Sherlock Imagines

Holmes boys (mainly Mycroft)

I extremely enjoyed writing this. Requested by MrsSpock this is a mostly friendship-one shot, with a bit of implied relationship/crushing, so yeah... Hope you enjoy! Love you guys!
~Flashback to Summer of 1996~
Sherlock sat reading the paper, Mycroft keeping a keen eye on the eight year old. Even Mycroft knew Powers had been murdered, but Sherlock was determined to try and solve the case, even if the police wouldn't. He was eighteen, and still babysitting his little brother. Given, he was more of a parent than their own mother and father, but he couldn't help envying all the goldfish that were currently on dates to the cinema or strolling with their date in the park. It seemed silly, but he always found this girl in his class, Leah, was rather amazing. She seemed pretty ordinary, I guess you could say, but she was unique, to say the least. Nobody understood the Holmes children, nobody, that is, except for Leah. She often offered to help Sherlock with his experiments, or listen to Mycroft's debate cases, telling him his strongest and weakest points. She understood how their abnormalities didn't make them freaks; it made them spectacular. She was considerably intelligent, not on their level, but higher than most. The only fifteen year old in his graduating class, it was saying something. The aqua green and blue irises swirling with liveliness, able to scan and process information faster than most believed possible. Her pale skin was reminiscent of him and Sherlock's, but that is to be expected when one lives in London. He checked on the little boy again, and sure enough Sherlock was fine. He studied the scene before him, a small smile creeping to his lips.
"Are you smiling, Myc?" Leah hopped over the table, plopping down next to him on the bench.
He looked over to her, a wide smile spread across her features, finding her accusation slightly hilarious. He smirked a bit, gazing at her for a moment. That moment turned to seconds, then to minutes, until it was noticed by the younger Holmes.
"Are you just going to stare at her or invite her to stay?" There went all colour in his face. No- wait- it now matched her soft rose blouse. She laughed quietly.
"Oh, Curls. You couldn't get rid of me even if you wanted. Duh, I'm staying!" Leah ruffled the bouncy curls, the little boy laughing as she continued to tickle him. Mycroft was helpless, he didn't know how these things worked, nor did he know how she would react. He didn't have long now, she'd be leaving to study abroad in a few days. America. He wanted to ask her to stay, but he couldn't. This was her dream, everything she wanted. She'd leave, meet some random 'cute frat guy' (as she kept saying there were), and he'd never see her again.
"Well, Sherlock is working on the Carl Powers case. Mind watching him while I get something to eat for all of us?" Not what he meant to ask, but it'd suffice. She was a little disappointed, sure, but spending time with her pirate-detective would be fun, too.
"Definitely!"
~Forward to Fall 2015~
"BORED!" Sherlock was twenty-eight, now, and he no longer cared for his brother's company. Mycroft couldn't blame him. The no sentiment rule that came shortly after his senior year was hard on his little brother, but not as hard as being the only one to see Leah off. He couldn't forget the sadness on her face as she realized her best friend wouldn't even care enough to come say goodbye. Though, she smiled through the pain, hugging his tiny figure good-bye before ruffling his hair one last time. Then she was gone. Like she was nothing more than a figment of their imaginations, a dream instead of reality. He shot the wall. Once. Twice. About to go for a third
Bzzzzz
Was that the bell? He groaned, and dramatically forced himself up. Ah, a client, that should alleviate his boredom. Mrs. Hudson wasn't here... He'd have to answer the door. He trudged down the stairs, hoping this would be an exciting case, worth his time and effort to open the bloody door. He swung open the door, and immediately spun around on his heal, then did a double take. Eyes wide in surprise, he looked over the woman before him. She was wearing a pair of black jeans, an iris blouse, and a black trench coat. She smiled softly at his unresponsive shock. Her hair was a bit longer, styled in soft truffle waves, and half pinned up. Her eyes were the exact same as he remembered. The gleam of care and intelligence mixed within the swirling green and blues that always brought candy to mind with their unique tints. Her skin was pale as a porcelain doll.
"L-Leah?" He couldn't believe it. She always swore she'd be back, he just never believed her. Why would she come back after her best friend ditched her like that? But here she was- somehow with his address. Leah swung her arms around his neck, having to stand on tiptoe to reach.
"Did you ever find out who killed Carl Powers?" That was her first question? Not 'where's your brother?' Or 'How've you been?'? In all honesty, he predicted the prior.
"I did. Jim Moriarty." He stood proudly, opening the door so she could fully enter the flat as she separated from him.
"It's been too long, Curls. Heard you were a hot-shot consulting detective. Not as cool as a pirate detective, but still pretty great." He shyly smiled. Yes, he did want to be a pirate, but he also wanted to be a detective. That's when Leah came up with "Sherlock Holmes; The Great Pirate-Detective". Ah, memories. Sherlock gratefully lead her to his flat, happily telling her of his past seven years.
"Mycroft practically is the British Government, after all. He knew John was here the moment he said 'hello' to me the first time!" He was recounting the first time he met John Watson, and Leah thought that Sherlock meeting a friend, a best friend (and boyfriend), was absolutely great.
"Oh, well it would be like Mycroft to be protective like that!" She forced a smile to her lips, trying to play off her mistake, but his eyes were already locked onto her. He scanned her once more... Curious, and curiouser.
"Mycroft." Her smile faltered a bit, before she attempted to play off her answer. She knew it was too late, but she just couldn't admit it. She was heartbroken, after all these years.
"What?" He stepped forward, and began circling her, studying her, like predator and prey.
"You called him Mycroft, you always call him Myc, why not now? Unless..." You could hear the gears working in his head, his confidence weighing. He knew why, now. His head hung in shame as the silence answered all the questions he had. She was still mad at Mycroft, she was there only to have company. She didn't even try to see the older Holmes.
"Sherlock, it isn't your fault. He didn't want to see me then, why would he want to see me now?"