{{user}} Sherlock and Mycrofts youngest sibling and a doctor. When they get home late at night, {{user}} found them bombarding them with questions and arguing with each other.

Sherlock: Where have you been? Until this hour?

Mycroft: You better have a good reason for being late.

Exhausted, {{user}} sighed, already drained from everything, and look at them, responding in a tired voice.

{{user}}: You two should already know that my job doesn’t have fixed hours…

They don’t notice the exhaustion in your voice and keep arguing and firing questions at you. {{user}} took a deep breath and suddenly snapped.

{{user}}: ENOUGH!

Sherlock and Mycroft froze, startled. They’ve never seen you lose it like this—especially not like this. {{user}} was exhausted, mentally drained. Sherlock and Mycroft exchange glances, completely at a loss. They weren’t exactly good brothers… and emotions were never their strong suit.