Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty Six

Mycroft's slow exhales kept rhythm with the ticking clock. It was the only sound in the office besides the faint hum of the computer screen which he was sure only he could hear. He leaned back in his chair causing the taught, stiff leather to squeak crudely, and slid open the bottom drawer of his desk. He took out a large magnolia envelope to reveal a collection of sweets and chocolate bars hidden underneath. Pursing his lips, he gazed at them longingly before glancing over to the treadmill in the corner of the room and letting out an audible sigh.

A knock at the door startled him. He threw the envelope back on top of his secret stash and shut the drawer quickly.

"Yes?"

The door opened, allowing a sliver of light into the dimly-lit office.

"Hi, sorry I was just... Mycroft would it kill you to open the blinds?"

He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, rubbing his chin with his finger. "Margaux, I fear you have met with my mother on one too many occasion. You're starting to sound like her."

Margaux rolled her eyes, purposefully ignoring his comment. She stepped into the office, keeping a hand on the doorframe. "You sent for me?"

"Ah yes. Paperwork." He gestured to a pile of folders on the edge of his desk. "I'd have mailed it to you so you could do it at home, but we can't risk it falling into the wrong hands."

"It's fine," she said, waving her hand as she walked over and picked it up. "I might actually stick around and do some here. You don't have a free desk I could park myself at, do you?"

He showed her to a small, unoccupied office near his own with a large sliding glass door separating it from the hallway. She walked in, placing the folders on the L-shaped desk and hanging her jacket over the back of the chair, her woollen collar still damp from the unrelenting September rain she had travelled through.

"Feel free to fire up the computer," said Mycroft. "Your own personal log-in should be up and running. Username is M.Cave. Password is 'password'."

"Oh, mhm. Maximum security, very impressive."

Mycroft gave a snarky laugh, causing Margaux to flash an exaggerated wide-toothed smile. He turned to leave.

"Oh, Mycroft."

"Yes?"

"Vaughan loves the train set you got him for his birthday. Hasn't stopped playing with it since. I think it's his favourite gift, to Sherlock's dismay," she said.

"Good. I'm... I'm glad he likes it," he turned to leave once again before stopping. "And I'm exceedingly pleased to hear of my brother's anguish."

Margaux laughed quietly as she watched him leave the room; hands clasped behind his back as he strode back to his dark, quiet office. She sank into the large button-back desk chair and slipped the first sheet of paper from the top folder.

III

Sherlock sat at the kitchen table, his back so perfectly straight it was as if there were a piece of wire holding his spine upright. He stared down the lens of his microscope, working calmly and quietly as he had done for most of the afternoon. A small hand reached up from underneath the table, placing a plastic cup and saucer next to him. Without taking his eye from the lens, Sherlock picked up the cup by the handle and pretended to take a sip.

"Mm, excellent cup of tea, thank you," he said, before placing it back down on the saucer.

Vaughan smiled proudly from the kitchen floor and returned to playing with his tea set.