Ships this post: Mycroft/Sherlock/Greg and variations thereof, Mycroft/Sherlock, John/Sherlock
As soon as the curtain rises he's completely absorbed. His eyes are bright, his lips slightly parted, he's almost vibrant with anticipation and suddenly he seems younger. This is what he must have looked like as a little boy, when he was told a story at bedtime or when he was taken to the pantomime; he must have had the same air of gleeful expectation, ready to let himself be carried away and to marvel. I'd like to have known him as a little boy. I'm not especially fond of children but I'd have loved this one. I'd have protected him from any evil and any suffering. I don't consider myself cruel by nature but I think I could hurt those who would have wished John harm when he was a child. And if this hadn't been enough I'd have taken him in my arms and cradled him to comfort him and I'd have told him that it didn't really matter, it was going to get better, he'd become a good and a strong and a wonderful man and one day we'd find each other and we'd love each other and then nothing could affect us any more. Mycroft would be so amused if he knew that such fantasies cross my mind. I'm afraid he knows already. I even suspect he's secretly pleased. The smug sneerer.
--My Favourite Hobby
, by (AO3)Chocolamousse, (John/Sherlock)
"You've got questions," Sherlock says.
"Yes, loads. But later. For the moment I may be a bit in shock."
"It's quite normal. Finding out that your flatmate is from another planet doesn't happen every day."
"Oh no, I'm not talking about that. That explains a lot actually. I always thought there was something otherworldly about these eyes and these cheekbones."
"And of course your eating and sleeping habits should have aroused my suspicions."
"Not to mention your first name obviously."
"In fact it's quite a..."
"And I must say that your spectacular ignorance about astronomy is all the more appalling."
"That's really not..."
"Oh God, I called you 'Spock' once, I'm so sorry."
, by (AO3)Chocolamousse, (John/alien!Sherlock)
They'd carried on a fairly normal relationship for years, if it was possible to describe an incestuous relationship between volatile geniuses as normal.
Mycroft resisted the temptation to gloat; well, he resisted the temptation to visibly
gloat. It was a victory and they both knew it.
--A Study in Blue Silk (Day 8)
, by (AO3)chasingriver, (Mycroft/Sherlock)
"How's he doing, Mr Lestrade?"
"Please, nghhh… call me Greg." Greg was having a difficult time keeping his composure. "God, he's good."
"He is talented – I trained him well. But he's a filthy little whore. That's the problem with pain sluts – they're so hard to discipline." He turned to look at Greg. "And with this one, the only real punishment is to withhold sex."
Greg's eyes widened slightly at the implication. Brothers
. He did a quick moral inventory and decided if Sherlock was his
fuck him, too.
"That's it… take it, brother-mine. Take it all." Mycroft's gaze shifted hungrily over Sherlock's body, absorbing every detail and storing it for later. "You love it, don't you – being filled with so much cock like this?"
Sherlock saw no point in trying to answer. It was obviously a rhetorical question. Besides, his mouth was full.
"Well, clearly you've had your fun, little brother. Gregory, what do you say we have a little fun of our own? Or, if you'd prefer, we can go back to sleep and punish him in the morning. It's your choice, of course. Either way, I can hardly allow you to leave our little establishment with the notion that our pillows ejaculate on your face. Or at least that they do so without properly apologising."
Greg snickered. Mycroft could make reading the phone book sound posh. And funny.
He handed Greg a plastic squeeze bottle filled with honey. "Would you like some honey for your bread? Or perhaps you can think of a better use for it," he added with a grin.
"You're damned right I can," Greg replied, downing the last gulp of his wine before he started squeezing lines of honey around the delicately placed objects on Sherlock's chest. "I think we need to start testing his resolve, don't you?"
"Bloody hell, Mycroft," Sherlock piped up. "What is it with you and cake?"
Mycroft shoved a bit of sandwich in his mouth. "None of that, you little brat," he said affectionately.
"I really am sorry, Mycroft. I wasn't trying to be rude." The very last thing he wanted to do was offend him. "I just never thought I'd have this particular conversation with a stunning man on a secluded beach while I licked honey off his brother's chest. You have to admit, those seem like long odds."
Mycroft cracked a smile. "Yes, I suppose it is a little unusual."
"This should be obvious," Sherlock remarked dryly, "but he's not laughing at you, Mycroft. Besides," he added sarcastically, "I'd like him to get on with what he was doing, if it's quite alright with you."
Greg was silently glad for their remote location and the apparent privacy it afforded. Three men - two dressed and one almost naked except for his boots - heading for a cave… it would probably be a bit hard to explain to the locals, and he didn't think his badge from the Yard would get him out of this one.
by (AO3)chasingriver, (Mycroft/Sherlock/Lestrade and variations, BDSM, AU)
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