I will, I will, I will overcome writer’s block.
They were trapped, eyes fixed on them and the mistletoe overhead, Mycroft bent his head and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, ever the professional.
Anthea smiled to hide her slight disappointment. She’d wanted the brush of his lips on hers, she…
Mycroft sees something on the monitor he never expected his surveillance to capture. There are realizations and revelations for both of them.
“Sir, I think there’s something you need to see.” Anthea’s crisp voice startled Mycroft, although he didn’t allow his expression to flicker an iota.
“Yes?” Mycroft looked up at her, eyebrows slightly lifted, his face intent.
“Follow me.” She turned on her heels, not waiting for Mycroft to stand and follow before she walked to a door and typed in a small code on the keypad on the wall. The door slid open and Anthea led the way to a small room full of large monitors. Mycroft scanned the monitors, noting with mild interest the various areas they covered. He paused, about a third of the way in. “Monitors 3B, 3C, and 3D, sir.”
“Yes, I see,” Mycroft said absently, his entire focus directed towards the monitors in question. It felt like the world had dropped out underneath him, that everything had suddenly gone fuzzy and what he had just been working on moments before, no longer mattered, despite its threat to national security.
I wonder if you can kill me with cute. Prompt: Playing with puppies in the snow. Any ship or no ship is fine :)
Mycroft and Sherlock were walking home from school when Sherlock found them. Mycroft’s focus was on keeping the umbrella over both of their heads, keeping them dry in the downpour of the British winter. He did not notice his younger brother tugging away from his grip until Sherlock was gone from his side, and half way down an alley which they were passing.
“Sherlock,” Mycroft admonished, turning to hurry after him. “You’re going to get soaked, where are you going?”
“I heard something,” Sherlock informed him, skirting around a pile of black bin bags and pausing by a small, soaked cardboard box. He flicked the lid open just as Mycroft arrived at his side, protecting him from the rain once again. Inside the box, two small puppies huddled together, whimpering quietly. The slightly larger puppy growled weakly at Sherlock and moved to stand in front of the other. “We can’t leave them,” Sherlock announced, reaching into the box to pick up one of the puppies and ignoring Mycroft’s complaints as he tucked it into his coat. “I can’t carry both.”