I Hate Christmas Parties 3/3 (Mycroft x Reader)

Sherlock spent the rest of the party waiting for the perfect moment to enact his plan, letting the hours tick by and the food and drink be consumed until everyone was just sitting around, happily chatting.

His brother had had three glasses of scotch, all poured by you meaning they were very generous, and as promised John had slipped quite a bit of extra alcohol into your eggnog. Outwardly, Mycroft looked the same as always but Sherlock knew he was really quite loosened up and you were swaying tipsily on your perch of the arm of Mycroft’s chair, giggling and talking more openly than you normally would. Perfect for his plan.

John moved with the intent to get tea only to slide back into his seat as he was far more drunk than even you and you laughed, “I’ve got you John. One cup of tea, coming right up. Anyone else want anything?”

Everyone shook their heads and you slipped from your place and into the kitchen, putting the kettle to boil and then coming to the doorway to listen while you waited. Seeing his opportunity Sherlock met you in the doorway with a little smirk as Mrs. Hudson giggled, “The mistletoe Sherlock. The two of you have to kiss now.”

You giggled, thinking that Sherlock was going to be adorably awkward as he usually was with these things, but he wasn’t… not at all. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dramatically dipped you before pressing a very insistent kiss to your lips, leaving you no other option but to respond. Mycroft was up in a flash, grabbing your hand to tug you away from his brother and into the kitchen before Sherlock could push the kiss to get more heated. Sherlock grinned as he went to sit back down, having gotten the exact reaction that he wanted- he was tired of both of you sulking and dancing around each other as it was terribly tedious and more than a little distracting.

“What is it Mycroft?” you asked, looking up at him worriedly.

“Do you fancy my brother?” he demanded.

You gaped at him, did he really not know that it was him you fancied, “N-no Mycroft. I don’t nor does he fancy me. You know he likes to mess with people.”

He didn’t let your wrist go, just staring at you for a moment, and you tilted your head at him, “Perhaps I gave you a bit too much scotch My.”

He snapped out of it, reaching out to take your other hand so that he could hold them both in front of him, “Don’t ever let him kiss you again.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And why not Mycroft? I’ll kiss whomever I like and Sherl-“

He cut you off by pressing his lips to yours in a gentle yet powerful kiss, to which you eagerly responded before he pulled away to cup your cheek in one hand. You blinked up at him curiously and his thumb traced across your lips, “Because I fancy you.”

He gave you a small shy smile, a dusting of pink settling across his cheeks as the scotch allowed him to be less stiff and formal with you than he normally would be, “Would you accompany me to dinner and perhaps the theater?”

You grinned, “Mycroft Holmes are you asking me on a date?”

He nodded seriously, “I am.”

You put your hands on his shoulders as you tiptoed to press your lips to his in a kiss entirely different than the one he’d given you, it was soft but desperate, conveying all the emotions you’d been keeping locked away in your heart. He let one hand fall to the small of your back and the other tangle in your hair as he quickly responded, enjoying how you tasted- like gingerbread and vanilla.

You mumbled into his lips, “I think we can skip all that tedious dating stuff… wouldn’t you agree?”

He chuckled pulling away to rest his forehead on yours, “As tempting as that may be, I would like to do this properly.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes, “Alright then Mr. Proper.”

You moved away from him and he caught your wrist, seeing the small smirk on your face, “Where are you going?”

You turned to feign innocence, “To finish my kiss with Sherlock of course.”

He growled, pulling you to him possessively, “No, you most certainly are not.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “I thought you wanted to do the dating thing? You do realize that I can kiss whomever I please until you ask me to be only yours?”

He floundered and you pulled away, adding over your shoulder, “I would say it takes around four or five dates before doing so becomes ‘proper’ Mycroft. So if you’ll excuse me.”

He stopped you again, “You are so terribly manipulative you know.”

You turned to grin at him, “It’s part of why you like me, My, and I know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He brought your hand up to kiss your knuckles, “Sod proper. I don’t want you kissing anyone but me. I want you to be the one on my arm at all those tedious work parties. I want you to have eyes for only for me just as I only have eyes for you. Will you be mine (F/n)?”  

You gave him a soft smile, “Of course I will Mycroft, on the condition that while I am yours, you are also mine.”  

He grinned, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You intertwined your fingers with his, “Good. Now come with me to kick your little brother’s arse for hanging that mistletoe there before thanking him for the same reason.”

Mycroft chuckled and let you tug him out to the other room where everyone was still happily conversing, utterly content to just have his hand in yours. Something told him that his Christmases were going to be far more enjoyable from now on.