Sherlock Imagines

Calm Down, Myc! Its the New Year! (Mycroftxreader)

You prepared only about a hundred different types of wine, cheese and crackers. Meeting Mycroft's family was NOT something you were prepared to do, and you definitely wished you'd had more warning than a grumbling Mycroft to come in, and, after you asked what was wrong, tell you Sherlock and his parents decided to drop by for the New Year. He then proceeded to roll up into a ball while you made preparations for their arrival. You wanted them to like you. Easier said than done, especially since they were related to Mycroft. Not that you minded Mycroft; You loved him, even if he could be quite the downer with terrible timing. But at least he liked you, cared about you-- Hell! He loved you! His family, on the other hand, if they were anything like Mycroft, it'd be hard to get them to have even a marginal appreciation that you made Mycroft happy. And you were pretty damn positive they were like him. You'd seen Sherlock in the papers. Mycroft and Sherlock, well, they were the same. For the most part. Mycroft didn't need to show off to know he was the best, granted, he did it from time to time, but what you read about the famous detective, it was near constant. Just about the time you finished setting up a decent celebration, you heard Mycroft finally get up from the sofa.
"I don't see the need for all this. It is likely my parents will have a celebration following them like the plague!" His exasperated tone was expected, but the comment itself was confusing.
"Because, Myc, I want them to like me." You felt no need to give a further explanation, thus you didn't give one. Mycroft's nose scrunched up, and it almost seemed like you had appalled him.
"I don't see why that matters in the slightest." That was what he had to say? It didn't matter? Of course it mattered! These were his parents! If the time ever did arise that you two were to wed (heaven forgive), they would be yours, too! Them hating you was NOT an option, how could he be so democratic about this?!
"Mycroft! This is your family we're talking about! And I'm--I don't even know if this is the correct term, but-- I'm your, as a normal person would say, girlfriend! Them hating me would be like a curse on our relationship!" His eyebrows furrowed together, his lips set into a tight line, and he said absolutely nothing. At least he was thinking about it, considering-
"I do believe girlfriend is the correct term, but according to Britain, we've lived together for several years now, and if my calculations are correct, in one month and fourteen days, you would legally be considered my 'wife'." He said it so factually, and monotone, you almost forgot he was referencing your relationship. He wasn't wrong; In about that time, you'd be legally considered married, but that wasn't the point.
"SERIOUSLY, MYCROFT?! THAT'S WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY?!" You slumped into a random chair, arms crossed in front of you. He seemed at a point where he didn't even know where to begin with figuring out what he did wrong, but he knew he obviously had.
"What ever do you mean, dearest?" The nickname made your heart flutter. For a second you were caught astray, but then it struck you. The little bastard did that on purpose! Before you had time to tell him off for using such an advantage over you, the bell rang. Mycroft groaned as he looked at the door, and before he went to answer it, he kissed your cheek.
"Prepare for an east wind," he whispered, "for this is truly going to be hell." And he left it at that, and went to see who was on the other side of the dark oak door. You could feel the anxiety nipping at your stomach as Mycroft opened the door. To your surprise, however, the older couple instantly pulled a reluctant Mycroft into a hug.
"Mother, father." He addressed clearly in a sense of dismay at their expression of sentiment. Behind them you could see, an equally as uncomfortable, Sherlock Holmes. The older couple playfully tsked Mycroft, as if they were scolding him.
"You should call more, then we wouldn't need to make these surprise visits!" She allowed Mycroft to take her coat, while you stood, bewildered, at the sight in front of you. His father was the first to notice your presence, and did so while Mycroft apologized and made some excuse about having too much work.
"And who is this lovely lady?" He turned to his wife, nodding his head back to you as they shared a secretive smile. Stepping out of your trance, you made your way to greet them, smiling at how kind they seemed to be.
"Excuse me, I'm just a little... shocked, I guess. You're Myc's parents?" You looked between them with wide eyes and a smile as you held out a hand to them. His mum took it, and pulled you into a warm hug, and still held your shoulders as she spoke to you.
"We are, indeed, dearie! Oh, aren't you gorgeous!" She spoke directly to you before turning her head, acting as if she was being quiet, and whispered, "Better capture this one while you still have the chance!" She turned you around, the older couple doting on you while you giggled at Mycroft's embarrassment. They led you to the sofa, each of them holding one of your arms.
"So are you Mycroft's girlfriend, then?" She asked, seeming almost as bewildered by you as you had been her, "I don't see any other reason why you'd be here, so I naturally just assume-" You laughed at her bubbly personality, and how she acted so dramatically.
"Yes, I've actually been living here for awhile now." You mentioned as you beamed at the older woman. She nearly fainted.
"You here that, Greg? She's his girlfriend! One who lives with him!" They seemed completely infatuated with it, and unbelievably excited, while Mycroft just seemed uncomfortable in general. Sherlock was looking you over with a careful eye, face scrunched up, just like his brother did, and you finally saw the family resemblance.
"I didn't know you were dating. She's been living here for awhile now, surprised you didn't bring her to Christmas." He commented, before heading off to who knows where. Mycroft seemed hostile towards his brother's comment as he closed the door.
"She didn't need to be burdened with that, Sherlock." He sent back, talking a bit louder so his brother would hear.
"Oh no, next time, please burden me!" You enthralled, an overwhelming eagerness to see these lovely two again rising. Mycroft gave a small grunt of recognition before going back to the dining, and placing his head in his hands while you chatted with his parents. Sherlock eventually decided to pick more fun at his older brother.
"Interesting that you've never even mentioned her, considering that she'll pretty soon be your wife." The remark rand to the sitting room, and his parents jerked up. They'd noted you'd been living their for awhile, since Sherlock's comment, but they never imagined you'd been there for that long. Mycroft almost seemed injured by it, but it could've been your imagination.
"Well, legally, anyways." He added, a sly smirk pulling to his lips as he realized he'd won. By this time, Mycroft was gripping the edge of his seat so hard, that had it been glass it would've shattered into dust.
"I do believe that's none of your concern, Sherlock." He hissed at his junior. You saw the situation was quickly turning sour, realizing equally as quickly that there was truly nothing you could do.
"Huh. Maybe when I asked if I'd caught you in a compromising position or exercising, I was wrong to assume the latter." He continued to push, and you knew all too well Mycroft was getting far too close to the edge.
"I'd sure hope not!" You tried to alleviate the tension, but your small joke only went noticed by the parenting Holmes. Mycroft completely ignored Sherlock's commentary, but looked even more peeved than before.
"It's interesting, wouldn't you say? To preach zero sentiment, then hide away a girlfriend all these years? 'Alone protects you, Sherlock', isn't that what you said?" Mycroft was ready to blow a fuse, and you could visibly see it. You needed something, anything, to preoccupy him long enough to calm down.
"Mycroft!" You said it before you even had formulated a genuine plan, by it drew his attention from Sherlock, at least, "I- uh- Where's do you keep the champagne?" He looked at you a bit startled, and a bit oddly.
"For the countdown, I mean." His brow furrowed, trying to remember if any 'code words' were being used. Huffing in total annoyance, you walked over, took his hand, which he immediately tried to pull back.
"Mycroft Holmes, I swear!" You hissed in a low voice. The same one that undoubtably terrified him every time he'd heard it. Suddenly, he was up, and following you to the kitchen. And pretty soon after, he was complaining about Sherlock while you looked for the bubbly.
"I cannot comprehend how I have been be saddled with him as a younger sibling! Can you believe how he treats everything as if it were snide to him? He's a vex! Completely vile!" You swore he was getting worse by the minute. Yet, you listened, letting him vent his every frustration.
"Myc, calm down." You instructed after his second long-winded rant. He looked at you, obviously still quite peeved but didn't show a trace of it.
"He's messing with you. Screw some childish feud, and hostilities! If anything, you are being completely unfair and ill towards him! Just let it go!" He was completely taken aback by your outburst, but you'd had enough, "For bloody's sakes, Mycroft! The only reason your upset is because he's being truthful and you don't want to admit it! Stop being so intransigent, and accept that what he's saying is fact, but also that you're allowed to dictate your life as you see fit!" He tried to find words for a few seconds, but for once, his vast dictionary wasn't helping him any. Despite your hushed tone, a bystander who'd gone unobserved could hear every word clearly. And he almost felt... guilty. Sherlock hurried back to the dining to wait the moment Mycroft had leaned down and pecked you on the lips.
"Thank you. I... needed that." He admitted, and your smile returned as you took his hand, and a bottle of champagne, and lead him back to the small party. You set the bottle on the table, giving Sherlock a quaint smile, which (to your surprise) he returned, before rejoining their parents in front of the telly. Mycroft just went back to his seat at the table, checking a few emails on his mobile while Sherlock attempted to find the correct words.
"She isn't a complete goldfish. I see how you're attracted to her... has a certain charm, I believe is the word." His speech came out cracked, as if he'd never said anything remotely as nice to his brother with even an ounce of the same sincerity. Mycroft's gaze immediately locked on Sherlock, and as he exhaled, both turned to face you chatting with their parents about whatever-they-felt-was-important-enough-to-talk-about. Mycroft couldn't help but smile at how you spoke about each matter, such passion glowing in your eyes, but with each opinion, the facts to clearly support it. No matter how small the subject may be.
"Yes, undoubtedly has a special charm." The evening went on without another hitch, all the way until the clock was set with only a minute to the New Year. You sat perched on Mycroft's lap (something neither of you were used to, but his parents had insisted you not be so shy), waiting for the clock to return to absolute zero on the time. Of course, Mycroft's always impeccable timing beat anyone to the punch when he suddenly turned your face towards him, connecting your lips with his in a much less chaste kiss than he'd ever given you before. One, that started with only seconds to go until midnight, and ended a minute into the new year. He stared at you, completely unknowing of what to do while his breathing was clearly straining him, still needing to catch up with him.
"I said it before, and I meant it, screw hostilities and feuds; It's a completely New Year, Myc. And in one month, and thirteen days, I'll legally be your wife. You ready, Holmes?" You ended with a sly wink, and he seemed to consider it, looking between your eyes, somehow still trying to search for the answer.
"I dare say I am."