“Aboveground isn’t all that bad, you know,” Mycroft said.
“Easy for you to say, you’ve spent half your life here. You could have hardly made it more obvious.”
“That I don’t want the throne?”
Sherlock leaned against the car window and huffed, watching his breath cloud on the glass. “Obviously; was there something else I was supposed to pick up on?”
“I know this is going to be hard for you, but it’s for the best.”
“Mummy’s already told me that quite a few times. I’m of an age where I recognize platitudes and your insistence on using them is beginning to wear my patience thin.”
Mycroft sighed loudly enough to communicate he wanted Sherlock to know that he was being very long suffering and patient with him and he’d like Sherlock to be more pleasant, please. “Well, I think you’ll enjoy university at least. You’ve got a spot in the best of them.”
“Boring,” Sherlock said.
“Really, Sherlock, must you? There’s just not much we can do right now, not while things are as bad as they are, and Mummy wants you to spend at least enough time Aboveground you…get a taste for it, if you will. Please, for her if not for me.”
“You say ‘we’ like you’ve bloody done anything besides prowl around up here making friends with the human versions of the warmakers Underground!”
The car slammed still. Someone behind them laid on the car horn, but Mycroft turned in his seat, face red, eyes dark. “Like you’ve been doing something besides scaring our parents senseless with your magic tricks and your truancy? Where do you think the humans go if the Labyrinth falls, brother mine? Do you think there is another province that will protect them? Do you think the King of the Thorns will change his mind and open his arms, instruct his skullbearers not to eat them? If the Labyrinth falls, I have a place for them, that is what my ‘making friends’ has done, Sherlock, because I may not want to rule but that does not mean I will abandon my duty!”
The noise of London went through Sherlock’s skin to make his insides smolder. He met Mycroft’s stare and smirked. “You know, power suits you. You think you’re doing the right thing, don’t you?”
“Having a contingency plan does not equal surrender, Sherlock.” He sounded as if part of him was straining against the chain of either his better nature or his natural aversion to blood.
“I suppose not,” Sherlock said, as doubtfully as he could, and turned back towards the traffic moving around them, a steady thrum of lights and movement. It was as close as he would get to apologizing to Mycroft for a very long time.
+
Cocaine felt like finally, finally using magic again.
FILL: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 2/?
“Aboveground isn’t all that bad, you know,” Mycroft said.
“Easy for you to say, you’ve spent half your life here. You could have hardly made it more obvious.”
“That I don’t want the throne?”
Sherlock leaned against the car window and huffed, watching his breath cloud on the glass. “Obviously; was there something else I was supposed to pick up on?”
“I know this is going to be hard for you, but it’s for the best.”
“Mummy’s already told me that quite a few times. I’m of an age where I recognize platitudes and your insistence on using them is beginning to wear my patience thin.”
Mycroft sighed loudly enough to communicate he wanted Sherlock to know that he was being very long suffering and patient with him and he’d like Sherlock to be more pleasant, please. “Well, I think you’ll enjoy university at least. You’ve got a spot in the best of them.”
“Boring,” Sherlock said.
“Really, Sherlock, must you? There’s just not much we can do right now, not while things are as bad as they are, and Mummy wants you to spend at least enough time Aboveground you…get a taste for it, if you will. Please, for her if not for me.”
“You say ‘we’ like you’ve bloody done anything besides prowl around up here making friends with the human versions of the warmakers Underground!”
The car slammed still. Someone behind them laid on the car horn, but Mycroft turned in his seat, face red, eyes dark. “Like you’ve been doing something besides scaring our parents senseless with your magic tricks and your truancy? Where do you think the humans go if the Labyrinth falls, brother mine? Do you think there is another province that will protect them? Do you think the King of the Thorns will change his mind and open his arms, instruct his skullbearers not to eat them? If the Labyrinth falls, I have a place for them, that is what my ‘making friends’ has done, Sherlock, because I may not want to rule but that does not mean I will abandon my duty!”
The noise of London went through Sherlock’s skin to make his insides smolder. He met Mycroft’s stare and smirked. “You know, power suits you. You think you’re doing the right thing, don’t you?”
“Having a contingency plan does not equal surrender, Sherlock.” He sounded as if part of him was straining against the chain of either his better nature or his natural aversion to blood.
“I suppose not,” Sherlock said, as doubtfully as he could, and turned back towards the traffic moving around them, a steady thrum of lights and movement. It was as close as he would get to apologizing to Mycroft for a very long time.
+
Cocaine felt like finally, finally using magic again.
Both at once might kill him.