Sherlock Imagines

The Brother (Without His Goldfish Part II)

Last time on 'Without His Goldfish';
They honestly didn't know what to expect; You seemed nice enough, but... You were with Mycroft... All they could do was wait for you to answer the door, and find out.

Continuing...

You answered the door with a sweet smile, and froze momentarily when you saw a detective you definitely recognized. From all the photos of him that Mycroft had, to the paper's your brother used to, he wasn't exactly easy to miss.
"Hello. I am Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft's brother..." He quickly analyzed you, finding nothing short of ordinary. Avid reader, and you worked as a secretary down at Roman Enterprises. In general, you seemed to be all the bit of goldfish he'd expected you to be. He wanted to groan, but he was reminded of Mycroft's previous behavior. His sad eyes when he told them you deserved to be able to leave like this...
"Yes, I-I'm aware... P-Please! Sherlock, John, do come in!" After noting the odd appearance of the younger Holmes, you were hyper aware of how rude it was to leave him and the Doctor at the door, quickly inviting them in. John smiled and thanked you, but Sherlock just sauntered in, his eyes drifting over the cozy flat. It was so... Normal.
"Sorry about him-" John began to apologize, but you were already chuckling. He reminded you so much of your own little brother...
"It's fine, trust me." You warmly assured, much to John's surprise. Sherlock didn't even register the small conversation, he was already picking apart everything he could about your life. Which, surprisingly, was easier than most people.
"Let me make some tea, please make yourselves comfortable." You didn't give either a chance to respond, already heading into your kitchen. It was difficult to decipher why they were there originally, given it could have been one of three reasons;
One, for information on your brother. Jim wasn't related to you by blood, but you were the only person he'd ever considered family. You'd met him shortly after Carl had nearly put him in the hospital when he was seven, and looked after him ever since.
Two, Sherlock was interested in what kind of person had the gall to leave Mycroft without even a note. Even if the elder Holmes would never really care...
Three, the most unlikely (to you), was that Mycroft had missed you. It sounded silly, but you wished he missed you as much as you missed him, and that he regretted that night. It wasn't likely though, he had made t clear that he cared nothing of you.
Carrying the tray with assorted biscuits, three cups, cream, sugar, and, of course, the teapot Jim had gotten you his last Christmas. Sherlock was examining photos on your mantle as you set the tea down, pouring three cups.
"Sugar, Dr. Watson?" You offered, and he shook his head gently, softly thanking you as he took his tea. You nodded, drowning two lumps of sugar in your own, and then adding some cream.
"Sherlock?" John called, hoping his friend would just sit down and drink the damn tea.
"Who is this?" Sherlock pointed to one of the photos of you and Jim as children. Jim had just turned eleven, and he was supporting you, while you both laughed. You to calm him from the broken leg Carl had given you for trying to protect him, and him in an attempt to flush his anger away. It didn't work very well, but your parents had thought it was still a sweet picture, so, they kept it.
"Me and my little brother," You moved to look at it as well, "I had just gotten home from hospital, and he wouldn't let me walk a step without some form of support." A fond smile was found clashing with your pained eyes, telling Sherlock all he needed to know about the state of him.
"Well, I assume you both didn't make your way all the way down here to look at my memories, yes?" You broke through, finger brushing your wallet that contained the last picture you had of him before he died.
"Yes." Sherlock assured, sitting onto your sofa and quickly stirring a bit of sugar into his own tea. You chuckled, reminiscing about how closely related his behavior was to two others you knew of. You sat across from him, and took your cup.
"We're here to discuss the relationship you had with my elder brother, Mycroft." He began, and at the sound of Mycroft's name, your heart rang out, buzzing wildly. At the same time however, everything he'd said floated through your ears.
"Yes, well, w-what would you like to know?" You timidly asked, curious to where this was going, but also forcing yourself not to cry.
"We'd like to know what exactly happened," John cut in, glaring at the detective, "Mycroft told us some, but not a lot. We'd like to hear your side of things." He kindly added, setting his cuppa down.
"Oh... Well, there isn't really much to tell..." You started, but soon were recounting everything that'd happened that night. Both men were positively repelled by what Mycroft had said, because clearly you were a kind hearted person. From the twenty minutes they'd been there, they'd quickly seen in you what Mycroft had; someone who's heart was bigger than themselves. How he could be so vile to you was beyond them, but from what they'd seen, he clearly hadn't meant it. John still didn't think that made it any better.
"There was no point in me being there if I was only holding him back, you know?" You tried to stay light hearted, but the tears in your eyes didn't lie. John took your hand in his, eyes sympathetic, but wondering why on earth you'd choose to think about it like that.
"It was him; not you. You had every right to leave like you did." He reassured, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. You were brought back to what Jim had said when he first found out.
"He's The Iceman, Y/n! He's going to break your heart, WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! He doesn't deserve you!" Jim's eyes glistened with worry, but you mostly ignored him.
"Never be afraid to love, because that's the only mistake you could ever make." You recited the mantra from one of your favorite book characters, and Sherlock paused his deducing. That was an... interesting reaction, he thought.
Jim froze for a moment, your words sinking in. Mycroft was the big brother of his enemy, but... He wanted you happy. He let out a breath, before looking back up to you with serious eyes.
"This is what you want?"
"You still love Mycroft?" Sherlock seemed to accuse, but it was so much kinder than one would expect.
The answer to both was a single word, "Yes." Sherlock leaned back into his chair. Someone loved his brother, and he couldn't believe it. Mycroft had found someone who would see past his hard exterior, and accept that they would never quite measure up to him. Someone he cared equally as much about... and he'd thrown it away in a moment of blurred lines and sleep deprivation.
Jim thought about it a bit, "Okay." He nodded a few times, still trying to understand how you could love Mycroft Holmes, of all people. He knew you were accepting, evident from how much you put up with him, especially since you weren't actually related. Sighing, he forced a small, crooked smile, and opened his arms for a hug.
"Well, as long as that's the case, who am I to stop you?"
"I understand you are probably in pain from how he insulted you, but I do think it'd be best if you go speak with him, now." Sherlock stated, standing and buttoning his jacket, turning to leave without even checking if you and John were behind him. Once he realized you both were sitting there, at a loss for what to do, he groaned a bit.
"Come along, both of you, if you would."

Bloody hell- THIS STILL ISN'T FINISHED?! Okay, well, there'll probably be a part III. I'm sorry, but hey- At least it's a mini-series that isn't a Moriartyxreader? And I'm sorry about adding the twist, I couldn't resist; a connection of being the older sibling to an impulsive genius? YES PLEASE!