Chapter Text
Lord Mycroft Holmes (who few knew as Duke of Messina), was a well respected man, with a not-so respected younger brother. While Mycroft ran the city in which they lived, and much more according to his brother, Sherlock ran amok. The only way Mycroft had learnt to control the whirlwind that was his brother was through the companionship of a Miss Hooper (affectionately referred to by Holmes the younger as Molly), the daughter of a well respected scientist.
When Mycroft had first brought Molly into the family home 3 years earlier, she being just 18 and recently orphaned, and Sherlock being 21 with looks and yet no apparent desires for them, he had worried over her apparent adoration of Sherlock , but after a week together it had become clear that she was no more than a cousin in his eyes (which she thought better than a sister, judging by how the brothers treated each other), and so the two had bonded over their mutual fascination of human anatomy and were now fast friends, discussing many things from anatomical anomalies to eugenics.
It was during one such discussion of sat in front of the fire that Mycroft was handed a letter from his valet Anthony (as ‘he’ was today) and proceeded to glance over it before interrupting whatever point his sibling had been making.
“It seems that Sir Moriarty’s regiment will be returning to Messina tonight.”
Having received no response from his younger brother, Mycroft proceeded to press Anthony for information, learning that although a few men had been killed there were none of relative importance, and so a letter from Lord Mycroft to the families should suffice.
Eventually the discussion turned to the men who had returned, and what honours Mycroft might be expected to bestow.
“Tell me about this young Florentine that I have been expected to honour?”
“That is Gregory Lestrade. I know he seems young, but he has achieved things that men twice his age could not. I assure you his honour is deserved.”
“Has the Lord of Three Continents returned?”
Of course that was the perfect time for Sherlock to interrupt. Looking pointedly at Sherlock (“Remember brother; visitors. Manners. Behave.”) Mycroft grit his teeth and asked as calmly as possible to whom he had been referring, garnering only an eye roll from his brother and an answer from Miss Hooper.
“He means Captain John Watson.”
Mycroft had known exactly whom Sherlock had meant, but he had no desire for an argument at that point, as so gave him the information he knew his brother wanted.
“Yes, he has returned, as pleasant as ever.”
The brother continued to have a mental conversation for a few minutes before Mycroft decided that if Sherlock wished to be immature about this, he could be; breaking eye contact to notice the confused expression upon Miss Hooper’s face, and the knowing one upon Anthony’s, before he heard his brother begin his unnecessary speech.
“Captain Watson bought a house in Messina and has since had a parade of ladies through it. My brother thought he might make a good match for myself, or at least another,” at which point his eyes glanced towards Molly, allowing her a moment of realisation before continuing, “Tell me; how many lovers, of either sex, had he abroad? How many showed interest in him? I told him I would pay him for each he did not entice.”
Athony’s only answer to this was to suggest that his title of ‘Three Continents’ was well deserved, and that while Sherlock would have little need to polish his coins, he may wish to polish the medals he’d surely be bestowing.
“Surely he is not receiving honours for sleeping with half of the country? What good is that to me?”
“He is full of virtues”
“He certainly is full. I’d go so far as to say stuffed, but I with what? I daresay he is mortal, and hardly worth my time.”
Mycroft recognised the look in his valet’s eye, Mycroft explained the feud that had been going between his brother and Captain Watson, and that while it seemed harsh, it was all in good jest and a form of entertainment between the two of them.
That is, until Sherlock chuckled from where he was lounging, declaring that Captain Watson wasn’t nearly smart enough to entertain him, and not nearly rich enough to make him worth Mycroft’s time.
However, his natural curiosity soon came over him again;
“Who is his new companion? Every month he has yet another ‘brother’ by his side. He has too much faith and loyalty in the goodness of mankind. No, wait, don’t tell me; it’s Lestrade isn’t it? I pity him; Watson will drive him mad. God help Gregory! It’ll take years before he is rid of John Watson’s loyalty, as well as his money!”
With that Sherlock rose and bid the trio adieu, before making his way towards his chambers to think upon the coming day.
Mycroft sighed deeply before turning to his valet and Miss Hooper.
“Pay him no heed; Captain Watson is honourable enough. He is simply a Casanova with a slight propensity towards the cards, although this is easily enough overcome when he is engaged in some business or another.” At this point he dismissed his Valet before turning back to Miss Hooper.
“Now, my dear Miss Hooper, may I suggest you too retire for the evening? I suspect we shall be in the company of a few soldiers tomorrow, so you may wish to look your best.”
Mycroft watched Molly leave, before wondering how long it would take for his brother to finally admit his feelings for Watson, and who would get hurt in the process.