Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He hadn't been thrilled by the discovery of being my soulmate, I'd thought that with time his opinion would change. Plenty of people were apprehensive of there being a person whose soul fit perfectly with their own, and it was understandable for someone so high up in the government to worry about having a pressure point like that.

That's what I told myself anyway, always reminding myself that Mycroft was a busy man with more pressing matters than making time for his soulmate.
It still stung whenever I'd wait the allotted half hour for him on a date, only to get a text from Anthea after exactly 30 minutes had passed that he wouldn't be able to make it tonight. It didn't take long for me to stop waiting for him to show up on these dates, I became good at being alone at tables reserved for two.

But I didn't want to be alone forever, and I certainly didn't want to be waiting for someone who would never love me back, nevermind actually like me.
So I stepped back. My daily texts to Mycroft stopped, I stopped haggling with him about making time for each other, and I stopped tugging on the fraying bond between us. Stopped sending strength and reassurance across the tenuous link connecting our very separate existences.
And I noticed that once I let go of the imaginary rope between us it felt slack. Like after all this time I'd been a delusional fisherman who'd thought they'd found the catch of a lifetime, but really it was just an impossibly strong current on the other side. Always giving the impression that there was something hooked and ready.
Or that there was just a waterlogged boot on the other end, I preferred to think of it like that. That maybe I did have something, but it wasn't worth the effort of fishing it out of the murky waters.

And when your hook got caught on something not meant for you, you didn't keep yanking on the line. You cut it.

The soul bond clinic in London was a sprawling pristine building tucked away in the heart of the busy streets. They were the specialists of the nation, focused entirely on soul bonds and their effect on human physiology. People could walk in for all manner of problems and generally they'd find help for them.

I walked down the sidewalk, holding my umbrella low over my head in the slight drizzle. I wouldn't put it past Mycroft to have his pressure point tailed by watchdogs, and I certainly did not want one of them running back and telling him about me entering a soul bond clinic. He'd guess at the reason far too quickly and I still held hope that there was another way of resolving our problems.

I ducked into the clinic and closed my umbrella, hooking it over my forearm as I stepped forward into the clinic waiting room and immediately encountered a friendly nurse handing me an application form and directing me to the seating area.
"Just give your application to reception when you're done and they'll tell you where to go." I returned her warm smile and took a seat. The form took only minutes to fill in, it was just a way of sorting people into different categories to make the whole ordeal quicker and more effective. I hopped up from my seat and went to fidget at the reception desk, shifting from foot to foot as the gravity of what I was doing finally hit. I didn't even notice the receptionist reading my form upside down, seeing the check marks for reason of visit, and giving me a pained look and touching my arm gently.
"Come on then, I'll take you to the west wing." He came around the corner and nudged me into moving alongside him.

The man exuded a calming presence that kept me grounded as we walked through the white corridors. He grabbed a set of pamphlets from a rack that we passed and handed them to me.
"Here, these give you more details to go over once you're home. It can all be a bit overwhelming when you're here."
I thanked him and put the wad of papers in my coat pocket. The waiting room we entered was much smaller and emptier than the first. The receptionist gave me a small wave and a reassuring smile as he left. It didn't take long before my name was called and I stepped into the doctor's office, feeling like I'd started down a path from which there was no return. I closed the door behind me with decisive click. This was what I wanted.

When I came out of the clinic an hour later, I emerged with a sheaf of paperwork and more pamphlets shoved in my pockets. There was a sense of hollowness inside, the kind you felt when you did something difficult but necessary. I knew that relief would come later, but right now I only felt like shit.
And to add to the shitty feeling I smacked straight into the second last person I wanted to see.

My papers were crumpled against my chest as I collided with too much overcoat and purple shirt.
I automatically apologized before stopping midway as I caught sight of high cheekbones and the signature Holmes look of superiority.
"Sherlock." I said dully and he cocked an eyebrow.
"No need to be overjoyed." He greeted back dryly as his gaze flicked over me automatically, collecting information before he even started to deduce. I sighed and gave him a moment to catch up to his instincts.
His eyes darted between the corner of the pamphlets poking out my pocket, the slightly worse for wear paperwork and then finally the clinic we were outside of.
He opened his mouth to say something but it was like he was buffering as nothing came out.

"Can we do this in private?" I half begged the detective, and he gave a swift nod and tugged me into an alley way I hadn't known was there.
"So what did my idiot brother do?" He asked, not even doubting that it was Mycroft who had screwed up. I let out a small chuckle at that.
"He's not great at the human thing."
"Acting human or interacting with humans?" He asked with a half smirk.
"Both." I laughed and that made him smile a little. "You're not going to tell him?" I asked even though I knew that Sherlock wouldn't.
He shook his head and his messy hair fell into his face.
"We both know he doesn't like feeling like he's failed at something. He'd do something stupid if he knew."
Somehow we'd ended up on my street, just a short walk away from my flat. The two of us lingered at the grungy mouth of the alley, still having so much to say about the person connecting us but unwilling to open the floodgates.

"He's going to notice that something's changed." He leaned against the wall and looked very dramatic as he was shrouded in the shadows.
The flair for drama was definitely genetic.
"And if he doesn't then his shadows will," his eyes flicked over the busy street, cataloguing and counting.
"What do you suggest?"
"I've got no cases and plenty of motivation to confound my brother. And nothing," Sherlock smiled smugly "would annoy him more than having his soulmate more interested in me."

"That's..." A very good idea actually, and I'd always been curious about what the younger brother was like when my bonded wasn't nagging him. "Only if I get to wear the hat." That got me another genuine smile from Sherlock and he handed my phone back to me from when he pilfered it earlier.
"Text me."

And with that the other Holmes brother twisted on his heels and strode back into the alley with his coat billowing behind him. I shook my head fondly and crossed the street, not bothered if any eyes saw me emerge from an alley.
Once in my home I felt like I could finally relax, let my stiff back slump back into bad posture as I fell onto my couch. I was contemplating a nap as my phone vibrated from my pocket.
I grunted in annoyance and pulled it out to read the message.

Fancy a flight to Tokyo? -MH

I'd always wanted to travel, but the last thing I wanted to do right now was be near Mycroft even though the ache in my chest felt worse at the thought of saying no to him.
It was probably only for a social event. He didn't actually want me there. I was just an image booster.
For a fancy date or fancy event? -

I hit send and kicked off my shoes and got comfortable.

Fancy event. You'll be back in time for dinner tomorrow. -MH

Nah, I'm good here. Enjoy tho.-

I didn't expect to get a reply after the rejection and started to drift off. My phone started to vibrate again, insistently. I sighed and answered the call, with my eyes still half closed.
"Good evening, my dear." He greeted smoothly and I felt some part of me ease at hearing his voice. Drawing myself so far from the bond for so long had taken it's toll.
"Mmm, hi." I said sleepily.
"Are you all right? I noticed some... Something amiss." He sounded as reluctant as ever when it came to even talking about our bond.
"Just feeling under the weather today." That was hardly convincing, but I was too tired right now to think of something better.
There was a thoughtful hum from his side of the phone.
"Mycroft." I murmured quietly.
There was hesitation.
"Yes?" He was so composed.

My chest felt like it could collapse from the forceful pounding of my heart. I could tell him, I could tell him that I missed him, I could tell him that I couldn't bear to keep scraping and pulling at a bond that barely reached his end anymore. I wanted to tell him that I needed him, right now and right here.
I remembered the one time I'd asked him to come home early and he'd scoffed and said that he couldn't leave the fate of the British government in the hands of the barely competent just so that he could satisfy the wants of one person who happened to have a claim to his soul.
"Goodnight." I said instead and hung up.
------

After the phone call it was like a truly conscious effort had been put into trying to decimate the bond myself.
Something which had always been stressed to us in school as being a terrible idea.
I'd always thought they'd been exaggerating the consequences. But in reality, they were understating them.

It began with body aches, flu like fevers wracking my body with shivers and sweats. No medicine alleviated the pain, and even if it did there was none left in my flat to use. After the first week of my emancipation from Mycroft the dying bond started to really rip into me.
I was exhausted all of the time, loathe to move or wake up. My bed was soon abandoned for the cold tiles of my bathroom, and it only got worse.
My body seemed to reject everything, food and water were things that were no longer allowed near me.

I needed to get to the clinic.
I needed Mycroft, I needed Mycroft.
No.
No.
My chest ached and burned like a festering wound.
Where was my phone, I needed my phone to call... Someone.

I couldn't move from where I was locked up on the floor.
Everyone had heard horror stories like this before, a bond between partners goes terribly neglected and wrong and someone ends up trying to reject the bond. Except the body doesn't know what to obey, the mind or the soul.
Horror stories didn't begin to convey what it felt like.

I wanted to die on that floor. A bitter part of me wanted Mycroft to feel it, to feel like something integral was being ripped out of him.

I would have died if it hadn't been for a nosy doctor and an even nosier Holmes brother.

Blissfully cool fingers pressed against my throat and I whined and moved closer. Different hands cradled my face and coaxed me into opening my eyes. All I could see was hard blue eyes and slicked back blonde hair.
"We're taking you to the hospital." A faint voice told me and I curled up tighter around myself as someone tried to lift me and my muscles spasmed and seized.
"Careful, Sherlock." The voice admonished as I groaned and pressed my face into a thick jacket. So bright. So bright.
Everything was bright until it wasn't.

I woke up in pain, feeling heavy and weighed down in a stark white bed. I moaned and scrabbled around for anything to hold.
"Ah good, you're awake." My movements stilled at the sound of the voice. "Don't even try to pretend to be unconscious."
I opened my eyes and there he was, comfortably seated at my bedside.
"Mycroft." I rasped flatly.
The confirmation that I could speak was all he seemed to need to know before he launched into one of his tirades.
"What do you think you were doing? No one had seen you for two weeks, the only reason you're alive is because of John Watson and my brother. Do you know how much of his baiting I'm going to have to endure now..." I tuned out his rant and focused on the bags beneath his eyes and the gauntness to his face that spoke of sudden weight loss. His tie was crooked, his pocket watch was missing and he'd let his collar turn up somewhere along the line.

"Why are you here then, Holmes." I asked him tiredly.
"Because without my presence right now you'd be in excruciating pain and possibly die." He shot back, teeth flashing like he was snarling. "Do you have any idea how stupid it was to hurt yourself like that?"
"I just wanted the bond to end. I just wanted to stop loving you." I murmured and looked up at the ceiling.
There was silence for a few moments.
"You were trying to break our bond yourself, that's-"
"Dangerous, I know. Which is why I scheduled an actual appointment to get it done by a professional."
"You... You were going to dissolve the soul bond between us?" There was a distant sort of surprise to his voice.
"Yes."
"Without telling me."
"You would have tried to change my mind. I was just so tired." I let my eyes close before turning my head and looking at him. "Why didn't you come when you felt it?"
He sighed and massaged his temples as he leaned forward in his chair.
"It's complex." He started.
"It's not," I interrupted softly. "it's simple. You chose the other option. You always choose the other option."
He reached out to cover my hand with his and I hated how the pain and confusion abated at his touch.
"I can't place one person above a country." He tried to explain.
"Then why not just dissolve the bond from the start, I could have gone on and lived my life without you and without this." I gestured with my free hand between the two of us and he seemed taken aback by my bitterness.
"Because I... I grew fond of you."

I could already feel a part of my resolve soften at his supposed admission. I couldn't let myself be drawn back in.

"I want the bond dissolved, Mycroft."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible right now." The voice of my doctor informed us. "With the state you and your bond is in now the backlash would be quite nasty, and you're not healthy enough to handle it."
"So how long until I'm better?" She gave me a doctorish look.
"It's not just about your physical health, the bond between the two of you needs to not be a livewire for it to be dissolved."
"What would happen if we did it anyway?" I interjected and felt Mycroft's hand tighten around mine. The doctor looked serious.
"There's a large chance that you would be... scarred from it. That's only if you survive."

Great. Just great.
I let my head fall back against the pillow as I listened absently to the list of do's and don't's when it came to repairing a soul bound you were going to sever as soon as it was possible.
I was cleared for release later that day. Something I would have been relieved about if Mycroft hadn't been hovering over me the whole time. I painstakingly changed into my own clothes and started to dial a cab on my phone.
"That won't be necessary. My car is outside." He brushed past me to hold open the front door and I sighed in resignation. Why waste money when there was a perfectly good government car available?

I got in and scooted to the far seat, where I could lean against the door. Mycroft sighed and climbed in after me, staying on the other side of the backseat and allowing me space for the first time.
"This only hurts you more." He sniffed while looking out the window. I crossed my arms and hunched in on myself, the car was cold and the body aches were back now that I wasn't touching him.
"I'm used to it by now." I snapped back, feeling childish. I saw him roll his eyes.
"It doesn't have to be like that." His voice was almost gentle, almost enough to make me cave.
I decided not to reply.

The car stopped outside of an understated manor, removed from the craziness of central London. I turned to Mycroft to glare at him. He was already climbing out of the car and waiting for me to do the same.
I growled under my breath and hoisted myself out of the car, the gravelled driveway crunching under my feet as I walked straight to the door and bypassed the owner of the house. The door swung open as I stepped onto the porch, I stared doubtfully at the doorway.
"Ghosts." I said with utmost conviction.
"Biometrics." Mycroft disagreed as he hovered at my side.
"Why'd it open for me then?"
"You're keyed in of course."

The house was still as I remembered. Beautiful, and so very empty. There wasn't enough Mycroft to fill such a big house. And there was a lot to him, mostly ego.
I headed straight upstairs, making a beeline for the guest bedroom I'd used last time.
"You remembered." He sounded surprised when he appeared at the doorway to what was sort of my room.
"How could I forget the only three times we spent more than a day together." I said with my back to him as I let myself fall on the massive bed. It was nice to stop standing, it was even nicer to kick off my shoes and bury my face deeper into the impossibly plush duvet.
"We need to discuss this." He tried to sound reasonable but I managed to poke his knee with my socked toe and provoke an irritated scoff out of him.
"I'm going to sleep."
"It's four in the afternoon!" He sounded aghast at the thought of sleeping. Which didn't surprise me, wakefulness seemed to be another Holmes family trait.
"I'm not going to argue with you when I could be sleeping instead." I mumbled into the duvet and Mycroft sighed but left the room anyway.
I ignored the tightening of my chest and let myself doze off.

I woke to a sense of relief followed by confusion.
Why didn't my entire existence feel awful? And why was there a warm body lying alongside my back?

I twisted and scowled at the suspect.
Mycroft lay on his side, his back arranged to fit perfectly against mine as he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Paperwork and his phone covered most of his stolen half of the bed and he'd clearly fallen asleep midway through doing something.
There was an awful bitter voice inside me that urged me to move away. I'd be in pain but so would he and that made it worth it.
But I was tired, and this was something I'd wanted- needed for so long.
So I pulled the duvet tighter around the two of us and let myself go back to sleep.

"Here is today's itinerary," He informed me the next morning while we were up far too early because one of us hadn't been able to sleep and we weren't quite sure who.
"That's a funny trick," I said dryly without glancing at the sheaf of papers he'd slid across the kitchen counter to me.
"It's not a trick." He said through his teeth as I continued to mostly ignore him.
"I'm not going to be paraded about for your public image, Myc." I emphasized the shortening of his name to annoy him more.
"I'd hardly want to parade a dying soulbond around." He spat and I couldn't help but stiffen at his words.
I knew I'd pushed him too far, but he'd been pushing me away for months.
"Then don't. Go to work and I'll go home. I'll see you for the mandated 'recovery' time tonight." I sneered at the term the doctor had used for the time we were supposed to be touching and being close.
"And if you suffer another fit before then?"
I finally looked at him and narrowed my eyes in a glare.
"Then I guess I'll die because my soulmate is a workaholic sociopath."

He was grinding his teeth, something he did without realising when he was reaching the end of his patience. He was even getting that sulky set to his jaw.
"I can't just take the day off." He bit out and I shrugged.
"Thought you only occupied a minor position in the government?" I felt a rush of satisfaction at poking a hole in his story.
"I need to go get ready for the day, I suggest you do the same." He dismissed and stood up from his seat.
There was a distinctive rigidity to his posture that betrayed his anger.
This all felt so bitter.

I was in the guest room, packing my meagre belongings after I'd showered and dressed in the spares I'd left here so long ago.
Mycroft was on the phone to someone, his frustrated voice muffled through the walls but I assumed it was linked to me.
I was grabbing my phone to call a ride home when he entered the room with a cursory knock on the door.
"You wouldn't even make it home in your condition." He said with a sigh.
"Bet."
His only reply was a sigh as he came and sat on the bed.
He looked tired, with his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up and his jacket placed carefully next to him.
I felt too much when I saw him like this. When he wasn't hiding what he felt, when he let down pretenses, when it was just us.

"Why must you make this so difficult when it is already challenging enough?" He asked softly and I could feel a physical ache start in my chest.
I went and sat on the bed and looked down at my hands. Nails bitten down to the quick and still quivering every now and then.
"I can't get closer to you just to tear myself away." I choked and balled my hands into fists as the shaking started again. "Why couldn't you care this much when it counted?"

He looked startled, like I'd slapped him instead of asked him what had been on my mind since I'd woken up in the hospital.
Tentatively he reached out and laid his hand over mine. The instant cease of the shaking and discomfort caused a painful sob to push it's way past my clenched jaw.
"What's wrong?!" He asked panicked and I let out a weak laugh as my eyes started to water.
"You shouldn't be the one to make me feel better when you're the one that made me feel like this!" I pushed his hand away and stood to pace anxiously, back and forth.
"I dreamt about what my life with my soulmate would be like okay! And I always thought that it would be making dinner together and playing bad music that we could sing to! And I dreamt about lazy Sundays and coming home to them after work and feeling better about my shitty day because they're there and they're smiling!"

"And I thought about how our tiny overpriced flat would be warm and cosy and big enough for us and a cat. And I dreamt about how everywhere would feel like home if they were around. And it's seems like the universe has a sense of humour because I'm your soulmate and you've never wanted any of those things! You'd prefer your soulmate to be some super smart person or a politician or dead."
My jumble of words came to an abrupt end as I said that and I looked at Mycroft with wide eyes.
He was pale and frozen in the face of whatever emotions I was crumbling underneath.
"I-I need some air." I mumbled thickly and left the room, feeling like I was going to be sick.

The feeling got worse as I moved further away. I had to stop when I reached the back garden porch. I could feel Mycroft still sitting in that quiet guestroom, something sharp and strained still connecting us.

Dead. I'd never considered that before. It was one thing to think your soulmate didn't want you as theirs but when they wanted you to be someone else or nonexistent that was... Rough.
I didn't want Mycroft to be anyone else. I just wanted him to be there.
I wanted to have memories of the two of us sitting on the bench I was sitting cross-legged on instead of having a vague recollection of how his home looked from the few times I'd visited.
I wanted so many little things that maybe they'd added up into something impossible to ask for from the Ice Man.
I let my head fall back and let a heavy shuddering breath as if to get rid of the excess of emotion sitting in my chest.
I could feel when he started making his way towards me. Trying to find me in the big house before relying on the tug he must have felt.
He was hesitating at the back door. I heard the door handle click as he stepped out. His slow, measured steps took him to the edge of the porch where he seemed to anchor himself against the railing.

"I don't want you to be anyone else." Mycroft said lowly. "I just want you."
His voice was strained and I could see the tendons of his hand flexing as his nails dug into the wooden rail.
"Do you mean it?" I asked softly.
"Yes."
No smart comment or fancy sidestepping. Just a straightforward one word answer.
Would it be so bad to give in?
I stood and walked over to him. He kept stock still, as if afraid of scaring me away.
Wrapping my arms around his middle brought a sense of peace now that it wasn't warring with resentment towards him.

Mycroft was warm and I let myself lean against him. Slowly he relaxed and let one of his hands rest on top of mine.
And for once, between the two of our smart mouths, we were content to be silent.

Chapter Text

He was different after that.
No less acidic or addicted to work and control. And cake, he definitely had a soft spot for cake, something I was discovering more and more the longer I stayed with him.
But he let himself soften in some ways.

It was small things; making sure that he said goodnight before I went to sleep, because he usually stayed up much later. It was waking me up in the mornings with a soft touch and cup of coffee just the way I liked it. Sometimes he let me drag him back into bed for a reluctant hug, complaining half-heartedly but always giving in and letting me leech his body heat.
When he started going back to work regularly, which didn't take long but I never expected that to be different, he made sure to reply to my inane texts which were usually just blurry zoomed in photos of whatever caught my eye around his house. I definitely took no small amount of satisfaction in sending him pictures of his dusty treadmill and asking him what he was doing tonight.

As the weeks went by my condition improved and I slowly returned to my own home and work. The flat seemed tiny after I'd lived in the mansion for some time, but I preferred the way my cramped home was cobbled together.
But as more time went by I found that some things didn't improve. I still felt a peculiar sense of rawness inside, like something had jostled at my being and left a mark.
However life carried on and I had decided that Mycroft and I had never been on a real date.

Sure he'd taken me to fancy places in the past but that had never been for just the two of us. It had been for the eyes of others.
So I took it upon myself to take him out.

"We don't need to make a reservation?" He asked with a hint of derision as we walked together on the sidewalk.
"Nope, the place doesn't get enough business to really warrant it." I explained with a shrug and tugged him by the hand as I spied the small cafe tucked in amidst the all sorts that populated London.
My favourite table at the window was empty so I herded Mycroft towards it and slid into the booth across from him. He was staring doubtfully at the environment I had dragged him into. I laid my hand over his on the table and smiled reassuringly.
"It's one of my favourite places in the city."
"It's... Quaint." He answered politely and I snorted at his evasive reply.
"You can pick next time," I told him while nodding in thanks to our waiter as he handed us menus.

"So what is the occasion?" Mycroft asked after I'd coerced him into trying something with noodles.
"We never went on date," I answered casually.
"What about the Ritz and-" He started to protest until I reached across the table to put my hand over his and smiled gently.
"If there were political machinations involved it wasn't a date."
He pursed his lips unhappily but didn't argue further.

"How do you feel about seafood?" He asked after a quick glance at the menu.
"Oh love, no." I shook my head at his question. "You just don't get the seafood here."
He didn't quite know how to handle the implications of that answer.
"Very well then, I shall trust you and try the sweet and sour noodles." He said, resigned but let his thumb brush across the back of my hand. I beamed at him, feeling absurdly happy at Mycroft holding my hand in this dingy restaurant and being willing to try sweet and sour noodles.
He didn't know quite what to do in the face of my enthusiasm.

He coughed and murmured an unnecessary, "Yes, hmm" before letting his eyes wander the room. While he catalogued every hair and breadth of this place I ordered our food and started fiddling with the tableware to amuse myself while waiting for him to be done.
My eyes flicked to his phone, which lay next to the hand that I wasn't holding. I could still remember how many times he'd given it a quick glance before announcing that he had to leave on previous dates. It was silent and still for now, but I frowned at it anyway.
"You know I can't switch it off," Mycroft reminded me seriously.
"I know, I know." I sighed and drummed my fingers on the table, feeling restless suddenly. "So, do you think there's any blackmarket deals going on here or is this place a front for something?"

Very smooth subject change on my part.

He raised an eyebrow but let the well worn debate drop.
"Possibly some drug running, but nothing worth my attention."
"Too small time for Mr British Government?" I asked teasingly.
"It's more Sherlock's style." He said distastefully, shooting a glare at one of the younger waiters, who scurried into the kitchen as soon as he saw my soulmate death staring him.
"Your brother still owes me a hat," I said mostly to myself, remembering the conversation with Sherlock after leaving the clinic. I was distracted from further wandering into potentially unpleasant memories when our food finally arrived and I instantly was distracted.
"Ooh noodles!" I announced as Mycroft's phone let out a short beep.

The vibration of the message coincided with my heart falling through my diaphragm in one heavy drop.
Mycroft glanced at me and froze at whatever he saw, he hesitated briefly before picking up the phone and reading the message.
"Guess I'll see you tomorrow." I murmured quietly after seeing him sigh and feeling his hand slip out from underneath mine.

I didn't want to meet his eyes as he started to stand and pulled out his card to pay for the food. It hadn't taken much for my good mood to crash, just one message and now I wanted to go home and be self pitying behind a closed door and underneath my own blankets.

It was only a few minutes before the two of us were standing on the pavement outside, the entirety of our meal still warm in the takeaway bag that bumped against my leg. It was such a small thing, just one date cut short really.
But it wasn't at the same time, it was the dozens of dates that had ended the same way or had never happened at all. It was a reminder of the crumpled forms from the clinic I still kept hidden in my apartment.

"You could come with me," he muttered while staring straight ahead.
I looked up from the ground for the first time since his phone had rung.
"You said that a professional such as yourself shouldn't be dragging his personal affairs into work like a dog tracking in mud." I said with a frown and he winced slightly.
"Ah, I did say that, yes." He admitted.
"Didn't expect me to remember what you said half a year ago huh?" I needled, pleased to have him on the backfoot.
"My offer still stands," he told me when the black car pulled up and he opened the door while watching me expectantly.
"This is you trying isn't it?"
His eyes were a cold blue from where I stood as he nodded.
"Okay," I said and climbed into the car.

Mycroft's place of work was an official looking building surrounded by fencing and security. I was asked for ID only once before Mycroft directed an authoritative stare at the woman and she promptly buzzed me through.
The building had too many floors for them to all be above ground, I noted as he lead me through winding corridors and past several security checkpoints. Anthea joined us as we rounded a corner and I smiled at her, she'd always been quite lovely to me and very patient when faced with my frustration towards her employer. She smiled back.
We entered what seemed to be Mycroft's offices judging by the way he hooked his umbrella and jacket over a rack and headed towards the closed door that must be his personal office.

"Come in my dear," he called when I lingered awkwardly outside.
"Fancy." I commented after stepping into the room. Fancy was an understatement.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to remain here while I discuss matters with..."
"God? The other world leaders?" I quipped and Mycroft sighed but there was an amused smile.
"If you need anything text Anthea." I nodded and made myself comfortable on the plush couch tucked against the wall.
"And don't go digging through any files." He warned me seriously and grunted when I stuck out my tongue at him.

He didn't need to worry about me digging through his classified work stuff, I was preoccupied with digging through my own mental clutter in order to reach that weak feeling of other that had been embedded in my being since I was born.

The bond was weak and stunted after everything that had happened. But when I tapped into it I could still feel Mycroft.
I tugged tentatively on the thread, not expecting Mycroft would notice. He did. I could feel him finding the part of him that tied him to me and poking at it critically.
For the first time in...
For the first time the two of us were actually interacting through our bond.

Mycroft felt like a cold winter's day, one had to brace themselves for the icy wind that howled across our connection and lean into the cold nip of his character to enjoy the way that his mind brushed against yours.
He was curious, pulling experimentally from his side until I was closer. Wanting to know what I felt like beyond the subconscious barriers I'd built up against him.
Cautiously I lowered the resistance to him. He was methodical in his approach. Taking note of how it felt to cross over, the way that it felt warm but...
'It feels broken.'
It was just a flyaway comment from his own busy mind that was half focused on me and the people he was actually talking to.
'It feels that way to me too.' I impressed upon him as I gently nudged him back to his side and let the bridge between us fade.

I'd wanted to do that for so long. But now here I was, on Mycroft's couch with a frazzled soulbond still buzzing, feeling more tired than fulfilled.

Mycroft woke me hours later and I moaned and burrowed further into the plush couch.
He sighed heavily and I felt him brush his fingers over my cheek.
"Kiss me?" My whispered request was loud in the silent office and his fingers stilled on my skin for a moment.
I was about to mutter out an apology when his lips met mine.
His hand cradled my jaw as he kissed me gently. It was soft and warm and belonged only to us.

When he pulled away I cracked open my eyes to slits and found that there was green in the icy blue of his eyes and that he looked quite nice when he wasn't frowning.
"I'd like to stay in this moment for a while." I told him softly, feeling like something in me was tearing.
Mycroft didn't say anything, he just knelt beside me and started to stroke my hair. I curled up tightly and squeezed my eyes shut.
"Myc," I mumbled sleepily and his free hand slipped into mine.
"Stay in this moment as long as you need to." I could feel the vibration of his voice more than I understood the words.
The low even sounds of him speaking soothed me to sleep.

I woke up in his bed, nestled into his side as he lay on his back with one arm pressing along my back to keep me close.
I stared up at him, wondering how I'd gotten here and why I felt still felt so tired.
"What did crossing over feel like for you?"
He looked surprised to see me awake and asking questions already.
"It's not something I've ever experienced before." He said carefully and I sat up slightly and rested my head on his chest. His hand rested on my back, right between my shoulder blades.
"You feel like a snowstorm," his brows creased as he wondered whether to take offense or not. "In a good way. I've always loved snowstorms."
I reassured him but he still looked dubious.
"Snowstorms are atrocious!" He argued and I chuckled into his chest and shuffled closer to him, tangling my legs with his and wrapping my arms around his middle.

"Didn't you ever get excited for snow days when you were a kid?" I asked curiously and he grumbled.
"Come on! Even Mycroft Holmes must have had one good snow day." I pressed and shifted against him.
"They were intolerable." He grouched.
"Next snowfall I'm showing you how great a snow day can be." I declared resolutely and he groaned and let his head fall against the pillows.
"My parents would adore you." He sounded disgusted by this but the hand on my back was rubbing slow circles.

"What did it feel like for you?" I asked again after a few moments.
"You felt..." He paused to choose his words. "You felt like this."
I made a confused face at him until he sighed and gestured at the bed, at the two of us lying together.
"Oh." I murmured, understanding what he meant. "Is that good?"
"It's not unpleasant." He answered and I rolled my eyes but relaxed against him.

We lay in silence for a few minutes, me with my ear to his chest as his heartbeat started to match mine while he rubbed lazy circles on my back.
"You said you felt broken?" He asked tentatively, breaking the quiet.
I kept my ear to his chest instead of looking back up at him. "Ever since... The-when I was hospitalized."
"It was before that," he corrected in a carefully level voice.
"After the phone call. Do you remember when you phoned about Tokyo and I-I was going to say something-" I wavered and broke off.
"I still don't feel okay. I still feel... I still feel." I said fiercely, my chest creaking from the swell of emotion. His other hand came up to my head, fingers combing through my hair.

"We still have a checkup appointment with the doctor." He said the words so softly, as if he didn't want me to hear.
I finally looked up at him.
"Mycroft?" The hand carding through my hair brushes against my cheek.
"We have to go," he said as his thumb traced my cheekbone.
"How long have you known?" I started to prop myself up to meet his eyes better.
"She phoned me yesterday." He breathed.
"I don't want to." My hands fisted into his shirt. "We're fine." I insisted anxiously despite knowing that we weren't.

Mycroft sat up, forcing me to straddle him or be thrown off balance. His hands gently uncurled my tight fists and he threaded his fingers between mine.
"A decision doesn't need to be made right away." He tried to reassure me but still there was pit in my stomach and I was holding his hands too tightly.
"When is it?"
"I'm having it moved to today." He said calmly.
"Mycroft..." I trailed off, not knowing how to put the storm of feelings swirling in my chest into words. I doubted that even if I found the words they wouldn't make it past the lump in my throat.

His eyes softened and I leaned forward slowly to kiss him.
Desperately and with an intensity neither of us knew how to channel. Our hands disconnected as my hands went to his chest and fiddled with the buttons of his pyjama shirt until they were undone. I was tracing the planes and curves of his bared chest as his own hands slipped underneath my shirt to settle on warm skin.
He seemed content to keep his hands on my hips as my fingers traced the ridge of his sternum and the hollows of his collarbones.

His teeth nipped gently at my bottom lip as my nails scratched lightly from his collarbone to the band of his pants. He let out a surprised gasp at the sensation and broke the kiss to draw a deep breath as I let my head fall against his shoulder.
He let out a huffing laugh that made me smile into the crook of his neck.

I wanted to tell him with certainty that I didn't want the bond dissolved, that I wanted to work on our relationship so that more of our mornings could be like this. So that kissing him felt natural and I didn't feel like shying away from him all the time.
But I still thought of the bond dissolution forms that were tucked away, already half filled out. And I thought of how his hands at my hips and the kiss he was pressing to my neck felt more like a goodbye than anything. 
And I felt that ache in my chest start again.

The car ride to the hospital was different than the one from it.
The biggest difference was that I sat next to Mycroft. Tucked neatly against his side with our arms pressed together.
I was still in my clothes from yesterday, having exhausted the meagre collection of clothes I kept at Mycroft's already. I felt rather worn out sitting in the luxurious car, next to Mycroft in his impeccable suit as he and Anthea talked about politics and whether Jeremy Clarkson would indeed be running for mayor.
I was struggling to stay awake, my head resting against Mycroft's shoulder as my eyelids felt dangerously heavy.
A gentle nudge to my knee broke my sleepiness and I blinked tiredly at Mycroft as we pulled up in front of the hospital.
"We could still run away you know," I murmured lowly and the corners of his mouth curled into a reluctant smile.
"We could go to Tokyo." He said in the same low voice.
"We could."
And then we got out of the car and walked into the building.

Our doctor, my doctor - really the only one she was keeping alive was me - seemed pleased to see the two of us alive and together when we entered her office.
"So, how have you been?" She asked with a friendly smile, pen poised over her notes.
I flashed one of those smiles you reserved for unwanted situations.
There was an awkward pause before I realised Mycroft wasn't going to answer as I'd expected him to, and the doctor was still looking at us with growing speculation.
"Well I'm not dying so that's great," I told her, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
"A very high bar," Mycroft chimed in and I resisted the urge to nudge his arm off the armrest.
"At this point one has to dig to get below my standards." I sniped.
"Your symptoms." The doctor interrupted to get us back on track.
"I'm tired a lot, even when I get enough sleep. And I feel weak sometimes, if it's been a long day."

Her pen flowed across the page as she nodded while I talked.
"What about your mental and emotional state?"
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, not used to having Mycroft directing his full attention towards me without something else being in the picture.
"It's not the best." I started lamely. "I think I'm upset more easily and my side of the bond feels... Sore."
I glanced at Mycroft before looking away. His expression was blank, or unreadable.
"And when did you meet each other?"
I frowned and looked at Mycroft questioningly, "About a year ago maybe?"
"A year and two months," he corrected smoothly.
Her eyebrows scrunched together at that as she wrote it down.
"What's wrong with that?"
Mycroft sighed next to me at my impatient question and I resigned myself to knocking my knee against his.

"I think it's best if I tell you plainly,"
"Please do."
"Your soulbond is the strangest one I've seen in my career."
"As in strangely awesome or strangely awful?" Mycroft was not impressed by my style of questioning.
"It's just... Unorthodox." She said rather diplomatically.
"Ah, awful then."
"Can you elaborate?" Mycroft interrupted smoothly, bringing us back on track again.
"Well it's not often that a bond as developed and far along as yours is still so one-sided."

I was tempted to ask her if she'd ever learnt something resembling tact. "A year is more than enough time for a bond to be fully realised for both partners, but-"
She hesitated and flipped my file closed and resting her clasped hands on it. I got the impression that her news wasn't going to be great. 
"The reason you specifically suffered after the accidental bond severance is because most of the development has been done from your side."
I let out a soft noise at that, not quite sure what to say. "It's like if the two of you were on opposite ends of a gorge and you needed to build a bridge and meet in the middle. Except you were the only one building and so when the 'bridge' broke you were the only one that fell."
"I mean that clears up the dynamic of our relationship but was it necessary to do it so brutally," I grunted and rubbed at my eyes with my sleeve.
She started explaining further, outlining the available courses of action but I didn't need to have a medical degree to know that there were only two choices.
Either Mycroft Holmes met me in the middle, or we blew up the metaphorical bridge with TNT and hoped that we both survived.

The ride back to his house was silent, except for Anthea commenting on the weather and handing me a bar of chocolate and passing Mycroft a cup of coffee. I could tell it was cold and oversugared by the displeased scrunch he pulled his face into when he sipped it.

When we pulled up in front of the manor I made sure to shoot her a smile in the rearview mirror as I said goodbye. She flashed me one back and I wondered how much harder Mycroft's life was going to be thanks to her.
The gravel of the driveway was uncomfortably loud as the two of us walked up to the doorway, and it was even more uncomfortable when we stepped onto the tiled floor and it was silent.
I made a beeline for the kitchen, leaving Mycroft to hang up his umbrella and jacket as he liked to do while I put the kettle on to boil and grabbed the carton of noodle leftovers from last night.
We remained silent even when he came into the kitchen and sat at the counter. Words and nerves jumbled into a knot at the bottom of my stomach and I wondered if I would even eat the food I was reheating for us.

"She really didn't hold back on that bridge metaphor," I broke the silence with that tactful comment. Mycroft wasn't all that keen on replying. Instead his eyes tracked me as I moved from the microwave to the island counter while balancing bowls and mugs. I was wriggling onto the kitchen stool and sliding his food and drink over to him when he decided to speak.
"I don't know what you want."

I stilled.
"I don't know." He repeated again in a low voice.
"Mycroft-"
I wished he'd spoken when I'd had my head in the fridge or when I was heating our food. Just any time when my back was to him and I didn't have to watch him looking at me like I finally had the answer when he didn't.

"I still have the bond severance forms. Sometimes I fill them in a bit. Other times I just think about the reason for severance. They ask that question a lot you know."
I shifted on my seat and pressed my nails into my palm. "It's not something you ever think about growing up. I know it's something you considered but I've always just been... A romantic, I guess." I rubbed my face and sighed tiredly. All at once feeling heavy.
"I've had bond severance forms drawn up and ready since I was twenty five."
"Wait, so you-"
"And I tore them up after I met you."

I sat back in my seat and stared at him. Mycroft Holmes had contingency plans for everything, ranging from his favourite TV shows being cancelled to nuclear war occurring.
And he'd just... Torn up his backup plan when it came to something so important.

"You tore them up," I repeated quietly, disbelievingly.
He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips together. He was getting impatient.

"When asked the reason I said a soulbond was not something I could sustain. It simply wasn't a priority in my life and I couldn't picture it ever being one." He started, keeping his voice even. "When we met, I understood. I hated that you just... Had such sway over me but I also came to enjoy how it felt to have you in my life."
I felt warm and ridiculous as the normally composed Iceman became gruff and struggled to meet my gaze as he spoke.

"I'm not a sentimental man. Yet you've claimed a side of my bed and stolen my jackets and I do not find myself wanting to part with that," his eyes met mine "or with you."

"If you're asking me to stay, Mycroft Holmes, I'll stay."
"I'm asking you to stay," he murmured and I smiled and reached out to place my hand over his.
"Okay."

Chapter Text

The Holmes parents' house was a daring shade of pink and I could already hear Sherlock having a lively conversation with his mother inside.
Mycroft sighed at my side and I laughed at him as he looked so sorry for himself.

"Oh come on, Mycroft. You've got to be home for Christmas." I said admonishingly while walking the two of us to the front door.
"I'd rather be back at our home," he mumbled petulantly. I just let out another amused laugh at his expense.
"You wouldn't be able to resist working if we were at our house. At least here your mum can guilt you into getting off your laptop for dinner." He grumbled in reply but didn't disagree.

I knocked on the door and waited, being tightly to Mycroft's arm. This would be my first Christmas with the whole Holmes family and it was nerve wracking.
He squeezed my hand once reassuringly before his father opened the door and ushered us inside.
"Merry Christmas!" He greeted cheerily as he hugged us. Mycroft sighed heavily and I rolled my eyes at him as his dad smiled knowingly.
"Merry Christmas and thank you for having me over." I replied, knowing it was up to me to continue civil conversation.
"Of course, you're family dear. And a much better guest than either of my sons." He turned to Mycroft at the last part and I smirked and abandoned him to go help out in the kitchen.

Sherlock was already there, brooding against the counter while his mum fussed over potatoes. She rushed through hellos and seasons greetings while I took over peeling potatoes and she started on some sort of pastry.
"Sherlock, would you stop being a twat and cut up these potatoes." I jerked my head towards the growing pile of peeled potatoes and the younger brother gave an even heavier sigh than his elder and shucked off his coat before joining me.

"How's my brother coping with being in a functional relationship?" He poked.
"He's getting better. I'm friends with Anthea now, so she makes his life hell when he's being a dick."  Sherlock smirked at the thought of his brother being bullied by his personal assistant and I thought I had given him the best Christmas present with that information.
"Oh dear, I still need to put the roast in and start on-"
"What can we do?" I broke off the frantic Holmes matriarch before she worked herself into a fit and got myself and Sherlock drafted into cooking duty for the morning.

The Christmas day cooking frenzy was finally dying down once we'd gotten everything ready and afternoon had rolled around.
Mycroft was groaning and massaging his temple as he sat at the kitchen table.
"It's only 2 o'clock. It's been Christmas day for at least a week now. How can it only be 2 o'clock?" He whined. "I'm in agony."
I huffed and wound my arms around him as I stood behind him. He reached up and held my hand with the hand he wasn't using to rub his forehead for an imaginary headache.
"Myc, you just napped for an hour in the lounge." I teased while leaning down to rest my chin on top of his head. I yawned and felt like following his lead myself.
Mycroft stiffened and tried to sneakily check the pulse on my wrist.
"Are you feeling okay?" He murmured lowly while counting my BPM.
"I'm fine, just very tired." I mumbled, suddenly feeling tired now that I'd stopped moving.

He was suddenly on his feet and herding me to the lounge before I even realised it.
"You said you'd tell me when you started to feel like this." He berated me gently while seating me on the couch and draping a blanket over me when I yawned again and lay down.
"I'm just tired cause I did stuff, unlike you." I muttered, wriggling deeper into the blanket.
"Your heart rate was low again." He said with a worried narrowing of his eyes. He smoothed the hair back from my face and I hummed at the attention.
"Then you should lie down with me, for safety."

There was a moment of silence before I opened my eyes to see his reaction.
"You're insufferable." He said with great fondness as he lay down with me, sandwiching me in between the back of the couch and his front.
"Ugh, don't shove your cold feet in between my legs." I grunted as he did it anyway.
With him so close I could feel the lethargy melting away to replaced by normal tiredness and the ache in my body easing. I breathed easier and let myself relax against Mycroft.

It was Christmas day, and I knew he had an insanely expensive gift waiting at our home. But this, having him and napping on his parents' couch, was the best Christmas present I could have gotten.