Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8997745.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sherlock_Holmes/Mycroft_Holmes
  Character:
      Sherlock, Mycroft_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Underage_sexual_encounter, Sherlock_is_13, Mycroft_is_19, Using
      science_as_a_basis_for_sex, Mycroft_isn't_very_moral, Sherlock_Started
      it, Blowjobs, Come_Eating
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-24 Words: 2664
****** Acquisition of Data ******
by DieThePedoPenner
Summary
     After being distant in their youth Mycroft and Sherlock finally start
     to bond on his visits home from University. Sherlock tells him of
     some problems he has been having, and eventually asks for his
     brothers help with an experiment.
Mycroft had never considered himself a particularly good big brother. The large
gap in their ages made it difficult for the boys to bond as children, and by
the time Sherlock was starting to show potential and…for lack of a better word,
personality, Mycroft was already in University. He was accepted into Oxford at
16, and finished his first degree, political science, by 18. That summer he
returned home for a short stay, finding Sherlock, all of 11 years old and far
to intelligent for his years. To perceptive by far.
“Do our parents know you’re a homosexual?” He asked, not at all doubting the
answer. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.
“And how did you come to that deduction, my dear little brother?” Mycroft
asked, knowing that his question was as much an admission of guilt as anything
else. Sherlock scoffed at him.
“It’s plainly obvious, you pluck your eyebrows, and your shirt cuffs are
starched. Your shirt is a size to big to hide your stomach, but your pants,
obviously tailored for you, are to tightly fit in the arse. These aren’t things
that men seeking women do.” Sherlock spouted arrogantly. Mycroft only nodded.
“In the future I would keep such deductions to yourself, my dear. Sexuality is
a very touchy subject and it is not one you should press upon in mixed company.
Some people can react very badly. And to answer your question, no they do not.
I intend to inform them if and when it becomes pertinent that they know. As I
can’t see myself dating,” he spat the word as though it left a foul taste in
his mouth. “or indeed getting married, were such a thing to be legalized, I see
no reason to inform them of any of this.” He raised his eyebrow and looked
Sherlock up and down. “And you dear brother? Have you discovered the secrets of
your own libido?” Sherlock looked taken aback and his face crumpled into a
frown.
“No, it’s barely started stirring, and I’ve yet to concoct an experiment to
find the cause. Mainly because it only happens in my sleep.” He stated, looking
plainly annoyed by this. Mycroft allowed his mouth to twitch into a small
smile.
“Give it a few years, I’m sure things will begin moving any time now. You are
only at the beginning of your pubescence.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and walked
off, leaving Mycroft to straighten himself and remember his composure. Sherlock
was undoubtedly unique. But far closer to Mycroft then their parents in
intellect.
It was another year before he returned home again. Halfway through another
degree, Business and Economics this time. He was surprised to see how much
Sherlock had grown in that time. Twelve on the cusp of Thirteen, his little
brother had sprouted up several inches, his face thinning out and showing
something of the man he would be. He was no longer a sullen child, but was in
fact a sullen adolescent. He was prone to mood swings, and hid away in his
rooms most days. Mummy was at her wits end, but Father recognized it was an
early bout of teenage rebellion. Mycroft had been much the same, though never
as dramatic.
When Mycroft and Sherlock first had some time alone together, Sherlock broached
the same indelicate topic from last time.
“It’s not any easier to control or understand you see? I’ve taken all the data
and compiled it into charts for analysis, but I can’t find any trend. I’ll get
an erection watching the pond or staring at the neighbors dog. But I wont get
one staring at pornographic images that are clearly designed to incite arousal.
Other days a boy will lick his lips and I’ll have to run to the restroom to
relieve myself. And yet another day a girl will bend over and the sight of her
clavicle will have me nearly bursting the seams of my trousers. Yet when I’m
alone, I cannot replicate the results. It’s as if my body defies the scientific
method!” He ranted, growing more agitated as he spoke. Mycroft watched him
throw his curls back and stare at the heavens, his long pale throat exposed to
the rare English sunlight in the gardens. Mycroft licked his suddenly dry lips
and looked away. He heard a soft exclamation from Sherlock and looked back only
to see his brother quickly storming off back to the house. Mycroft raised an
eyebrow and sighed. A strange boy indeed.
Mycroft saw almost none of Sherlock for the rest of his visit, they were
together at meals, but Sherlock was quick to scurry off afterwards and Mycroft
found himself almost disappointed. He swept it out of his mind as he headed
back to school.
He returned during the Christmas Hols, intending to stay a few weeks and into
the new year. His professors were having trouble finding work that was advanced
enough for him. And he was being threatened with a Doctorate or Advanced Degree
if he didn’t switch subjects again. He hadn’t yet decided on what he wanted to
get his third degree in yet, so he hoped the holidays might be a good chance to
clear his mind. He found himself looking forward to his odd little brother, and
was rather disappointed when Sherlock continued his disappearing act. This went
on for nearly the entire visit, until after the new year.
Sherlock’s birthday was on the 6th of January, and Mummy and Father threw him a
party. No other children attended, despite Mummy’s mention of sending
invitations to Sherlock’s classmates. Mycroft didn’t dwell on it, having had
very few acquaintances in his own youth, and no more in his early adult hood.
Sherlock was only 13, and as awkward around children his own age as he was
anyone else. Mycroft knew that reality, having lived it himself. So they ate
cake and gave presents and listened to relatives fawn over his growth or
intelligence or his ‘lovely curls and oh my those eyes are so striking, you’ll
be a real lady killer Sherly!’. By the end of the evening he couldn’t blame
Sherlock for snapping at a distant cousin and storming upstairs. He retired to
his own room not long after.
He was just dressing in his pajamas when he heard a soft knock on the door.
“Enter.” he called, buttoning up his shirt. He heard Sherlock’s familiar steps
and was glad that he had been correct as to who the knock belonged. He turned
to look at him, his younger brother looking…unsure as he stood in the room. His
eyes darted around him as though he was taking in the room, but Mycroft knew
Sherlock came in here often when he was away to borrow books from his shelves.
“Well if it isn’t the birthday boy. What can I do for you Sherlock?” He asked,
keeping his voice level. Sherlock hadn’t spoken to him in months now, and he
was very interested to find out what his brother had come into his room in the
dead of night for. Sherlock licked his lips and glanced at his brother.
“I’ve compiled more data. I need your help testing a theory.” Sherlock nearly
slurred, the words said so quickly they were almost indecipherable. Mycroft
raised an eyebrow.
“Is this data related to our previous discussions?” Mycroft asked, keeping
himself outwardly calm as his mind raced to understand the implications of
Sherlock’s statement. The boy nodded. “And are you asking me to be an active
participant in your data acquisition?” He asked again, knowing before Sherlock
nodded that the answer was yes. “I see…are you aware of the moral and legal
ramifications should something of that nature occur and be discovered?”
Sherlock just rolled his eyes and stepped closer, causing Mycroft to tense, but
Sherlock moved past him, sitting down on his bed.
“When last we spoke I informed you I had been unable to recreate any of the
results I had compiled, remember?” Mycroft nodded and gestured for him to
continue. “In fact during our last conversation, I found a knew piece of data
that I assumed to be as anomalous as the others. I fled to hide my reaction,
and went to my room to deal with it as I had the others. But this time…I found
myself thinking about it more. Instead of a physical reaction to base stimulus,
I found that if I focused on the event that had triggered it in this case I
could become aroused at any time. With all of the previous triggers this was
not the case, the image or thought did not cause arousal after the first
instance, but this one did. I’ve spent the last several months attempting to
gather more data and I’ve run out of options. An experiment is the last step.”
He met Mycroft’s eyes and Mycroft saw something within them that he hadn’t
expected to ever see there. He licked his lips again and the pupils expanded.
“Sherlock…I would need to know the specifics of the experiment before I could
decide if I will participate.” He found himself shocked at his own words,
knowing that what Sherlock was asking for was at the very least bordering on
incestuous, and very possibly ranging into something more concretely immoral.
Yet he was still listening, and even…excited by the possibility. Sherlock
nodded.
“I propose we start with something non physical. I would simply ask you to
allow me to view you unclothed, and ascertain my body’s reaction to it.”
Mycroft nodded, knowing that was a perfectly reasonable first step to such an
experiment. “Sherlock I must ask one question before we proceed further. Is
this an experiment to determine if your inclination is towards males in
general, or a more specific target?” He knew the answer, he could play every
bit of their conversation over in his head without even trying, but he needed
to be sure Sherlock was aware of the implications, that he wasn’t deluding
himself to the purpose.
Sherlock sighed and shook his head sadly. “Though I believe I am somewhat
capable of physical attraction to either sex, I have yet to find anyone who
inspires a reaction quite like you.” It was Mycroft’s turn to nod, and seeing
no other course of action he began unbuttoning his shirt. In the last year he
had begun exercising, and though he wasn’t what one would deem trim, he had
lost a considerable amount of weight. It helped with his insecurity as he
stripped his shirt off and placed it neatly over the baseboard of his bed. He
stood there momentarily, watching Sherlock watch him, examining the changes in
respiration and the flush to his cheeks.
“Is this sufficient for the experiment, or shall I remove more?” He asked
flatly, having to will his own arousal down. Sherlock didn’t need to know that
this exhibitionist viewing was enough to have him growing fatter in his pants.
Sherlock nodded, and then shook his head and then nodded again.
“No…It’s…I would like to see more?” The last part sounding more like a question
than he had intended. Mycroft simply nodded and slipped his sleep trousers and
pants off in one motion, turning to bend over and pick them up to place them on
the bed with the others, giving Sherlock an in depth look at his arse, as he
did so. He stood and turned back, only to find Sherlock’s jaw working as if he
was attempting to find words, and his hands clenched tightly in the light
material of his own sleep trousers. The boy was clearly aroused. Mycroft’s own
control failed at that and he felt his own cock rise, and watched Sherlock
watch it wide eyed.
“It seems this portion of the experiment was a success. But to fully document
it, I would need to examine you to determine the extent of your arousal.”
Mycroft said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. Sherlock’s eyes flew up
to meet his.
“What…what would that examination entail?” He asked, actually stumbling over
his words. Mycroft smiled lightly.
“First you would have to disrobe, so I could better examine you, then I could
cataloge the signs of arousal. From pupil dilation, increased respiration,
heart rate, flushing, and then on to the less obvious signs. I would have to
begin a tactile examination then, are you agreeable?” Sherlock nodded, nostrils
flaring. He stood to fast, nearly losing his balance before he began tearing
his shirt over his head and dropping his trousers. Mycroft almost regretted
that Sherlock didn’t pick them up, mostly because he wanted the show he had
given Sherlock in return.
Sherlock was pale, and almost entirely hairless. His nipples were a bright
pink, and pebbled deliciously, and his too thin frame shivered with
anticipation. Mycroft licked his lips and stepped forward to conduct his
examination. He started analytically.
“Your skin is warm, you’re sweating slightly despite the ambient temperature
being below your norm.” He grasped Sherlock’s neck for this, his fingers
running through the hair at his nape and his thumb along his jaw line. “Skin is
flushed, pupils dilated, breathing rapid. Yes, all clear signs of arousal.” And
here he grew bold, trailing his hand down to Sherlock’s chest and running a
finger over the pebbled nipples. Sherlock gasped, and moved into the test.
“Erectile tissue is engorged, in the nipples at least.” He ran a finger over
the other before continuing down. He trailed his manicured nails over the
sensitive skin of his navel and over the sparse hair at his groan and grasped
at the painfully erect cock. “This being the key indicator of arousal. Tissue
is fully engorged, the glands exposed and,” he ran a thumb over the tip and
watched Sherlock’s eyes roll back as his hips thrust forward into his big
brother’s hand. “Yes, leaking preseminal fluid.” He took his free hand and
fondled the boys smooth sack. “The testicles are swollen, the muscles tensed as
in the moments before orgasm.” He let them go and reached around, slipping his
hand between the cheeks of his plush buttocks, and gently stroking the ring of
muscle there, it’s heat feeling scorching against his finger, and the muscle
twitching at the contact. “And yes, showing signs of receptiveness in all
areas. In fact I believe…” He pressed gently on the muscle and stroked expertly
up the boys cock at the same time. Sherlock cried out and shuddered, and he
felt the hot fluid splash onto his hand and land on his own, more than aroused,
cock. “Yes, as I suspected, on the edge of orgasm.” He stepped back
reluctantly, letting his hands fall away from his brothers smooth skin.
“I would consider that a positive result, do you agree?” Mycroft asked, slowly
bringing his soiled hand up and inspecting the mostly clear liquid before
licking it off. It had the saltiness of preseminal fluid, with very little of
the bitter flavor that the boy would one day possess. He heard Sherlock whimper
and he looked up at the boy just in time to see him drop to his knees.
Mycroft’s cock twitched at the sight and Sherlock crawled forward. Not making
eye contact with Mycroft, he leaned in and began lapping the splashes of his
own fluid off his big brother's cock. Mycroft was helpless to react, even if he
had wanted to stop the boy, it only took three greedy licks, and the boy
placing his lips around the glands and giving one good suck for Mycroft to go
off. Sherlock was startled by it, so he pulled off before Mycroft had finished,
resulting in his getting a face full of Mycroft’s essence. Mycroft panted and
looked down at Sherlock, who looked aroused and indignant, with come dripping
from his eyelashes and cheekbones. “I…definitely a success then?” He asked, and
Sherlock had the gall to smile at him.
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