Sherlock Imagines

Without His Goldfish (MycroftxReader)

Request; MycroftxReader
Requested by; @Just_A_Sherlockian
Level; 10000000/10! I love Myc, he's just... AHHH LOVE HIM SO MUCH TBH! Especially in this, even if he is a bit OOC.

You patiently waited for Mycroft to get done with his files. He'd gotten home about three hours ago, yet he was still working. You tried to be understanding, his position was uniquely his own, and that came with a lot of work. It was just really difficult when he was killing himself with over-working himself. It was breaking your heart when he would spend all day and night in his office. Waking him from his desk when he fell asleep there. His mood had been dropping with the Russian elections coming up, and he was becoming quickly irritable. You still tried to be a positive part of his day, and look out for his overall health, it was just a very tricky balance.
You knocked twice on the oak door of his office, before cracking the door open. You were appalled by what you saw. Hunched over to the point you wondered if it was his back, or if he tried to wear seven jumpers under his suit that day. His pen was sloppily scanning and signing documents, while he grimaced every short while, usually right after yawning. His face had hollowed out a bit, likely from his lack of sleep and proper nutrition.
"Myc? Babe? You need sleep. Come to bed." You kept your voice soft, hoping to relax him enough for him to hear you out.
"I need to finish this, it's of the upmost importance this gets finished." He repeated the line, the same one you'd heard for the seventieth time this week, already. For crying out loud- it was Tuesday! In three days, he managed to repeat those words seventy times!
"Mycroft, you need to rest! Please, just come to bed? You can finish it tomorrow." You reasoned, stepping toward the oak desk, eyes begging him to allow himself the small comfort.
"No, I need to get this done. I'll sleep after." He rationalized, continuing on without even looking at you. Sighing you walked up to the desk, sat down on the opposite side from him, and crossed your arms. His eyes flickered up to you, then back down to his papers.
"Go to bed, y/n." There was an order in his voice, and as mad as you were about it, you took a deep breath to calm down.
"Not until you do, Mycroft. If I don't, you'll end up sleeping in here, again. Just hurry, please." Your tone was solid, and he just huffed out a breath, continuing scanning the pages.
"I know the basics of survival, y/n. Go to bed." He repeated and you wanted to scream. The least he could do is give you the same respect you gave him, but no. He treated you as if he had a say in what you did.
"I said 'no' Mycroft." You fought back, and he rolled his eyes at your behavior. Suddenly, you wondered how lowly he actually thought of you. A small flicker of anger, produced from stress and irritation, moved in his eyes. Mycroft had never yelled at you, nor insulted you (unless playfully, of course), so you had no idea what to expect.
"You're distracting me, and wasting my precious time. Leave." He snapped in response. You didn't know if it was hurt or anger, but something definitely stabbed you.
"Excuse me, but I'm the one looking out for your well-being here, Mycroft." You sassed right back at him. You weren't expecting what came next, you weren't expecting that's how the night would go, every bit of love you'd built up in his eyes as he looked at you- Gone, as if it never existed.
"Of course you wouldn't understand. You just waste people's time. Like mine. Imagine all the moments I'd have saved, had I never met you." For a moment you were speechless. No, you wouldn't understand how letting yourself go to rubble would help you in the long run. One thing you would understand, however, is he just said you were never worth his time. But that wasn't all he had to say, either.
"Why I still tolerate your weak existence is beyond me." It was like he couldn't stop talking. He never look up at you, his eyes didn't leave his work, and he definitely didn't see how you crumbled under the weight of his words. Sentence after sentence, he spoke insults as if they were pleasantries, and you tried to just let them come, but... You couldn't. He talked about how much of a waste you were, how you dragged him down, that you were nothing compared to him. In short, that he didn't love you. If he'd have looked up just once, he would've seen your horror. The terror from realizing he was your sun, moon, and stars, but to him you were absolutely nothing. The utter fear-inspiring break-through thought that according to him, he'd be much better off if you never existed at all.
"I understand, Mycroft." It took everything in you to calmly leave that office. To not let him see how hurt you were, that every word he spoke was breaking you. Not to scream that at least you were capable of love, unlike his pompous arse. Soon enough, you were back in your room, getting dressed and packing a case. You didn't bother leaving a note. It wasn't like he'd care if you left or not, and even so, it'd be too tear-stained to read, anyways. You just packed up and left. You had your own flat, after all. At least you wouldn't be paying for an unused space anymore. Yeah, y/n. Positivity. You thought, a small chuckle coming to you.