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It’s a slight chill in the air that wakes John, and he wonders if the heating isn’t working until he remembers that he’s not at Baker Street, a fact that he deduces the moment he catches the now-familiar scent next to him on the 700 thread count sheets.
He considers pulling the covers up and drifting off to sleep again, but he’s already slept the sleep of the well-sated, and he’s beginning to feel restless at Mycroft’s absence.
The clothes he finds draped over a chair aren’t his own, but they’ve clearly been acquired for him; jeans and a jumper, although newer, and, John suspects, a bit higher-end than he’s used to. He briefly considers rejecting them for yesterday’s, which are piled neatly next to the chair, but he has already deduced that Mycroft’s acts of courtship, while executed impassively, carry a great weight.
John finds his phone in the pocket of the previous day’s jeans. One message, rather predictably from Sherlock; John had fully expected to return to the flat last night.
He always works from home on weekends. He stops for brunch and dinner; he’ll give you his full attention then. SH
John reads the text three times, wondering if this is meant to be dating advice or some version of ‘the talk’ from Sherlock, and finally decides that it’s likely both.
He finds Mycroft in his study twenty minutes later, dressed as impeccably as always, cuffs and shirt and waistcoat perfectly buttoned, tie straight, but minus his jacket. There’s a softness to his gaze as he watches John enter that would be unrecognizable to any but a select few.
John settles comfortably in a chair across from the desk and counts to ten. “This is the most naked I’ve ever seen you,” he says, trying for a tone that’s both playful and direct. Last night had been spent in a pitch dark room with curtains drawn, testing the reliability of all of John’s other senses.
Mycroft’s smile was unguarded. “I felt that our first such encounter called for a bit of modesty, though I imagine you find that ironic, at best.”
John offers him his own smile. “Especially considering that somebody obviously pulled back the covers and indulged in a proper eyeful before he left the bedroom this morning.”
There’s barely a change in Mycroft, but just a hint of a blush spreading on his neck, peeking above his shirt collar, a change that John would never have noticed except he’s spent a lot more time observing these last few months. He immediately vows to cause this reaction as often as possible.
Mycroft sets the pen he’s been holding on the desk, and the soft sound it makes draws John’s glance. He chides himself for missing it earlier; the band that he’d worn on his right hand, the one that John knows the entire history of, has since their third date, the one that had drifted hesitantly over his skin until he had whispered it’s fine My, it’s all fine, the previous night, is gone, and it’s suddenly very clear to John just how naked Mycroft is allowing himself to be right now.
John leans forward, reaches for the hand and places his own over it.
Mycroft looks at John’s hand covering his. “Well, I have been known to overindulge rather frequently.”
John pointedly keeps his gaze fixed on Mycroft’s face, until their eyes meet again. “I think you’re too hard on yourself. Your real problem is that it really ought to be criminal to look that good in that suit.” John bites back a grin at the renewed flush and continues. “And, as a doctor, I prescribe some stress relief. I know it’s daylight and all, but you could take that tie of yours and use it to blindfold me.” John notes Mycroft’s raised eyebrow and feels emboldened. “And while we’re at it, you could take another one and use it to tie me to the bed.”
John revels in the fact that Mycroft has to clear his throat before responding. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Liar. You already deduced it, probably weeks ago.”
“True enough, John.”
Mycroft’s phone chimes with a message and John resists the urge to reach over and snatch it away. Mycroft furrows his brow and John wants to scream in frustration. “It’s Sherlock,” Mycroft says without looking up from the screen. “He says I’d be a fool not to follow my doctor’s advice.”
“I knew I put up with him for a reason. C’mon.” John gives Mycroft’s hand a gentle tug and stands from the chair, feeling a fresh surge of arousal as Mycroft stands and slowly begins to loosen his tie.