Mycroft Explains It All To Sherlock
Mycroft Explains It All To Sherlock
Sherlock had often worried about breaking Mycroft's heart and hurting him. Now it was Mycroft's turn to try to explain all that had happened to Sherlock without hurting him. As his driver approached his house he observed that more lights were burning than he had left lit when he left. Mycroft turned the key and opened the door. Walking in he observed Sherlock slouching in his favorite chair in his house hammering back shots of his most expensive liquor. Sherlock was quite drunk. Oh, this will make it more difficult. I guess Jim Moriarty wasn't the only one good at breaking in and helping himself to his best liquor. Mycroft sighed loudly trying to decide what to do next.
Mycroft tapped Sherlock on the right shoulder as he was drifting in and out. Sherlock opened his eyes and glared drunkenly at his brother. "Where the hell have you been?" slurring his words. "I've been worried to death about you?" Sherlock screamed at Mycroft. Sherlock tried to stand up and punch Mycroft. Instead he collapsed on Mycroft's beautiful rug. The room was spinning around and he started making retching noises like he was going to vomit.
"Not on my good carpet you won't." Mycroft scooped up his little brother and raced into the kitchen and tossed him on the floor. Sherlock vomited all over. Mycroft grabbed some kitchen towels that were handy and tried to clean up the mess. Sherlock tried to get to his feet again and fell, dizzy again. Mycroft pulled over a kitchen chair and sat down but left his inebriated brother half sitting, half lying on the floor. He's safer down there, thought Mycroft. Sherlock felt the room spinning and shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"Where have you been Mycroft?"
Partly to test how drunk his brother was Mycroft said, "I went and got married." Sherlock shook his head harder this time. Did he hear what he thought he heard?
"Who would be crazy enough to marry you?"
"I have to try and explain that to you brother mine."
"Well I'm waiting."
"A lovely man named James. We have a lot in common."
Sherlock stared at Mycroft confused.
"James who?" A sudden thought made him shudder.
Mycroft blushed and said "James Moriarty Holmes is his name now."
"Have you gone fucking crazy? Sherlock screamed at Mycroft. "How" "Why"
"Crazy in love I guess brother mine."
Sherlock stared at Mycroft and started to wail and cry like he lost his best friend. He moaned and rolled around on the kitchen floor sobbing.
"I don't believe you. You're lying." Mycroft leaned down and held out his left hand and on his finger was a beautiful gold wedding ring with diamonds that he hadn't noticed earlier.
"If you think mine is nice you should see the ring James wears."
"Oh my God."
"I need a favor from you Sherlock. I need you to be there when I explain this to Mummy and Daddy."
"And you think I'll do that for you?"
"I would do the same for you brother mine. I used to tell you often that caring was not an advantage. Tried to convince you that love made you weak. I couldn't have been more wrong, Sherlock. And I'll admit when I'm wrong."
Sherlock stopped crying but still looked very drunk and pitiful.
Mycroft looked lovingly at his little brother. "I know it will be strange to have James Moriarty as a brother in law.”
"I know it's a lot for you to accept right now. You are not losing me, Sherlock. I'll always be there for you. That will never change."
Sherlock crawled over to his brother and tried to stand but couldn't. He reached up and hugged Mycroft's neck and cried on his shoulder.
A while later Mycroft wet some more towels and tried to clean Sherlock up the best he could.
"You're not going to throw up again are you?"
"No, I think I'm alright."
Mycroft walked out of the kitchen to the linen closet to get a sheet, blanket and more towels and a bucket. He went over to the couch and spread the sheet neatly. He arranged a pillow and spread out some towels and lay the bucket next to the couch. Mycroft returned to find Sherlock sleeping peacefully on the kitchen floor. Mycroft picked him up gently, carried him to the couch and laid him on his side with his head turned so he wouldn't choke if he vomited in his sleep. I can always get the rug cleaned if he does, thought Mycroft, as he lay the soft blanket over Sherlock. I wonder if he'll remember any of what I said when he wakes up. I'd hate to try and explain this all over again. Mycroft laughed a little to himself.
Mycroft made himself a drink and sat in his favorite chair and watched his brother sleeping peacefully. Eventually he dozed off too.