The Boy is Mine

Chapter 1

An Unwanted Visitor

It had been three months since John had married and moved out of Baker Street. Sherlock was alone and for once in his life not enjoying the experience. He had grown accustomed to John's presence, he was his best friend and although he did not want to give into sentimental feelings – he forced himself to admit that he missed him. They had been a team and their separation had left him feeling incomplete. Although John still helped on certain cases, he now had his own medical practice and was not the constant companion he once was.

Sherlock did not want anyone to know that he was constantly fighting the urge to surrender to any emotions but certain people were forcing him to work hard to maintain the subterfuge. At least it gave him something to do and stopped him from getting bored. Since John's departure the flat had become a regular visitor attraction with Mrs Hudson regularly checking that he was eating, John who obviously felt guilty at deserting his former flatmate, Mycroft who was forever concerned about his younger brother's welfare and occasionally Lestrade, mainly when they were working on a case. Even Molly had stopped by a few times for tea. Since she had helped Sherlock fake his own death, their relationship had changed somewhat. She was a little more relaxed around him, was able to hold a proper conversation without stuttering, but still had a tendency to make inappropriate jokes. Sherlock was glad that in that respect she had stayed the same because it was one of the things that endeared him to her and he didn't want her to change too much.

Undoubtedly they were all concerned he might do something rash like turning back to substance abuse or shooting the wall because he was bored and no longer had John to stop him. But they were unaware that their seemingly unwanted attention was actually keeping Sherlock from turning to any vices. His mind was being kept busy coming up with different ways to insult each visitor (with varying severity depending on the recipient) and to appear as his usual obnoxious self. Mycroft understandably got the most venomous abuse because that was normal (for Sherlock) and that is how he wanted to appear.

"Sherlock! How are you?" Mycroft asked with forced cheeriness.

Sherlock was stretched out on the couch, hands resting on his chest, eyes closed. He did not respond to his brother's greeting.

"Sherlock, I know you are awake. There is no use in pretending."

Sherlock's eyes opened and moved to view the figure standing at the door.

"I was hoping that if I ignored you for long enough you'd go away…"

"Well that is not going to happen Sherlock. You can't fool me."

"I did once."

"Yes… you did. But it won't happen again."

"We'll see… Well? What do you want?"

"I was just passing and thought I'd check in on you…"

"Don't you have minions to do that for you? A network of spies? I thought you'd have increased surveillance on me since John left. Everyone is so concerned!"

"We are worried about you dear brother. John was… good for you. And now he's gone…"

"Oh you think I'm going to go off the rails because I don't have somebody to baby-sit me? Actually I was surprised you hadn't offered Mrs Hudson the job, she's the ideal choice."

"Sherlock…"

"Ah… you did... but she turned you down."

"She said you didn't need me… interfering…"

"Good old Mrs Hudson. And yes, she does make sure the fridge is stocked without any incentive to do so from you…"

"Good… that's good to know…"

Sherlock sat up properly on the couch, setting his bare feet down on the carpet. He sighed and looked disdainfully at his brother.

"Well are you going to stand there all day or aren't you going to sit down? I am assuming that this isn't a flying visit that you wish to bother me with some more idle conversation."

Mycroft slowly moved over to one of the armchairs beside the fireplace and sat down, resting his umbrella against the side of the chair.

"Tea would be nice…"

"Yes, it would… You know where the kitchen is. There may be cakes in the cupboard, I'm sure Mrs Hudson bought those with you in mind as she knows that I won't eat them. How is the diet by the way?" He smirked, knowing that it always irritated Mycroft each time he mentioned his infamous diet.

"It's FINE!"

"Must be difficult having to put up with all those vegetables and no sugar muesli…"

"The details of my diet are of no concern of yours Sherlock!"

"But Mycroft, dear brother. I am merely concerned about you, just as you are concerned about me…" His words were laced with sarcasm, knowing that he had won the argument. "And I'm concerned that you have put weight on since I last saw you…"

"I have NOT. My dietician said…" He stopped himself mid-sentence, realising that he had been fooled yet again into divulging more information than he wished to.

"Oh you have a dietician. I shouldn't be surprised that you've sought professional help…"

"I should have known that my visit would result in this petty bickering as always… I really don't know why I bother…"

"Because you feel responsible for ensuring my welfare?" Sherlock sneered, his nose twitching slightly. "That you would be consumed by guilt if anything were to happen to me? Will you ever stop interfering Mycroft? I am a grown man for god's sake! Why can't you just LEAVE. ME. ALONE?"

Sherlock's demeanour had changed suddenly during the speech, from arrogance to anger. He had looked at his brother during his last words, his eyes ablaze with rage. His performance had the required effect. Mycroft silently rose from the chair and headed straight for the door. But Mycroft being Mycroft, he had to have the last word.

"If that is what you want Sherlock. I shall indeed leave you alone. For now…"

And with that Mycroft left the flat. Sherlock listened to the footsteps going down the stairs, the sound of the front door opening and closing and smiled. He was satisfied that he had sufficiently vexed his brother and that the performance had been a success.