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English
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Published:
2019-01-29
Words:
740
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1/1
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Even In Silence Your Love Speaks My Name

Summary:

Mycroft was quieter now.

Work Text:

Mycroft was quieter now.

He had always been quiet but it was different now. I think he felt at peace, as if there was little more to say, but as he got quieter every day I found my heart feeling tight with worry more and more often.

We had long ago moved from London out into the countryside. Our living room had large windows that looked over the misty hills, and it seemed to compliment Mycroft’s peace and quiet.

I watched him now; he sat in the corner in an old chair that was too short for him, his long, thin legs placed neatly side by side, his knees a little too high off the ground. He held a book in his hands, closed, with his hand tucked inside to mark his place.

He had been reading much more lately, so I had tried to read more as well. When he finished a particularly good book he would hand it over to me with instructions to read it as well. He read much faster though, so the stack on my bedside table grew ever higher.

He wasn’t reading now. Instead, he stared off into the foggy landscape, black glasses slipping slowly down the tip of his nose. He forgot them often, and I found myself always following him around the house, receiving a quiet smile in return.

The sun was beginning to get low in the sky, so I made my way to the kitchen to start dinner. Mycroft noticed and got up to join me, his socked feet making no sound on the wood floors. Today wasn’t one of his better days though; his legs were getting weaker, and he was beginning to have difficulty balancing, so I took his arm and guided him to the kitchen table.

As I made us some warm soup, I chatted to him about the most recent book I’d read from my stack. His eyes sparkled as he listened to me, which made smile in return.

Throughout dinner he seemed tired but in a good mood, chuckling here and there as I commented about how dismal this football season had been, how I wished I knew how to cook more things, and how I was making a list of songs I wanted him to learn on the piano in return for his list of books.

He said he wasn’t as good at playing anymore, but I told him I didn’t mind and took his hand in mine. I could feel the slight tremors in his fingers, but he still blushed and agreed to play for me tomorrow.

After dinner, he leaned against the counter as I washed the dishes. I couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at him; he looked too charming in his dark crimson sweater with his silver-tinted hair. I stole a kiss or two in between washing out our bowls and earned myself a full smile, one so full of pure contentment that my heart jumped fiercely in my chest.

We often went to bed quite early now, so I soon led him to our bedroom, my hand placed firmly on his back. I helped him out of his clothes, biting my lip as I saw his thinning body emerge, and then walked with him to the bathroom where he sat on the edge of the tub while I filled it with steaming water.

I didn’t join him tonight, but I knelt by the edge and washed his hair. Mycroft sighed as my fingers ran through his scalp. Once I washed the last of the suds from his tender curls he grabbed my hand, squeezing it in thanks before letting me help him out and wrap him in a thick burgundy towel.

Once in bed, he wrapped himself tightly around me with his head on my chest. I covered us both with the soft duvet and let him put his cold feet on my calves, hoping to keep him as warm as possible through the night.

He kissed me, languidly, tenderly, before reaching out to switch off the lights and falling quickly into a deep sleep. I didn’t know how long it would be now, months, weeks maybe, but I knew an end was arriving soon. As I felt hot tears try to sneak out my eyes and hot panic try to sneak up my spine, I pulled Mycroft closer to me and pressed my mouth to his still-damp hair.