HOME | DD

Description
You were rudely awakened by Sherlock stealing your blankets and pretty much yanking you out of bed, causing you to vehemently protest, “Leave me be, Sherly… I’m sleeping in.”

“No, you aren’t.”

Knowing exactly what he was trying to do, you went limp, forcing him to hold your entire weight, “I don’t care about jet lag right now. I just wanna sleep.”

He very unceremoniously let you fall and you contently curled up to go back to sleep on the floor, causing him to give a soft growl. You thought for a moment you were going to get away with that little stunt before he deceptively hummed in a soft tone, “Don’t make me do this the hard way.”

You just snuggled into the floor, “You wouldn’t dare.”

John and Mycroft were just sitting down at the kitchen table when they were startled by a loud screech followed by two sets of heavy footsteps trundling down the stairs as your voice shouted, “I’m going to sodding kill you, you arrogant twat of an imp!”

Violet emerged from the kitchen with a confused look on her face, exchanging glances with both John and Mycroft to see they were equally perplexed before Sherlock tumbled through the door as you screeched, “Get back here, you callous weasel.”

You came skidding in after him, drenched from the waist up and absolutely livid as you narrowed your eyes at Sherlock, who had taken refuge not too discreetly behind Violet. With a deep breath your demeanor turned scarily calm as you wiped some water from your face and slid into a chair next to Mycroft, “Mark my words, Sherlock, you will regret that.”

Even John caught the slight hint of fear that crossed your brother’s face and Violet turned to scold him, “I thought I made myself clear that you were to let her sleep.”

“You did. I simply chose to ignore it,” he offered and Violet pursed her lips and grabbed his ear to pull him down to her level, “I cannot believe your sass, young man. I raised you better than that. Now march up those stairs and clean then mess you’ve made.”

“But-“

“No excuses, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You do as I say this second or your father will be hearing about this and I can promise you he will be less than pleased.”

John snickered behind his hand as Sherlock hung his head and trudged out of the room, shooting you a glare when you stuck your tongue out at him. You stifled a giggle and then accepted a towel from Violet, running it over your face as she took another to your hair and hummed, “You two… always acting like children.”

“His intentions were good, Violet, though it does not excuse him drenching me with a bucket of frigid water.” You sighed, giving an almost violent shiver as chilly breeze came through the open window and hit your wet clothes. Mycroft was quick to notice, getting up to shut it and then offering you his suit coat, “Here. You'll catch a cold with the temperature in here what it is and those wet clothes.”

All three of you looked to him in surprise to which he quirked an eyebrow and wrapped the coat around your shoulders before sliding back into his seat and returning to his breakfast and newspaper. Violet simply accepted it with a small smile over how well the two of you seemed to be getting on but John narrowed his eyes at the man suspiciously, his fierce loyalty to those he considered friends kicking in as he wondered again what Mycroft was playing at. He felt an animosity toward the man for causing the hurt he’d seen in your eyes the day before and didn’t want you to be hurt again. You deserved someone who was kind to you, someone like.... well- him. Looking between the two of you, an odd twinge of jealousy sparked in his chest at seeing you enveloped in Mycroft ‘s jacket before he shook his head and focused on his tea.

You snuck a glace at Mycroft, thinking over what he’d said the night before as you tugged his jacket around you and enjoyed the warmth that lingered from his body. You ducked your head and tucked your nose in the fabric of the collar as discretely as you could to breath in his smell as you thought maybe trying to start over with him might not be a bad idea. You did have a lot in common… he was your literary friend after all. You took one last deep breath, catching hints of rain in his sort of woodsy scent that was like oak wood and leather tied in with the musty smell of old books, and then yawned softly. Violet pressed a kiss to the top of your head on her way to the kitchen, “I’ll get you some tea, darling. It will get you warmed up and wake your mind.”

Once you were warmed and had a cup of tea cradled between you hands, you looked hopefully to John, “If it’s not to much trouble, would you keep him out of the house for a while? I’ll get no peace while he’s here.”

Violet shook her head at the situation and went else where as he crinkled his nose at the thought of Sherlock’s current mood but nodded, “Of course, (F/n). You should get some proper rest and I can see that’s certainly not going to happen while he’s around.”

“Please let me know when I can return the favor. I know how taxing it is to live with him and as adorable as you are when you're flustered I’d rather you didn’t punch his face in,” you hummed as he got up and you could see his cheeks go a little pink, giving a soft giggle.

Mycroft shot a glare in John’s direction before pausing to contemplate why exactly, finding he had a growing hostility towards the man for catching your attention and building a friendship where he couldn’t. His logical mind defined it as jealousy but he refused to believe it as such, firmly returning the paper as John slipped away, and then gave a smug smirk at a new thought- he was going to have you to himself for the day.

When he glanced at you again, you had pulled your knees up, tucking yourself tightly into the chair, and without looking towards him softly offered, “Thank you, Mycroft.”

“Not a problem, my dear. I know all too well what it is like to be on the receiving end of Sherlock’s antics and you were more than accommodating last night. The least I could do was return the favor.”

You nodded, hesitantly looking up to meet his gaze, “I’m going to go change. Would you like your jacket back? I’m afraid it’s a bit damp now.”

“It’s quite alright. You may return it to me later,” he responded, offering a soft smile in an attempt to reassure you. A pink tint came to your cheeks against your will, causing you to internally curse as you knew he noticed it, but still returned a cautious grin before bolting from the room before he could say anything.

He watched you go, liking how his jacket dwarfed you and then ran a hand though his hair- you seemed to be coming around, though it was difficult to tell for sure as, similar to Sherlock, he could only read so much from you. Still, something was better than nothing. Didn’t the old staying go: slow and steady wins the race?