A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! So...I have noticed that a lot of you seem to be in the same boat as me...as in you are OBSESSED WITH HAMILTON!!!! I absolutely love the musical, so I decided to write a one-shot based on the song Helpless!!! I hope you like it! and if you haven't listened to Hamilton, then you haven't lived...go listen, now....Enjoy<3

The party was loud, the band playing at their loudest as rebels and nobles alike danced, celebrating the upcoming revolution. It wasn’t Sherlock’s first revel, but there was something new in the air at this one. There was a sadness hover over the drunken glee. The war was coming, but that wasn't going to stop the people from enjoying themselves.

Sherlock stayed close to his older brother, following Mycroft through the chaos of dancing soldiers and townsfolk. As much as he hated his brother sometimes, he had to admit that Mycroft was amazing when it came to social interactions. He would use his skills in reading people to steer the conversation where he wanted, and to quickly chase off any potential suitors he wasn't interested in.

It was always like this whenever they would leave the house, men and women alike trying desperately to catch their attentions. They were two-thirds of the Holmes siblings, and everyone wanted a piece of their father’s estate. That’s why they didn’t bring Eurus to such events, she was young, naive, and far too pretty for her own good.

Sherlock finally gave up on following Mycroft around the room, settling back against a sturdy post and simply watching the revelry.

Sherlock normally hated being amongst crowds of people, preferring to stay at home with his experiments. But as he glanced around the room, taking in the excited chatter and loud music, he felt a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There was no way to attend an event like this and not feel the spark of life setting in one’s gut.

A chorus of shouts echoed through the hall, catching Sherlock’s attention. He glanced over, watching as the crowd shifted to allow the newest group in.

Sherlock’s eyes landed on one of the soldiers and he felt his world spin. His heart seemed to stop beating and he felt a blush rising on his cheeks. He swallowed thickly, forcing his eyes to the ground and fussing with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Are you well, Brother Mine?” Sherlock glanced up at his brother, trying to look as innocent and bored as he could, and hummed a weak affirmative, glancing back at the mysterious soldier before meeting Mycroft’s eyes. Understanding flashed over Mycroft’s face and he shifted, moving to lean against the post beside Sherlock. The soldier was still standing at the entrance, laughing and chatting with one of the soldiers that had flirted with Sherlock and Mycroft earlier. “Captain John Watson, leader of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers.” Sherlock glared at the ground, shrugging in a way he hoped looked disinterested.

“So? Why should I care? Isn't it you that insists that love is a myth?” Mycroft laughed, one of his laughs that made Sherlock feel like an idiot.

“Love is a myth, but Mummy and Daddy would be thrilled to see you married off to a handsome soldier. Why not choose one you are physically attracted to?” Sherlock glared at his brother, trying to fight the blush that rose on his cheeks. Mycroft rolled his eyes, sighing and handing Sherlock his drink. “Well, if you don't want him-” Sherlock watched his brother spin away, blinking in shock and trying to make his voice work.

Mycroft stepped up to the soldier’s side, a charming smile on his face. Sherlock froze when his older brother touched the soldier on the arm, leaning down and speaking into the man’s ear. He felt an uncomfortable dread settle in his chest when the man turned to him, his own lips pulled up in a slightly flirtatious smirk.

Sherlock had seen many fall to his brother’s charms, and he knew he was helpless to stop it. It would be so like Mycroft to steal the one person that had even come close to catching Sherlock's attention.

Where Mycroft excelled in human interaction, Sherlock fell short. Mycroft was brilliant, charming, and always knew the right thing to say to people. Sherlock tended to get flustered when people talked to him, and they always stormed off in a huff after he said something stupid.

Sherlock watched the soldier, his heart aching every time the other man smiled at his brother. He felt helpless, and he hated every second of it.

John grinned up at the younger man that had started talking to him, laughing politely at the jokes and doing his best not to flinch away every time he was touched. He had seen the man around the town, and had heard his friends talk about him several times. Mycroft Holmes was one of the most desired bachelors in the city, and John knew that if the man was talking to him, he must be interested.

Which was fine, except that John couldn't seem to find anything likeable about him. He was clearly smart, charming, and classically handsome, but there was something off in his eyes, in the way he kept studying John’s reactions and movements. It was unnerving, and made him uncomfortable.

John was about to excuse himself when the taller man glanced over his shoulder, his eyes softening for a moment before he grabbed John’s elbow, tugging him through the crowd.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I’m about to change your life, Captain Watson.” Alarm spiked in the back of John’s mind, but he quickly squashed it. If the elder Holmes sibling was leading him away from the crowd, he was either about to get laid, or killed, and he was honestly fine with either option.

“Then by all means, lead the way.” Mycroft sent him a curious glance, but continued escorting him through the crowded dance floor.

Sherlock had given up watching the soldier and his brother, deciding to try to find another person to catch his eye. He had decided that one of the other soldiers that had come in with the Captain’s group would do, when Mycroft glanced at him.

Even across the crowded floor, Sherlock could see the change in his brother’s face. Panic lanced through his body as he watched Mycroft take the soldier by the elbow and start to lead him across the floor.

He tried to run, to hurry away before they got too close, but found himself frozen in place.

Mycroft and the soldier came to a stop in front of him, the new man sending him a friendly, if slightly confused, smile.

“Sherlock, this is Captain John Watson, from the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.”

Sherlock blinked for a moment before he realized that he was supposed to speak.

“Sh-Sherlock Holmes, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Realization sparked in the soldier’s eyes, sending a flash of color over Sherlock’s cheeks.

“Holmes?” The Captain glanced between the siblings, as though trying to find the resemblance between them. Mycroft smiled at Sherlock, the slightest hint of pride in his eyes.

“My brother.” Sherlock heard the hint in his brother’s words, and glared at him, turning back to the Captain with a smile that he hoped was pleasant.

“Thank you, for all your service.” Something changed in the soldier’s eyes, and he flashed Sherlock a flirtatious grin, colour rising on his cheek.

“Well, if it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.” Sherlock blinked, blushing as he tried to find a response. He flinched as Mycroft clapped him on the shoulder, smirking mischievously at the pair.

“I’ll leave you to it. Brother Mine, Captain Watson.” Sherlock tried to stop his brother from leaving, but the older man was gone before he could open his mouth. The Captain huffed a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning against one of the posts across from Sherlock.

“I uh- I apologize for my brother, Captain Watson-” the other man shook his head, waving Sherlock’s apology off and laughing again.

“Please, call me John, and it’s fine, really.” Sherlock nodded, focusing on the ground and trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t embarrass himself or his family. “So, Mr. Holmes-”

“Sherlock.” John cocked an eyebrow at him, sending a blush over his chest. “S-Sorry- Mr. Holmes is my father.” John nodded, understanding flashing across his face.

“-Sherlock, tell me about yourself.” Sherlock hesitated slightly, but found himself drawn into the older man’s eyes.

They talked late into the evening, until Mycroft arrived back at Sherlock’s side to escort him home.

John was fascinating, charming, and brilliant. He had been trained as a doctor before joining the army, and planned to return to practice medicine after the war.

There was one thing that Sherlock had become accustomed to over the years, one thing that drove him mad with self-loathing; when his potential suitors would feign interest in things he loved. John didn't pretend to care about what Sherlock talked about. He seemed genuinely interested in listening to him babble on about science and bees.

“I’m sorry to interrupt boys, but Father is expecting us back before the sun rises.” Sherlock glared at his brother, about to make a snide comment about the state of his brother’s shirt, when John pushed himself to his feet, grinning down at Sherlock.

“I should be going too, have a troop to command and whatnot.” Sherlock felt a flare of panic, the earlier helplessness settling back into his gut. “Would you uh- would it be alright if I wrote you? I’m going off to train a regiment for a few months, but I’d like to keep talking with you, if that’s alright.” Sherlock didn’t bother fighting the happy grin that pulled at his lips. He nodded, standing from his seat and smiling down at John, a blush growing on his cheeks again. John’s eyes landed on his lips briefly, and the older man nodded, winking up at Sherlock before stepping away. “Good, thats uh- thats good then.” Sherlock felt the helplessly happy smile widen as John glanced back over his shoulder. “Stay smart Kiddo.”

Sherlock smiled down at the ground, avoiding his brother’s knowing gaze as they made their way home.

The first letter arrived the next day, and Sherlock narrowly avoided his mother’s questions. He knew his parents would read too far into John’s words, and he didn't want them to assume anything too soon.

The letter was well written, and reading it left Sherlock feeling even more helpless than he had when they were talking face to face.  

The letters came every day, each one making Sherlock fall more in love with the soldier.  He kept his emotions to himself,  not wanting to scare John away.  Soldiers were always more than willing to have a one-night stand with a handsome young man, but always shied away at the mention of something more.

My Dearest, Sherlock;

I have been thinking of you almost constantly since we met. My only thoughts being ones on how long until I see you again.  

I have just received word from the General, my command here is done. They are sending me back to London, I will be arriving in three days time.

If it is not too forward of me, I would like to ask your father for your hand. I know we have only known each other for a short time, but I have never met someone a brilliant, kind, or lovely as you, and I know that I would be a fool to allow you to walk out of my life.

I look forward to your response.

John Watson.

Sherlock felt his heart stutter as he read John’s words. His head spun, and that now-familiar helplessness settled over his chest again.

He hurried to his study, nearly running into his brother on his way. He mumbled his apology, fighting down a blush as Mycroft sent him a knowing smile.

“Your Captain is returning then?” Sherlock debated snapping at him, but his mind spun back to John’s words and he couldn’t the happy smile that crossed his face. “Congratulations, Brother Mine.” Sherlock gasped as Mycroft pulled him in for a hug, confusion flashing over him for merely a moment before he registered what was happening.

Tears filled Sherlock’s eyes as he returned the embrace. Of course Mycroft could guess John’s words, it was probably written all over Sherlock’s face.

“I’m getting married.” Sherlock whispered, grinning into his brother’s neck. Mycroft pulled back, patting Sherlock’s cheek fondly and smiling proudly.

“May you always be satisfied with your Captain, Brother Mine.”

Sherlock fussed anxiously with the pages of his book, glancing at the sitting room entrance every few seconds.  

John  was merely a room away, trying to talk Mr. Holmes into letting him marry Sherlock. His father had sent him out of the room as soon as he figured out what was going on, exiling Sherlock to the study.

John was brilliant with words, and Sherlock was convinced that there was nothing that the soldier couldn’t do if he tried, but few people could talk Mr. Holmes into anything he didn’t want them to.

Sherlock flinched when he heard someone clearing their throat from the doorway. He slammed his book closed, standing quickly and straightening his shirt.

John and his father stood in the doorway, both smiling fondly at him as he blushed, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“This young man has asked me for your hand in marriage, Sherlock.” He glanced at John, who winked at him, a soft smirk on his lips. Sherlock blushed darker and nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the ground in front of his father. “I told him you are in charge of your own fate.” Sherlock’s head snapped up, shock flooding his veins as his father stepped forward, taking his face in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to his brow. “I’m proud of you, my son.” Mr. Holmes stepped aside, letting John take hiss place before Sherlock.

“Sherlock, I don’t have a dollar to my name, an acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame,” Sherlock smiled down at the soldier, who had begun to blush as well. “All I have is my honor, a tolerance for pain, a couple college credits, and my top notch brain.” John winked up at him, pulling a giggle from Sherlock’s chest. “Eurus seems to like me, Mycroft tried to take a bite of me, but other than that, I think your family likes me.” John stepped closer, glancing back at Mr. Holmes as he did so. “I know I don’t have a lot, but I pray that will be okay. We’ll get a little place in London and we’ll figure it out.” Sherlock nodded, unable to contain the helpless grin that split his face.

“You will care for my little brother?” Mycroft’s voice came from the doorway, sending a flare of irritation through Sherlock’s body.

“I’ve been living without a family since I was a child, my father left, my mother died, I grew up buck-wild.” John reached up, placing a hand on Sherlock’s cheek. There was a determination in his eyes that sent a thrill along Sherlock’s spine, making him grin wider. “As long as I’m alive, Sherlock, I swear to God you’ll never feel so helpless.” Sherlock leaned down, pressing a shy kiss to the shorter man’s lips, ignoring his mother’s joyus squeal in favor of learning everything he could about John’s face. “So, is that a yes then?” Sherlock laughed, nodding and kissing his fiance again.

The family celebrated, the rest of the night filled with happy chatter and laughter.

Sherlock and John were married three weeks later, and despite John’s promises, there was no denying that Sherlock was certainly helpless.  

He was helplessly in love with his Soldier.