Chapter Text
Mycroft goes back to work two weeks after Gregory’s party and he falls back into his role so expertly that it’s like he never left. Mycroft has never done anything by halves and his return is no exception. He’d strolled in like he owned the place, coffee in hand, Anthea by his side, ever his faithful PA, with Sherlock trailing them, John by his side.
Lady Smallwood had been waiting for them. Mycroft had nodded at her while he removed his coat and carefully hanging it up, shooing Anthea away when she offered to take it from him.
He’d turned to the lobby where several people had stood immobile, in shock at seeing him, undoubtedly coming to terms that the rumours of him being dead were indeed just that, rumours.
He’d arched a brow at them and just like that, the spell had been broken and they fell back into their rightful place, quelling in Mycroft’s presence. He was bigger than god and in the days that followed he quickly and efficiently dispelled the voices of doubt that had risen in his absence. No one could do his job the way he could. No one could look at all the pieces of the chessboard and know just how to place them, whether the issue lied within the nation or globally. He knew how to expertly wind all parties involved to get them onto the path he knew was best and it didn’t matter what issues ensued, he foresaw them all. Political issues? He knew a way around them, the opinion of the public? Mere pawns who, unbeknownst to them, more often than not ended up assisting him in reaching his ultimate goal. Religious ideology or the more common scenario of religious fanatics? He assuaged their “fears” with little more than a firmly placed hand on their arm.
When it came to running the British Government, Sherlock had been his ineffable genius self but one exhausting week later showed everyone who knew what lied behind the curtain that it was, in fact he, Mycroft Holmes, who held the mantle of mastermind.
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He looks up from where he’s been bent over for the last few hours and startles at seeing his sister glaring at him, arms crossed. Sneaking a quick glance at the time he winces.
“Up.”
“Alright alright.” He gets up, feeling his spine pop in several uncomfortable places before putting his personal items back in his pockets as he pulls on his coat.
“I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“I know. I’ve been here mad-dogging you for the past ten minutes.” He can’t help but laugh at her euphemisms.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been sorry three times this week.”
“There’s just so much work.” He rubs his eyes tiredly.
“I’m not upset that you’re missing dinner with us, Mycie. I’m upset because that equivalates to you not taking care of yourself. You have to take care of yourself. Working eighteen hour days is wholly unnecessary. The work will still be there tomorrow.”
“That’s precisely what the problem is. Tomorrow I’ll have even more work.”
“Why haven’t you called Sherlock? Sure, he works a tad slower than you but that doesn’t mean he can’t help at all.”
“I just- everyone did so much for me.” He’s mumbling. He can’t believe he’s mumbling.
“Mycie. We wanted to be there for you. All of us were there because we wanted to be. We all had the option to get out. Gregory didn’t have to stay, Anthea could have said that wasn’t in her job description, Sherlock could have decided he didn’t want in, John sure as fuck didn’t have a solid reason to but they stayed. We all stayed. We want to be there, we want to help. We work together, how could you already forget that?”
He pulls his mind off work and studies his sister who is chewing on her lip so hard he’s surprised she hasn’t gone straight through it. He wonders if she’s wondering how he could forget her. It would sound ridiculous and farfetched if he didn’t know better. His sister gets lonely easily, feels bereft without human connection around her, specifically of those that she loves the most. And he- he’s missed dinner three times in the one week he’s been back.
He pulls her into a hug.
“I’m sorry Noley. I’m an idiot. I haven’t forgotten anything. I swear. I pinky promise.”
Then and there he makes an oath with himself. He’ll be late for dinner on Mondays because it’s Monday and Mondays are always busy but aside from that and barring any out of town emergencies he’ll be around for dinner and the weekend because his family deserves that much.
And so it goes. That night his family cheers when he and Noley walk in and from then on it’s all different. The next day Sherlock follows him to work and though he still divides his time between him, the Met and watching over Rosie, he’s there, available for Mycroft. Many afternoons, the rest of them follow and eventually the whiteboard that formally presided at his house finds its way to his office where he and his little brother work, their families chatter an effervescent background noise that he swears helps him think better.
It takes him and Gregory some time to get back into relationship mode; both of them sought individual and couples help in Noley. Utilising a therapist that was related to them might have been frowned upon by most psychologists but it worked for them and he thinks it was because she knew them so well that she was able to assist as effectively as she did. The first time he and Gregory make love again they both cried.
Gregory admits that he felt useless when Sherlock was able to help him more than he did and Mycroft apologizes for responding better to “Prince Scotty’s” presence. He’s not quite sure why he did but Enola maintains that it was simply because he’d felt most distanced from him and he loved him so much he couldn’t help but yearn for him. He’d already had Gregory’s love and her love but he wanted more. He’s almost embarrassed about that, almost feels selfish but she quickly dissuades him of that notion. “It’s not wrong to want our siblings to love us. Especially when we know how much we love them.”
Sherlock and he are so different now that sometimes it still feels like a wonder, a dream- but it isn’t. It’s real. It’s real, they’re real, he’s real, everything is real now. Everything feels as it should.
He’s given it some thought but has been incapable of coming up with the exact event that broke the camel’s back so to speak, but these days he thinks that it doesn’t matter. If this, all of this, is what he got in the end, then it was all worth it.
Noley told him something when he’d brought it up to her and he thinks about it often.
“Never be afraid to fall apart because it’s an opportunity to rebuild yourself the way you wish you had been all along.”
And (as Noley would say) “yeah”, that sounds about right.