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James had found a nice quiet spot on the balcony leading from one of the upper drawing-rooms, overlooking the vast grounds that led away from the Holmes mansion. The air was a bit nippy, but it was dry and not windy, and he’d earned this cigarette. He slumped down in one of the garden chairs on the balcony, propping his feet up the stone wall, sucking in the nicotine, and tar, and other horrible chemicals.
The door behind him creaked open; Bond twisted his head to see who was joining him, letting out a quiet groan when he saw Sherlock staring out in front of him, as if he hadn’t noticed James there at all. Neither said a word as Sherlock slowly stepped over to where James was sat, gingerly sitting himself down in the chair beside him.
“Help yourself,” James finally mumbled, motioning to the packet of cigarettes lying on the table between them, pulling his lighter from his pocket and placing it beside them. Sherlock did nothing for a few moments, his eyes still fixed on the horizon before reaching out, plucking a cigarette from the packet.
“You’ve made a serious good impression on people these past few days,” Sherlock sighed, whorls of smoke filtering out of his mouth. James shrugged, rolling the cigarette between his fingers and thumb.
“That was the general idea. Whilst I don’t particularly care for people opinions on me, it’s always nice to be liked.”
“I never cared much for being liked, so long as I had people’s respect.”
James nodded, taking a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke evaporate out into the cold air. “And the love of your family?”
“It’s funny, unconditional love. One does absolutely nothing to earn it, but always has it. My being my mother’s son does not require her to love me; in fact there are so many cases in which a mother absolutely detests her offspring.
“As for my brothers, well… I do all I can to push them away. I eat away at them, find their limits and then keep pushing, but they’d never abandon me. Mycroft and I never see eye to eye, for over thirty years we’ve been each other’s arch enemy… But he’d always help me.”
“And Felix?”
Sherlock quirked a small smile. “The youngest, the smallest, the more innocent… definitely not helpless. I daresay he’s helped me more than I’ve helped him. A lot of people underestimate Felix, myself included. I assume you did too, once?”
Bond nodded. “Our first meeting. He was this small, skinny little thing; his thick glasses, messy hair, and the look of youth. There was no way he could have been quartermaster. He nearly got me killed by a train, did he mention?”
Sherlock smirked. “No, I wish he had.”
“Saved my life countless times to make up for it.”
“Felix’s loyalty is something you should not take for granted, James.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“And in return, you’ll show him the same fierce loyalty? You’ll do everything in your power to ensure he is safe? I know you’re one of the most dangerous men in the country, James, I hope you’ll use some of that advantage in taking care of him. And I know he’s twenty-four, I’m not mothering him.”
James smiled, taking a final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the wall. “I know. I get it, he’s your little brother. You love him though you certainly won’t show it to him in any conventional methods — I’m assuming Mycroft is the same — and so keeping him safe and alive is your way of showing your appreciation for his existence.”
Sherlock’s lips twitched. “Very succinct.”
“You know I’ll take care of him, Sherlock. I’ll probably do it a damn sight better than you could, though he may get a few scratches on the way. You know this, yet you give me the big brother speech anyway?”
“Well, I just-”
“This is you giving me your acceptance. You don’t like me, you probably never will, but you know that really it’s not your choice to make, but it’d make Felix happy if you approved of me.”
Sherlock cleared his throat, tapping the ash from the end of his cigarette. “Felix is the important one here; I’m just coming to learn that I’m not the centre of the universe.”
Bond smiled, stretching his arms above his head. “If I gave you monthly check-ups on how he’s doing, would it give you peace of mind?”
“Bi-monthly.”
“No ambushing us on our days off.”
“Deal.”
“On John’s behalf, do keep the mould cultures out of the fridge.”
Sherlock smirked, taking the final drag of his cigarette and stubbing it out under his foot before walking back into the house.