Sherlock preferences

Precise calculations

A/n - this is a Mycroft x reader request (sorry it took a while) I really like insecure!Mycroft x reader because it shows the true vulnerability of the British government.  Enjoy xx
----------------------------------------------

The dawn was still clasped by a muggy blackness when you felt yourself move in bed as Mycroft arose. You were in a state of groggy consciousness as you squinted into the dark, muttering only:
"Love you myc." As you rolled over, star-fishing onto his side of the bed, and fell asleep again. The corners of his straight mouth perked up a little at the sentiment before he went to get changed.

Your second awakening was a little after 9am, the lighting, this time, was dewy and clean, a contrast against the bleak coldness from before. You yawned hyperbolically before sliding yourself off the bed, standing upright on your aching legs
"Ugh..." You muttered to yourself, "who said running was good for you? My legs feel like death..."
You took a few minutes to wake up fully before taking a brisk, hot shower which loosened your tense muscles somewhat. After your shower, you got half dressed into your bra and pants before slipping into the silk dressing gown that Mycroft got you on your birthday. You wrapped the cord twice around your waist before knotting it in a messy bow at the front. You felt your senses heighten suddenly as a familiar smell filled your head. A sweet lemon fragrance made you smile as you entered the kitchen, you started smiling even wider as you heard the kettle scream.
"Goooood mooooorning!" You grinned as you wrapped your arms round Mycroft's waist; he was cooking pancakes. He laughed slightly, prising your arms off his waist and clearing his throat dryly. Almost abruptly.
"I see it's pancakes for breakfast?" You noted, hopping up into a little barstool behind the kitchen island where he worked.
"Correct" he smiled, tipping all four pancakes onto a plate, doused them in fresh lemon juice and a sprinkle of brown sugar and placed them in front of you. You chewed inquisitively as Mycroft removed the hot pan from the heating ring and placed it in the sink. It gave off a satisfying hiss as it came into contact with the flow of cold water from the tap above.
"You not having any?..." You asked quietly, swallowing a tart mouthful of lemon.
"It would appear not, I made them for you as a sign of affection, I feel no need to reciprocate the act for myself."
You sighed and placed your fork down on the plate. You had barely touched one pancake.
"Mycroft..." You sighed as he removed the weighing scales from the cupboard and placed a porcelain bowl onto them.
"Mycroft..." You tried again.
He ignored you, getting out a box of granola from the cabinet below. He tipped the cereal into the shiny porcelain, seemingly agitated by the clinks it made as it cascaded into the bowl.
"Mycroft." You spoke once more, this time he acknowledged you.
"Yes precious?"
"Why are you weighing your cereal?"
"It needs to be a precise calculation"
"I don't understand"
Mycroft gave you a blank stare for a few moments, after such time he inhaled deeply, put away the scales and cereal and spoke:
"I am assuming that you are asking me this already with full knowledge of the answer. By now you can have probably deduced that, seen as you are presented with pancakes and I bland cereal, I am on a diet (y/n). Recently enforced by my brother"
You eyes widened swiftly
"Sherlock?!" You blurted out, louder than you were initially expecting. You cleared your throat before reinforcing your statement, "Sherlock?... Sherlock has put you on a diet?"
He nodded solemnly and went to get a spoon from the clattering utensil drawer. You brought your hand up to your head, rubbing your left eye with the palm of your hand in disbelief.
"Why?" You inquired, half angry-half upset
"Why do you think? I have noticed that I have..." He tugged at his collar with embarrassment, an emotion we was not often faced with "well, I have taken a stature which I am not satisfied with"
"You mean that Sherlock is not satisfied with?..." You pressed further, nervously tapping your fingers methodically on the table beside your warm plate.
"Sherlock has nothing to do with it. He simply advised me, that's all..."

"That's not all... Tell me myc."

"Mycroft."

"Fine! Tell me MYCROFT."

"It is no concern of yours (y/n). I am surrounded by people of adequate proportion to society.You, Sherlock, Gregory, John, Athena, Molly! All lean and perfectly happy. I will not settle for being the fat Holmes brother, not anymore!"
As he spoke, your hand has gripped tighter and tighter across your mouth. You observed Mycroft's figure, he was no larger (except in height) than the rest of you... What is he seeing?...
"But Mycroft your not-"

"Not what?" He interrupted you, clearly distressed now

"Fat Mycroft. You are not fat at all! I swear to god, if Sherlock had done something to corrupt that brilliant mind of yours I'll give him a piece of mine! And since when have you felt the need to fit in with society?..."
"Since I felt my size was becoming an issue..."
You rose from your seat to attempt another hug but he moved away. Your heart wrenched at his retraction.
"Mycroft, if you have a problem with the way you look then I can help you know?... Please just have some breakfast?"

"I am not a teenage girl (y/n)! Don't patronise me with such sympathetic requests!"

With that, he picked up the bowl and proceeded to tip the 33 grams of cereal into the bin and moved hastily into the living room.
"Oh myc..." You sighed, ghosts of tears pricking dryly at your eyes.

After allowing him five minutes of solitary peace, you pulled yourself together and crossed the creaky oak barrier into the living room. He was sat facing away from you in utter silence. Eyes closed. You approached the sofa where he sat and perched comfortingly next to him, leaning gently against the pinstriped arm of his pinstriped suit. For a few seconds more, you were silent. You allowed him a blissful moment to contemplate your offering of emotion. He accepted. Slowly, he turned, allowing himself to be enclasped by you once again. You wrapped your arms firmly round his waist and pressed your face against his neck.
"I don't understand why a man who is so intelligent can be so stupid..." You wept against his frame as his brow furrowed in slight guilt. "Why can't you see that you are the most perfect man I've ever met?... Why would I want you to change?... Look, Mycroft, I love you the way that you are."
Mycroft sat more upright in the seat, gesturing for you to come closer and perching you on his lap. You leaned back against his warm chest in bliss and smiled as his hands met around your middle. He kissed the back of your neck gently, his faint breath making your spine and legs tingle with delight.
"Do you even believe me?" You asked in a hushed tone, rippling the surface of silence. He swallowed and replied quietly:
"I may not believe you entirely, but that doesn't mean I don't love you (y/n)"
You sighed, realising that it was as far as you were going to get through with him. For now at least.
"I love you too Mycroft. So, so, very much."

----------------------------------------------
A/n - just got one more request to do! Yay! Them I'll start preparing for writingmas (yes, it's that time already! It's crazy how fast 2018 has slipped through our fingers... I'll be going to university soon... Wow...)