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When Mycroft turns up at Grimmauld Place, John is the one to answer the door. To say he’s surprised is putting the thing mildly - generally, nobody knocks on the door in the first place. If you know where the secret, invisible stronghold of the Order is, you mostly just come in. Knocking's a bit redundant. So the knocking is strange in the first place, but the fact that Mycroft’s there… well, John sounds like an idiot when he gets the door open.
“Er,” is the only thing he manages to say, which is… brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
“You seem surprised,” Mycroft says.
“A bit,” John says, then adds, “Disappearing house and… all that,” so he won’t sound entirely monosyllabic. Not that it’s much of an improvement.
“John, what are you - “ Sherlock says, coming down from the stairs behind him, and John winces internally. This should go swimmingly. John can actually hear Sherlock freeze behind him and when he looks back… Sherlock looks thrilled, alright, scowl fixed firmly in place.
“Oh, wonderful,” he says and then goes flouncing off in the direction of the parlor, slamming the door behind him.
“An auspicious beginning,” Mycroft says, mildly.
John sighs and steps away from the door. “Won’t you come in,” he says because no one else is going to. Mycroft steps into the house, looking around, considering his surroundings.
“My,” he says, “I do remember it being far less… cheerful.”
“We painted the walls and - ” John manages - then what Mycroft says really registers and he says, “Wait, what?”
#
Mycroft, apparently, is a dark family secret, never so much as included on the Black family tapestry - a squib, the sort of thing the Blacks didn’t even acknowledge. The whole thing is very Flowers in the Attic, except nobody got poisoned or drank anybody’s blood. At least, according to Mycroft. Sherlock refuses to even talk about it. He’s lain out on a chaise, brooding - John really can’t call it anything else. Well, no. He could probably call it sulking. Not that Sherlock would admit to it.
Then Snape arrives. John didn’t know what strange really meant until that moment.
Snape sweeps in the room in that overdramatic, Bela Lugosi way he has - he and Sherlock actually share a similar sense of drama, which is not something John can un-think once he’s thought it, even though the comparison is unflattering. Snape stands quivering just inside the door to the parlor and says, in that measured way he has, “Mycroft.”
“Severus,” Mycroft says with one of those falsely mild smiles that usually mean he’s about to do something dramatic and intimidating - John can’t even begin to untangle what his tone means, but he definitely has one. “I hear you’ve all been having a spot of trouble. Terrible business, this war of yours.”
“Your sense of drama remains unchanged, I see,” Snape says, which is pretty rich coming from him.
“Drama serves a certain purpose,” Mycroft says, tipping his head back slightly. “As you well know.”
Snape gets a look on his face John can’t identify for a moment. Then he realizes that Snape is almost smiling. He’s not proud of the double take he does. But really. Snape. Smiling. It’s more than a little unsettling. John sort of wants to check that Sirius isn’t somewhere being horribly poisoned. When he looks over towards Sherlock to see what he thinks of all this, he finds him with his mouth twisted up in distaste, which… well have to do with Snape or just Mycroft. No telling, really.
“Yes, you’ve always had an overdeveloped sense of purpose,” Snape says - it doesn’t come out quite as uncomplimentary as you’d think.
“And you have always had an underdeveloped sense of self-preservation,” Mycroft says. With anyone else it would have been a warning. With Snape it’s… John has no bloody clue. But it doesn’t sound like the warning it should be. “Now look at you. A central piece in a bloody war. Have you decided who you’re spying on, yet, Severus?”
“An unfit subject for company,” Snape says. “And you so seldom allow yourself to be inappropriate.”
“Now, you know that’s not true,” Mycroft says. John carefully sidesteps the look Mycroft is giving Snape, for the sake of his own sanity.
“Allow me to correct myself,” Snape says. “Youn seldom allow yourself to be inappropriate in public.”
“Much closer to the truth,” Mycroft says.
“Then, perhaps,” Snape says, “We should continue this conversation privately.”
“A wise decision,” Mycroft says and follows Snape out of the room.
A sudden, jarring crash and thump sounds out in the hallways. John nearly goes to check they’re not killing one another then thinks that’s not really Snape or Mycroft’s style. If one of them ends up poisoned in the morning, well - “Are they - “ John says and then doesn’t know how to complete the question.
“I believe,” Sherlock says, that same look of distaste on his face, “That Mycroft is trying to leave Snape in a family way.”
“Christ,” John says. “Now I’m thinking about Snape pregnant.”
Sherlock is silent for a moment. Then he says, “I know where Mrs. Hudson has hidden the firewhiskey.”
“Thank God for that,” John says.