A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! So...I have noticed that a lot of you seem to be in the same boat as me...as in you are OBSESSED WITH HAMILTON!!!! I absolutely love the musical, so I decided to write a one-shot based on the song Helpless!!! I hope you like it! and if you haven't listened to Hamilton, then you haven't lived...go listen, now....Enjoy<3
The party was loud, the band playing at their loudest as rebels and nobles alike danced, celebrating the upcoming revolution. It wasn’t Sherlock’s first revel, but there was something new in the air at this one. There was a sadness hover over the drunken glee. The war was coming, but that wasn't going to stop the people from enjoying themselves.
Sherlock stayed close to his older brother, following Mycroft through the chaos of dancing soldiers and townsfolk. As much as he hated his brother sometimes, he had to admit that Mycroft was amazing when it came to social interactions. He would use his skills in reading people to steer the conversation where he wanted, and to quickly chase off any potential suitors he wasn't interested in.
It was always like this whenever they would leave the house, men and women alike trying desperately to catch their attentions. They were two-thirds of the Holmes siblings, and everyone wanted a piece of their father’s estate. That’s why they didn’t bring Eurus to such events, she was young, naive, and far too pretty for her own good.
Sherlock finally gave up on following Mycroft around the room, settling back against a sturdy post and simply watching the revelry.
Sherlock normally hated being amongst crowds of people, preferring to stay at home with his experiments. But as he glanced around the room, taking in the excited chatter and loud music, he felt a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There was no way to attend an event like this and not feel the spark of life setting in one’s gut.
A chorus of shouts echoed through the hall, catching Sherlock’s attention. He glanced over, watching as the crowd shifted to allow the newest group in.
Sherlock’s eyes landed on one of the soldiers and he felt his world spin. His heart seemed to stop beating and he felt a blush rising on his cheeks. He swallowed thickly, forcing his eyes to the ground and fussing with the sleeves of his shirt.
“Are you well, Brother Mine?” Sherlock glanced up at his brother, trying to look as innocent and bored as he could, and hummed a weak affirmative, glancing back at the mysterious soldier before meeting Mycroft’s eyes. Understanding flashed over Mycroft’s face and he shifted, moving to lean against the post beside Sherlock. The soldier was still standing at the entrance, laughing and chatting with one of the soldiers that had flirted with Sherlock and Mycroft earlier. “Captain John Watson, leader of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers.” Sherlock glared at the ground, shrugging in a way he hoped looked disinterested.
“So? Why should I care? Isn't it you that insists that love is a myth?” Mycroft laughed, one of his laughs that made Sherlock feel like an idiot.
“Love is a myth, but Mummy and Daddy would be thrilled to see you married off to a handsome soldier. Why not choose one you are physically attracted to?” Sherlock glared at his brother, trying to fight the blush that rose on his cheeks. Mycroft rolled his eyes, sighing and handing Sherlock his drink. “Well, if you don't want him-” Sherlock watched his brother spin away, blinking in shock and trying to make his voice work.
Mycroft stepped up to the soldier’s side, a charming smile on his face. Sherlock froze when his older brother touched the soldier on the arm, leaning down and speaking into the man’s ear. He felt an uncomfortable dread settle in his chest when the man turned to him, his own lips pulled up in a slightly flirtatious smirk.
