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Tweak says, "WHERE ARE THE CHEETOS??"

Sherlock Holmes (ifimnothungry) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-02-18 21:39:00

Entry tags:

mycroft holmes, sherlock holmes

WHO: Sherlock Holmes & Mycroft Holmes
WHAT: Sherlock has already lost one person to this event. He can't lose another. Even if it is Mycroft.
WHEN: After this & this
WHERE: The Evacuation Tunnels to the Mayor's Manor
RATING: PG-13 (for potential awkward emotions from two otherwise emotionless individuals)
STATUS: In Progress

Sherlock had been sure to write Molly's directions down. If he followed them correctly, there was more than a chance that his PDA wouldn't be able to connect to the network properly for him to continue to follow them like that, and while he could remember a lot of things which he came across rather well rather quickly, there was no sense in chancing taking a wrong turn in a situation like this. It wasn't like Mycroft to dally. He took care of situations swiftly and efficiently unless he happened to be bored and felt the need to draw them out for his own amusement. This, however, was not a situation which his brother would find amusing, so Sherlock couldn't for the life of him fathom what the hold up was. Well, he could. It was there, somewhere, in the back of his mind, poking at him despite the fact that he was attempting to ignore it as he headed deep into the park. It hadn't been difficult to find the hidden door in the large stone column that decorated the landscape. Sherlock was pretty sure it was the only lawn ornament with a biometric security system. Pressing his fingers against the pad, her was surprised to find that it slipped open easily for him and allowed him to pass down into the caverns below.

Armed with John's hand gun, just in case, Sherlock slipped through the passages, turning at the forks that he found and being sure to keep to Molly's directions exactly. He didn't know exactly how she knew where Mycroft was, but she seemed quite certain of it. As there was no reason to doubt her at the moment, and he had no better leads to go on. He could clarify the hows and whys once he'd found his brother. While hesitant to call out lest he attract trouble the first dozen yards or so, by the time that he'd managed to get into what he could only assume was the greater depth of the system, he risked it. He was no good to Mycroft, after all, if his brother did know he was there.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted, his voice ringing off the walls and heading back to his ears, making his wince with just how desperate it sounded. "Where are you? If you can hear me, answer!"

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-19 05:13 am UTC (link)

"It is not beside the point, Mycroft," Sherlock said, shifting and leaning back against the wall himself, trying to force himself into his brother's line of vision. Mycroft was trying to escape his reality, bury himself in guilt, or something, but there was absolutely no point in laying down here and dying just because of the situation which had transpired and one in which he'd had no control once it had gotten going. "Moriarty had the whole thing orchestrated from word one. Whether you'd been a part of it or not, he would have gone ahead, and the results would have been the same," He said, frowning as he reached out, grabbing his brother's arm to try and pull him back into this reality.

"I'm not dead," Sherlock repeated, staring at him intently. "Molly told me that we cut him off, out thought him. Moriarty thought he'd won, but he didn't, Mycroft. He didn't. And you have absolutely nothing to dwell on," He said before casting his gaze back over to Pepper at Mycroft's words, heaving an exasperated sigh. He really was going to be bloody stubborn about this, wasn't he?

"Yes. Because it wasn't like you were doing her a mercy by shooting her before a disease that we have no idea how to check ravaged her brain and turned her into a mindless automaton who would have set upon you without a second thought the moment she lost full control of herself," Sherlock said, arching an eyebrow at his brother. "No. Clearly you were just tired of dragging her dead weight around. Because that's what you do, Mycroft. Blithely shoot people for the hell of it. I'm surprised that the papers concentrated on me rather than the British MP going around murdering people willy-nilly. You would have made a much better story."

Yes, he was being heavily sarcastic, but if there was one thing that could get his brother motivated, it was jabs at his character.

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hisarchenemy
2012-02-19 05:30 am UTC (link)

For a long moment, Mycroft didn't respond at all. He knew, distantly, what Sherlock was trying to do and really couldn't be bothered to react as was considered the norm for him. After all if there was one thing that could be said about him, aside from his intellect and ability to quash emotional responses to the point that many in the British Parliament truly wondered if he even had any, it was that he could be lazy to the point of sheer ridiculousness when he decided to be. It was the reason he had opted for a 'minor position', meaning a job behind the scenes, in the government back home rather than claiming the title of Prime Minister even once of the multitude of times it had been offered to him. It was the reason any diet he attempted tended to be met with great success until he opted to stop following it. It was the reason for a great many things in his life, really. And, in this instance, it was the primary reason he didn't immediately rise to the rather obvious bait his brother was daring him to take. Yet, even through his laziness, his melancholy, and even his guilt, Mycroft couldn't remain silent for long. It wasn't something that came easily to him, vows of silence in specific places not counting of course, and apparently even in his throes of emotional turmoil, he couldn't give in to it now.

"Sherlock," he finally murmured, once more looking to his brother and openly acknowledging he knew the man to be present, even if his actions said otherwise more often than not. "Do shut up."

The words caused his lips to quirk ever so slightly, the familiar furrowing of his brow also present for the briefest of instants. Of course, his attention did return to the wall immediately after that, but even then he still managed to tack on a bitter, "And it still does not matter whether or not you are truly dead. That does not change the fact that I should have simply killed Moriarty when I had ample opportunity to do so. It also does not change the eventual outcome of the world as a whole believing you to not only be deceased but also a fraud." This time, his attention snapped to his brother quickly, his look a touch sharper than it had been before. His tone matched.

"I am the reason for that, Sherlock. In my efforts to protect the country, I placed your life in danger... and it was all for naught." A look of pain so out of place it was downright foreign shone in his eyes. He quickly dropped his gaze to Pepper's still form that was growing colder by every second. Softly, he tacked on, "She deserved better. As did you."

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-19 05:44 am UTC (link)

Sherlock allowed his brother to speak, the words washing over him and sinking into him as the contemplated what Mycroft was saying, what he was taking on himself, and whether or not to allow it to stand. There was a point to all of his brother's words even if they were borne from guilt more than they were the reality of the situation, but Sherlock didn't feel that he could just allow it to go on the few facts that rested in the statements. Whatever choices Mycroft had made, he'd done so because he'd thought they were the right ones, that they would yield the desired result, and Sherlock knew his brother well enough to know that he never would have willing but him at risk had he not thought the potential gains were worth the chance. And when it came to Moriarty, they were.

"We were both adults, Mycroft," Sherlock said carefully. "We made our own decisions, took our own steps to reach the conclusion that we did. Whatever part that you had in it, you can't protect us forever," He said, looking over at his brother and giving his arm a squeeze. "No matter how hard you might try. We'll trip and fall before you can catch us eventually, dear brother. It's what life is," He said, letting his head thunk back against the wall before glancing sideways at Mycroft. "Now. Are you going to continue to sit here and feel sorry for yourself? Am I going to have to carry you both out?"

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hisarchenemy
2012-02-19 11:16 pm UTC (link)

In the end, it was the gentle squeeze of his arm that made Mycroft come to his senses. The haze that had settled over his normally razor-sharp mind lifted and, quite suddenly, he seemed to register the fact that he was sitting in a dark, dank tunnel, feeling sorry for himself, while the city as a whole was succumbing to an invasion of the dead returned to life. And, to top it all off, his brother was the one trying to offer him comfort.

That alone was enough to do it. Nevermind that he and Sherlock weren't particularly close. Nevermind that they spent a fair majority of their time trying to one-up the other in the lack of proper emotional response department. The fact was, he was the elder sibling. It was his job to watch after Sherlock, to offer comfort as best as he was capable. To have it the other way simply felt wrong and, despite the overwhelming guilt that still plagued him, he refused to allow it to continue.

"As amusing as that might be to witness," he finally replied, his tone dry as he cast a look in Sherlock's direction, "it also won't be necessary." And, although a large part of him really did want to continue to stay where he was and continue to wallow in guilt and misery, he forced himself to get to his feet.

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-20 03:13 am UTC (link)

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what he'd said or done in the end that had snapped Mycroft back to his senses, but he honestly figured that he didn't have to analysis it if it had worked in the end. It didn't seem likely that he was going to have to repeat this occasion any time soon. Or at least, he hoped that he wouldn't. Mycroft was supposed to be the one to chastise and badger him when he was having internalized breakdowns, not the other way round.

Standing along side his brother, he cast a gaze back down at Pepper before looking back at Mycroft. He didn't want to impede on any territory that his brother considered to be his, but Sherlock wasn't certain of just how much extra weight Mycroft would be capable of supporting at the moment, particularly when the physical weight might aggravate whatever issues of guilt that he was holding onto. So he moved, slowly at first, to Pepper's side, bending down on one knee and gently pulling her lifeless body up into his arms, standing once he knew he had a firm grasp on her.

"Lead the way, Mycroft. I was lucky to make it this far the first time," Not that Sherlock couldn't easily remember how to get back out, but he figured giving his brother something practical to do would help keep him grounded.

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hisarchenemy
2012-02-20 05:26 am UTC (link)

Although he gave no outward indication of it, something inside of Mycroft recoiled at the sight of Sherlock holding Pepper's lifeless form. He knew it was an irrational, ridiculously emotional response that had no place in any situation, much less the one they were in. However he also knew that he would not, could not, let his brother carry her from the tunnels. So rather than immediately leading them toward the exit, he instead stepped closer to Sherlock and met the man's gaze.

"You take that," he said, a slight tip of his head indicating Pepper's gun that was still resting on the ground beside where he'd been sitting mere moments before. "And I will take her." He wanted to add more, wanted to all but snatch her away as though Sherlock might somehow cause her harm even if that was utterly impossible. He didn't, though. He simply waited for his brother to acquiesce, tacking on a pointed, "After all, there's no sense in ruining your favourite coat when my suit is, quite clearly, already a rather lost cause."

A flimsy excuse, one that even a child could see through, but Mycroft didn't particularly care. It was the best he was going to come up with and the only explanation he was offering. One way or another, though, he was going to carry Pepper out of the tunnels. Regardless of what Sherlock had to say on the matter.

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-20 05:50 am UTC (link)

Sherlock wasn't surprised by Mycroft's insistence that he be the one to handle Pepper. It was the same sort of statements that Sherlock would have made if anyone whom he considered close ended up in the state that she was in. So he took Mycroft's flimsy excuse easily enough, shifting Pepper's dead weight into his brother's arms as he moved to pick up the fallen gun, "This city has magic, Mycroft. I think you'll be able to find someone to get out whatever stains you might encounter," Sherlock said, attempting to release some of the tension while easing back into their normal banter. Neither one of them had to admit to what had just happened once they got to the surface, after all. And it would likely be better for the both of them if they just kept it between themselves. On more than a few levels.

"Unless, of course, you were just looking for an excuse to buy a new suit," Sherlock said, pocketing the gun as he quirked an eyebrow at his older brother. "Which, honestly Mycroft, I would think a lot less drastic ways to do so."

Probably too soon, but well, what did Sherlock know about too soon without John around to tell him when he'd crossed a line?

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