New Fic: The Bollocks Series, Facade
Jun. 13th, 2012 03:00 amFacade
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rated: PG (Language)
Category: 221B Fic. Gen. Lestrade POV. Lestrade, Mycroft, Sherlock.
Series: Any, most likely early or pre-series.
Spoilers: None per se.
Summary: Mycroft isn’t fooling anyone. Or at least not Lestrade.
Word Count: Why, 221 (and ending with a “B” word), of course!
xxx
I first met him after Sherlock got injured on a case.
And Lord help me, I do rather like the bastard, so I took him to get patched up.
Twenty stitches later, he was nearly good as new - until all hell broke loose.
For any sane person, chasing down a murderer and then dealing with a lacerated (and extremely stroppy) consulting detective would have been the highlight of the evening’s entertainment, but since my life post-Sherlock is anything but sane, I guess I should have expected what came next.
Still, seeing Sherlock in a shouting match in a hospital corridor and then having his opponent round on me and proclaim the entire incident my fault still rendered me speechless long enough for Sherlock to escape. When he realized Sherlock was gone, my adversary turned, coat flapping in his wake in an all-too-familiar twirl, and disappeared after him.
I now know that man as Mycroft Holmes, and despite meeting him in several similar circumstances, I have never since seen him so incensed.
I’m not sure what broke him that day, but I’m glad it did.
Because otherwise I might believe the aloof façade that Mycroft maintains quite convincingly.
I might think he doesn’t care about his younger brother.
But as it stands, I remember his expression that day, and I call bollocks.
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rated: PG (Language)
Category: 221B Fic. Gen. Lestrade POV. Lestrade, Mycroft, Sherlock.
Series: Any, most likely early or pre-series.
Spoilers: None per se.
Summary: Mycroft isn’t fooling anyone. Or at least not Lestrade.
Word Count: Why, 221 (and ending with a “B” word), of course!
xxx
I first met him after Sherlock got injured on a case.
And Lord help me, I do rather like the bastard, so I took him to get patched up.
Twenty stitches later, he was nearly good as new - until all hell broke loose.
For any sane person, chasing down a murderer and then dealing with a lacerated (and extremely stroppy) consulting detective would have been the highlight of the evening’s entertainment, but since my life post-Sherlock is anything but sane, I guess I should have expected what came next.
Still, seeing Sherlock in a shouting match in a hospital corridor and then having his opponent round on me and proclaim the entire incident my fault still rendered me speechless long enough for Sherlock to escape. When he realized Sherlock was gone, my adversary turned, coat flapping in his wake in an all-too-familiar twirl, and disappeared after him.
I now know that man as Mycroft Holmes, and despite meeting him in several similar circumstances, I have never since seen him so incensed.
I’m not sure what broke him that day, but I’m glad it did.
Because otherwise I might believe the aloof façade that Mycroft maintains quite convincingly.
I might think he doesn’t care about his younger brother.
But as it stands, I remember his expression that day, and I call bollocks.

no subject
Date: Jun. 14th, 2012 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Jun. 14th, 2012 05:25 am (UTC)