Ice - A Mycroft Holmes Love Story

Chapter Twenty Eight - Part Two

Mycroft Holmes awoke with a groan, blinking against the intrusive sunlight that pierced through the curtains. His head felt like it had been subjected to a barrage of cannon fire, and his mouth tasted like a laboratory experiment gone awry. He winced as he tried to sit up.

Julia then entered the room with a glass of water and a sympathetic smile. "Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. Or should I say Sleeping Myc?" She voiced quietly, mindful of the awful headache he must have had.

Mycroft managed a weak smile, his hand reaching for the glass she offered. He took a sip, wincing at the loud pounding in his head. "You seem remarkably chipper. Probably because you did not participate in the debauchery of last night."

Julia giggled softly as she handed him a couple of painkillers. "Well, someone had to make sure you didn't drink yourself into oblivion."

Mycroft swallowed the pills gratefully. "I fear that line has already been crossed."

Julia's voice was like a soothing balm for his throbbing head. "Oh, it was quite entertaining, Mycroft. You proposed to me again, professed your undying love, and called me the sunshine in your life."

Mycroft's face flushed with embarrassment, and he groaned, pressing a hand to his aching temple, mortified. "I did all of that? I cannot believe I made such a spectacle of myself."

Julia patted his back sympathetically. "Alcohol tends to do that to people. Now, how about some breakfast? It might help with your headache."

Mycroft nodded weakly, and Julia disappeared briefly, returning with a tray of food. She placed it on his lap and gently massaged his shoulders as he ate, her skilled hands working to soothe the tension in his neck.

"You really do have magic hands," Mycroft mumbled between bites, his pain slowly starting to abate under her care.

Julia smiled, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Mycroft sighed contentedly, leaning into her touch. Despite the throbbing headache and the embarrassment of the previous night's antics, he couldn't help but feel grateful. Julia kept him grounded, and he couldn't wait to make her his wife, hangovers and all.

"You know, perhaps I should indulge myself more often," he mused with a half-smile, feeling more human with each passing moment.

Julia chuckled softly. "I am not sure that's a healthy approach, darling."

Mycroft couldn't argue with that logic, but in this moment, with her soothing touch, he was willing to embrace the temporary reprieve from his usual seriousness.

Once the massage was complete, Julia helped him finish his breakfast, her caring and nurturing nature shining through. She was the epitome of grace, even when faced with the aftermath of a raucous night.

As the last bite of toast disappeared, Mycroft turned to her with genuine affection in his eyes. "Thank you, darling. I don't know what I would do without you."

She leaned in and kissed his forehead. "You'd survive, as you have for all these years, but I am glad I can make times like this a little more bearable."

Mycroft smiled, a rare and unguarded expression of warmth. "You make everything better, Julia."

Julia felt a blush creep its way up to her cheeks, as she fought to escape his gaze. It was truly extraordinary, how after all this time and familiarity with each other, he could still make her feel this way.

As the remnants of breakfast were cleared away, Julia turned her attention back to Mycroft. She could see he was still struggling, his hangover not entirely vanquished by their earlier efforts. With a gentle smile, she offered a helping hand.