Chapter Text
John stared at the chessboard in front of him, feeling utterly defeated. He scrutinized all the pieces, wracking his brains for possible moves that Sherlock had taught him, but nothing came to him. Roundly defeated, he pushed the board across the table and sighed. “You win. Again. Don’t know why I bothered suggesting chess in the first place.”
“The effort is appreciated,” Mycroft said. He acknowledged his third won game of chess with a small nod and started to put the pieces back in the game’s box. “You put up a good fight.”
“Sherlock must have been holding out on me. He swore he told me all the moves that stumped you. Maybe I’m just off today,” John replied. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead a bit too roughly to be conducive to relieving tension.
Mycroft, of course, noticed. “Long day at the surgery?”
“Stressful one. Stressful week, it’s just…” John sighed again, unsure of exactly how to put it. He’d grown used to opening up to Mycroft over the past two years back home. As soon as he and Sherlock had returned from New Orleans, Mycroft’s support had been vital in the first few months when the public wasn’t sure if they were ready to trust Sherlock Holmes again. John had found himself visiting Mycroft about once a month.
He never thought he would be in Mycroft’s presence just to…hang out. Chill, or whatever it was. But it actually wasn’t bad. Mycroft, once you got him out of his smug self, was actually very sensitive and what you could almost classify as sweet. And he was desperate for John’s advice on every single aspect of relationships. Apparently he thought John was an expert on Things Greg Likes, even though he could employ every security camera in the country to figure it out himself.
John decided it couldn’t hurt to tell him. “Sherlock and I have been together for almost four years.”
“I’m quite aware of that.”
“Yeah, and…well, what with the new laws being passed and everything, I thought it might be time to…y’know, pop the question.” John winced at his own words. “Stupid idea, isn’t it? Sherlock’s not really the marrying type. I don’t think either of us really are. I just…I dunno, I want this. With him. But I don’t have a clue how to go about it. What do you think?”
He studied Mycroft’s face, looking for some confirmation, but all he got was a rather unattractive grimace.
“What? It’s not that bad, is it?”
“No,” Mycroft replied. “Not at all. It’s an excellent idea. Mummy and Daddy will be pleased.”
“So why are you angry? You’re not really going to pull the possessive big brother stuff on me now, are you?”
Mycroft considered what to say. “Greg and I have been together for a while now, as well.”
“Er, I suppose,” John said. “So?”
“So. I was thinking of doing the same in the next week. ‘Popping the question,’ as you put it,” Mycroft repeated with distaste is his tone. “I’d been planning on it for quite a while, actually.”
“Well, that’s…good. Good for you two.” John wasn’t sure what to say, so he leaned over and awkwardly patted Mycroft on the arm in congratulations.
“So of course you recognize the problem,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Not really. Two couples in love getting engaged seems like the opposite of a problem to me.”
Mycroft eyed him in a way that made him feel like he had the intelligence of a toddler. “Two couples getting engaged at the same time…two related couples. The first couple to get engaged will be deemed the original couple, and the second couple will be…copycats.”
“Wow…I can’t believe you just said the word ‘copycats.’ Besides, that’s not true at all. We’re both, y’know, in love. People won’t think any of us are copying each other.”
The two men sat in silence across the small table. A clock on the other end of the room seemed to tick louder every second.
“I have to propose first. Sherlock and I have been together longer.”
“I’ve been planning this longer. I have reservations.”
“Bull shit—you never have reservations anywhere. You call them and tell them you’re coming and they have to accommodate you.”
“You don’t even have the faintest idea when or how you’ll propose to my brother. You need months to prepare. I’m ready now.”
“I’m not going to be a copycat,” John said tensely. “Not after everything Sherlock and I have been through.”
The two men narrowed their eyes at each other.
“So, what?” John asked. “I have to beat you to a proposal? It’s a battle of the romances?”
“You must know,” Mycroft said darkly, “that if you choose to cross me, John Watson, you will lose. Every time.”
John clenched his fists under the table and chose his words carefully. He leaned over the table, leveling his gaze with Mycroft’s, and said, “Right, then. Looks like it’ll be war between us.”
“Then we’re agreed. The first couple to the altar wins.”