SuperLock Imagines

Oops (Mycroft x Reader)

"Thanks for helping with the unpacking!" You exclaimed to the kind woman. Mrs Hudson, or as you now knew her, your new landlady. You had moved into the basement apartment of 221B Baker Street after moving to London from America.

"Oh, it was no problem, dear." She smiled, sparkling hazel eyes glittering in the light of the now furnished apartment. "I do have to admit, it is nice to have another female here. I have the two male tenants here, and they are a lot of trouble."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about them!" You laughed, flicking a lock of messy (h/c) hair out of your face. "The famous Sherlock Holmes and John Watson!"

Mrs Hudson laughed back. "Yes, they are famous aren't they? But just so you know, they usually have a lot of clients pouring in and out. Sherlock is usually up and about all ghastly times, most often with that dratted violin. And he has a brother, Mycroft. He is quite strange, that one. But not as strange as Sherlock."

You brightened at the mention of a violin. You were quite excited about hearing other people play the strings, as you played the cello and were quite good at it. Yes, you played professionally, but not as often as you did your art.

Whether it be painting, sketching or just doodling, art was your main passion.

You said a quick goodbye to Mrs Hudson. You were happy you got this apartment. The rent was pretty cheap, and the people seemed nice.

It was a couple of weeks after you had moved in to the 'flat' when you first bumped into Mycroft Holmes. To say you were surprised would be an understatement.

"Oh my God I am so sorry!" Apologizing profusely, you backed away from the intimidating man in the three-piece suit. Cold blue eyes bored into yours as you nervously played with your paint-splattered hair.

Said blue eyes then traveled down the the once-white t-shirt and worn Levi's, also covered in paint.

"It was an accident. Don't worry about it." The man said curtly, turning away and striding away, leaving a very flustered (h/c)-haired artist behind.

The second time you bumped into Mycroft Holmes was as you were climbing up the stoop to unlock the front door. You were clutching some shopping bags, holding new paints, a couple of canvases, and some new strings for your cello.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry!" You groaned, looking up at blue-eyed, brunette man.

But Mycroft gave a little smirk, chuckling a bit at the panicked look on your face. "Really Miss L/n, we must stop meeting like this."

Your jaw dropped in confusion. "But- how do you know my name? I don't know yours! I'm sorry for bumping into you, but-" His laugh cut you off.

"I'm sure I've been mentioned once or twice," The man said in an off-handed way. "Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock's brother." And so Mycroft extended a hand to shake.

As you shook the pale hand, skin cool to the touch, you were about to open your mouth again, but were cut off once more. "Sherlock told me your name," Mycroft said coolly. "But he never said anything about your beauty."

Your eyes widened again as you gulped nervously. "Oh! Um, thanks, I think- uh, do you want to come in, for tea?" Mycroft hesitated before nodding.

So you lead the man into your flat. "Sorry about the mess," You tossed over your shoulder. You were actually a neat person, and it's not like there was clutter in your house, but currently you were working on several different project, and they were scattered around the living room of the flat.

As you disappeared into your kitchen to rummage for tea, blue eyes flicked around the room, landing on the painting you were currently working on. Mycroft recognized it as the cafe Sherlock loved to frequent, Speedy's.

But soon you returned to the living room with tea and snacks, and you and Mycroft fell into a comfortable chatter.

The third and final time you bumped into Mycroft was as you were helping Mrs Hudson out, getting some tea for Sherlock and John, and you smacked into the chest of your tall acquaintance. The teapot almost flew out of your hands but was steadied by two slim, pale hands.

You closed your eyes and groaned, shaking your head. "Please don't be Mycroft, please don't be Mycroft." You pleaded. But a familiar chuckle interrupted your words.

"It appears, once again, that we had the fortune of bumping into each other again, Y/n."

"Fortune?" (E/c) eyes filled with confusion, as they met the cool blue eyes of Mycroft Holmes.

"Yes." He replied. Another smirk made its way onto his thin lips, before he continued. "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me."

A deep blush made it's way onto your face. "D-dinner? Me? I-"

"Yes, if you would be so kind as to get ready for dinner tonight. I'll pick you up at seven. I know a nice place near-by. See you at seven." With a wave, Mycroft left the artist standing outside Sherlock's front door, a grin on her face and a tea-pot in her hands.

~~~~~~~

"Did you ask her?" Anthea questioned, not looking up from her BlackBerry as Mycroft slid into his seat beside her, giving instructions to the driver on where the next stop was.

"Well of course I did." The man answered. "I'll pick her up at seven."

There was something in Mycroft's voice that was different. It was subtle, but enough to make Anthea look up.

And on his face, the was the smallest of smiles. Anthea grinned to herself, looking smugly back to the phone in her hand.

Maybe now, things'll change for the good. Just maybe.

A/n: A request, hope you like it! Maybe it isn't as good as it could be, and it's kinda short, but unfortunately, I'm kinda rusty. Don't worry, I'm gonna work on it!