Chapter Text
Molly sighed. “You have to go. You promised your parents.”
“I don’t want to.” Mycroft knew he sounded like a petulant child, but going to see Les Miserables was not something he wanted to do. At all.
“Mycroft. Go see the show. Enjoy it.”
“How could I possibly enjoy being packed into a room with all those...people?”
“Then at least act like you’re enjoying it.”
“Would you like being stuck in a goldfish bowl?”
“I don’t think I’d fit. And besides, people don’t stare at you all the time when you go out.”
“Thank god for that.”
“It’s your parents. You invited them to go see the show in the first place. You can’t just back out and shove it on Sherlock.”
“I can shove whatever I want on Sherlock. He’s my little brother. That’s what little brothers are for.”
Molly smiled “Looks like there’s a normal person in you after all Mycroft.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Now go!” She shoved him toward the door.
Mycroft was in hell. It looked and sounded an awful lot like Les Mis, but this was definitely hell. People were packed in all around him, the lights were too bright, the singing was too loud, and he wasn’t even sure what they were doing could be called dancing. Yes. Definitely hell.
He couldn't believe Molly actually made him go. Or that he hadn’t called Sherlock to take over yet. He had been texting him occasionally, but Sherlock was being deliberately unresponsive just to annoy him. He made up his mind to kill him later. Kill him with music. Interesting concept. Maybe Les Mis...but Sherlock would at least owe him a favor.
His musings were interrupted by the curtain falling on the first act. He sighed with relief as the lights went up.
His mother sighed happily. “Wasn’t it wonderful?”
“Yes, yes. Wonderful. I have an important phone call to make. Excuse me.” he turned and left. As soon as he was out in the lobby, he called Sherlock.
“Sherlock, you have to switch with me. It’s the interval, just hurry up and get here!”
“Why should I? I’m a bit busy with a case.” Sherlock replied, clearly not busy with anything at all.
“I’m your brother. This is something brothers do for each other.”
“Interesting concept. No.”
“Sherlock, please...” he was begging, it was humiliating but he had no choice.
The phone lined clicked off.
“Stupid git.” Mycroft muttered.
He went back inside, and sat down next to his parents again.
“How was your call, Mycroft?” his mother said, smiling.
“Sherlock cannot come, unfortunately.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sure he would love it here. Such a lovely show.”
“Yes. A lovely show.” How he and his brother, two emotionally constipated geniuses, had been made by these two ordinary people always astounded him.
“Ooh, it’s starting!” his mother squealed, proving his point.
“My favorite song is “Do You Hear The People Sing”” his father whispered.
“It’s... quite nice.” Mycroft said. In truth, the song caused him to mentally writhe in agony. At least, most versions of it, anyway. Dear Lord, why had he agreed to this again?
His phone buzzed. Hoping it was a text from Sherlock saying he’d take over, Mycroft pulled it out. Instead it was from Molly.
It’s halfway over. Be nice to your parents, and don’t ruin anyone’s lives:)
You are evil. Why are you my goldfish? -M
You asked me out, remember?
I didn’t think you’d say yes, actually. One time I was nervous, ever. I can not predict outcomes with you. -M
Well, I did, and now we’re dating, and it’s awesome.
You’re brilliant. -M
So are you. Now watch the show. I’ll see you afterwards anyway.
Ugh. -M
Have fun:)
Ugh. -M
“Mycroft, dear, won’t you put your phone away?” his mother said. “It’s your father’s favorite part!”
“Fine.” he said, slipping it back into his pocket.
“I’m tired,” his mother said, after the play. “Let’s go home.”