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Chapter Text

Sherlock’s having his favorite dream. He’s alone in an enormous laboratory. It’s stocked with every chemical he could ever need and every piece of equipment he could think of. It was organized just the way he wanted it; everything in its proper place. Best of all, it was all HIS! He could experiment to his heart’s content. There was no one to tell him ‘no’, ‘it’s too dangerous’, or ‘that’s illegal’.

Oh, how Sherlock loved this dream!

Wait. What was that sound? Was someone calling his name?

NO! Why were people always interrupting him? Why are normal people so irritating?

“Sherlock…” called a familiar (and annoying) voice.

Ah, not a normal person. An infuriating, stupid, fat person.

GO AWAY!

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock growled and turned his face into his pillow. Maybe if he ignored them long enough, they’d go away. Forever.

“Sherlock! Get up!”

“No. Piss off.”

“I said GET. UP. NOW!”

“I said no, you fat sod!”

Suddenly, Sherlock’s warm duvet was gone. Cool air hit his skin and he huffed angrily.

“Up, Sherlock,’ Mycroft continued, giving his little brother a poke in the ribs. “We have to get ready for that party at Mr. James’ house this evening.”

“Piss off, Mycroft! I don’t want to go. I want to sleep!”

“It’s already after noon, Sherlock!” Mycroft replied, with a long-suffering sigh. “The time for sleeping has come and gone. If you’d go to sleep at a decent hour, like a regular person; you’d be able to get up at a respectable time. How late did you stay up experimenting?”

Sherlock only grunted in response.

There was a click of heels on the wooden floor of the hallway and a round of tsks that announced the arrival of the one person who could get Sherlock out of his comfortable bed.

“Mummy,” Mycroft said, “I’ve been trying to get him up for 15 minutes. He’s simply not willing to oblige me.”

“That’s quite alright, Mycroft, dear,” Violet replied softly, “Go downstairs. I had Alice set out some tea and biscuits. I’ll take care of Sherlock.”

“Yes, Mycroft,” came the voice from the bed, “Go have some tea and shove far too many biscuits into your stupid face!”

“Sherlock!” Violet scolded her youngest son.

The boy huffed in response and rolled over to stare into his mother’s face. Once Mycroft had gone, Sherlock softened his features, preparing to sweet talk his mother in to allowing him to stay home. “Mummy-” he began.

“No, darling,” his mother cut him off. “I simply can’t allow you to stay behind this time. It’s very important to your father that you come. As I told you; your father wants you to introduce yourself to Mr. James and his daughter, Gwendolyn.”

Sherlock sneered into his pillow then growled, “Why would I want to meet another of Father’s insufferable friends or their idiotic children? Who, I’m sure, are just as insufferable. If not even more so.”

Violet sat down on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on her son’s back. “Use your brain, my dear. God knows, it never stops working. You need to get to know your father’s friends so that when you’re older, you can use those connections to your own advantage.” She drew in a breath and continued, “You meet the children so that you have connections with peers that can also prove useful in the future. However, in this case, there’s also the fact that Gwendolyn James will be attending school with you after the summer holiday. She doesn’t know anyone there and it would be lovely for you to be there to help her figure it all out. You could easily use this as an opportunity to earn favor from her father.”

“I don’t want favor from her father. Nor from the girl herself! I don’t want to have her attempting to follow me around at school and getting in my way!” Sherlock snapped.

“Sherlock, please,” Violet pleaded, turning her silver-blue eyes to peer directly into her son’s. “Do it for me?”

Just that one request from his mother and Sherlock couldn’t summon the ability to argue any further. How could he ever deny his mother anything? She was the only person who Sherlock has never doubted would love him always, regardless of anything he could ever say or do. Others would always have a breaking point with Sherlock; a point where they’d get so angry or annoyed at him that they would throw a hurtful name, a cutting remark, or even a fist. But, in all his time on this earth, his mother had never hurt him or run out of patience with him. The woman had to be a bloody saint. Sherlock would do anything to keep her on his side.

“Fine. But I won’t enjoy myself.” He finally answered.

Violet smiled at him and petted his dark, wild curls.

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” she replied. “Just be nice.”

“I’m not making any promises,” the boy snapped.

“Of course not, dear. Now go take a shower and I’ll lay out some clothes for you.”

xXxXx

Sherlock climbed into the shower and let the hot water wake up his body, while he caught up with his racing mind. He was still trying to figure out a way out of this. He hated parties, hated meeting new people, and he wasn’t at all sure he could be nice if this Gwendolyn James decided that she wanted to be friends.

I’m not good at being friends. I’ve never even HAD a friend. Not really. There were always playdates with the children of his father’s business associates, but that hardly counts. I was rarely invited over more than once since I always seemed to piss people off.

And I’ve never had friends at school. Those idiots have hated me since day one. Probably since the first day of Year 1, when I informed the teacher which of my fellow students still pissed in their beds. THAT was a good day.

Suddenly, some part of Sherlock’s brain decided it wanted to become ridiculously irritating by raising questions: “Have you considered the fact that this new girl doesn’t know you? She doesn’t know about your deductions. She hasn’t seen you spout out all the worst details of a person’s life and leave them crying or swinging a fist at your face. She doesn’t know that the other students refer to you only as “Freak”. You can get to her before anyone else does and you can convince her that you’re normal. Maybe this is your chance to make a friend!”

Sherlock was so surprised by his own thoughts that he spoke out loud, “What the bloody hell was that? I don’t need a friend. I’ve gone this long without one; I don’t need anyone mucking things up now!”

He finished cleaning up, turned off the water, grabbed his towel and stepped out of the shower. He continued to think as he dried himself off, combed his hair, and went through his grooming routine.

I don’t need a friend. I’ve only one year of school left, then I’m off to Uni. It wouldn’t make sense to try to befriend this girl just to have to have her leave me behind in less than a year. Hell, I don’t need to make friends in Uni either. I’ll have labs to work in and experiments to conduct. I’ll be far too busy for something as trivial and frivolous as friends. How ridiculous!

He then went back into his bedroom to find the clothes his mother had taken out of his closet; a dark grey suit, white shirt, and blue tie. Sherlock huffed, grabbed the tie and dropped it in the floor. He had already given in quite enough. He’d go to the party, chat up Gwendolyn James, and attempt to be polite for the entire duration. But he would NOT wear a bloody tie.

Chapter Text

That evening Sherlock found himself standing in parlor of the James home, surrounded by idiots. There was a bar in the corner where a bartender was passing out tumblers of whiskey and glasses of wine. In the dining room buffet tables had been set up. People roamed and wondered like cattle; chewing and drinking. Talking about nothing even the slightest bit interesting. It was so DULL! He thought he could actually feel his brain dying.

“Can we leave yet?” Sherlock groaned.

Mycroft took a sip of his wine and turned to his little brother. “No, Sherlock. Stop whining. We just got here. You haven’t even met Gwendolyn James yet. I know you’d be so disappointed if you left before introducing yourself.” Mycroft laughed quietly and hid his smirk behind his wine glass.

“Shut up, Mycroft,” Sherlock snapped. “I cannot think of anything worse than being forced to be polite to another stupid child of father’s horrible business associates. I’m only doing this for Mummy.”

“Come now, Sherlock. It won’t be so bad. Just talk to her about school for a few minutes and it will all be over. I’m sure even you can handle that.”

“I’ll speak to her for only as long as I absolutely have to. Then, I’m sneaking out for a smo-“ Sherlock cut himself off as his hands flew up to pat at the pockets in his trousers and jacket, searching for something. “Shit,” he hissed. “I forgot my cigarettes! Mycroft, give me a few of yours.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Sorry, brother dear. I don’t have any. I’ve been trying to quit. Nasty habit, you know.”

“Liar!” the younger boy accused. “Just give me one!”

“I don’t have any Sherlock. I left them back at home so I wouldn’t be tempted.”

“I hate you.”

“Sherlock!” Both brothers cringed a bit at the sound of Violet’s voice. “Don’t talk to your brother that way. How horrible!”

“Sorry, Mummy” Sherlock muttered.

“Come, boys,” Violet urged. “Your father is talking to Mr. James and he asked me to fetch you.”

The brothers glanced at each other, reading the boredom and resignation in each other’s eyes. They followed Mummy across the room to join their father. Siger Holmes was sitting in one of two wingback chairs placed artfully in front of the fireplace. He was talking animatedly with the man in the other chair. They were both sipping from large glasses of Scotch and laughing loudly.

“Ah! Here they are,” Siger stood and the other man quickly followed suit. “Calvin, these are my sons Mycroft and Sherlock. Boys, this is Calvin James.”

Mycroft stepped forward and shook Mr. James’ hand. “Hello, Mr. James. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, using his diplomatic fake smile and forced politeness. Sherlock could always see through it, but the normal people never could.

“Mycroft has just taken up a position within the government.” Violet beamed. “We’re very proud”

“I would imagine you are,” Mr. James replied, looking adequately impressed. “What sort of job, Mycroft? Something extremely important, is it?”

Mycroft chuckled lightly. “Oh, not in the least. I occupy a minor position, I assure you. Nothing important at all.” Only Sherlock could hear the silent “-yet” that followed that statement.

Violet turned her adoring gaze to her youngest son. “And, as Siger told you before, Sherlock will be attending Rovell College with your daughter.”

Mr. James smiled at Sherlock and reached to shake his hand. Sherlock returned the gesture with a mock-polite smile and only the briefest flicker of eye contact.

“Oh, yes,” Mr. James responded. “It’s a pleasure to meet a schoolmate of Gwen’s. I’d be glad to introduce you to her. She was helping her mother with some crisis in the kitchen. I’m sure they’ll be back any moment.” The older man’s eyes flicked to the doorway past Sherlock’s shoulder and broke into a genuine smile. “Speaking of-, here they come now.”

Everyone turned to face the two women walking toward them. Well, everyone except Sherlock. He stayed facing away, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the awkward, forced, and completely dull conversation that was sure to come.

Mr. James’ eyes sparkled as he looked at his daughter.

‘Oh how boring,’ Sherlock thought. ‘He’s one of those fathers that are completely wrapped around the little finger of their silly, spoiled daughter. He seems completely enamored. Dull, dull, dull.’

“Gwen, Love. Come here for a moment, please” Mr. James offered his hand to his daughter and guided her over to stand next to him.

Sherlock was staring at the fireplace, putting off looking at this insipid girl as long as possible.

“Gwenie, this is my business associate, Siger Holmes and his charming wife, Violet.”

‘Gwenie?’ Sherlock’s brain spat. ‘He calls her Gwenie? How horrid.’

Siger nodded to the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gwen. Your father speaks of you often. He’s very proud of you.”

Gwen laughed softly, “Oh, Mr. Holmes. I’m afraid my father often brags about me too much. I’m really not as wonderful as he wants people to think.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Violet cooed. “You’re absolutely lovely, dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Holmes.”

Sherlock looked toward his parents and could instantly read that they found this girl to be quite lovely, indeed. They seemed genuinely taken by her. For some reason, Sherlock found that irritating.

Mr. James turned Gwen and himself to face the Holmes brothers, and gestured to them in turn, “These are their sons; Mycroft and Sherlock.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw a Mycroft smile as he shook Gwendolyn James’ hand.

‘Well, that’s odd.’ Sherlock thought. ‘A real smile from Mycroft? Almost no one gets one of those.’

“Pleased to meet you, Miss James,” Mycroft said.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Holmes,” the girl replied. “And, please, call me Gwen.”

Mycroft’s grin widened as he responded: “Gwen, then. And I insist you call me Mycroft.”

Sherlock was shocked at this. ‘What the hell is going on? Mycroft loves being called ‘Mr. Holmes’. It makes him feel important and strokes his mighty ego. Just what is he playing at?’ Sherlock turned to look directly at Mycroft. Mycroft looked back at him and lifted an eyebrow before quickly returning his gaze to Gwendolyn. Then, he smiled at her AGAIN. Sherlock quickly read his brother’s body language. ‘For God’s sake! He’s enamored with her, too! What is it about this girl that has her charming the pants off everyone?’

Quite without his permission, Sherlock’s traitorous body turned to face Gwendolyn James. He just had to figure out what she was doing to impress everyone so much. As soon as his eyes landed on her, he was entranced.

Sherlock had never been one to notice a person’s physical attractiveness, but he was noticing now. The boy, who had never thought of anyone as ‘stunning’, was having difficulty finding any other words in his head right now. He’d never seen anyone as beautiful as this young lady.

She was quite tall for a woman. Even in her silver ballet flats, she was just a few inches shorter than Sherlock. She wasn’t exactly thin, but had attractive curves that sat marvelously on her frame. Her dark brown curls were pulled back and arranged into a simple, but elegant up do. She had gorgeous, creamy skin, rosy lips, and amazing emerald green eyes. All of this was accentuated by the perfectly-tailored dress she was wearing. It was the same shade of green as her eyes, overlaid with black lace. The effect was splendid. There was no one in the room that could hold a candle to her.

Time seemed to have stopped. It felt like he’d been staring at Gwendolyn for hours, but it was really only a few seconds before Mr. James interrupted his thoughts.

“Gwenie, Sherlock here is going to be going to school with you. He’s in your year at Rovell.”

The girl’s eyes met Sherlock’s and he suddenly felt like all the air had gone out of the room.

“Oh!” she responded, offering her hand to Sherlock with a smile. “Wonderful! It’s lovely to meet you, Sherlock.”

For just a fraction of a moment Sherlock couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even think of what he should say. Sherlock’s brain quickly kicked back into gear and he reached out to shake her hand. Her skin was warm and soft, but Sherlock felt a gentle strength underneath.

Sherlock was quickly beginning to suspect that Gwendolyn James wasn’t the silly, posh thing that he’d been expecting. There was something about her that his brain was picking up. There was something strange about the way she looked at him. He felt as though she were collecting information directly from his brain. He wanted to figure it out, but he wasn’t able to interpret the information at the moment. He was simply too taken with the girl.

‘Bloody hell! What’s happening to me? What is she doing to me?’

Sherlock tried to shake loose the parts of his mind that were stopped and cleared his throat.

“I’m pleased to meet you, too, Miss James,” he answered, slightly surprised at how strong his voice was.

“Gwen. Please.” She smiled again. “If we’re going to be classmates, we certainly don’t need silly titles.”

Sherlock could do nothing but give her a lopsided grin.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you and Sherlock go have a chat?” Mr. James asked. “Mr. Holmes and I have business to discuss.”

“Of course, Papa,” she replied. She then stepped over to Sherlock, took his arm, and smiled at him. Sherlock felt something tug in his chest. “Come with me, Sherlock. Let’s find a quiet place to talk.”

Chapter Text

Gwen had led Sherlock through the house until they found an empty couch in the lounge. They sat in silence for a few minutes, occasionally glancing at each other and just being generally awkward and stiff. Sherlock started when Gwen abruptly barked out a laugh.

“What?” Sherlock queried, eyeing the girl.

Gwen smiled hugely at him and again Sherlock felt something pull in his chest. That was becoming a bit concerning.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen giggled. “It’s just that this is so silly. I’m not shy. I can tell you’re not either. So why are we sitting here in silence?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know I’m not shy? You just met me less than ten minutes ago.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “And when were introduced, you were fairly confident and gave me a decent handshake. You looked me in the eye and didn’t mumble or hesitate. Also, you’ve been giving everyone the stink eye all night. A shy person wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t look directly at people. They would try to hide the fact that they had no desire to even be in the same room with these people. Basically, they’d be the complete opposite of you.”

Sherlock blinked at her for several moments.

“Did you just- Did you deduce me?” he sputtered, completely shocked.

“Deduce?” Gwen asked. She thought for a moment. “Well, yes. I guess that’s a good word for it. I’ve always just thought of it as ‘reading people’. Noticing the details and adding them up to get the story.”

‘Jesus Christ!’ Sherlock thought, studying the face of this girl who already seemed more intelligent than ninety per cent of the people he’d ever met. ‘Oh, yes. There’s something very interesting about you, Gwen. I need more data on you.’

“Mycroft and I do that, too. We’ve always called it ‘making deductions’.”

“Really?”

Sherlock nodded.

Gwen looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve never really met anyone else who did it.”

Without thinking, Sherlock replied, “That’s because most people are idiots.”

Gwen snorted out a laugh, “While that’s true, it’s also quite rude.” She searched his face for a moment then grinned. “When Papa told me I’d be meeting you tonight I was worried you’d be stupid and boring. I wasn’t looking forward to it at all.”

“I thought you’d be stupid and boring, too. I’ve spent days dreading this.”

Sherlock found himself relaxing. He was losing his stiff posture and a smile crept onto his face. Gwendolyn James was proving to be very stimulating, indeed. She was actually clever and decidedly not boring. She was charming. She was beautiful. She didn’t seem posh or spoiled in the least. She was… well, she was lovely, really. Sherlock had never found himself enjoying the company of anyone outside of his immediate family. This was completely new. Most importantly, she wouldn’t think he was a freak because of his deductions. She could do it, too. She would understand.

“Oh?” Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow. “And now that you’ve met me what do you think?”

“You’re definitely interesting.”

“Interesting, am I?” Gwen grinned. “Well, Sherlock Holmes, I think you’re interesting, too.”

Sherlock had to fight back the blush that was rising in his cheeks. Did she just say he was ‘interesting’? It was then that Sherlock realized something strange. He’d been in Gwendolyn James’ company for nearly a half-hour and he’d not been rude at all. Nor had he felt any need to deduce her or insult her.

Usually by this point he’d have gotten bored or irritated, deduced every one of a person’s sins, and laid them bare for all to see. He’d reduced strangers to tears solely for being stupid and dull. But something was different now. Something was different with this girl.

Gwen wasn’t dull. She wasn’t boring, stupid, irritating, or infuriating. She wasn’t the insufferable brat he’d expected. Gwen was simply unlike anyone Sherlock had ever met. She was affecting him in ways no one ever had and it was utterly perplexing. He couldn’t figure out what was happening to his brain and THAT was unacceptable.

Sherlock didn’t realize he’d been staring at Gwen until she looked away. She turned in her seat, studying the other people in room. When she started to stand up, Sherlock became slightly panicked.

‘Where is she going? What did I do? Did I say something wrong? I’m not done talking to her! I need more data on her. Why does she affect me this way? I don’t want her to go!’

Sherlock’s traitorous hand reached out and lightly grabbed Gwen’s elbow. She hadn’t stood up yet, so she settled back and looked at Sherlock with her eyebrows knitted together.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock mumbled, jerking his hand back and flushing with embarrassment at the impetuousness of his action. “I just- Um… Did I suddenly become boring or something?”

Gwen laughed.

‘God her laugh is beautiful. I want to make her laugh all the time. JESUS! What the hell is happening to me?’

“No, Sherlock. You’re not boring. Yet.” She smiled again and gave him a teasing wink. “But, you’re fingers are twitchy, you keep putting them near your mouth, and you’ve patted your jacket pockets several times. It’s obvious you want a cigarette, but you left yours at home. I was just going to go get you some.”

“Oh,” Sherlock replied.

Gwen leaned close. Sherlock had to hold back a shiver when her breath puffed in his ear as she whispered, “Keep your eyes on me. I think a bloke like you will enjoy this.”

Sherlock watched as Gwen gracefully stood up and strode across the room. She stopped beside an older man in a blue suit. He smiled when he saw her and drew her into a hug. Gwen was talking as she hugged the man and Sherlock watched as she slipped her hand into the pocket of his suit jacket. She quickly removed her hand from the pocket and hid it behind her back.

Gwen then said something to the man that caused him to begin looking around, seemingly searching for someone. While he was looking away, Gwen gestured for Sherlock to come over. Sherlock walked up and stood next to her. She turned to him, leaning in to place her mouth near Sherlock’s ear. She slid her hand into his jacket pocket, whispered “There you are, dear,’ and gave him a wink as she turned back to the older man. Sherlock had to take a deep breath to calm himself and slow his racing heart.

The man was looking at them with a grin and a raised eyebrow. Gwen giggled and blushed a bit.

“Sorry, Uncle David. This is my friend, Sherlock Holmes.”

‘What? Friend? Did she just say friend?’ But then Sherlock remembered what they were doing and he sobered up. ‘She didn’t mean it. She’s just trying to keep everyone distracted so we can get away with the cigarettes.” Sherlock pretended that he didn’t feel disappointed by that.

Sherlock’s last name caught David’s attention. Sherlock was used to that. It happened often in places like this. Anywhere London’s businessmen were rubbing elbows.

“Holmes, eh?” David asked, shaking Sherlock’s hand. “You wouldn’t happen to be one of Siger’s boys would you?”

“Yes, I am.” Sherlock answered, with a fake smile and a barely-suppressed eye roll.

David smiled. “I know your dad. We’ve worked together in the past. Is he here?”

Sherlock opened his mouth to give a rude answer. Gwen seemed to sense this and cut him off.

“Mr. Holmes is in the sitting room with Papa. I’m sure they’d both be pleased to see you.”

“Right, yes.” David responded, already turning to leave. “It was lovely seeing you, Gwen. Good to meet you, Holmes.”

After he walked off, Sherlock turned to see Gwen looking at him. They both broke into giggles.

“Did you just steal cigarettes from your uncle?”

“Shhhh!” Gwen hissed. “You wanted them, I got them. Now, come along, Holmes!”

Gwen took Sherlock’s arm again and led him back down the hall, through the sitting room (where David had joined their fathers by the fireplace), and out through a set of French doors.

Once outside, Gwen led Sherlock across the brick patio. They took a stone path out into the garden, through a wall of bushes, and into a clearing where several stone benches sat around a fountain. It was a lovely, warm night, but they appeared to be the only ones taking advantage of it. The gurgle of the fountain drowned out much of the noise from the house and the street beyond. The wall of hedges seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world. Sherlock immediately appreciated the peace and quiet.

“Here we go,” Gwen murmured softly, tugging Sherlock down next to her on one of the benches. “Our parents won’t be able to see us from here.”

Sherlock studied Gwen’s face as she gazed at the stars. Her skin seemed to glow, illuminated by fairy lights that were hung on the hedges. He pondered all the strange things that had happened tonight. Gwen seemed to immediately charm everyone she met. She wasn’t spoiled, stupid, boring, or rude. On the contrary; she was smart, funny, and kind. She hadn’t yet called Sherlock a freak, smacked his face, or abandoned him in a fit of rage.

‘Well,’ Sherlock thought, ‘that’s because you haven’t given her a reason to do any of that. You’ve been so taken with her that you haven’t been rude to her. You haven’t called her an idiot. You haven’t deduced her and revealed her secrets to everyone in the room. You’ve been downright nice to her!’

But why? Why did he like this girl? Why did he feel no need to deduce anything about her? What made her so charming to everyone? Most importantly; why did her smile make Sherlock’s heart beat faster?

Gwen looked over at him and Sherlock realized he was staring at her. She smiled at him again and Sherlock quickly looked away hoping his blush would be hidden in the dark.

“You ok?” Gwen asked.

“Of course I am,” Sherlock replied, a little more roughly than he’d intended. He glanced up and saw Gwen was frowning at him slightly.

“Sherlock, I can read people, remember? You’ve got questions. Ask them.”

Sherlock let out a quick breath. He had several questions, and he hated not having answers. But where to start?

“You confuse me,” Sherlock stated suddenly, surprising himself a bit. He hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud.

“Um… I’m… sorry?” Gwen responded.

“You’re just. Er, unusual, I guess. Everyone seems to like you immediately. Before they even know anything about you. You charm everyone. Even Mycroft likes you and he doesn’t like normal people.”

“Oh, I’m just a normal person, am I?” Gwen asked, her voice light and teasing.

“No. Actually. You’re not normal at all.” Sherlock’s eyes flew wide as he realized what he’d said, and he scrambled to cover it up. “N-not that you’re s-strange or anything! Oh, hell. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

‘Get a hold of yourself, Sherlock!’ He thought. ‘Are you actually worried that she might be offended? You’ve never worried about offending anyone in your life! What the hell is wrong with you? You’re stammering for God’s sake!’

“It’s fine, Sherlock,” Gwen laughed. “I knew what you meant.”

Sherlock found himself relieved that she wasn’t upset. It annoyed him immensely.

“I think people like me because I like them,” she continued. “I’m excited to meet new people and they see that. I try to be nice to everyone and it makes them want to be nice to me.

“Now, can I ask you a question?”

Sherlock blinked at her for a moment.

“I suppose so,” he cautiously replied.

“When I introduced you to my uncle, why did you look so shocked?” Gwen asked.

Sherlock looked away and thought about how to answer this. For some reason he didn’t want Gwen to know that he didn’t have friends. What if it made her not want to be his friend either? What if it made her think he was freak like everyone else did?

‘Well, if she’s going to abandon me, I’d rather her do it now instead of doing it in front of everyone when we get to school.’

Sherlock sighed and steeled himself for a potentially awkward conversation.

“It was because of how you did it,” he began. “You said, ‘This is my friend, Sherlock’. No one’s ever said that before. I don’t have friends.”

Gwen assumed Sherlock was joking. She started to laugh, but quickly stopped when Sherlock’s eyes locked onto hers. She could see so much in his gaze. There was honesty, pain, and something else. Something in his eyes was saying, ‘Please don’t laugh. I’m telling you the truth even though it hurts. I’m hoping that you don’t make me regret it. Please be kind. Please don’t treat me like others have. Please. Please.’

The flicker of emotion was there and gone so quickly, Gwen almost couldn’t be sure she’d seen it. Anyone else would have missed it. But Gwen could read people almost as well as Sherlock could and she hadn’t missed it. The silent plea broke Gwen’s heart. She decided right then and there, in her parents’ garden, just an hour after meeting him, that Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t be alone anymore. Everyone deserves to have friends. If no one wanted to be Sherlock’s friend, Gwen would gladly take up the slack.

“Why, Sherlock?’’ Gwen asked carefully, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you not want friends?”

“Whether I want them or not has never been an issue,” Sherlock let out a ragged breath, unsure of how to continue without making himself look bad. He’d just have to tell the truth. “I can be…difficult. I’m not very nice. I can’t stand how stupid and boring everyone is. I get very frustrated with them and I’m often rude. I’ve been known to make people cry. I also have a talent for making people so angry that they punch me.”

Gwen gasped. “Sherlock, that’s awful!”

That flicker of hurt slid across Sherlock’s face once again. He was certain Gwen was judging him and he knew he’d be found lacking. She wouldn’t want to associate with someone like Sherlock Holmes. She was sweetness and kindness while Sherlock was offensiveness and vitriol. He was considering just getting up and walking away before she could make up any transparent excuses to get away.

“People shouldn’t treat you that way.” Gwen said.

Sherlock’s head snapped up and his eyes met Gwen’s. He had expected to see distaste on her face, Sherlock instead found sadness and confusion.

“What?” Sherlock responded.

“I mean, you should be kinder and more patient with people, but that doesn’t give them the right to hit you or treat you so badly.”

“Mycroft says if I mouth off, I deserve what I get. But I can’t help it. How do you two do it?”

“How does who do what?” Gwen asked.

“You and Mycroft. You can both deduce people like I do, you get annoyed by stupid people, and yet you don’t run off at the mouth and get yourselves in trouble like I do.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know,” Gwen began, her brow scrunching in thought. Sherlock found it endearing. “I just grit my teeth and bare it, I suppose. If I’m going to make my way in the world, I’m going to need people to be willing to help me if I need it. If I’m nice to them, they’re going to be kind to me when I need it. I guess I’m building up insurance for later.”

Sherlock blinked at her or a moment. “That’s almost exactly what Mycroft says.”

“Well, there you have it!” Gwen chuckled. “Now, promise me you’ll try to be nice to me and not make me cry or tell all my secrets. I have something to promise you in return.”

“What are you going to promise me?” Sherlock asked, one eyebrow raising and smirk tugging at his mouth.

“I promise I’ll be your friend,” Gwen responded.

His heart seemed to skip a beat or two before kicking into overdrive. Sherlock stared at her in shock and instinctively studied her face for the familiar signs of teasing or malice that people usually gave him when they said things like this. But he found nothing. Gwen was looking steadily into his eyes, a soft smile on her face, and everything about her exuded honesty.

“Well?” Gwen said, pulling Sherlock from his thoughts. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” Sherlock croaked. He felt the blush rise yet again as Gwen laughed and he cleared his throat.

“So, are you going to smoke those cigarettes I stole for you, or not?” she asked, again gracing him with a beautiful smile.

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “I’d almost forgotten about them.”

Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out the package of cigarettes. He removed one from the box and offered it to Gwen.

“No thanks. I don’t smoke myself.”

“What?” Sherlock asked, surprised. “Then why did you steal the cigarettes?”

“You wanted them, so I got them for you,” she answered with a shrug.

Gwen had stolen cigarettes just because he wanted them? Why would anyone do that?

“You stole from you uncle, and risked getting in trouble, just because I wanted a fag?” Sherlock asked, utterly unable to believe what he was saying.

“Friends do things for each other,” Gwen laughed. “Maybe not stealing, but I wasn’t going to get in trouble because I wasn’t going to get caught. I’ve been doing things like that for years. Never been caught. Besides, my Uncle David is wonderful and sweet, but he’s not the smartest man in any room. Should I have stolen his lighter, too? Or do you have one?”

“I have one,” came a silky voice from behind them.

Sherlock’s eyes snapped up to glare at the man suddenly appearing over Gwen’s shoulder.

“Mycroft!” Sherlock growled. “How long have you been there?”

Chapter Text

Mycroft really hadn’t been nearby long. He’d only heard the last bit of Gwen and Sherlock’s conversation.

“I haven’t been hiding in the bushes and eavesdropping, if that’s what you’re worried about, brother mine,” Mycroft stated. “I just heard the lovely Gwen here ask if she should have stolen a lighter to go with your stolen cigarettes.” He looked at Gwen with an expression of mock outrage before turning to glower at Sherlock. “Give me one and I’ll let you use my lighter.”

“Piss off!” Sherlock replied. For some reason Sherlock really didn’t want Mycroft here right now. He didn’t want to share Gwen’s attention.

“Sherlock!” Gwen chastised, sounding very much like Mummy. “What did I just say about being nice to people?”

“Mycroft doesn’t count,” Sherlock sneered.

“Hush!” she hissed, reaching over to smack his knee. “He certainly does count. Quit being such a sod.”

Gwen turned and smiled up at Mycroft. She scooted closer to Sherlock, opening up a seat for the older Holmes. Gwen’s new proximity made Sherlock’s heart race again.

“Please have a seat, Mycroft.” She said, “Sherlock would be happy to share his cigarettes.”

“They’re mine!” Sherlock declared.

“I’m the one who stole them,” Gwen responded, “and in return, I want you to be nice and give one to your brother.”

Sherlock quickly realized that he didn’t have the ability to argue with Gwen. He wanted to please her, wanted her to think well of him. The only other person to ever have affected him that way was his mother. This was all so peculiar. Why did Gwen make him feel this way?

‘Because she’s agreed to be your friend,’ his brain offered. ‘Don’t mess this up. Just do as she says!’

Sherlock rolled his eyes and scoffed, but offered Mycroft the cigarette he’d been holding.

When Mycroft didn’t take the cigarette, Gwen and Sherlock both looked at him. Sherlock had never seen Mycroft look so utterly confused before. He just sat there, eyes going from Sherlock, to Gwen, and back again.

“Mycroft? You okay?” Gwen questioned.

Mycroft gave himself a shake and blinked rapidly for a moment. He then took the cigarette from Sherlock and answered, “Yes, fine. Thank you. I’ve just never seen anyone speak to Sherlock that way before. I’ve never seen him listen to anyone like that, either. That was impressive, Gwen.”

Gwen smirked and said, “Well, Sherlock and I had a talk about being rude to people.” She turned and smiled at Sherlock. “We’re going to be great friends.”

Mycroft lit his cigarette, handed the lighter to Sherlock, and then responded. “Friends? My dear, you must be something special. Sherlock has never had a friend in his life.”

“Oh, I’m very special.” Gwen said with a wink. “What about you, Mycroft? Do you want to be my friend, too?”

“I’d very much like to be your friend, Gwen.” Mycroft replied, giving Gwen a grin.

Sherlock didn’t like this. Gwen and Mycroft were almost flirting. Was Gwen attracted to Mycroft? How disgusting! But Sherlock knew something about Mycroft that would definitely turn Gwen off. He was about to spill Mycroft’s biggest secret, but Gwen’s words about not laying people bare in front of strangers came back to him and he stopped. He decided to keep the secret close to his chest and only use it if he had to.

They all sat for a while. Gwen and Mycroft talked about Mycroft’s job and where Gwen lived before she moved here. Sherlock sulked and chain smoked while he listened.

“Mycroft, now that we’re friends can I ask you a bit of a personal question?” said Gwen. “You don’t have to answer me, of course. I’m just curious.”

Mycroft might have been uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to show it. “I suppose so.”

Gwen looked around quickly to make sure they were still alone before placing a hand on Mycroft’s arm and leaning close.

“Mycroft,” she whispered, “are you gay?”

Sherlock choked on the smoke from his cigarette. How had she figured that out? The only person that knew that was Sherlock. He’d figured it out a couple years ago and when he questioned Mycroft about it, Mycroft had explained that his sexual preference needed to stay a secret for now. Not everyone in the government would be accepting of it and Mycroft didn’t want it to affect his career path. Sherlock had agreed to keep it to himself.

Mycroft’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He looked away and cleared his throat before looking back at Gwen.

“What makes you ask, Gwen?” Mycroft questioned.

“She deduced it, Mycroft,” Sherlock answered with a grin. “She can deduce people just like we do. She did me earlier.”

Mycroft was astounded, but utterly pleased. “Oh, my dear! You are full of surprises, aren’t you? Yes, I’m gay. But I would prefer for that fact to not get out. Not until I reach my goals in my work with the government.”

“I understand completely, Mycroft!” Gwen nodded. “I was wondering though, if you’d be interested in meeting someone. Unless you’re already seeing someone, of course.”

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no,” Mycroft answered.

“Would you be interested in dating someone?” she prodded.

“Perhaps. If the right sort of man came along.”

A beep sounded in the air. Gwen reached into a well-concealed pocket on her dress and removed a mobile phone. She checked the text message as she continued talking to Mycroft.

“He’s smart, he went to uni, he has a good job where he is determined to move up the ranks, and he’s very handsome,” Gwen sounded quite excited. “And according to this text message, he’s just arrived!”

“Did you use telepathy to lure him here?” Sherlock snorted.

Gwen laughed as she tapped out a message. “Don’t be silly. I reserve my telepathy for communicating with people who don’t have my mobile number.” Mycroft and Sherlock both chuckled. “He’s my cousin. My Uncle David’s son, in fact.” She lowered her phone and looked at Mycroft again. “So what do you say, Mycroft? Want to meet a devastatingly attractive bloke?”

Mycroft felt himself blushing a bit. This made him a tiny bit uneasy, but he really was interested. It had been quite a while since he’d been in any sort of relationship and a man does have needs.

“I suppose that would be fine,” Mycroft mumbled.

Gwen broke into a huge smile as she stood up. “Oh, it’ll be better than fine. I think you two are going to get along fabulously. I’ll go get him. You both stay here.”

Gwen giggled as she walked away, leaving the brothers alone. Mycroft caught Sherlock’s eye and gave him a look that made Sherlock roll his eyes.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked through gritted teeth.

“A friend?” Mycroft asked with a grin. “You, Sherlock Holmes, have made a friend?”

“Shut up,” Sherlock muttered. He recognized that he was feeling embarrassed but didn’t really know why. He supposed that he didn’t want Mycroft to see him being so close to ordinary. Normal people had friends, not Sherlock Holmes.

“I think it’s great, Sherlock.” Mycroft said.

Sherlock studied his brother’s face, expecting to see a sneer, or evidence that he was teasing. In Mycroft’s eyes Sherlock saw only honesty and a flicker of something else. Something that looked an awful lot like relief. That unsettled Sherlock a bit. What had Mycroft been concerned about?

His confusion must have shown on his face because Mycroft answered the unspoken question.

“I worry about you, little brother,” Mycroft sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m no fool. I know you’ve never been good with people. I know your classmates aren’t kind to you. And I know you’d never admit to being lonely, but you are.”

Sherlock sat up straighter and opened his mouth to unleash a string of denials and insults. Mycroft held up his hand in a placating gesture and Sherlock’s mouth snapped shut.

“It’s okay, Sherlock. I know about it all and I’m not going to lecture you or anything. All I’m saying is that I think Gwen could be good for you. She seems to be able to handle you, which is exactly the sort of thing you need in a friend.” Mycroft smiled at Sherlock. It was a real smile, but it was tinged with the slightest bit of sadness. “Don’t mess it up, brother dear.”

‘God knows I’ll try not to,” Sherlock thought.

The brothers heard a pair of voices getting gradually louder as they drew closer. One was Gwen’s voice; the other was the deep, velvety voice of a man.

Sherlock glanced at his brother just in time to see a wave of nervousness pass over Mycroft’s face. Sherlock placed a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder and shot him a quick, reassuring smile. The older Holmes smiled back and then schooled his features into a calm mask. They stood up just as Gwen came through the hedges leading a young man by the hand.

Gwen and her cousin were laughing merrily. Sherlock could tell were very close and they loved each other very much. More like brother and sister than cousins.

Suddenly, Sherlock remembered that Gwen had brought her cousin out here with the intention of hooking him up with Mycroft. The thought of his older brother getting a leg over made Sherlock feel slightly ill. He looked down at his shoes and tried to pretend that none of this was happening.

“Here we are,” Gwen said, trying to suppress her giggles. “These are my new friends; the Holmes brothers. This is gorgeous creature is Mycroft, and the sulky git back there is Sherlock.’

Something fiery curled in Sherlock’s stomach. Gwen had just praised Mycroft while insulting Sherlock! Had Sherlock done something wrong? Did she like Mycroft better? Or… wait. Maybe she was just teasing? Friends did that didn’t they?

Sherlock’s eyes snapped up just in time to see Gwen drop him a wink. His flash of anger faded and he smirked.

‘Oh. She was just teasing. Ok then.’

He was still upset about her calling Mycroft ‘gorgeous’, but he’d have to examine his feelings about that later.

“Boys,” Gwen continued, “this handsome, smart, brave man is my cousin; Police Sargent Gregory Lestrade.”

Chapter Text

Mycroft studied the man in front of him. Gwen hadn’t been exaggerating. Gregory Lestrade was a very handsome man, indeed. If Mycroft had to guess, he’d say Lestrade was a couple years older than himself; around 26, most likely. He was a few inches shorter than Mycroft, and very fit. His dark brown hair was short, but long enough that it was charmingly tousled. Lestrade’s eyes were the color of melted chocolate, and his skin was lightly tanned. His suit wasn’t tailored, but it fit well enough to hint at an impressive body underneath.

Without even thinking about it, Mycroft’s eyes started searching Lestrade for tiny details to help deduce more facts about him.

He was dressed in a suit, but wasn’t entirely comfortable in it. His tie was just loose enough to be noticeable, but not loose enough to be considered inappropriate. He’d rather be in something casual. The image of Lestrade in a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt made Mycroft stutter a breath.

Lestrade had a hole in one earlobe where an earring had once been worn. That, combined with the delightfully mussed hair, loose tie, and preference for casual attire, made Mycroft wonder if there had a ‘punk’ phase in the Sargent’s past.

Well, that was an attractive mental image. Mycroft had always had a bit of a soft spot for ‘bad boys’. Not that he’d ever admit it.

He had a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw. While that was deliciously attractive, Mycroft deduced that it meant Lestrade had come straight to the party after work. He looked a bit tired, but there was warmth in his eyes which told Mycroft that this striking man was actually excited to meet him. And that was good, wasn’t it? It gave Mycroft the bit of confidence he needed to speak first.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sargent Lestrade,” Mycroft said, stretching out a hand to the other man.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Greg replied silkily, shaking Mycroft’s hand and giving him a heart-stopping smile, “but please, call me Greg. Gregory, if you must. Almost anything except ‘Sargent’ is fine, really. I try to leave the title at the station. Alright if I just call you Mycroft?”

“I insist,” Mycroft answered.

Their hands remained clasped long after the handshake should have been over, the two men smiling and looking into each other’s eyes. This didn’t escape Gwen’s notice and she was barely able to contain a giggle.

“Ren?” She said, breaking the spell and causing the men to release each other’s hands.

“Oui, ma chère?” Greg replied, blinking at her.

Sherlock and Mycroft both wondered, briefly if they should mention that they both spoke perfect French; just in case Gwen and Greg wanted to keep their conversation private. But Gwen spoke again before either Holmes could speak up. They found themselves following the conversation, translating it in their heads.

“Pourquoi ne prenez-vous pas que bel homme sur cette autre banc et flirt avec lui en privé?” Gwen asked with a cheeky wink.

“Bonne idée!” Greg said, “Je vous ai dit dernièrement que vous êtes le meilleur cousin jamais?”

“Je sais, je sais. Il suffit de dire merci et me donner un baiser.” Gwen answered, turning her cheek up so Greg could kiss it.

“Merci, belle.” Greg laughed, leaning in to place a kiss on Gwen’s face. “Aimez-vous.”

“Je t'aime aussi. Allez! Je veux que les détails plus tard!” Gwen and Greg both giggled.

Greg turned back to face Mycroft who was blushing a bit from what had been said.

“Oh!” said Greg, noticing the redness in Mycroft’s cheeks, “Of course, you’d speak French, wouldn’t you? Well, you heard her. She’s chasing us off. Would you care to come sit with me, Mycroft?”

“Yes, I think I would like that very much, Gregory.” Mycroft answered.

The two older men walked across the clearing to sit on the bench across from where Gwen and Sherlock had been sitting.

Gwen turned and took Sherlock’s arm again, looking up at him.

“You still ok sitting here? You might have to witness your brother flirting… being flirted with… whatever…”

“I want another cigarette, and the fountain should block my view,” Sherlock said. “Just keep talking to me so I don’t think about it.”

“I can do that,” They returned to their seats. Gwen watched Sherlock light another cigarette. “What shall we talk about?”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Mycroft spent quite some time studying the gorgeous man sitting next to him. They made small talk; chatting about the boring party, which schools they had attended, et cetera. Things polite young British gentlemen talk about.

“So, you’re a police officer?” Mycroft said. “That must be fascinating.” Secretly he thought that everything about Gregory’s life must be fascinating.

“Well, it’s alright for now,” Greg answered with an easy smile. “I like helping people and doing my duty. But I don’t want to be a beat cop forever.”

“No? What do you want to do?”

“I want to be a detective. I want to solve the big crimes. Murders, jewelry heists, human trafficking; things like that. I want to really make a difference in the world. Nothing does that quite like catching serial killers and the like.”

“That does sound quite exciting. But isn’t it very dangerous to work for the police? You could be hurt or killed by one of those murders.”

“Concerned about my safety already, Mr. Holmes?” Greg asked with a flirty laugh. “That’s very sweet.”

Mycroft blushed and mumbled, “Yes, well.”

Greg chuckled and stretched his arm out along the back to the bench. He was leaning in close and invading Mycroft’s personal space, but Mycroft didn’t mind at all. In fact, he turned his body toward Greg, closing the space between them just a bit more.

“What do you do, Mycroft?”

“Nothing nearly as exciting as fighting crime or solving murders.” Mycroft replied. “I recently took up a minor position in the government.”

“Wow. That actually sounds quite exciting. So, what? Are you some kind of politician? Or maybe a spy?”

“Not exactly. It’s really not a very important job. However, much like you, I intend to move up as quickly as possible. I have high ambitions.” Mycroft cocked an eyebrow at Greg.

‘Okay,’ Greg thought, ‘that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. I think I’m in trouble with this one. He’s definitely too good to let get away.’

“Mycroft? I know we’ve just met and all, but I’m finding you very intriguing. I already know that I’d like to see you again. Are you busy tomorrow?”

Actually Mycroft did have things to do tomorrow, but decided quickly that he’d cancel every single thing on his schedule for the chance to see this god-like man again.

“I happen to be completely free tomorrow. I’d be glad to see you again. What will we do?”

“How about we make it a double date? You, me, Gwenie, and Sherlock. We can make a day of it. We’ll go into London, have a quick lunch, visit a museum, hit some tourist spots or something, and then do dinner and a movie.”

“That sounds lovely, Gregory.”

Greg’s smile grew so large, he worried it might split his face in two.

“Great! I’ll text Gwen about it.’ Greg pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and started tapping the keys, “In the meantime, tell me more about this ‘minor position’ in the government.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

“You and your cousin seem very close,” Sherlock said between puffs on his cigarette. “Much closer than any cousins I know. I despise all mine. They’re idiots.”

“Yeah,” Gwen looked over at Greg with a soft, affectionate smile on her lips. Then, she looked down at her hands and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. Sherlock could tell she was looking for the right words. “Greg and I were practically raised as siblings. According to Mum, we’ve been nearly inseparable since the day I was born. He was even at the hospital when I was delivered.

“His mum died in a car crash when he was three and Uncle David really had no idea how to raise a kid alone. My mum is Uncle David’s sister. She kind of stepped up to take Aunt Maggie’s place. Greg stayed with us a lot while Uncle David was on business trips with Papa. Eventually, he just started staying with us all the time. He has his own bedroom upstairs. Mum moved all his stuff here from our old house and set it up for him.

“Everyone always thought we were brother and sister instead of cousins. To be honest, I’ve always felt that way, too. We may not be biological siblings, but we were raised in the same house. We’ve shared and argued, fought and loved, cheered each other on and teased each other mercilessly. He’s healed my broken heart more times than I can count. He’s the most precious person in the world to me.”

Gwen looked up at Sherlock, her face now a mask of comical over-seriousness. “That being said; if he hurts Greg, I will murder your brother.”

Her mask slid away as she and Sherlock both broke out in peals of laughter.

“Can I help?” Sherlock asked between chuckles. “I am a genius, I’m sure I can think up a great number of places to hide his body.”

This made Gwen laugh even harder. Her cheeks were flushing from exertion and tears were shining in her eyes. Sherlock felt that worrisome tugging sensation in his chest again.

‘Christ, she’s fantastic! Her laugh is so beautiful. Her pink cheeks are adorable. SHIT! Did I really just think that? ADORABLE? I’ve never used that word in my life. Where the hell did that even come from?’

“We may not have to bother,” Gwen answered. “Have you looked at them? Seriously, look.”

Sherlock leaned to the side so he could peek at the older men behind the fountain. They were sitting quite close together. Their bodies were angled toward each other, and Greg’s arm was laid along the back of the bench behind Mycroft’s shoulders. They were speaking in low voices with shy smiles and flirty eyes.

Sherlock groaned. “Well, that’s thoroughly disgusting.”

Gwen tutted and gave him a glare. “Stop that, Sherlock. I think they’re lovely. The second I realized Mycroft was gay, I knew I had to introduce him to Greg. They’re perfect for each other. Just look at them! They’re so cute together!”

“Hmmm,” Sherlock replied. “If you say so. Greg is texting someone. You sure he doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

“Oh I’m quite sure. Greg always tells me when he’s seeing someone.”

“I wonder who he’s texting then.”

Gwen’s text alert noise rang out again and she grinned at him as she retrieved the phone from her pocket.

“Guess that answers that question, eh?” she said, swiping the screen and reading the text. She giggled as she held the phone out for Sherlock to read.

‘I’m taking this sexy bastard out tomorrow. We’re thinking about making a day out of it in the city. Lunch, museums, tourist spots, dinner, and a movie. How about you and your Holmes come with us and make it a double date?’

Sherlock’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

“You mean Greg hasn’t already been disgusted or bored to death by Mycroft? He actually wants to see him again? Gwen, is your cousin mentally stable?”

“Oh shut it, you tosser!” Gwen laughed. “Greg is perfectly fine. He and Mycroft are adorable together. What do you say? Shall we make it a double date?”

‘Date? Did she just say date?’

Some of Sherlock’s panic and confusion must have shown on his face because Gwen rushed to calm him.

“It doesn’t have to be an actual date, Sherlock,” she said. “We can just go as friends. It’s fine. I’d just like to spend more time with you. Get to know you better.”

No one had ever wanted to spend more time with Sherlock. Anyone forced into his presence in public would quickly find something else to do when he began deducing or just being an arsehole. At school, anyone assigned to work with him would usually ignore him and let him do all the work until the project was over and they could go back to hating him outright. Certainly no one had ever asked to spend the day with him. Gwendolyn James was proving to be unique in many respects. Sherlock decided he couldn’t let this opportunity pass. Worst case scenario, he would be able to study Gwen more and enjoy some more time with her before she started to hate him like everyone else.

The thought of Gwen hating him made a sick feeling creep into Sherlock’s stomach and caused an unpleasant tightness in his chest.

‘Anxiety?’ Sherlock ‘We’ve only just met and the thought of her going away already causes me anxiety? I don’t understand.’

“Sherlock?” Gwen asked, laying a hand over one of Sherlock’s. “You ok?”

“Hmm? Yeah, fine.”

“Got a little lost in the great brain of yours, did you?”

“Yes.”

“Back now?”

“I believe so.”

Gwen smiled and removed her hand. If Sherlock briefly mourned the loss of contact, well that’s no one’s business, is it?

“Good, now what do you say? Want to go to London tomorrow? Just friends. And I promise to keep you entertained if Greg and Mycroft get all mushy and disgusting.”

“I’ll go if you promise never to talk about my brother like that again,” Sherlock grimaced.

“Can’t make that promise, dear.”

“It sickens me.”

“Sorry. Not stopping though. Still coming with me?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

Again Gwen’s smile struck Sherlock dumb. It glowed with warmth that Sherlock thought he could feel into his very core. It confused him deeply.

XXXXXXXXXX

You do move quickly, don’t you? We’ll go with you, but the date is yours alone. Sherlock and I are just friends. You two handsome gents sort out the details and fill us in later.

“Well,” Greg said, showing Mycroft the message from Gwen. “I don’t believe that. You?”

“Just friends? Yes. For now, anyway. Gwen is his first and only friend, actually. Sherlock is a strange and difficult person. People find him off-putting.”

“Are you serious? Poor lad doesn’t have any friends at all?”

Mycroft looked toward Sherlock and frowned.

“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “I’ve done all I could to help him, but he didn’t make it easy. I worry about him constantly.”

“You don’t have to worry about Gwen,” Greg said, smiling. “She’s sweet as sugar and nice as they come. I know her better than anyone. She’s got a big heart. It’ll hurt her that Sherlock’s alone and she’ll take care of him.”

“I do hope so,” the younger man responded, turning back to look at Greg and give him a grin. “He could use someone like that.”

“I also know what Gwen looks like when she likes some as more than ‘just a friend’. And now you do, too.”

Mycroft chuckled, “Yes, I thought I was seeing something like that. This will be interesting to watch.”

“We’ll have to keep an eye on those two, eh?”

“Indeed.”

XXXXXXXX

“Where did you and Greg learn French?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, Lestrade is a French name, isn’t it? Where do you think we learned it?”

“Your mum,” he sighed. “How’d I forget about that?”

“Our grandparents moved to London from France after they were married. Grand-père had been offered a job here and he asked Grand-mère to come with him. Her family didn’t approve and never spoke to her again. Grand-mère wanted to make sure her children spoke English and French, Mum did the same thing with Greg and me. She spoke it to us all the time as kids. Papa spoke to us in English so we learned both easily.

“You and Mycroft speak French, too. I assume some fancy tutor taught you?”

“Yep,” Sherlock answered. “We also speak Spanish, Italian, German, and Chinese. I’m passable in Japanese and Portuguese, as well.”

“Bloody hell,” Gwen breathed. “You two are just too smart to be real.”

“And you curse more than any girl I’ve ever met,” Sherlock chuckled.

Gwen blushed and Sherlock’s heart pounded again at the sight of it.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. That’s Greg’s fault. He has a bad mouth and I picked it up along the way.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sherlock quickly replied. “I kind of like it. It’s sort of… charming? I usually find girls endlessly boring. They’re always trying to be so proper and polite. It’s endlessly dull.”

“Well, I do try to make it a point to never be dull.”

“So far, you are succeeding.”

Gwen smiled up at him and Sherlock couldn’t help but smile back. Sherlock could feel that there was something going on here. Something was happening between Gwen and himself. It was very rare for Sherlock not to understand something, but he had to admit, he had absolutely no idea what was happening right now.

Chapter Text

Mycroft and Greg had just finished planning their trip into the city when Mycroft’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Excuse me, Gregory,” Mycroft said with a sigh. “It seems someone is interrupting us with a text message.”

“How rude of them!” Greg joked. “You tell them to sod right off.”

“Well, it’s from my mother. Shall I pass along your message?”

Greg pretended to think it over. “Better not. Don’t need her forbidding you to see me before I even get one date.”

“I’d certainly ignore her if she did,” Mycroft murmured quietly with a soft smile and the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Greg just studied Mycroft’s face for a moment, trying to commit that beautiful blush to memory so he could keep it forever. He was tempted to lean forward and press his lips to Mycroft’s, but decided it was just too soon for that. He needed to distract them both.

“Are you going to answer your mum or…?” Greg asked.

“Ah! Yes, I um… I forgot,” Mycroft responded, blushing a bit harder and making it even more tempting to kiss him.

Myc, where are you? Have you seen your brother? I hope he’s not wreaking havoc somewhere. Can you try to find him? Your father and I are ready to go.

Mycroft frowned and typed out a reply.

Sherlock is with me. We’ve been conversing with Gwen and her cousin. Sherlock has been surprisingly well behaved. We’ll say our goodbyes and meet you at the car in a few minutes.

“Well, that’s quite a scowl you’re wearing, Mycroft,” Greg said carefully. “Everything ok?”

“No. Well, yes. It’s just- we have to go.”

“And that makes you upset does it?” Greg tried to hide the grin that was threatening to bloom on his face.

“Um… Ah-I uh...” Mycroft stuttered, embarrassed both at his inarticulateness and the fact that Greg had read his emotions so well.

The sight of Mycroft sputtering and blushing harder than before made Greg laugh. This gorgeous ginger-haired man was absolutely endearing and Greg could already feel himself falling hard for Mycroft Holmes.

Greg reached over and grabbed Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft stopped stammering and his eyes snapped to Greg’s. The older man held Mycroft’s gaze as he brought their hands up to his face and brushed his lips along Mycroft’s knuckles.

“Calm down, Mycroft,” Greg said softly, “I don’t particularly want to see you go, but we’ll see each other tomorrow, yeah?”

Mycroft blinked at Greg for a moment. The feeling of Greg’s lips on his skin had frozen Mycroft’s brain. Burning in his chest reminded Mycroft to breathe. The burst of oxygen cleared his mind and he was finally able to answer.

“Yes, Gregory. Yes, we will see each other tomorrow. I cannot wait.”

“Me either. Give me your mobile number. I’ll give you mine and you can text if you miss me too much.” He gave Mycroft a mischievous grin and reached for his phone. He didn’t release his hold on Mycroft’s hand.

XXXXXXXXX

“Oh, God,” Sherlock groaned. “I’m going to be sick.”

Gwen followed Sherlock’s glare over to the two men on the other bench. They watched as Greg kissed Mycroft’s hand and said something that made Mycroft smile.

“That’s. Too. Cute!” Gwen giggled. “Look at them. Holding hands, being adorable, making the world believe in love at first sight. “

“Yes, I’m definitely going to be sick,” Sherlock replied, leaning over to put his head between his knees.

“Stop it, you,” Gwen hissed, smacking Sherlock’s thigh. “They’re absolutely precious and I won’t have you being an arse about it. You leave your brother alone and do not tease him about this or I’ll make you regret it.”

Sherlock sat up straighter and eyed the girl. He inclined an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh, really? You think you could make me regret something I enjoy as much as making Mycroft’s life miserable? I don’t think you can.”

“I can, too! I’ll hold you down and make you watch while Greg and Mycroft snog each other senseless.”

“I’m going to vomit.”

“Keep that in mind when the urge to tease your brother arises.”

“I will be deleting this conversation from my memory as soon as possible so I never have to deal with that mental image again,” Sherlock sniffed.

“You’d delete a memory of me? Have I already lost your favor, Mister Holmes?”

“I’ve already forgotten who you are,” he replied

Gwen gasped and placed her hand over her heart. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in mock pain. “I shall never recover from this heartbreak.”

The two teens looked at each other for a moment before they simultaneously dissolved into giggles. Gwen took Sherlock’s arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking across the clearing and watching the older men.

Sherlock froze. On the inside he was panicking. What was Gwen doing? Why was she leaning on him? No one had ever been this close to him. In general, Sherlock hated being touched. However, he had to admit that he didn’t hate this. Gwen had touched Sherlock more this evening than anyone had in months, and that seemed to be just fine. In fact, Sherlock kind of liked it.

The weight of Gwen against him and the warmth from her touch was sort of grounding him. The smells of the garden were drowned out by the smell of Gwen. Sherlock breathed her in. She smelled of expensive shampoo, coconuts, and some type of flowers (Tulips, maybe?). Under that was a warm, amber scent that Sherlock thought must be just Gwen; the organic smell of her skin. It was hard to pin down. All together everything fused into something that was comforting and intoxicating.

His mind began to slow down. He was only thinking about the two of them, the feel of breeze, and the sound of the fountain. Everything else was being filtered away. Sherlock’s mind had never been this quiet. At first he was alarmed, but that quickly passed and he found himself sinking into a calm relaxation. His limbs felt heavy and warm.

“I think you’re about to have to leave,” Gwen said, pulling Sherlock out of his head.

“Hmm?” Sherlock was so relaxed he couldn’t be bothered to actually speak.

“Your brother and my cousin are exchanging mobile numbers and looking sad. Seems a like a goodbye is coming.”

Gwen sat back up, but didn’t release Sherlock’s arm. Without her comforting weight against him and her entrancing scent surrounding him, the haze began to clear from his mind. He idly wondered if he should ask Gwen for her mobile number. He’d seen his classmates constantly texting their friends, but he’d never had the number of anyone outside his family. The thought of being able to talk to Gwen whenever he wanted was extremely appealing.

He opened his mouth to ask Gwen for her number, but suddenly became very nervous. What if she didn’t want him to be able to bother her whenever he felt like it? What if she didn’t want to waste her time talking to him? She probably had all sorts of more important things to do.

“If you don’t close your mouth, you might catch a fly,” Gwen joked.

Sherlock snapped his jaw shut with a click. Gwen chuckled lightly and Sherlock’s heart fluttered.

“You ok? I thought you were gonna say something, but then you just sort of sat there, gaping.”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock sniffed, straightening his spine to hopefully hide his nervousness. “I was just, um-. Well, I was going to… I was wondering if we should trade mobile numbers, as well. Like Greg and Mycroft, I mean.”

“Way ahead of you, darling,” Gwen answered. She grinned as she held up her hand, gripping Sherlock’s mobile.

“What-?” the boy began, but everything quickly slid into place and he sighed, “Did you pickpocket me?”

“Yes,” Gwen answered. “I can’t be wasting all of my telepathic prowess on you, after all. You were daydreaming and I was bored. I had to do something. So, I took you phone, entered my mobile number and sent myself a text so I have your number now, too. All sorted.”

Sherlock grinned as he took his phone and put it back in his pocket. “Do you pickpocket everyone?”

“If I’m bored, anyone is fair game.” Gwen replied.

“You have to teach me.”

“Certainly,” Gwen responded. As though that was the most normal of requests.

“Do friends normally pickpocket each other?”

Gwen huffed a laugh. “Not usually, no. But I doubt much about us is ever going to be normal. No reason to not be unusual from the start.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Mycroft and Greg strolled over to where Sherlock and Gwen were sitting and informed them that it was, indeed, time for the brothers to leave. The four of them made their way across the garden, through the house, and out the front door to Gwen’s doorstep where they stopped to say their goodbyes.

Mycroft turned to Gwen, an unabashed smile in his eyes, and grasped her hands.

“Gwen, it was lovely to meet you. I do hope we’ll become very good friends.”

“Oh, Mycroft,” Gwen said, smiling brightly at him, “I don’t doubt that we will be the very best of friends. I’ll get your number from Greg and we can gossip about him.”

“I look forward to it,” Mycroft replied, shooting a glance toward Greg, who looked slightly panicked at the idea.

Mycroft and Gwen both laughed. The older Holmes leaned forward to kiss Gwen’s cheek. He held her there a moment and whispered in her ear; “Thank you, Gwen. Sincerely, thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, Mycroft. Be good to him, yeah?” She answered softly.

Mycroft stepped back and looked Gwen in the eye as he nodded sternly. “You have my word on that.”

Gwen smiled back as he pulled away and stepped closer to Greg. The two men walked to the other side of the small porch to say their own goodbyes.

Greg was smiling but it was tinged with sadness. It made Mycroft’s chest vaguely achy.

“I have to admit, I’m not exactly happy to watch you leave,” Greg complained, voice low enough that only Mycroft could hear.

“And I’m not happy to be leaving. If I had my choice, I’d stay and chat longer. But, we’ll have tomorrow.” Mycroft answered softly.

Greg’s face brightened a bit. “Yeah. That’ll be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Greg wanted very much to kiss Mycroft goodbye.

Mycroft wanted very much for Greg to kiss him goodbye.

But, again, Greg’s sense of chivalry won out and he settled for kissing Mycroft’s cheek. And if his lips lingered there a bit longer than would be appropriate, Mycroft didn’t complain. So that was fine.

“Goodnight, Mycroft,” Greg murmured.

“Goodnight, Gregory,” Mycroft whispered. His voice wasn’t strong enough for anything more.

Oh, Mycroft Holmes was in deep.

Gwen and Sherlock had been watching the older men. When Greg and Mycroft stepped apart and Mycroft started walking toward the driveway, Sherlock let out a put-upon sigh.

“Well that was horrific,” he said.

“Oi! Shut it, you bugger.” Greg responded with a grin as he turned back toward the house. “It was nice to meet you, Sherlock. See you tomorrow.

The younger Holmes groaned and looked to Gwen. He wore a convincing imitation of terror on his face. “They’re going to like that tomorrow, aren’t they?”

“Mmmm, probably worse,” Gwen answered.

“I’m not going. My stomach won’t be able to handle it.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be there to distract you.”

“If I pass out and hit my head, will you drag my body back with you?”

“Nope. So make sure you’re near something soft before you fall.”

They started giggling again. As the laughter subsided, Sherlock became unsure of what he should do now.

He looked at Gwen with narrowed eyes and asked, “Am I supposed to kiss you now?”

Gwen’s expression suddenly became very serious.

“Um…wh- what?” she stammered.

“When Mycroft said goodbye, he kissed your cheek. When Greg said goodbye to Mycroft, he kissed Mycroft’s cheek. Am I supposed to kiss you now?”

“Oh!” Gwen replied, looking a bit relieved. “Um… You can if you’d like. I never turn down a peck from a handsome bloke. And being kissed by both of the lovely Holmes boys in one night would certainly be the highlight of my week. But you don’t have to. Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine, Sherlock.”

Sherlock considered this for a moment. He’d never given a goodbye kiss to anyone except his mother and grandmother, and that had stopped a long time ago. But he found himself wanting to try it. He attempted to convince himself it was only an experiment to see what all the fuss was about. He almost made himself believe it.

He leaned forward stiffly and brushed his lips quickly against Gwen’s cheek. He ignored how warm and soft it was. Ignored the urge to do it again, or to wrap his arms around Gwen’s waist and hold her there for a while.

‘What am I doing?’ Sherlock thought, ‘I need to get out of here and away from her. I need time to think and figure out why she affects me this way!’

“Right, ok,” Sherlock said a bit too loudly, “I’ll just be off then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gwen responded, gently.

“Yes.” Sherlock turned and started toward his father’s car.

“Goodnight, Sherlock,” Gwen called after him.

“Goodnight,” he answered, not looking back.

He all but leapt into the backseat of his father’s car and steadfastly ignored Mycroft’s smug smile all the way home.

Chapter Text

Once Sherlock was safely instilled in the backseat, Siger pulled out of the driveway and started on them on their way home. Both Holmes brothers silently prayed that their mother wouldn’t start asking questions about their activities during the party. They should have known better.

Violet turned and grinned at her youngest son. “Well, Sherlock. That was the first time we’ve ever been to a party where one of us wasn’t required to call you down for terrible behavior. I’ve never been more proud of you.”

Mycroft snorted and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Mycroft said that the two of you spent the evening talking to Gwen and her cousin? You didn’t say anything I’m going to have to apologize for, did you?”

Sherlock glared at Mycroft. Stupid, fat sod couldn’t ever keep anything to himself. Blabbermouth.

“No, Mummy,” Mycroft answered. “Sherlock was actually quite pleasant. He and Gwen get along very well.”

“And Mycroft and Gregory get on marvelously,” Sherlock offered with a smirk, causing Mycroft to shoot him a look that translated to ‘don’t you dare’. Sherlock chuckled and looked out the window.

“Oh?” Violet said, “Mycroft? Is Gregory Gwen’s cousin?”

“Yes.”

“Is he your age?”

“Yes,” Mycroft replied, brushing invisible lint off his trousers.

“What does he do?”

“He’s a Police Sargent in London.”

“I see,” Violet responds, “That’s a very respectable career choice.”

“I quite agree,” Mycroft looked down at his hands in lap and a smile touched his lips.

Mummy Holmes grinned to herself. She could hear things in Mycroft’s words that he didn’t realize were there. She privately hoped that her oldest boy would bring his Sargent around soon. She’d quite like to meet the man that already had Mycroft so besotted.

XXXXXXXX

Siger pushed open the front door of the Holmes’ house and entered the vestibule. Violet followed, trailed by Mycroft. Sherlock entered the house last, shutting and locking the door behind him. He turned to face his family; Mummy and Father standing at the bottom of the staircase and Mycroft halted just in front of the door to the study.

“Mycroft, are you headed back into London tomorrow?” Siger asked, wrapping an arm around Violet’s waist.

“Not quite. I have don’t have to be back in the office until Monday. I had some meetings scheduled for tomorrow, but they’ll have to be postponed.”

“Oh? Something come up, son?” Siger looked slightly concerned. Canceling meetings wasn’t something Mycroft ever did unless it was absolutely necessary.

Sherlock saw the almost imperceptible clench of Mycroft’s jaw and the slight movement of his fingers as he fought to not fidget. Only Sherlock knew Mycroft well enough to pick up these signals of nervousness. Anyone else would think they were just normal muscle movement; if they were clever enough to notice them at all.

“Yes, I have a-“ Mycroft choked off the answer and cleared his throat. “That is to say, Sherlock and I made plans to go into London with Gwen and her cousin.”

Both parents were silent for a few moment while their eyes bounced back and forth between their sons.

“The two of you made plans to spend time with other people socially?” Violet asked. She was fairly certain she had to have heard Mycroft incorrectly.

“It would seem so,” Sherlock spat.

“I’m sorry, dear. It’s just that Mycroft rarely meets with people unless it’s for work. And you have never made plans to spend time other people. You avoid people like they carry the plague.”

Sherlock huffed. “I’m not convinced that most of them don’t carry horrific diseases. However, I spent most of the evening with Gwen and she showed no outward symptoms of illness so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

‘He likes her!’ Violet thought. She looked to her husband. The answering glint in his eyes told her that Siger saw it, too. Sherlock had never liked anyone, but he liked Gwendolyn James. It also seemed that Gwen’s cousin had cast a spell upon Mycroft. Who were Siger and Violet Holmes to get in the way of that?

“That sounds wonderful, boys!” Siger said.

“Yes, it does,” Violet nodded in agreement and smiled hugely. “I’m glad you’ve both made new friends. I’m very proud of you in particular, Sherlock. You behaved very well tonight. Try to keep it up tomorrow, alright? Mycroft, keep an eye on him tomorrow. Don’t let him be a brat.”

Sherlock just growled and rolled his eyes.

Siger decided to bring the subject to a close before Sherlock could mouth off. “Right then, the old folks are off to bed. Goodnight, boys. Have fun in tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, my darlings,” Violet added, turning to climb the stairs. “Don’t stay up too late”

They brothers said goodnight to their parents then looked at each other.

“Come into the study, Sherlock. We’ll have a drink and talk about our plans for tomorrow.” Mycroft turned and walked into the room, leaving Sherlock to trail in behind him.

Mycroft walked over to the drink cart near the fireplace and started to poor them each a Brandy. Sherlock sat down in one of the armchairs positioned in the center of the room, facing the desk at the far end. Book shelves lined the walls, paintings of Holmes family ancestors hanging in the gaps between. Mycroft walked over, handed a glass to Sherlock, and took a seat in the chair across from him. The brothers sat in silence for a while, glaring at each other between sips of their drinks.

Mycroft held his glass aloft and watched the light dancing in and out of the pattern cut into the crystal. “Well, little brother, I simply cannot believe the turn this evening took. After 17 years, you finally made a friend.”

“Shut up,” Sherlock looked away and took a larger-than-normal sip, grimacing slightly as it burned on the way down.

“Come now, Sherlock. I’ve already told you that I’m happy for you.” Mycroft rested his glass on his knee, holding it with just his finger tips and tapping his index finger on the rim. He studied Sherlock’s face. “Gwen is lovely. The fact that she seems to be able to handle your unconventional personality makes her quite unique. The fact that you tolerate her, without being insufferably rude and nasty, makes this a singular experience. We get to see her again tomorrow. Do you think you’ll keep seeing her?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “Well, we will be going to school together. I doubt I can avoid her for an entire year, regardless of how hard I could try.”

“Stop deflecting, Sherlock. You know what I mean. Gwen said you two were going to be friends. That implies that she wishes to spend time with you. Are you agreeable to that?”

“I suppose,” Sherlock answered. He finished his drink, sat the empty glass on the table beside him, and brought his hands up into the prayer pose he used when thinking. “She’s not boring or stupid, and she-“ is beautiful and smells nice-NO! “she’s agreed to teach me to pickpocket.”

Mycroft noticed the strange look that had flittered over his little brother’s face while he was talking, but the older Holmes chose not to comment. He didn’t want to upset the younger man and lose this little glimpse behind Sherlock’s walls.

“Wonderful. You can teach her to pick locks and the two of you will be unstoppable.”

Sherlock looked as though he were really considering the mischief he and Gwen could get into. It made Mycroft grin.

“She winks a lot,” Sherlock blurted out.

“Does she?” Mycroft asked.

“Don’t act like you didn’t notice, Mycroft. You’re like me; we notice everything.”

Mycroft had noticed. However, it was very strange that Sherlock hadn’t figured out why Gwen winked so much.

“She does it for you, Sherlock”

Sherlock’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at Mycroft. “What do you mean she does it for me?”

“Think, brother dear. When did she wink? When she was teasing, or something made you confused or uncomfortable. The winks were a signal to you that everything was ok. And it worked. You relaxed every time.”

‘She was- comforting me?’ Sherlock thought.

“Yes, Sherlock,” Mycroft’s smiled, “She was comforting you.”

“Stop reading my thoughts,” the younger Holmes spat.

“The really interesting things here are that she paid enough attention to you to read your emotions, and she cared enough to reassure you when you were uneasy.”

Mycroft was right, of course. No one outside of the family had ever cared if Sherlock was upset and certainly no one had ever tried to comfort and reassure him. Gwen was the only one to ever do that. This realization served to strengthen the idea that Sherlock couldn’t let Gwen get away. But, how was he supposed to keep her?

Sherlock needed to think.

“I’m going to bed. If I fall asleep, wake me in time for a shower before we leave.”

“Goodnight, brother mine.” Mycroft called as Sherlock strode out of the room.

Mycroft smiled and finished his drink before getting up and heading to his room. He changed into his pajamas and was brushing his teeth when he heard his text alert. He finished up and returned to his bedroom, picking up the phone and praying that it wasn’t someone from work telling him they needed him tomorrow. To his surprise –and immense pleasure- the message was from Gregory.

Hey there, handsome. Did you make it home safe?

Mycroft couldn’t stop the huge grin that split his face.

Yes, I’m home. Were you concerned, officer? – MH

Maybe. I didn’t want to go to bed without knowing were safe and sound.

That’s quite charming. –MH

Well, I do try.

And you do it very well. I just had talk with Sherlock about Gwen. I think our instincts were spot on and we’re going to have to keep an eye on them. –MH

Gwen seems quite taken, too. Good for them. Now, Mycroft, off to bed with you. I want you and me both to be well rested for tomorrow.

I couldn’t be more excited. Goodnight, Gregory. –MH

Night, Mycroft.

That night Mycroft fell asleep easily and dreamed of a handsome, dark-haired police officer. Sherlock was up late thinking and slept fitfully. When he did sleep, he was plagued with nightmares of running through an enormous house, looking for Gwen, and never finding her.

Chapter Text

Very early the next morning Mycroft was pulled from sleep by the sound of his text alert. Who on earth was texting him at 4 A.M.? He was tempted to ignore it, but if it was someone at work it could be important. With a groan he rolled over a squinted his eyes against the bright light from the screen. A frown pulled at his mouth when he saw the text was from Gregory. Why was Gregory awake at this hour? He clicked to open the message and read:

Good morning, gorgeous. I got called into work. It should only be a few hours, just a mix-up with some paperwork. If you’ll pick up Gwen she can direct you to my flat. Make yourselves at home there and I’ll meet you when I get off and we can start our day. I’m sorry to have to change our plans. I’ll see you soon!

Something inside Mycroft thrilled at the thought of seeing where Gregory lived. He couldn’t help but smile as he tapped out a response.

No need to apologize, Gregory. I quite understand. Your job is very important. Sherlock and I will pick up Gwen and we’ll see you when you’re finished. –MH

A few moments later Mycroft’s phone beeped again.

I didn’t wake you, did I?

It’s alright. I’m accustomed to it. I often get texts from work at odd hours. I’ll be able to go back to sleep easily, I’m certain. –MH

Good. Now stop talking to me and go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.

Mycroft smiled widely and wrote one last response before putting the phone down and going back to sleep.

Half-way to London, Greg groaned at the jolt of arousal that went through him he read Mycroft’s final message:

Yes, officer. –MH

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shortly after 7 A.M. Sherlock decided to just give up on getting any more sleep. He’d tossed and turned all night, unable to stop himself from overanalyzing every detail of his time spent with Gwen. The little sleep he had been able to get hadn’t been particularly restful. He’d dream repeatedly about desperately needing Gwen and not being able to find her. It was obvious the dream meant that he was afraid of losing Gwen; afraid of her abandoning him. And, well, that just didn’t make sense.

Sherlock had never once cared about anyone’s opinion of him. He actually much preferred to be left alone and not have to put up with the idiocy of other people. It suited him much better to be on his own. He could do his experiments, read, and study. When other people were around he found it difficult to focus.

People created too much noise in his head. Not just by speaking- though God knows they do enough of that. They also produced a racket only Sherlock could hear. Their physical appearance, clothing, actions, hair, the subtle twitches of their muscles, everything about them slammed into Sherlock’s brain to be noted and deduced. Then, he had to decide whether the information was important enough to store or if it could be deleted. And this process would go on endlessly; assaulting Sherlock’s mind until he was pulling his own hair just to give himself something else to focus on.

It was different with Gwen. When he looked at her, everything else quieted to a dull hum in the back of his skull. He could focus on her and not have his senses assaulted. She was quiet, unobtrusive, and soft. Her touch and smell seemed to have a grounding effect that brought Sherlock’s mind into focus like nothing ever had. Her voice focused his attention, almost of the exclusion of everything else.

He had to figure this out. He needed to make it logical; make it make sense. There was only one thing for it, then. Sherlock was a man of science, so it was almost instinctual to apply the scientific method. He’d need to repeat the experiment and collect data. The fact that this meant he’d get to see Gwen more hand nothing to do his decision.

‘Well, almost nothing.’ Chided the voice in his head.

‘IT’S FOR SCIENCE!’ Sherlock responded, internally.

He was dragged from his inner conflict when he heard Mycroft’s footsteps coming down the hall. The door quietly opened.

“I’m already awake,” he spat, before the older man could even speak.

Mycroft arched an eyebrow in annoyance. “Wonderful. You said you’d like to take a shower before we left. You should do that now. I’ll me waiting downstairs.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Water dripped from his limp curls, down his back, and onto the carpet. He was never patient enough to dry it properly. Sherlock stood in just his pants, glaring at the clothing in his wardrobe as though it had somehow offended him. What does one wear on a- whatever this was? Gwen had said it was not a date. So, what does one wear on a not-date?

From what Sherlock had overheard the idiots at school prattling on about, people usually dressed up for dates. But, they were going to doing a lot of walking and public museums and tourist spots weren’t generally up-scale venues. So perhaps something more casual would be appropriate? Sherlock didn’t own anything as lowbrow as jeans, so that was completely out of the question.

Finally, after deliberating far longer than he ever had before over his clothing, Sherlock chose to wear the same kind of thing he always wore. Specifically, black trousers and a white button up shirt. But he did roll the cuffs up to his elbows. That made it more casual, right? With a final check in a the mirror and a ruffle of his now half-dry hair, Sherlock headed downstairs.

Mycroft was seated behind his desk in the study, reading over paperwork with a pen clasped in his hand. He didn’t look up when Sherlock entered.

“Have a seat, Sherlock. I’ll be done in a moment.”

Sherlock flopped into the chair on the other side of the desk. The younger brother noted that he and Mycroft had dressed similarly, so he felt he’d managed to choose correctly. The elder Holmes was wearing brown slacks and a light blue shirt, also with the cuffs rolled up. Sherlock was relieved that he’d managed to make the right decision with his own attire.

After several minutes, Mycroft scribbled his signature on the papers he’d been reviewing, put them in a folder, and placed it in his briefcase.

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” Mycroft said, finally looking up at his brother.

Sherlock froze.

‘Of course,’ he thought. ‘Of course there’s been a change of plans. Gwen’s had time to think it over and she’s realized that she doesn’t want to waste time on me. She probably called Mycroft and asked if he could find a way to convince me to stay behind so she doesn’t have to see me. Can’t say that I blame her.’

Mycroft watched barely concealed emotion turn Sherlock’s expression cold.

“Gwen is still coming, little brother.” The older man said gently. “The issue is simply that Gregory was called in to work for a bit. He asked us to pick up Gwen and meet him at his flat.”

Sherlock relaxed a bit before a look of slight disgust crossed his face. “You mean we have to spend time in his disgusting hovel? What if it is disease ridden? What if there are rodents?”

“Oh stop it, Sherlock! I’m sure Gregory’s home is lovely. I’m aware that social etiquette is usually beyond you, but these people are our friends and we must be polite to them.”

Sherlock snorted rudely. “Your concubine is not my friend.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Don’t be crass. Even if Gregory isn’t your friend, offending him will offend Gwen. Do you want that?”

Sherlock refused to answer but his face told Mycroft everything he needed to know. His little brother would rather chop his own arm off than upset Gwendolyn James.

“That’s what I thought,” Mycroft smirked and stood. “Now, are you ready? Gwen will be waiting for us.”

The brothers left the house and got into Mycroft’s car. Half-way to the James’, Mycroft decided he needed to instruct Sherlock on his behavior.

“Sherlock, when Gwen gets in the car, you offer her the front seat. If she refuses, you should sit in the back with her.”

“What?” Sherlock responded. “Why?”

Mycroft sighed. His brother really was hopeless in social settings.

“Because, brother dear, Gwen is a lady so we must be considerate and chivalrous. We offer her the front seat in case she prefers it. If she chooses the back seat, you should sit with her. She’s your guest so it’s your duty to entertain her.”

“This is already tedious,” the dark-haired boy muttered.

“Perhaps. But is she worth it?”

For the second time that day, Sherlock refused to answer his brother.

A few moments later they pulled up outside Gwen’s house. Gwen was seated on the front steps, waiting for them. She stood, then smiled and waved when Sherlock looked at her through his window. Sherlock’s heart raced as he took her in.

She seemed so much different than she had the night before. Her lovely formal dress was replaced with a black t-shirt with the words “Green Day American Idiot” scrawled across it (Sherlock had no idea what that meant, but he could tell that the shirt was a bit big for her. About the size Greg would wear. Must have been his, then). She was wearing denim shorts, her Converse trainers were purple and covered in black skulls, across her chest was the strap of a messenger bag (blue with the words “Police Box” printed on the front. Her hair was down and Sherlock could see streaks of hot pink interspersed among her dark curls.

Sherlock thought she looked even better that she had in her fine clothes last night. His mouth had gone dry. Mycroft had to call his name three times to get his attention.

“For heaven’s sake, Sherlock!” The older man said. “Get out and greet her then let her in the car.”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment before climbing out of the vehicle and turning to face a beaming Gwen.

“Hey, Sherlock!” She said, cheerfully.

“H-hello, Gwen.”

“You both look very nice. Am I underdressed? Should I change?” Gwen asked, he smile faltering slightly.

“No. You’re um… fine.” Sherlock replied, barely suppressing an eye roll at how idiotic he sounded.

“Ok then, I guess. Are we ready to go?”

“Oh, yes.” Sherlock answered, motioning toward the car. “Would you like to sit up front with Mycroft?”

Sherlock noticed the slight look of disappointment that slide across Gwen’s face, but he had no idea what it might mean.

“Actually,” she said, looking into his eyes, “I think I’d rather sit in the back. If you’ll sit with me?”

“Yes, ok, that’ll be… good”

Mycroft smiled knowingly as the two teenagers slipped into his back seat.