Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“May I come in, Sir?”

Mycroft didn’t look up from his work, nor did Albert wait for him to answer as he slowly entered Mycroft’s office, closing the door behind him.

Albert smiled to himself as Mycroft’s shoulders seem to relax when he entered. After all, where there was the eldest Moriarty, there was wine, and where there was wine, was the opportunity to drown out any and all kinds of stress that a bigshot government official would have. Mycroft and him weren’t close, nor were they friends by any means, though after the ordeal with Adler- now Bonde, the gap of ‘the superior’ and ‘the subordinate’ seemed to have closed itself, allowing Albert to waltz in to the other’s office and drink with him.

Albert didn’t really know why he enjoyed drinking with Mycroft. Part of it was probably that getting wasted alone was pathetic, but he doubted Mycroft was a smart choice for a drinking partner. Albert was in no way a lightweight, and wasn’t concerned about letting secrets slip once intoxicated, but he preferred the dynamic he previously had with Mycroft, where Mycroft was the face of power. Now that they were on the same level, although not officially, it put pressure on Albert to maintain that. It’s easy to play inferior and respectful, but to be casual to such a powerful man felt dangerous.

Perhaps that why these days Albert never showed up to Mycroft’s office without 2 bottles of stress-relief.

“Pour me a glass, will you,” Mycroft said, pushing his chair away from his desk and sighing. He looked drained, though not necessarily overworked. Something was bothering him, Albert decided, but he was too sober to ask what it was, and Mycroft was too sober to answer.

“You seem to have a lot of work as of late,” Albert chose to say. He already assumed what all the work was about, but decided he wanted to make small talk.

“It’s because we don’t have the body of Adler to show to the crown,” Mycroft said dryly. “At least they aren’t questioning their death,” he sighed. “But I had to fill out so many forms and documents my arm is terribly sore.” Albert watched Mycroft gulp down his wine in a way he never had before. Despite the fact that they were drinking together, neither of them had ever chugged their alcohol or downed it desperately. The bottom of the bottle was always reached slowly and gracefully, so it surprised Albert when Mycroft snatched up a bottle and swigged the wine straight out.

“Are you alright?” Albert asked hesitantly. He was getting quite concerned as to how Mycroft would handle so much all at once.

Mycroft loosened his tie around his neck, panting for air as the bottle clattered to the floor. “I’m fantastic,” he said, his face turning slightly pink. “You’re turn,” he said pointing to the second bottle on the table.

Albert looked at him incredulously. “You want me to tip that back?”

Mycroft nodded. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

Oh. Mycroft was challenging him.

Albert smiled, maintaining eye contact with the other as he drank the whole bottle in one go.

Mycroft gulped, loosening his tie even more and looking away.

Albert sighed when Mycroft didn’t make any move to initiate a conversation. The silence was not comfortable as it usually was.

“Something bothering you, Mr. Holmes?” Albert asked, voice only a little slurred. “You’ve never let yourself go like this. Is everything alright?”

“What, didn’t think I could let loose, did you?” Mycroft joked, though he sounded nervous, which was odd. Sure, everyone got nerves from time to time, but Mycroft never let it show.

“Mycroft,” Albert pressed. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing really, I just have an awful lot happening right now and needed a drink, and well, getting drunk alone is pathetic,” Mycroft said.

“That it is,” Albert chuckled. “Well, I suppose since I’ve delivered the goods, I should leave-,”

“Stay,” Mycroft ordered. “I’d wallow too hard in self-pity if I’m left alone in this state.”

Albert had a feeling that wasn’t why he wanted him to stay, but didn’t push too hard, settling on staring at Mycroft with his head resting on his hand.

Mycroft’s otherwise pale face was quite pink as the alcohol began to kick in.

“How’re your brothers doing? Your plan, is all going well?” Mycroft asked, his intoxication showing through his voice.

“You do not need to concern yourself with us further, Mr. Holmes. We assured you we will handle ourselves, did we not?” Albert said with a small smile. “William and Louis are as fit as ever. I think William and Sherlock are quite close, no? How is he, your brother? Liam doesn’t talk about him much.”

“Sherlock is,” Mycroft seemed to think for the right word. “Well, he’s Sherlock. But I suppose all his limbs are still attached to his body for now, so that’s good.”

Albert laughed. He honestly did find it amusing how different the Holmes brothers were to him and his own brothers. Mycroft and Sherlock cared for each other, no doubt but they also seemed to be at each other’s throats from time to time. Albert supposed that’s how most siblings were- ones that weren’t plotting a grand scheme to overthrow the class system.

“You know, I’ve come to look forward to this time of day,” Mycroft said softly. “It’s quite relaxing and it feels…comfortable.” He refused to meet Albert’s eyes, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Does it?” Albert said. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” Mycroft pressed. He finally looked up to Albert, who raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t the whole point of our drinking game to feel numb? I don’t think I can feel anything when I’m this far gone.” He was lying of course. He would never let himself get drunk enough to be unable to perceive the world, but he wasn’t sure what Mycroft was trying to get to with this conversation. It was best to play it safe.

Mycroft nodded slowly. “You asked what was bothering me earlier,” he stated. “My parents, they popped in for a visit the other day, and that’s what’s been on my mind.” He looked up to Albert, who nodded at him to continue. “They want me to get married,” he scowled. “I don’t want to get married.”

Albert couldn’t help the small laugh that left his mouth, disguising it as a cough. “Why would it be a hassle for you? I don’t see how a wife would burden you in anyway. Getting married could reduce your workload too- you needn’t worry about your house when you’re at work.”

Mycroft didn’t answer staring down at the floor. He didn’t know whether he should share the next part or not. That is what he wanted to talk about in the first place- to get it of his chest because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Over the years he had learnt to trust Albert more than anyone, though he knew the other only ever saw him as a man he worked for. But now that Albert had shared his plan with Mycroft, he felt they had something bonding them together, and Mycroft’s trust only grew- his trust in a crime lord. It was laughable, but it was true.

“I do not want a wife, Albert,” Mycroft said stiffly.

“I assure you it will be alright-,”

“No Albert, you do not understand,” Mycroft said, clenching his fists. “I do not wish to marry a woman because I,” he choked on his words, unable to continue, despite how desperately he needed to get it out. Albert was the only person he could ever allow himself to tell.

“I do not fancy women,” Mycroft muttered. “I’m bent the other way, and my parents found out-,”

“I can’t hear you,” Albert interrupted. “You’re muttering-,”

“I like blokes, Albert! I’m a homosexual,” Mycroft burst out, stunning Albert, his eyes widening.

“Oh.”

“My parents,” Mycroft hiccupped softly, blinking a bit. “My maid let them into the house while I had a…guest over, and they saw, and now-,” he sighed. “Fuck.”

Albert for once, didn’t know what to say. “Oh,” he repeated.

Mycroft panted softly. “And you can’t tell anyone, because I know you’re secret too,” he threated, making Albert snap back to reality and turn his charm back on.

“Of course, Mycroft. I would never betray your trust. Not a soul will know,” Albert smiled. “Besides, times are more modern now, I doubt too many people would mind your…preference.”

Mycroft toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Right. I hope we’re both drunk enough to forget this when we sober up.”

Albert just smiled and nodded.

Mycroft stared at Albert, as if waiting for some sort of insult or negative reaction.

“Perhaps I should leave now,” Albert said, feeling squirmish under the other’s gaze.

Mycroft sighed. “Yes, perhaps you should.”

Albert stood up, bowing slightly. “See you tomorrow, Sir.”

Mycroft didn’t respond, and Albert took it as a sign to leave, his mind getting too distracted and muddled.

He couldn’t afford to get distracted from the Moriarty plan, yet his mind was too curious. It wondered who Mycroft had been with when his parents came, and what they’d been doing- How they’d been doing it.

He shook his head as his mind tried to form images.

Sex with a man was an…interesting thought. He stopped himself from wondering what it would be like, heading home quickly to drink some of Louis’s tea and sober up, and hopefully forget the whole thing.

Sleep sounded amazing

~

“What are you doing? MI-6, the mission, we need to discuss-,” Albert panted, still seeking the other’s lips despite his words.

He couldn’t remember how he’d got there, but he was in Mycroft’s office on his lap, kissing him hard. But no, he was here for a reason...to make MI-6 related arrangements-

“Fuck MI-6,” Mycroft said.

“Or you could fuck me,” Albert said jokingly.

“Would you like that?” Mycroft said, his lack of smile pointing out that he didn’t catch the humour in Albert’s tone.”

“No!” Albert said. “I mean-,”

“Why not?” Mycroft asked.

“If someone finds out-,”

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that, Moriarty?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

Albert felt his face go red as Mycroft’s hand moved from his waist to-

~

Albert woke up with a start.

What. The. Fuck.

Why was he dreaming of…of THAT! with a man- with Mycroft!

Curiosity…it had to be curiosity. It was something new that Albert had never had real exposure to, of course he was curious! There was no time for him to go on a journey of self-discovery at the moment.

He lay down in bed, unable to go back to sleep, wondering once again what Mycroft must have done to that other man, knowing that he wasn’t forgetting about it anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Never did Albert think he would be annoyed at William’s perceptiveness.

“Did you sleep well, brother,” was William’s first probe. “You look distressed.”

Albert froze as he reached for his hat, his previous plan to sneak away to work unnoticed obviously having had failed. “I’m just concerned about Holmes,” Albert opted to say. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was safe to guess that William would assume he was referring to Sherlock.

William’s face fell into a humorous smirk, his eyes having an odd glow to them- a glow that Albert had grown to notice appeared only when he talked about Sherlock Holmes, or while drinking a cup of tea made by Louis. “Don’t worry about Sherlock Holmes. Allow me to handle any trouble he may pose to us. I believe I’m capable enough so you needn’t worry yourself,” William reassured. “He is clever, but he holds to much sentiment, deny it as he might. “It hinders his will to perceive me as anything but a dear friend. He will not turn against us, rest assured.”

Albert gave William a small smile. “I trust you will not burden yourself with too much,” he said. “If you need Sherlock out of the way-,”

“No,” William interrupted. “Now that we have him in the wings, we might as well let him take the stage. He could be useful to our plan."

Albert’s eyes widened at that. “Is that wise? Bringing in such a dangerous variable?” William’s words about Sherlock being sentimental seemed to be sounding more and more like a projection, and Albert couldn’t help but think William was getting all to swayed by the cat and mouse chase he was in. He was too interested in Sherlock.

‘Well to be fair you were pretty interested in the other Holmes brother last night,’ his brain unhelpfully provided, and he fought the urge to shake his head.

“William. Be careful,” Albert said, making a mental note to do that himself. “Insight is important when dealing with outsiders. You must understand why you feel this odd desire to bring in Sherlock Holmes into our scheme.”

“It’s simply for the betterment of our plan,” William said, though Albert was not convinced, though perhaps it was him who was projecting onto William.

“Alright,” Albert said, the conversation making him claustrophobic. “I trust your judgement, even over my own.” He smiled, finally grabbing his hat and hurriedly tipping it over his face, lest William noticed how strained his smile was. “I ought to leave now. Work has been demanding ever since Mr. Bonde joined our forces.” He didn’t wait for William to respond, hurrying out the door, sighing.

Why was he letting something as trivial as who Mycroft chose to fornicate with bother him to this extent? It was awfully uncharacteristic of him and made absolutely no sense.

He made the decision to walk to work that day, stopping to buy cheap wine from the town’s liquor store- something he had never resorted to before. The delay in seeing Mycroft was worth having to smile at passer-byers, acting like he wasn’t being devoured by morbid curiosity of the whats and hows of homosexual coitus.

He realised how extremely stupid it had been for him to walk all the way to the palace in the hot summer heat only once he was outside Mycroft’s office, dreading to knock in the door before him.

He was awfully sweaty in the face, some sweat trickling into his eye, making it burn, and he was sure he was red too. He attempted to catch his breath, panting when he was made to nearly jump out of his skin from surprise upon feeling a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around to see none other than Mycroft behind him, the other’s eyes widening in real time as he took in the state Albert was in.

“Are you alright?” Mycroft asked, clearing his throat and looking very pointedly at the floor.

“Quite,” Albert said. “Wine?” he asked, thrusting the bottle in Mycroft’s face. Albert was acting strange and he knew it, and it was clearly making Mycroft feel uncomfortable.

“Let’s take this inside,” Mycroft finally said, not wanting to have any sort of discussion out in the hallway.

Albert breath finally steadied as he waited for Mycroft to take a seat before sitting on his usual seat.

“I see you haven’t forgotten what I confessed to yesterday,” Mycroft sighed. “You needn’t concern yourself with it, I assure you. I understand that you need my influence and I promise you not to lose it in the face of rumours. I will not let this get out, so you needn’t fear.”

Albert looked to Mycroft, trying to read his expression, but the other had his stone face on and clearly regarded this conversation as ‘talking business.’

Albert desperately wanted to change that however, and uncorked the bottle of cheap booze, taking a long swig before placing the bottle on the fancy center-table gracefully. He needed to stop acting stupid and free himself of the questions plaguing his mind.

It worked in his favour that Mycroft had made up his own reason as to why Albert was acting strange. It made it so Albert didn’t need to admit that it was his own curiosity that was the problem.

“Your reassurance does provide comfort,” Albert said, flashing his signature smile. “I do trust you to have yourself in check.” He tried to keep his charm from faltering as Mycroft simply eyed the wine, refusing to sip it.

“I don’t understand though,” Albert asked despite himself, chuckling in an attempt to make his question sound off-hand. “How does it work really? The physical part of it, I mean. I suppose it feels rather good if it caught the interest of Mycroft Holmes.”

‘You’re progressing towards the casual friendship Mycroft wants in the first place,' Albert told himself as he spoke. ‘You’re being wise with your words showing interest...this will show him that you aren’t uncomfortable.’

 “I’d rather not indulge in such talk,” Mycroft said, raising an eyebrow at Albert. Albert sighed of relief internally as his statement had indeed diffused some of the tension.

“Why not,” Albert blurted out, in at attempt to push the growing comfort further.

Mycroft eyed him with a weird look- one that was too analytical for Albert’s comfort. “I supposed it would be rather…uninteresting for you to hear about,” Mycroft said, a hint of a smile on his face. “I simply never thought you to be the type to take interest in such discussions.”

Albert couldn’t help the blush that crept up his face at the comment, trying to think of a witty retort.

“You’d be surprised,” Albert winked, regretting it immediately as the environment turned uncomfortable again as Mycroft looked down at his feet.

“I’m sure you’re quite familiar with having ‘the talk’ too. We both had great influence on our younger siblings after all,” Albert said, and just like that the situation was salvaged as Mycroft shuddered jokingly. “Sherlock did not receive that conversation well,” he laughed.

“I promise to be much more receptive to ‘the talk,’” Albert pressed.

He realised a second to late what it sounded like he was implying and backtracked immediately. “I don’t mean-,”

Mycroft laughed- a rare sound to hear in its genuine form. “I know,” he said, giving Albert that analytical stare again. “I just don’t understand what you want to know?”

Albert bit his lip as he thought of a response. “Just…what’s it like?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, finally reaching for the wine before him. “What’s it like? I mean it’s sex- It’s rather splendid.”

Albert blinked, taken aback by Mycroft’s bluntness. Then again, Mycroft had never had anyone to talk to about this before, just like Albert had been alone with his thoughts until he met his brothers. “So have-,” Albert stopped himself immediately. What in God’s name had he been about to ask?!

Mycroft almost spat his wine out, recognising that Albert was about to ask him if he had ever had sex with a man. He managed to maintain his composure. Why was Albert so extremely curious. It was odd how interested he was in the topic. Sure, knowledge is power, but that only applies to when said knowledge will be useful. Albert was acting as if-

Oh.

Oh.

The reason Albert couldn’t contain his questions was because he couldn’t stop thinking about it…and he couldn’t stop thinking about it because he was god damn bent too!

Mycroft couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him out loud. The eldest Moriarty fancied gents and Mycroft new it before Albert himself!

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep-,” Albert started, thinking Mycroft’s reaction had been to his incomplete question.

“Don’t apologize,” Mycroft said, quickly gathering himself. What was he supposed to do with this information? He doubted discussing this with Albert would be a good idea at all- there was no way he would accept it what with his grand scheme on his shoulders. His mind would not accept another burden at face value.

But what if Mycroft aided him in slowly realizing himself. It would be stupidity to deny that Albert was gorgeous, and perhaps if Mycroft was subtle enough, he could unlock something no one- not even Albert himself had discovered.

“Mycroft?” Albert said, snapping the other out of his thought.

“I have,” Mycroft said. “Made love with a guy I mean. When I was in my early twenties there was this man in the army- Moran-,”

“WHAT?!” Albert couldn’t hide the blatant shock in his voice. “You- Moran- really?”

“You knew him?” Mycroft asked, reminding Albert that Moran was documented to be dead.

“You could say,” Albert managed. “We weren’t close. I apologize for my surprise.”

“Well, either way that was my first time doing something like that,” Mycroft said, turning very red and Albert made a mental note to ask Moran about this later.

“Enough about me,” Mycroft said when Albert didn’t respond, passing the wine back over the table. “Have you ever had sex?”

“Once,” Albert shuddered, and Mycroft added that to the list of ‘reasons I suspect Albert is homosexual.’

“It was to get close to one of our targets- nothing more than for the mission. Perhaps that’s why I wanted to know what it was actually like- love making,” Albert continued.

Mycroft gulped, realizing that he was about to land in a huge mess because Albert’s statement seemed so genuine and he couldn’t help wanting to be to show Albert what it was like.

Mycroft was fucked.

Chapter Text

Mycroft did not fancy Albert.

Would he take the opportunity to take Albert home? Most definitely so, but it was nothing more than the sexual frustration of an overworked government worker.

Mycroft was- hate it as he might- as human as the next chap, and so he had human desires that surfaced from time to time. It had been a good long while since he’d acted on them though.

Albert…he was extremely charming. One would be a fool to deny that fact, but getting involved with a crime lord was not a decision that was objectively deemed as smart.

However, he supposed he was already involved in their scheme, what was one more foot in the fire?

Besides, if Albert could sacrifice so much for the world, then Mycroft could take a small risk for Albert to discover himself.

Not that Mycroft was doing this for Albert! It was to satisfy his own need for some action that had been lacking in his life for way too long.

He turned the key in his door, stepping into his house, oddly excited for work tomorrow. To start playing the game and see Albert fluster and realise attraction to Myc-men. Mycroft bit his lip as he let his mind wander, closing the door behind him, turning to head to his bedroom.

“You were home late, so I let myself in.”

Mycroft startled, snapped out of his reveries as he noticed Sherlock standing by the fireplace.

“You’re growing old brother- it took you 90 seconds to realize my presence and you let your surprise show,” Sherlock grinned. “Or perhaps something is on your mind…dare I say, someone?”

“Bugger off,” Mycroft said, his tone even as he hung his coat and hat, redirecting himself from his planned wank in his bedroom to the couch, fidgeting nervously. He hadn’t spoken to Sherlock since his parents visited his house that day. Did Sherlock know? Did-

“As much as I would love to be anywhere but in your vicinity, I require a favour,” Sherlock grumbled, sitting on the armchair opposite Mycroft.

Mycroft forced himself not to react, or even let out a sigh of relief. His brother rarely sought him out for help, and he knew that if he threatened Sherlock’s ego in anyway, he’d bottle everything inside.

“Is this about The Lord of Crime?” Mycroft asked evenly.

“In a way,” Sherlock shrugged. “It’s more so about Ms. Irene Adler.” He scanned Mycroft’s face as if to catch a reaction at the name, but Mycroft’s face remained stoic.

“What about her?” Mycroft asked, ensuring that he didn’t sound too careful or nervous.

“Just that she must be making it quite hard for you to fake her death, no?” Sherlock said, feigning nonchalance while vigilantly watching for any telling expression his brother’s face might reveal.

Mycroft simply took a deep breath, shaking his head. “You really must let go of your delusions, brother. Adler is dead-,”

“Oh please!” Sherlock scoffed. “I’m not an idiot.” He shook his head impatiently as Mycroft disagreed under his breath. “You know I’m not an idiot, and I won’t have you treating me like one. Drop the damned pretense, will you? Adler is alive and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at that. “Even if I gave you her corpse?”

“Do you have her corpse,” Sherlock retorted.

“No-,”

“Then my statement stands true- You can’t convince me she’s dead.” Sherlock said. “Now, if you’d let me get to the point,” he rolled his eyes.

Mycroft didn’t answer, prompting Sherlock to finish what he had to say before deciding whether to confirm or deny Adler’s death.

“Adler, or whatever they call themself now, is someone I consider a friend. Before the news of their death was publicised, I made a final attempt to save them. I only have 2-3 friends, it’d be a shame if one died, so I handed the responsibility of her protection to the only person who could carry it out. I’m sure you know who, don’t you?” Sherlock said.

“Pray tell, who did you hand Adler to? I’ll make a note to remember that they are horribly useless bodyguards,” Mycroft said, keeping his information close to his chest still. Just how much had Sherlock figured out here?

Sherlock rolled his eyes- an action that was starting to irritate Mycroft. “The one and only Lord of Crime,” Sherlock said. “But of course you knew that, because you met him, didn’t you. He somehow convinced you to fake Adler’s death and let them stay alive-,”

“You realize this whole theory of yours relies on the belief that Adler is alive- something you have no proof of,” Mycroft sighed.

“Maybe,” Sherlock said. “But I must request you not to play with fire without me. Don’t go hogging all the fun, yeah?” he stood up, stretching. “I’m almost positive my theory is correct, so I’ll remind you that the Lord of Crime, is, as the name suggests, a Crime Lord. Be careful Mycroft. Do not trust the L.O.C. with anything.”

Too late for that.  “If I ever do meet him, I’ll be sure not to indulge my deepest darkest secrets with him,” Mycroft said dryly.

“Good enough,” Sherlock shrugged. “Take care of yourself, yeah, brother?” he patted Mycroft’s shoulder as he made his way to the door, allowing Mycroft to notice that Sherlock had made the decision to wear decent cologne. Now that he looked at his brother, he seemed rather dressed up, relatively at least. Sherlock only bothered with such stuff when-

Mycroft scoffed to himself. Sherlock was a bloody hypocrite for telling Mycroft not to cozy up with the Lord of Crime when he was on his was to meet William Moriarty.

“Going to visit your third friend, are you?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock looked up from tying his shoelaces. “What?”

“John, Irene, I assume the third friend you have is William Moriarty?” Mycroft said, standing up to move to Sherlock’s side.

“I- Yes. His teaching hours only end at 3:00p.m. so I thought I’d take a minor detour and pay you a visit,” Sherlock shrugged.

Speaking of visiting…the question was gnawing at Mycroft. He needed to know.

“Sherlock, when our parents came to visit…did they tell you-,”

“Yes, they did. Asked me to set you straight for our family’s honour and all,” Sherlock said, finally done with tying his shoelaces.

Mycroft blinked. “I- Oh, what? You knew all this time we were talking?”

“Mhm,” Sherlock said, making to leave.

“Wait, what did you say?” Mycroft asked. “To mother and father?”

Sherlock grinned. “I said it would be bloody hypocritical of me to tell you to lay off blokes when I’m meeting Liam every week.”

Before Mycroft could answer, Sherlock was out the door.

Mycroft stood still, not knowing what to do next. An odd feeling of contentment made itself known as he decided to retire to his bedroom as he had originally planned. His brother may be a pain in the arse, but he’d still shown up for Mycroft in his own way. It felt weird- that one more person knew. That made it 4 (5 if he counted himself). 4 People knew his secret, and the world miraculously had not ended.

Lying back on his pillows, he let himself remember what he was thinking about before he noticed Sherlock’s presence. Among the dreams of Albert, pleasure and sex, he let the thought that maybe he could have more than just that with someone, swim between vivid images.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed. It had been a long day at work and dealing with the Adler case. He decided he deserved to unwind a bit- give himself a reward.

After too long, Mycroft had a face that belonged to someone within his reach to dream about. He let the memory of Albert's earlier confession play, the Viscount’s sincere curiosity about what making love felt like.

Mycroft could show him what it was like. He let himself get lost in the scenario of the possibility.

He hadn’t realised how pent up he was until he let himself let loose, unable to picture anyone but Albert in his mind.

x

Mycroft doubted he would have been able to fall asleep if not for his rather exhausting wank. Tomorrow was something he couldn’t wait for. He needed to execute this perfectly.

Chapter Text

In a society where social status was the measure of a human’s worth, the presentation of one’s appearance spoke volumes.

For the women chatting over champagne at parties, or the townsfolks at the local bar; gambling on race-horses, a single lock of hair daring to stray out of place in a stranger’s chignon was enough evidence to commit their logical fallacies- cherry picking data clusters to fit their senseless presumptions, all just to feed their egos by putting others down.

To venture into the public eye meant to charge headfirst into a battle of ‘who looks tidier or ‘classier’ than the other,’ and everyone better hope that they manage to advance onto the war ground with utmost grace and elegance. To be revered by a stranger meant to fit a niche appearance- one that had been ingrained in their society to represent power and high class.

Mycroft’s mother- Violet Rutherford, was of the working class. Her job as a housekeeper at a baron’s bungalow required her to wear a uniform. Her appearance was out of her hands, and so her identity as was to be perceived by others was reduced to her uniform.

-A maid. A chav. A commoner.

That was all she could ever potentially be perceived as within the confines of her uniform.

The Baron who’s house she served- Siger Holmes, decided he quite liked his new house-help and 10 years later, they had two sons; seven years apart.

What truly upset Mycroft is that even after his mother had her second child with the Baron, he refused to marry her. He refused to let her be more than ‘a maid and a chav.’

Despite past reluctance however, as of the present day, Mycroft’s parents were married. They had been for nine years. Apparently, all it took was for Mycroft to start out with being the puppeteer of the British Government.

Mycroft was to some extent obsessive about a meticulous appearance and presentation. He fixed his Cockney accent early on, and spent time and effort on purchasing a nice house for himself, somewhere a bit fancier than his childhood town.

He knew the logical fallacies that were embedded in England’s very soul, enabling the posh nobs to carry out their bigotry. He knew that if he were to keep his reputation and power, there was no room for being on the receiving end of criticism. People allowed their opinion of a person to be swayed with just how well-ironed one’s shirt was, and Mycroft had chosen to take advantage of this- to benefit from potential occurrences of ad hominem. He spent 30 minutes of dedicated focus on taming his hair in the morning… though it would still end up slightly wavy by the end of the day.

It was almost too easy to make people perceive you just as you wanted them to. Mycroft was fully aware of what people saw him as. Serious, unreadable, powerful, a workaholic, and as more of an idea than a real human- he’d ensured he was seen as exactly that.

Today however, he was going to use his appearance to provoke a different kind of interpretation of himself. As off-putting as it was, he forced himself to spare his hair from any product, though he did comb it to fall in the exact way he wanted it to. He also chose to wear a regular tie rather than a bow, allowing him to let the knot hang a little loose and have the collar of his shirt unbuttoned.

He was doing what he hoped would make himself seem more approachable.

More seductive.

Even if this didn’t eventually result in sex, he hoped to at least receive some amusing, or even adorably flustered reactions from Albert- To make the other feel things he’d never felt before.

He couldn’t wait to see Albert at work- or more so, for Albert to see him.

x

Albert was hoping the world would end before he woke up for work. Unfortunately, the universe took no such mercy on him.

It wasn’t like he was uncomfortable with Mycroft’s identity! What made him anxious was the thought of having another odd conversation with the other. The last two times he’d been in Mycroft’s office, Albert had ended up impulsively saying and asking many things he should not have said or asked. This was dangerous. Their conversation topics were unexpected, and Albert didn’t like not being prepared. It made it harder for him to be charming and persuasive- to be the one in control.

He couldn’t avoid going to work considering the rate at which people were panicking about the Lord of Crime. It was too risky to draw any kind of suspicion towards himself by randomly not showing up for duty, but it was also dangerous to let himself act impulsively around one of the most powerful people in Britian. He needed to regain control over the situation- over Mycroft, that is; The Government. Albert needed to win back the upper hand…

“Albert?”

Albert turns his gaze away from the newspaper article he’d been pretending to read for the past 20 minutes, turning his head around to see Moran looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Moran,” Albert said in response, putting the newspaper away to turn further in his armchair.

“What are you doing here?” Moran asked.

Albert tilted his head, dodging what Moran was trying to ask. “Well, I do live here, so-,”

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean,” Moran skeptically crossed his arms, not buying Albert’s fake obliviousness one bit. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“I was reading the news,” Albert responded, feigning sincerity, only serving to annoy Moran further.  “One must stay updated on the-,”

“On the latest summer dress collections?” Moran asked sarcastically. “Because that’s what the page you were staring at forever was advertising.”

Albert felt his own irritation build at the other’s prying, as he turned back around, deciding to ignore Moran till he left.

“Oi, don’t just turn your back on me you-,” Moran, walked around so he was in front of the couch now, facing Albert. “Look, I couldn’t give less of a shit about what’s on your mind, but if it’s something that threatens the plan, then I’m entitled to knowing!”

Alert sighed, looking at Moran as he contemplated his answer. In truth, if he ended up wronging Mycroft, that would indeed pose a threat to the plan, but the whole matter seemed too weirdly personal to tell the team about.

“I assure you, it’s nothing that concerns you,” Albert said with a smile he knew looked fake. It wasn’t like Moran could help anyways- wait, actually…

“Wait,” he said quickly as Moran shrugged and turned to leave. “Actually, I could use your help.”

“My help?” Moran asked, disbelieving, turning his head.

“Yes. No one else will do, I need to ask you something.” Albert said hurriedly. “It is important for the plan to go smoothly.”

Moran’s expression turned more serious as he faced Albert again. “What?”

“Well,” Albert really hadn’t planned how he was going to frame this. “You know how you’re technically dead and all- Veteran Colonel of the Afghan War, believed to have been killed in action by the public?”

“Uh, yeah? Hard to forget really,” Moran responded, confused as to what Albert’s point was.

“Right, of course. Well, i heard that before you quote unquote- died, well,” Albert tried. He supposed there was no graceful way to put it.

“Were you close to- well, Did you have sex with Mycroft Holmes?” Albert asked in an attempt to ‘rip off the band-aid,’ and get it over with.

Moran blinked slowly, quite taken aback, before snorting out a laugh. “What?”

Albert supposed that was an understandable reaction to have to that question. “Well, it’s just that I work under him, you know? Recently, he’s grown to consider me a friend, and he confided in me about…things, and well it would be dangerous to get him mad, so I thought you’d have insight on how to maneuver through this situation without having the government on our bad side,” he clarified, unable to stop himself from feeling a bit embarrassed.

A few seconds of silence passed, with Moran looking at Albert incredulously, until he took some pity on the other and decided to answer.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Albert. I mean, yes, I did have sex with him, but that’s about it. If you want my advice on how to keep him happy, I’d tell you to fuck him.”

“How helpful of you,” Albert said dryly, though he knew he looked anything but nonchalant.

Moran laughed, patting Albert on the back as he left the room. “Really though? Relax. You said he sees you as a friend, right? Poor guy doesn’t have many people he’s close too, so he tends to get a bit attached to those who offer that closeness- take it from me. It is not easy to get that man angry at you if he’s decided that he cares. I mean, he told you about me- did he seem angry at me for leaving after one night, going to war and dying?”

Albert considered this for a moment, everything being almost too much to process. “I suppose he didn’t sound angry or bitter…more reminiscent?”

“Exactly,” Moran grinned. “So stop reading irrelevant advertisements and go to work,” he said, finally disappearing around the corner.

Albert took a deep breath, going over everything he’d just been told. The first fact that really shouldn’t be on his mind as much as it was, was that he had confirmation that Mycroft and Moran had been…intimate in the past. Secondly, he realised that based on what Moran said, he was probably valued by Mycroft, hell, Moran even said that Mycroft cared about him! That was definitely reassuring, and something that Albert could use in the future. That was why the thought of being special to a normally reserved and cold person was circling in his head- because of how he could exploit it, and for no other reason.

He glanced at the time, sighing when he realised that he really ought to get off his arse and face Mycroft.

He’d survived seeing Mycroft for years. There was going to be nothing different about today. The same office, the same Albert, and the very same Mycroft- regardless of new revelations.

He didn’t know why he still felt so nervous, but he got into the carriage and was off to work none the less.  

Chapter Text

When the hour-hand passed 9:00, Albert finally reached the London War office, making his defaulted way to the Intelligence branch. It was once every week that he made an appearance there, regardless of any activity at Universal Exports. He’d been in the military for years, building the foundation for the political power he now held, treasured, in the same palm upon which he had MI-6 dancing on his whim.

Foresight had got him and his brothers everywhere. Every moment of Albert’s adult life had been predetermined by a script, that must be followed. Albert’s characteristic confidence and charm was born out of trust in the fact that he had the most control in any given situation. After all, it is well explained in The Chaos Theory, how a just a small butterfly’s wings can cause a devastating tornado, and the plan before him mustn’t suffer even a slight shiver from an uncalculated, uncontrolled breeze.

Right then, Mycroft was presenting as a full blown, definitely uncontrollable whirlwind that Albert wasn’t sure he wanted to ward off, or…well, he couldn’t very well kill off the most important man in the Imperial core of the world, but keeping the Holmes alive would mean Albert’s pulse would stay elevated as he observed the uncharacteristically tempting man before him. Mycroft had always been nice looking, sure, but in that moment the man looked more than handsome. He looked…

Albert snapped back to reality as he realised Mycroft had greeted him. “Good morning, Director,” Albert managed. “You’ve changed.”

“Ah, pardon my appearance,” Mycroft said, hiding his mischievous smirk under false sheepishness. “I had an encounter with a partner that kept me up quite late into the night, and I irresponsibly woke up late this morning.” He lied. “I do normally attempt to schedule shagging sessions for the weekend but the man was too tempting.”

A light blush climbed upon Albert’s neck where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a fish, before he managed to sputter out a response. “Oh.”

Mycroft frowned, standing up from his chair, feigning concern. “Oh my, your face is quite flushed, are you running a fever?” he pressed the back of his hand to Albert’s forehead, and then his neck, intentionally letting his thumb brush against the other’s throat as he pulled his hand away.

“I’m alright!” Albert said, a little too loudly for his own liking. He wished he had something to report so he could divert the conversation to work, but unfortunately, all he had in mind had been a good morning and some small talk; as it always had been. The normalcy he’s hoped for however, was nowhere to be found.

“If you insist,” Mycroft shrugged. “Can I offer you something? I have coffee, water and alcohol as options, though I suppose I’d be a bad boss if I let you drink first thing in the morning at work, so which will it be- coffee or water?” He sat back onto his chair, his legs spread wider than what was considered good etiquette, as twisted the lid off a thermos flask on his desk, pouring some black coffee into a mug. He then made a show of blowing air onto the drink to cool it, before taking a slow sip, eyeing Albert in wait of a response.

“I’d actually appreciate if you bent the rules and let me have some wine,” Albert chuckled, uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hm,” Mycroft pretended to contemplate the idea. “Alright, since it’s a request from my M, I can hardly say no. You know where the liquor is; help yourself.”

Albert didn’t trust himself to speak. He scrambled like a mouse towards the liquor cabinet and fished out a bottle of red wine, not bothering with a glass. He drank the alcohol with the intention of wiping his dirty mind of the thought that less then 24 hours ago, the man before him had been having sex.

“Are you sure you’re alright Albert,” Mycroft asked feigning concern. “I hope my statement did not make you uncomfortable; I thought you didn’t mind hearing about my exciting escapades as I don’t quite have anyone else to share them with.”

“No! No you haven’t made me uncomfortable. I’m alright,” Albert stammered. “I was just thinking of how you haven’t really met the whole team working with the Lord of Crime. You have of course met Bonde, William, Louis and I, but not the others. I was thinking of how interesting that would be.”

“Is this an invitation,” Mycroft asked, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected Albert to offer up the identities of his allies that easily.

“You know, Moran is still alive,” Albert blurted out, and watched as Mycroft’s eyes widened.

“Moran is alive?” Mycroft repeated incredulously before laughing loudly. “Well good for him! And he works with you? Why- it’s a small world indeed! Though, I find it difficult to imagine you two getting along.”

“We don’t,” Albert declared firmly, making Mycroft laugh even more. “I expected you to react differently, you know.”

Mycroft paused his laughter, although unable to fully wipe the smile off his face. “Oh?” He asked, finding Albert’s direction of steering this conversation quite amusing.

“Well,” Albert fiddled with his thumbs, wondering how to word his question. “Do you not wish to have sex with him again? You stated him as the only example of people you have had penetrative sex with so-,”

Mycroft could not contain his laughter any longer, the unrelenting giggles making Albert blush from embarrassment. “Are you trying to set us up?”

“Goodness no!” Albert responded immediately. “No, I was simply wondering.”

Mycroft’s expression softened, laughter fading into a small and gentle smile as he hoped against all hope that perhaps Albert’s question stemmed from a place of jealousy. Mycroft took a few seconds to respond, weighing his choices. Should he attempt to make Albert jealous, or should he reassure his that his taste had in fact evolved since he was 20. These seconds of course, felt like ages to Albert who anxiously listened as Mycroft hummed in thought.

The director let the devil on his shoulder win that time. Even if Albert didn’t get jealous, he would definitely produce some reaction. “Maybe,” he said with an air of indifference, shrugging for extra effect. “I don’t know what he looks like now.”

Mycroft was well aware that he was portraying himself as some sort of whore, but he couldn’t care less since that very idea seemed to make his favourite viscount so very flustered.

“Maybe?” Albert repeated, involuntarily deepening his frown. Mycroft found it incredibly endearing. “So you’re curious to see him then? What he looks like now?”

“Maybe,” Mycroft responded again, somehow managing to keep the smirk off his face. “Are you going to introduce us- or well, reintroduce us?”

“Oh.” For some reason, the idea did not sit right with Albert. Perhaps it because he’d known Moran long enough to be aware of his arsehole-like behaviour. Mycroft could definitely catch better fish than Moran. Albert rationalized that his distaste stemmed from too much annoyance towards Moran and too much respect towards Mycroft to let the esteemed man waste himself on such crap. “Ah well, my team tends to be rather busy and as the brother to their leader, I don’t think I should be offering up man-power like that.”

Mycroft nodded. “Right, it would be irresponsible of you to do that. I understand. No worries. I’m sure I can reach him myself then.” This time Mycroft failed to keep from smirking, but managed to disguise it as lustful rather than scheming.

Albert blinked. Did Mycroft want to see Moran that badly, and why did that fact sting him slightly? “Well,” he sputtered. “No, I guess I couldn’t have any issue with that but-,”

“Perfect!” Mycroft interrupted. “I shall write him a letter and have it taken right away by my personal post man- undoubtedly, he stays at your manor. In the case that I do find him still appealing, please tell me- do I look too shabby today? I have to work late and so it would be straight to the pub after that so I shan’t find time to fix my hair.”

The entire scenario was nearly too much process. The idea of Moran getting to see this new version of Mycroft was something Albert despised, yet he couldn’t find one good reason for this hatred. “You look fine,” he muttered.

Mycroft’s internal cheering was more enthusiastic than it had ever been in his life. Albert’s jealousy was nearly tangible! Sure, the other’s sour mood could have multiple different reasons, but even a toddler could recognise the distinct tint of jealousy upon Albert’s features.

Albert believed he had no reason to feel so strongly about what choices the capable adult before him made. He did not need to care, and yet, he did. The second Mycroft dipped his pen in the ink jar, Albert could not tolerate sitting there any longer. He stood up abruptly, looking anywhere but at the eyebrow he knew was raised at him. “I’ll see myself out now then.” He cursed himself internally at how stiff his voice sounded, and vaguely regretted hurrying out of the office without even a “Good day.” The regret stemmed from a place of guilt that perhaps he’d made Mycroft perceive Albert’s rudeness as disgust or discomfort. He contemplated stepping back in to clarify that he did not mind Mycroft sharing his secrets with him, however he simply couldn’t bring himself to re enter the room where Mycroft was penning the words which he was.

Mycroft was of course, writing a very different letter than what Albert had guessed:

Dear Veteran Colonel Moran,

I trust that you are well, and as sharp as I remember you to be. The reason for my mentioning your perceptiveness is to support my assumption that you have deduced the same information about my agent, Albert Moriarty, as I have.

Now, aside from your wit, I of course remember your eagerness for the sort of fun I shall propose to you in this letter. I trust you’d find it rather amusing to know that Albert believes this letter is an attempt to court you. His reaction was quite satisfactory, and I can assure you with certainty that there are buttons waiting to be pushed.

Shall you push them for me, please? And push him towards me? You perhaps know him better than I, and so your assistance would be greatly appreciated.

I hope you will permit and aid me to seduce your friend, and add some fuel to the fire of jealousy, and hopefully, desire, which has sparked in Albert.

Keep yourself well.

-Mycroft

It was with an almost evil glee that he enveloped the letter and sealed it, calling for his trustworthy post man. Often made to transport sensitive government letters, the post man knew not to sneakily read a letter, and so Mycroft handed it to him without worry, providing the address. 

He could not wait for matters to unfold, and for Albert to unravel.