mycroft felt on that rainy day came back to him. Curiosity. There you were, standing right in front of him, looking just as startled. 
“Well, hello again. Fancy meeting you here.” Mycroft couldn't help but give you a warm smile. Suddenly getting to know each other didn’t seem entirely impossible. 
“Ah… yes.” You hadn’t forgotten him, but didn’t feel thrilled to see him again. After all, it was naught but a chance encounter. Given the circumstances in which you met, you would have done the same for anyone. You turned your head away, fiddling with your fingers, looking at the fancy tea room exterior, remembering what you were here for. “Are you also here for the limited edition bavarois?” You inquired, slowly pointing towards the property. 
Seeing as you were not returning the same energy as him, Mycroft suddenly felt himself becoming a little disheartened. Well it had been 2 months since your last encounter so it was to be expected.  
“Indeed I am. If you’d like, you could enter with my company so as to avoid this tremendous line. It just so happens that I have a special VIP access to the event. Unless of course, you would like to wait in line?” He made his way to the door, opening it while giving you a look so as to know your answer. You did not waste a second and followed him inside to the many grunts and protestations of the people who had to wait. 
A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling while the place looked extravagant in velvet colors. You learned his name as he presented himself and his reservation to the reception, not thinking much of it. VIP rooms were upstairs, as you followed Mycroft. “Looks like we both have something in common.” You said from behind him as a matter of fact. Mycroft smiled to himself before turning his head in your direction. “It appears so.” You both entered a square shaped room that had two chesterfield sofas with a freshly polished knee high wooden table and various yellow lights arborhing the walls.  
You both sat down as the menu was brought to you. “Order anything you like. It’s on me, as thanks for last time.” He gave you a polite smile. You curled your lips into something that resembled one while uttering a thank you. 
You looked at the menu seriously, pretending to decide between the 5 bavarois flavors offered. You already knew which one you wanted ; the problem was that you could feel Mycroft’s stare at you. Used to such behavior from people, you decided to ignore it. To Mycroft, in this lavish room something stood out to him. You didn’t seem out of place. In fact you seemed to fit right in, as he took a closer look at the pale red knee-length dress you were wearing, the ankle socks and Mary Jones shoes, he realised that everything was expensive. You didn’t seem bothered by the extravagant look of the room either. You weren’t part of the popular mass and that intrigued him more. Which part of high society did you belong to? He was itching to know. 
“Have you decided?” You raised your eyes from the menu, wanting to put a stop to the scrutinizing. 
“Indeed I have, it will be chocolate for me. You?” Mycroft closed the menu, having already decided from the start too. “Strawberry for me.” As usual, your manner of speaking was flat. Both of you ordered, and your dessert came almost as soon as the waiters left with your orders. 
“How is your arm? Healed by now I suppose?” It was the only thing you could possibly think of. You were almost inhaling your bavarois as you spoke - almost as if you were eager to finish it - giving furtive looks to Mycroft from time to time.  
“Very well thank you.” He paused, evidently taking notice of your eating behavior, and feeling more and more curious as to why you were in such a hurry. “Will you tell me your name this time?” 
“Oh yeah, it’s… Strawberry Shortcake.” You took another bite of your strawberry flavored bavarois intently keeping eye contact whilst silent fell for a moment. Mycroft couldn’t help but scoff at this. Seeing as you were trying so hard to keep your identity a secret made him eager to know it all the more. You on the other hand were quite confused by his reaction. You didn’t think of yourself as funny, but trying to make sense of people’s reactions was no concern of yours anymore. 
Rain started splattering the windows of the yellow lit room. You longingly looked at it, realising you didn’t bring an umbrella in your rush to get here. “I should get going.” You stood up, having finished what you came to try and feeling satisfied with it. Food truly tastes better when it’s free and even better when it’s shared in company. 
“So soon? We’ve only just got here.” Mycroft seemed a little distraught by your sudden departure. 
“Yes, I must go. Thank you for today. It’s been a pleasure.” You made your way to the door and clutched its handle. “We’ve met two times by chance now and third time’s the charm they say.” You turned your head to look back at him. “If this is fate and not a coincidence, I shall tell you my name on our third encounter.” You opened the door and left without even hearing his reply. 
Mycroft sat there. Speechless and caught off guard. You were so mysterious, unwilling to open up - albeit the fact that you were still strangers - yet there seemed to be more about you than meets the eye. At this moment, Mycroft wanted to return to his office and search everything there was about you but settled himself. A third encounter. A third encounter was all he needed and sure enough, it didn’t take long for it to happen. 
2 weeks later, one of the most prominent families in the country was holding a party. Mycroft being ‘a part of’ the government was forced to attend much to his apprehension. As he entered the mansion, you were there, standing next to the other members of that family, greeting guests as they entered with your usual flat tone and blank expression. In due time Mycroft stood before you. Your vacant face became one of astonishment, as he greeted you with his usual smile. You failed to reply for you did not believe in fate. 
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tex-treasures · 10 months
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GLIMPSING INTO THE HIDDEN REALM OF THE GODS: SIBLINGHOOD AMONGST THE GODS IS ALMOST EXACTLY THE SAME AS WHAT IS EXPERIENCED BY MORTALS, SAVE THEY ARE BOUND BY ICHOR, NOT BLOOD, AND GRUDGES HAVE A LONGER SHELF LIFE.
SEE ALSO:
Siblings Ares and Aphrodite reconnect via a phone call after a century of mutual radio silence
It was a Tuesday afternoon, although Sherlock didn't know that. That wasn't all that surprising because Sherlock, despite her massive, ancient intellect, didn't know a lot of things, like the fact the Earth revolved around the Sun or when to give up on something instead of chasing it down like a frenzied, furious dog. Other gods, when faced with an enormous challenge, or intricate puzzle, tended to fall back on their pride, on their ego, to comfort them enough to simply let go. Not Sherlock, though- to it, challenges were not chasms to back away from; they were the first drop of blood in the water and like a shark, he seeked them out religiously with wide, pale eyes and aching teeth.
Nothing mattered to them save his family and of course, winning the race in whatever form it came in. For a long time, she had to settle with the Olympics and other gathered sports events. How dull. After the beginning of organized crime and crime solving, however, things changed and, like a child with a brand new toy, Sherlock discarded sports for the most part to focus on theft and murder, especially after discovering good little Lestrade who was all too relieved to send particularly interesting cases their way. Finally... proper offerings.
Sherlock eyed the senet board on the table between itself and Mycroft, their generally unflappable, stone-faced older brother. As she picked up the senet sticks---long semi-circle cut sticks with black paint on one side and white on the other---to shake them and toss them down onto the table, it said lightly, "You know, the probability of three of these senet sticks landing upright and thus securing my triumph is-"
"Don't try to be smart, Sherlock." Mycroft interjected with just the perfect amount of boredom and condescension in his voice he knew would infuriate her.
Sure enough, Sherlock bristled. Before it could snap back however, their slightly younger sister walked in.
"Welcome home, Bia." Mycroft greeted. Unlike Tex, Sherlock, and himself, Bia had never called herself anything other than her own divine name since the beginning.
"It's Eurus, now," Eurus said as she slipped out of her shoes just inside the front door to Mycroft's flat.
Well. There went that.
Mycroft smirked. "So be it. Welcome home, Eurus." Eurus was the only one who actively lived with Mycroft; Sherlock and Tex lived in two different flats in the same building-- 221B and 221C respectively. Sherlock even had a flatmate. Everyone had been so shocked anyone would willingly live with him, Sherlock included.
Sherlock snorted and, after shaking the sticks, smiled sharply as three of them fell white side up. It opened its mouth to gloat before noticing Eurus attention was a bit too fixated on the sticks where they lay. Their smile soured immediately once they realized Eurus had fouled the game and, irritated, she got up and left the board in favor of picking up a book.
"Why did you leave? You won, didn't you?" Eurus inquired in a sickly sweet voice.
"No," Sherlock spat. "You meddled. You're always meddling." Perhaps anyone else would be grateful, if not touched, but to Sherlock it was like kicking sand in their eyes. He would've preferred it if she had swayed the game in Mycroft's favor and Sherlock knew she knew it. With a barb in mind to fire back, Sherlock smirked, a vicious curl of high arched, cupids bow lips. "Tell us- why have you finally decided to acknowledge your more popular title after all these millenia? Hmmm?"
Eurus glared at him, just enough that Sherlock felt his own facial muscles collapse under the weight of it, the smirk he'd constructed on his face crumpling away like an unplanned demolition. "What's it like, knowing the mortals do not remember your name as readily as mine, Zelos?" She replied coldly.
Despite the cutting remark, and indeed, it did cut, Sherlock raised her book back in front of their face to hide its smile once more, still deeply pleased with getting just enough under Eurus's inordinately thick skin to elicit an emotional response at all. It was no secret she had been fond of her original name and while it didn't understand the sudden change, it didn't matter. Yes, Eurus' reaction had been subdued, nothing stronger than a breeze, but Sherlock was well aware in knowing just what Eurus could destroy with mere breezes.
"The names the mortals give us are gifts." Mycroft said into the intense silence that followed.
"Gifts only serve to indicate expectations of reciprocation with these mortals," Eurus said neutrally as she made her way over to Mycroft to sit where Sherlock had left.
As soon as she began to approach, Mycroft immediately began to put away the senet board in favor of pulling out a chess board- he'd learned long ago never to play games with her that relied solely on probabilities for with her, anything possible was basically a certainty if she willed it enough.
Mycroft raised a brow. "And in what way are you planning on reciprocating?"
Eurus turned her unblinking eyes to him. "Thought I'd play with the stock market."
"Crashing it?" Sherlock asked drolly from behind her book. "If so, do let me know- I'll need to prepare my landlady."
Eurus didnt answer them, their eyes fixated on the board. "I'll take black," Eurus said.
"As you wish." Mycroft twisted the board around carefully and made his first move, pawn sliding across the wood with a steady hand.
Eurus eyed the board and made her move with the same quick, sure, forceful energy she always exercised in everything she did. Silence befell them after that, nobody making a sound until the front door opened and Tex walked in. A shift took place over everyone in the room as they entered the living room; the game Mycroft and Eurus were playing was no longer just a game but a miniature battlefield, both feeling a renewed desire to win. Sherlock, who'd told itself it would finish their current book in three days, suddenly decided he'd finish it in two.
"Welcome home, Texie." Mycroft offered warmly, just pausing enough to offer a small but genuine smile. Sure, they didn't live with him, but that did not mean his doors were not always open for them or Sherlock whenever either of them needed a solid, steady, safe place to be. As eldest, he took it upon himself to provide that sanctuary and likewise took pleasure in the way they all three regarded him with respect, if not in admittedly wildly varying measures between the three of them.
"Thank you kindly!" Tex replied in the same southern drawl they had adopted since aiding Texas in achieving her independence as a Republic in 1836. Despite the Republic willfully relinquishing her independence in favor of jouning statehood in 1845, Tex retained the name and accent. Their distinctly non-English accent was an oddity to mortals who met the siblings as a group, as was their brown skin, ethnic features, and dark eyes. Telling mortals they were indeed related never failed to amuse Mycroft, especially because out of all the "Holmes" children (a surname unanimously voted on), Tex was the only one with their Mother's looks--- especially their eyes.
Tex's eyes lit up once they saw the chess board and for a moment, Mycroft imagined he could hear a faint ruffling sound like feathers shifting but he knew Tex's bronze wings were nowhere to be found- they discorporated them before coming in. As much as he liked the way they looked, it was all for the best, given their penchant to spread their wings and accidentally knock things over when excited. "Oooo! Looks fun! Who's winning?"
Mycroft smiled wryly at them. "Don't want to decide for yourself?" He teased.
Tex laughed, "No; I'm more n' happy to just wait n' see."
"You can play me after I win, Nike." Eurus offered confidently. She was the only person who still called them that, but Tex didn't mind- she called Sherlock and Mycroft by their true names, too, when they were all alone like this. Eurus' unrelenting insistence used to be annoying but now, after watching the world change for so very long, it was actually very comforting- grounding, even; Eurus knew it would be, eventually. Such were the games she played.
Mycroft tutted. "You haven't won-"
"Yet, Kratos. Yet." Eurus interjected in the same sickly sweet tone she had used with Sherlock.
"I'll be happy to play winner." Tex said diplomatically before grabbing a stool from the kitchen.
Once they returned and perched themself in clear view of the board, Eurus said, "My name is Eurus, now."
Tex grinned brightly. "Oh! May I call you Eurie? Please?"
Eurus smiled at them, just a sliver of a thing on her placid face. "Alright, but only you." She said loudly enough for Sherlock to clearly hear. Her smile then sharpened as she turned to look at Mycroft, her eyes even crinkling just a little. "Check in four."
Mycroft said nothing in reply and took her rook. She then sharply snatched up his bishop, sacrificing a knight in the process. On and on they played, on and on Sherlock read, and all the while, Tex sat perfectly between them, giving neither of them any of their favor but all of their attention and admiration equally between them.
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forevers-world · 5 months
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Imagine marrying Mycroft Holmes.
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sakshisahu · 3 months
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The Greatest Quotes of Mycroft Holmes | Sherlocks Home | Page 4
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A must read article. & the quote listed on no. 1 is also my most favorite.
"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock. "
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himegureisu · 13 days
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1 | the Woman
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Summary: Mrs. Mycroft Holmes. Yes. You. Most people didn't know you existed. In these years, that's about to change.
A/N: This is the new version. This can be read as a gender-neutral person. However, the pairing remains Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader throughout the story. Season 1 scenes are entirely domestic Mycroft Holmes x Reader. This scene begins at home after Season 1 Episode 1: A Study in Pink. I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: There are innuendos at the end of every chapter.
Gaining weight again?
Losing it, in fact.
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His stomach was pudgy. It has always been that way since he was a child. Any and every attempt at losing it was an arduous road he refused to take any longer other than the occasional jog on a treadmill at your insistence.
Could he lose it? Yes, however, the effort required to do so was significant in that he would rather accomplish several tasks of import than appease the opinion of others and his vanity.
“Mycroft?”
Your soft inquiring voice breaks through his thoughts. His attention redirected, from the mirror to the sight of you by the threshold from the hall.
“What are you doing in front of the mirror?” you ask, walking over, to stand by his side.
“Sherlock has mocked my weight again,” he sighed, patting the fat on his stomach. “I should be used to it by now, however…”
It was a sore spot from time immemorial. One his brother didn’t hesitate to pick on almost every time they saw each other.
“Are you not bothered by my weight?” he asks, you shake your head: a no, as he faces you, “Truly?”
“Mycroft Holmes, I didn’t care about your weight before we married. I certainly do not care for it much now,” you say as you cup your hands on his cheeks in all seriousness, “I’d rather you eat and overindulge in meals than skip them. It means you’re taking care of yourself. Your job is already stressful and Sherlock being reckless is the literal cherry on top. If partaking in an extra slice of cake can soothe your frayed nerves, then be my guest. However, do save a piece for me, and then we’ll find a way to lose the calories together.“
Your hands trail from his face to his body, noting every curve and contour to memory. He may not be society’s ideal man but you love every part of him. Even those parts that he hates.
“You are incomparable, my dear.” his voice wavered, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. “Thank you,”
“I love you just the way you are, Mycroft,” you whispered, brushing a quick gentle kiss on his lips, “Don’t you ever doubt that,”
To Mycroft, your words were the only ones that truly mattered. Your acceptance and love are a balm to his insecurities and fears. He never thought that he’d ever experience such unconditional love from anyone except his parents. However, it seems that the world has granted him the privilege of being loved by you.
“Would you like to join me in our bedroom, my dear?” he suggested. His eyes twinkled mischievously in the evening light. “I thought of a way to lose those calories,”
“Oh, do tell then,”
“I’d rather show,”
NEXT >>
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skievers · 8 months
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@the-imitation-blog “all of your favourite characters from your fictional shows are dead”
Me: “I can’t help it if I have a type, and that type is ✨dead boy✨” Or traumatised boy 🤪
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strongacetheticvibes · 11 months
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incorrect sherlock quote
John: I dare you- Mycroft: Sherlock is not allowed to accept dares anymore. John: Why not? Sherlock: "I have no regard for my own or others personal safety", as some would say.
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