Work Text:
Mycroft ran a strict office; everything in its place, everyone doing exactly as they’re told when they’re told. There was no room for deviation.
Sherlock was a constant challenge to his rule. Sherlock was a constant source of fear.
Mycroft could never let Sherlock know.
Heresyphobia. Who would have thought the embodiment of the British Government would suffer from such a ridiculous mental defect. An irrational fear of radical deviation.
Sherlock challenged his power, his progress every step of the way. It took everything in Mycroft to not allow his reactions to show; he bit his tongue to hold back the whimpers, took forced slow deep breaths to keep his heart rate at an appropriate level. It was a constant battle to stay on top of his bodies reactions to his brothers deviation from his strict, to the point plans.
“He’ll be the death of me.”