The Inevitable: Johnlock Fanfiction

A New Beginning

POV: Third Person

"Mycroft," Abigail urges. "When will I see John?"

"You won't." Mycroft replies calmly. "Be grateful I am providing you a getaway to Sudan. I would've been happy to leave you in London once our plan was complete, but my dear brother suggested that I exile you instead."

She looked incredulous, raising an eyebrow. "Sherlock? He hates me."

Mycroft sighs. "Sentiment has softened Sherlock. He and John hasn't read the file A.G.R.A that you gave them. It is difficult for me to be so courteous when I know everything."

"I shot him." Abigail repeats. "And I hurt John by faking my death and the baby's gone."

His mouth twists up into a flat smile. "My brother chooses to remember you as Mary. Sherlock is thankful that you helped John while he was dismantling Moriarty's network."

Mycroft looks over at her through the reflection in the window.

"What about the baby?" Abigail questions, raising her head to look at him.

"I will take it that she grows up in a comfortable and loving home. When the time is right, she will be told what is necessary. Depending on the situation, perhaps Sherlock and John will be allowed to see her."

Abigail nods slightly, her mouth still pulled into a grimace. "Will John marry again?"

"That is none of my business whether he will or not, and it is not your either. You will never see him or your daughter again." He replies coldly, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh."

Mycroft glances at her again and sighs. She looked so defeated. "Our plan has succeeded nevertheless. John and Sherlock are finally romantically involved."

She looks up with interest, a miniscule smile on her face.

"That's wonderful. Give them my congratulations."

He finds himself agreeing, whilst knowing he wouldn't pass that along. It's better for the couple to get a clean break.

Mycroft is happy for Sherlock. Initially he had been wary about John befriending his brother. This was with good reason of course, seeing that Sherlock's special friendship with Victor Trevor ended with him resorting to narcotics again. John had all the qualities Sherlock looked for in a relationship, and so he had the capabilities of destroying his brother again. Mycroft isn't a man who likes to be proven wrong, but this time, he was more than happy to be corrected. Doctor Watson increased his happiness while still not being a hinder to Sherlock's work.

"You have tomorrow to say goodbye to your friends. You are leaving 10 am on the fourth. There will be a car to escort you to the plane, and I will be there to go over some final paper works and agreements."

She nods helplessly, pursuing her lips for a moment before walking out. The door slams ominously.

Now the silence... Mycroft stands and paces carelessly for a few seconds, observing the oak wine colored walls. He sighs, running his hands through his hair.

Going over to sit back in his chair, he grabs his phone to check for any emails. Anthea was still repairing his laptop and it was infuriating to have to resort to this tiny, slow device.

3 missed calls

Gregory Lestrade 9:06 am

Gregory Lestrade 10:15 am

Sherlock Holmes: 10:20 am

Mycroft's eyebrow quirks up at that last one. His brother never called him. New case? Possibilities were endless. Perhaps an emergency. His skin prickles slightly at that. No, he shakes his head. Anthea would've alerted him through CCTV if an accident happened.

"Sherlock." He greets formally.

A crashing sound, a mug breaking. John's voice in the background. Mycroft almost smiles, domesticity suits Sherlock.

"Ah Mycroft." Sherlock's voice through the phone is pleasant, and strangely amused.

"What did you do this time?" Mycroft huffs. "Break into another bank?"

A chuckle and Mycroft raises an eyebrow again. Sherlock really has changed. "That only happened once. And no this isn't a favor for me."

He waits expectantly, hearing only silence.

"Well?" He inquires. "What's this about then?"

"You are familiar with Lestrade, correct?" Sherlock drawls, his voice carrying barely hidden bubbles of laughter.

"Yes," Mycroft replies carefully. "I have worked with him in numerous cases."

"Did he call you earlier?"

"He did." Mycroft is wary now, not knowing what horrid surprises Sherlock had for him.

"Ah."

"Why do you care Sherlock?"

"Do you like him?" Sherlock asks cheekily.

Mycroft splutters, turning slightly red. He recomposes himself. "You know I don't do sentiment."

"Neither do I, but there apparently are exceptions."

Mycroft can hear John chuckling in the background and he almost smiles fondly again. Sherlock may be irritating and incredibly obnoxious but it's nice to have the child Sherlock come back.

"That would be none of your business Sherlock if I did, that would be between Gregory and I."

Silence. Mycroft felt his curiosity building, and deciding to fuck it since Sherlock brought this up in the first place.

"Why did you ask?" He says cautiously, hiding anything potentially revealing in his voice.

"I knew it!" Sherlock shouts.

"You're acting immature again." Mycroft sighs, itching to know the answer.

"I am not acting immature, I have John. You and Lestrade are caught in another game with both side too stubborn to admit it. I suggest you call him immediately and confess your love. Good evening Mycroft."

Silence again. Mycroft sits in astonishment for a moment. Perhaps he's right, he thinks. John turned out so well for Sherlock. Would it really hurt to try?

He goes to missed calls again and his finger hovers over the call back option. Mycroft replays that genuine laughter that Sherlock and John shared. A forgotten yearning tugs in his heart, the wish to be with someone slowly resurfacing. That urge was hidden years ago, and was only strengthened when he saw his brother so devastated about Victor Trevor.

Mycroft closes his eyes and imagines for a moment the rest of his life spent alone, knowing that he had the chance to be happy and chose to not take it. Without another second of hesitation, he taps the screen.