Hold the Umbrella (Mycroft Holmes Fanfic)

Sea

Mycroft didn't know what to expect of married life. His parents union was rather loveless and conventional, and knowing himself and the situation he was forced into to, his would most likely be the same. But there was some twinge of hope, some internal desire that there would be a comfort, or perhaps a secure friendship that exceded the confines of what society called a "traditional" marriage. Romance was the thing of Shakespeare, a thing of the past, only to be performed on stage amongst actors. Never amongst society.  

Now, Mycroft had taken the carriage to port, and the new couple had departed from their country and were now sloshing about the best liner money could afford.

Mycroft felt horrible for at least two reasons.

He had thoroughly planned it out their means from one place to another in his head. He paid for the carriage, paid for the boat, and would pay for their stay in Paris. Those were all very simple things, but they were sound and precise. However, there was another issues that was eating away at his sanity, if he had any. He could plan all these things, but he couldn't plan Anne's reactions to them, and his uncertainty to once he ran out of plans. 

So, on the upper decks he devised how he wanted the entire vocation to go. 

Anne, herself, might have been doing the same, however she had not quite got her sealegs yet. While he was breathing and tasting the salty air, she was below decks miserable as ever. He had never thought to consider she hadn't traveled by water before, and it seems he was paying the price in embrarrsment, while she was paying the price with her head in a chamber pot.  

It was one of the first thing to be out of his control, and he didn't want it to happen again. 

His first reason for feeling horrible.

So, as he leaned over the side, he began to think about the subject he had been ignoring since he learned of his nuptials. 

He was ignoring the thought of his biblical duties as a man and as a husband.  

Mycroft knew exactly, or had an idea of how he wanted this evening in particular to go.

First, he would make it very clear that there was to be no consummation of their union this evening. There would not be an expectation of it either.

That meant the following, or a hundred, or a thousand to come. 

Admitedly, Mycroft had accepted the idea that no such event would ever happen in their marriage. 

As long as it was what made Anne happy. 

Anne being happy was the most important thing to him right now. 

In being honest with himself, Mycroft admitted that the wedding itself had sparked unrealistic feelings inside Mycroft.

She was most certainly what one would call a blushing bride.

Now Mycrfot would consider himself a man of character, a gentleman if you must say, but after seeing how gorgeous Anne was at the altar, he was unfortunately thinking more with his masculine appendages than his brain. 

He was embarassed. In Mycroft's life and his business, he had very little time for either pleasure or desire. The emotions stirring with him were akin to when he was just becoming a young man. It felt like sin, and unholy lust. 

Mycroft wasn't a brute, and he has never had any inclinations of being one. He would never take advantage of the purtiy that was Anne, whether it was body, mind, or soul. However, he feared his respect would make her feel unwanted. 

Mycroft was attracted to Anne, and he felt his reservations would give her the impression that he was not sexually attracted to her. 

But again, he also did not want her to veiw herself as an object of  his lust.

Mycoft felt like he could not win. One of the many curses of being a true gentleman.

Mycroft was such a gentleman that despite his age, he had never laid with a woman. 

Society did not look well upon it, and being under the manifying glass of society he decided he'd better off to wait til marriage, or just go altogether without it.

When he had become a man, his father, Sir Holmes, had taken him to a business of ill repute. After all, there was a right of passage with these sort of things. His father had given the woman her due pounds and she led Mycroft to a room with red velvet curtains. The woman had tried to coax him to touch her breast, but he remained stagnant. He knew what she was. He never judged her for it, but rather felt sorry for her.

Luckily, she was the undertanding sort. They talked, and had come to an undertanding that nothing was going to happen between them and that she would tell Mycroft's father a white lie to not dissapoint him. After some time, she ruffled his hair, and disheveled his clothes and sent him on his way. 

When he came out of the room, and glee spread across his father's face followed by a pat on the back and cigar stuck in him mouth. 

The only other time he had seen his father that happy was earlier today, when he married Anne.

It's funny how easily a lie can satisfy people. 

It was Mycroft's assumption and promise that Anne was a virgin as well, and he couldn't imagine the stress she was going through at the moment. 

The female perspective on the issue is much different from the male perspective.

And yet again, despite all these reservations, he couldn't stop looking at her breasts in the carriage, on the boat, and even when she was sickly and pale just moments ago.

He was so conflicted. Anne was not what one would call galmorous, however the simplicty, the naturalness of her bodice was more stunnig that the cliffs of dover. And as he looked across the sea, he envisioned her as a siren calling to him, inviting him in to taste her decadence.He imagined when her kissed her that her lips would taste like sugar. Her eylasseh upon his cheek feel like the wings of butterflies.

However, despite the fervor growing within him, he wouldn restrain himself. He respected her, he admired her, and soon enough he would truly love her.