Chapter 1: Chapter 1
I could feel the cool wood of the door behind me, his arms, surprisingly strong, surrounding me.
"Myc-"His lips crashed into mine, for only a second. I jerked back in surprise. "Mycroft, what are you doing?" I gasped out, unable to determine whether it was from shock or excitement.
"I thought that was obvious," he responded coolly "I decided that I was going to kiss you, and have just done so." He pressed his lips against my neck, "problem?" he whispered.
"God" I moaned "Myc-"he dragged his lips down, along my neck and latched them onto my collar bone. Another moan escape my lips as he pushed himself flush with my body.
"Gregory" he gasped against my neck "I want you to take me, right here, right now." My eyes snapped open.
"Mycroft?" I asked "not here. We haven't even discussed this. I mean I have no problem fucking your brains out right here in this office, repeatedly. But-"
"Then do it" he begged. I could feel the blood coursing through my veins at his words, rushing to my cock. I could barely breath I was so hard.
"nnGod, Mycroft." I turned away from him, hoping the lack of sight of him would help me relax. "We have to, to…" I sputtered, as he wrapped his arms around my waist. His lips found their way to my shoulder, nosing their way under my shirt and doing completely indecent things. "Ohh god Mycroft," I whimpered. Where did my actually voice go? "Stop, please." He released me immediately.
"I am truly sorry Detective, I have absolutely no idea what came over me just then. I assure you this will never happen again." He turned his back to me, and moved toward his desk to sit down "Please, Mycroft, can you explain what just happened here, 'cause I'm really confused?" I followed him towards the desk. He didn't respond, he simply sat behind his desk and looked down at his hands. "Please, I want to understand."
"There's nothing to understand," he mumbled after a moment "I was carried away by the moment, but the moment has passed" he turned towards me, pupils completely blown wide, lips swollen. I couldn't help it.
"God, you are gorgeous" I said, surprising even myself. "I never thought I'd see the day I thought a man was beautiful, but you are, none of that handsome shit." My eyes closed, picturing us spending evenings at home on the couch, cuddling. Or him beneath me panting, screaming out my name. "I want to spend hours just looking at you." I said as I opened my eyes. My surprise was nothing compare to the complete shock evident on his face. His mouth was wide open, gaping at me, his brows furrowed together. I smiled at him, stepping closer, so that I was just the other side of his desk. "And you know what?" I asked, when I composed myself. He just kept looking at me, his brilliantly blue eyes boring into mine, "I think you want that too." I placed my hands on the edge of the desk and leaned across it. He licked his lips uncertainly. "Ha," I exclaimed, grinning, "I got you."
"Detective…" he faltered, "I am not entirely sure what you mean. What happened just now was a lamentable miss-read of a situation on my part, but will be the only such interaction between-"
"What do you mean lamentable? I happen to know that you were enjoying our interaction as much as I was." He made a noise as if to interrupt me, but I pushed through the dissent. "However we were right to stop where it was, for now. I fully intend to have you later." He looked bemused, and utterly delicious. Where are these thought coming from? - Who even cares, I was going to act on them over and over again.
"Please don't speak like that," he whispered "there is no point in continuing what we have just started," I gapped at him openly. He smiled, almost his normal condescending one. "Correct me if I am wrong, but have you left your mouth open to attract flies, detective?"
"Mycroft," I fumed, "There most certainly is a reason for me to snog you, and for us to discuss it, at great length. I want to snog you, I want to fuck you, I want to cuddle with you and make sweet love to you. You can either accept that or I will leave now." I glared at him, daring him to tell me to leave. He stared straight back at me, until…
"I don't understand you Detective."
"You can at least call me Greg, I've had my tongue down your throat."
"I don't understand you, Gregory" No one had called me by my christian name since I was in primary school. I liked it.
"What do you mean? You're a bloody genius, it's more likely that I wouldn't be able to understand you."
"Gregory, please believe me when I say this" he sighed "what almost happened between us would have been a mistake, one that I would have regretted for an incredibly long time to come. It would have amounted to nothing, and then ruined the relationship we have already. My brother would no longer associate with you, which would be very bad for him. And despite the terrible things he say about me, he is my brother and I care deeply for him"
"Mycroft," I asked "what did you mean the terrible things he says to you? Because whatever they are, he's a lying little shit. You are amazing." I smiled at him, and meant every word. We may not be that close, but no matter what I was doing, I was there the second he called.
"It's nothing Detective," He said with a sigh "My brother uses his acid tongue far too often for it to truly hold any value to me." And he stood up from the desk, "Now if you don't mind, I have a meeting in a half hour and I need to contact Anthea" He gesture to the door.
"Please, Gregory, this is a truly important meeting"
"Then why did you call me over right before it, if this" I argued, gesturing to his office, "was important enough for me to come over before your meeting, what was it you wanted to discuss?" He stood there, eyes wide open, mouth slightly agape. I had caught him. "You didn't have a reason, did you?"
"I- I don't know what you mean, Gregory" he stammered back. I stepped towards him.
"You don't have a meeting do you?"
"I thought so." I said triumphantly. "Now you are going to tell me exactly why you called me over today, Mycroft."
"Detect- Gregory" he corrected himself, "this would be so much simpler if you could just let it go."
"Fine, if you won't tell me, I'll have to guess." I stated "So, you called me over here this afternoon, to beg me to fuck you. Am I correct?"
"I'll take that as a yes. And you decided to do this today because of something Sherlock said to you today?" He jerked his head around. "I'm a detective inspector Mycroft, you do well to remember that. So my only question is what did he say to you?"
"And what does that entail?"
"He usually asks about my diet, or who I've slept with, implying that I haven't. And then I end up in situations like this."
"So this has happened before?" He looked at me blankly. "I mean you've just called up random people and let them fuck you."
"I usually just go to a bar, find someone good and pissed, they're the only ones who'd be with me anyway." He turned his back to me and sat back down behind his desk. I followed him.
"I'm guessing that's something else your fuck of a brother told you."
"You are incredibly good at guessing, Gregory."
"Well let me tell you something, right here, right now. I don't know if you will believe it or not, but if I say it enough you might come to accept it. You are gorgeous and powerful. You are terrifying and sexy, and I have been incredibly lucky just to have helped you these past few years, and I want to continue helping you, as long as you allow me to." I stepped around his desk and leaned in close to him. "Your brother is a liar. You" I kissed his cheek. "Are," I kissed the other. "Perfect," I pressed my lips against his, running my tongue along his lower lip. He moaned and let his jaw go just a fraction more slack. I repeated the action, and at the same time reached for his tie, pulling him harder to my mouth. His mouth fell completely slack, and I thrust into his mouth, hell-bent on tasting every corner of his mouth.
He started making obscene noises. Moaning into my mouth. I couldn't take much more. I pulled back, and he whimpered.
"My God, Mycroft," I gasped. "You truly have no idea what you do to me, do you?" I pushed his chair back and stood in front of him. Moving forward, I straddled him, sliding my legs through the arms of the chair, effectively locking us together. I ground my crotch against his, pushing my flaming erection against his. "Now you know, this is what you do to me."
"Oh, God, Gregory" he panted into my chest. "We- I- mppf" I reached for the buttons on his ridiculous waist coat, practically ripping them off in my haste to get my mouth on his chest. I pulled the tie off and threw it across the room. I jammed my face against his, clacking our teeth together. It was as if I couldn't get enough of him. The way he smelled, the way he made that tiny little humming noise, or the way he thrust up against me.
"My God, Mycroft" I panted, I looked into his bright blue eyes, now filled with a lust heavy daze, as I slid off his lap and he stood up.
"I'll called my driver," he said quietly "he can be here in a few moments to take you home."
"I hope you meant us home, I fully intend to stay at yours tonight."
"Gregory," he sighed "I have to work"
"No, no you don't," I said "we'll tell Anthea on the way out that we are going home to sleep." He looked up at me.
"Yours or mine?"
"Who has the bigger shower?" I smirked.
"Mine it is."
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
So this is the nest installment. I was gonna re-work it a lot more than I did. Truth be told, I'm a senior in high school, I was removed from school for just over three weeks (had a concussion, couldnt stand- its not like I got suspended) and I'm trying to do my make-up work, but I seriously don't care enough. SENIORS. So I decided not to do any homework at all tonight and just put this up. I hope you enjoy it. Its pervy and amazing(I hope). I love you guys.
"I thought maybe we could..." He trailed off.
"Mycroft?" I queried "Are you going to invite me in?"
"Oh, yeah, uhh"
"Would you like some coffee detective?" I prompted sarcastically "Why yes I would love some, Mycroft thank you for asking. Cue open door" I smirked at him as he opened the door sheepishly. I slipped around him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek on the way past.
A low whistle escaped my lips as I took in the room.
"Are you sure this is your flat, and we haven't been magicked into Narnia or the palace?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"I assure you this is my home, though you are my first visitor so I feel a little nervous sharing it with you."
"You afraid they'll kill you for your house?" I joked. He glanced at the ground.
"Something like that."
"Mycroft, I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sure there's a perfectly normal reason you don't let people in your home." Then the thought struck me, "and I just invited myself into it, I'm really sorry My, I'll leave right now." I made to leave.
" No, I invited you here, and I want you here, it just, having other people here it, it makes me nervous."
"The great Mycroft Holmes, nervous." He looked at me, maybe a little reassured.
"This is where Mycroft Holmes who holds a minor position in the British government, is just, Mycroft. Even when I'm WITH someone, I keep my persona with me. But you're different, you mean something to me, even if I don't know exactly what it is." I was awed by his speech. He trusted me.
"If anything I say makes you uncomfortable, tell me okay?" I asked. "This is your home, and I am just your guest. But I would love to make some coffee, if you would be so kind as to lead me through this labyrinth of a flat, to the kitchen." I stood up and he led me to a magnificent kitchen.
" I trust you know how to make coffee, Gregory." He smiled. " I shall go make the bedroom presentable."
"By all means, go pick up your dirty laundry and other such items." He smiled as he began to move away from me.
I ran my fingers down the far side of his face, and placed a tender kiss on the closer temple.
"Hurry back, Myc." I whispered.
"Myc" he hummed thoughtfully, "I like that." And he turned out of the room. I busied myself making coffee, trying to keep my hands busy and not think about that beautiful man, in a bedroom, bending over to pick something off the floor. I focused on finding a tray, some beakers (the fine china was far too intimidating) and arranging them. Almost ten minutes later and Mycroft had yet to return. I gathered the tray and took it to the sitting room.
It was almost five more minutes of me getting steadily more nervous before he finally returned.
"Sorry about the delay" he said " I got lost in thought." He seemed even more nervous than before. I smiled, taking his hand and guiding him onto the sofa next to me.
"It's quite alright, I love your home, it suits you." He smiled back at me, reassured by my compliment.
"Would you like a little tour?" He asked, standing up.
"I'd enjoy that." We stood up. "You take just a dash of cream, right?" He nodded and picked up his beaker. I gathered mine and stood with him.
"Well," he began, "the front fac-" and coffee went everywhere.
"Oh God, are you alright?" I cried out as he turned to face me, his face flaming red. His shirt was soaking wet, and still steaming. I thunked my mug onto the end table and rushed towards him. "We have to get this off before it burns." And with that, I scrambled at his button, yanking the shirt from his chest. There were pale pink burns covering his entire front.
I rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a dish cloth and wetting it with cold water. I ran back to the sitting room, and he was just standing there, face brick red, and more than a little shocked at the turn of events.
As I began to dab at the fresh burns, he came back to his senses.
"I'm sorry Gregory, did I get any of that coffee on you, it was rather hot?"
"No I'm fine, Myc" I replied, " are you alright?"
"Of course I'm fine" he responded. " my skin is just sensitive." And with that he took the the flannel from me, setting it down on the table. " I'm sorry you had to see me being so clumsy." I shook my head at him, taking up the cloth again, resuming the treatment of his burns.
"I wish you'd stop apologizing, Myc, I wish you would say and do what you want," I exclaimed. "I want you to take charge of a situation and jus-"
His lips crashed onto mine, an ocean meeting the shore. My hand reached up to caress his face. I stretched the other around his back, running it along his arse. He slid his hands under my T-shirt, fingernails scratching at my nipple.
"Ohh. God, Mycroft" I gasped against his lips, as I arched against him, practically rutting against him in my lust filled haze. He forced the shirt over my head and immediately brought his lips back to mine, wrapping his arm around my shoulder before letting it glide down my back. Shivers followed his fingers as they trailed along my body and under the waistband of my jeans. I shook with anticipation and continued to thrust against him, seeking friction anywhere I could.
Our lips met again and again. My entire body was subject to animal instincts. He filled my every thought. It was as if the very world had faded out of existence and all that was left was Mycroft.
My hands took on a life of their own caressing every inch of the taller man. It could have been days or seconds and it didn't matter. He slipped one of his hands to the fastener on my jeans and undid it. Sliding them and my pants down a few inches. Another moan escaped my lips as he began to stroke my cock.
And then everything changed. His hands were on my shoulders, my face. His lips pressed against my with such zeal, before gliding down my neck and behind my ear. I leaned my head forward onto his chest, letting my lips just brush against his shoulder on the way.
He shoved me backwards a step, then another. With a thump I landed in an armchair, his forearms resting on the arms, my hands clutching both sides of his chest.
He nipped his way down my chest, his tongue traveling devilish patterns along my skin.
"Oh fuck." I groaned as he placed a tender kiss on the underside of my cock.
He pulled my pants down a few more inches, just as he enveloped me in his mouth. I lost all sense of control and began to thrust upwards, my body seeking pleasure, and most certainly finding it. He pulled away, grabbing the ankles of my jeans and yanking them from my legs. My pants quickly followed.
His magnificent tongue found its way to my bollocks. He kissed them, and sucked them, finding an unbearable rhythm. I could feel pressure coiling in the pit of my stomach, I could barely hold myself together. Then that tongue ran up my cock and over the slit.
"Ohh God, Mycroft" I cried, completely unraveled, barely holding onto the brink and he could tell. He pulled back a little and I sat up, my lips searching for his.
I'd had enough of this coy little game of his. I shoved him up and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He might be the government, but I do the fucking around here.
I pushed him back against the wall.
"Now it's my turn" I growled. He looked at me, wide eyed, excited. I shoved him towards the couch, he all but fell into it.
I paused a moment. This, this was what I wanted. He looked absolutely debauched. His hair, a mess. His lips, bruised and his body vibrating with need.
I prowled closer, and launched myself onto him, devouring his lips in my own.
I moved on to the rest of his face, down his neck and onto his chest. Pulling on his left nipple with my teeth. A strangled cry barely escaped his lips. And I thought I couldn't be any more turned on by this man, but, God the sounds he made. Every fibre of my being was screaming out for me to fuck his brains out, to fuck him until he screamed my name so loud the entire universe collapsed in on itself.
I reached for his trousers, dragging all clothing from his lower half in one swift motion, leaving him as completely naked as myself. And out of the corner of my eye, as I threw the offending garments behind me, I caught sight of that gorgeous cock. I leaned forward and immediately kissed every inch of it, letting my tongue do wicked things, eliciting moans and cries that shot straight to my groin.
I looked up, mouth full of him and he looked straight into my eyes, his own full of bewilderment. And he threw himself at me, pushing me away in his attempt to kiss me. His lips collided against mine once more, a feverish attempt to control the situation, which so far, was completely alien to him. I took him by the shoulders and laid him back down across the sofa. My hand now joining my mouth on his length. I twisted as I bobbed along him, every whimper of ecstasy egging me on.
When I could no longer take the heaviness at the back of my throat, I rested my head on his thigh. My eyes met his once again. I stretched on hand up and caressed his chest and nipple again, he bit his lip.
I nodded, grabbing his arm and dragging him up with me. I pulled him tight against my chest, thoroughly snogging him.
"Bed, now," I gasped. He took my hand, pulling me towards the bedroom, around turns and down halls. He pulled me through the door to his bedroom, and sat on the edge of the king sized bed. I followed, flopping down beside him.
"Lube, Myc?" I asked, still out of breath, but inching in for another kiss.
"Gre- I-" he panted, "already." I stretched a hand behind him. He had most definitely been prepared.
"Is this what you were doing earlier?" I queried as he latched his lips to my collarbone. He moaned in response.
I could just picture him, sprawled out on this bed, not twenty minutes ago, fingering himself. Stretching himself for me to... The thought alone sent shivers down my spine, and blood rushing south. I climbed into his lap, melding his lips with my own. He moaned, rocking his hips up to meet mine. I leaned him him back, against the sheets, before clambering off of him. My body screamed in protest, desperate for release, desperate for contact. I placed a hand on the tops of each thigh, running my fingers down and stopping at his knees. I grabbed the right one in my left hand and twisted it over his opposite leg. That beautiful arse partially in the air, and one leg bent over the other. Clambering back onto the bed, I straddled his straightened leg and slowly kissed his top thigh. Another moaned escaped my lips, I was so close to the edge. I grabbed his knee with one hand and his hip with the other, and with a nod of assent from Mycroft, I guided my cock in, just past the first ring of muscles. Shudders wracked my body, and a cry of ecstasy slipped from Myc's lips.
"Greg" he cried. I thrust in the rest of the way, my pelvis slapping against his arse cheeks. I barely had time to pull out and thrust again before he clenched around me, his body convulsing in sheer pleasure, my name still on his lips. Seconds later I followed him, my cock pulsing deep with in him.
As my breathing began to level, I slid away from Mycroft, and stood up. My legs were shaky, and my vision exceptionally blurry . But I stumbled to the en suite and dampened another flannel. By the time I has returned, Myc was sitting up, and looking rather embarrassed. As I clambered back onto the bed and began to wipe the ejaculate from his chest, he began to look a little more sure, but stopped me.
"You don't have to do this, I'm sure you have more important places to be."
"Nonsense," I replied. "This is the most important place I could possibly be" and I resumed cleaning up the bed. When the bed, and my lover, were no longer sticky, I tossed the flannel to the floor. "Besides," I grinned, "we need to talk in the morning." I took his arm and laid him down on the pillows, snuggling up next to him. I placed a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades before pulling the duvet up over us.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
So I meant to do this Saturday (I had forgotten the Starkid Concert- I went to that. Absolutely amazing). So a little later than predicted. I love you guys.
My eyes fluttered open as a shiver ran down my spine. I glanced around me, my sleep-addled mind not recognizing the room. Large four-poster bed, satin sheets, no duvet. There should be a duvet. I turned to the side - there it was. I stretched out and grabbed a hunk of the blanket, pulling it towards me. A muffled grunt came from within the mass of fabric. I immediately stopped pulling and peered over the lump to where a head should have been located. Mycroft. And the night before came rushing back to me, the office, the coffee, right here on this bed.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Digging around in the dresser I located a pair of pajama bottoms. I slipped them on, rolling up the cuffs an inch or two, and began to putter about the room. A sense of contentment settled into my skin as I gathered up some of the mess. Just as I thought I had tidied up from last night’s escapades and began to move towards the window, my foot connected with something sticky.
“The hell?” I cried out, unable to contain the exclamation. I glanced down to my feet - it was the wet flannel from hours earlier. As I bent down to scoop up the cloth, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Someone was watching me. I spun on my heel. It was Mycroft.
“Good morning,” I said, tossing the flannel in the direction of the en suite before moving towards him. He clambered up from the bed, slipping on a pair of pants, and made towards me.
“Morning,” he responded, voice scratchy from sleep. I slipped my arms around his waist as we approached one another, my hands connecting behind his back as I pressed our chests together.
“Morning,” I repeated, pressing my lips into his left shoulder. At that moment something started buzzing in the other room. Seconds later there was the familiar hum of what sounded like a coffee machine whirring to life.
“I’ll have to go in about a half hour,” Mycroft whispered in my ear, “But I’ve got time for a quick breakfast with you. Only if you’d like, of course.”
“I’d love that,” I assured him, as he slipped out of my embrace and towards his closet. He gathered one of his many perfectly tailored, three-piece suits and started heading for the en suite. “And just where do you think you’re going with that mister?” I teased, indicating that he should stay in the room with me.
“Really Gregory. I’d feel much more comfo-”
“And I’d like to see your beautiful body slip into the modern day armor that you so love to wear.” A look came over his face, one part astonishment, and one part confusion. I stepped up to him, prying the suit from his hands and pulling it off the hanger.
“Gregory. What are you doing? Please, I need to get to work.”
“Oh, you’ll get to work. But only when I’m through gawking at you,” I replied smirking as I selected one of his plain white, silk shirts and a deep blue tie from the closet. I held both out to him for approval before exchanging them with the preselected red tie.
“Gregory, I really must protest-” I silenced him with a bruising kiss and proceeded to slip the shirt over his shoulders and to fasten the soft fabric around that magnificent chest dappled with freckles. Next went the tie, snugly under the perfectly starched collar. I then knelt in front of him and guided his legs into the pinstripe trousers, pressing my lips just above each kneecap before I pulled his trousers the rest of the way up and delicately fastened them.
“Just the jacket left, and that should wait until after breakfast,” he concluded, breaking the reverent silence between us. “Would you like to get dressed, or shall I do it for you?”
“I do believe I’m going to stay like this a bit longer,” I smirked, slipping out into the hall in my half-naked state. When I reached the kitchen I began gathering ingredients for a full English: sausage, eggs, bacon, and beans. As I found the frying pan, Mycroft entered, looking more put together, no doubt teeth brushed and face washed.
“I hope you’re planning to eat all of that yourself, Detective,” he said, “I am on a diet.”
“Not this morning you aren’t,” I stated. He sighed and clicked on the pilot light.
“At least no beans?”
“Alright,” I acquiesced, putting the two pans on the stovetop and tossing the sausage into one of them.
“Pass me the eggs,” he asked as the pans were beginning to heat up. He quickly cracked four eggs into the pan. “Over easy?”
“Perfect,” I replied, and we fell into a companionable silence, broken only by the occasional pop and sizzle of the meat. Everything seemed to flow perfectly. Just about the time the sausages were close to done, it was time to add the bacon to the mix and pop the bread in to fry. Mycroft poured us each a cup of coffee. We slipped into the chairs at the breakfast bar to wait for our meal and sip our coffee.
When everything had finished frying, Mycroft hopped up and fixed two plates piled high with the fruits of our labor. He brought them back to the counter and together we tucked in.
“This is better than some bran and a yogurt,” I joked.
“Most definitely more impressive than my usual fare,” he smiled, biting into his fried bread with a sigh of contentment. “I’ll be leaving in about five minutes, Gregory-”
“I guess I’d better get dressed, then,” and I stood up, placing my plate in the sink to wash.
“Wait, Gregory. I simply meant to say that you’re welcome to stay as long as you wish.” He glanced over at me. “And just leave the dishes, I’ll get them in a minute,” he said dumping his in the sink as well.
I smiled. “You sure?”
“One hundred percent, and I have spare toiletries under the sink in my room, if you’d like.”
“Are you implying something?”
"That you have terrible morning breath? Yes, I do believe I am.” With that he stepped closer, swooping down and pecking me on the cheek. “It’s a good thing you’re as handsome as you are,” he laughed, and gave me a tiny push back towards his room before spinning around and turning on the tap.
I had redressed in yesterday’s suit and was just finishing up my teeth when I caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. Stepping out into the main room, I saw Mycroft standing at the large bay windows. He had just lit up a cigarette. I walked up behind him, but he didn’t seem to notice until I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling his back tight against my chest. He tilted that beautiful auburn head backwards to rest against me, releasing a small stream of smoke. We stayed like that for a few moments, basking in each other and the morning sun.
“I want us to be something serious.” I half mumbled into his skin.
“I do too.” He whispered.
“Good, I think, I might…I mean- this isn’t coming out right.”
“Gregory?” he prodded.
“I know I’ve developed feelings for you over the years.” I practically had to force the words I was so nervous as to their reception. He smiled at me, stubbing out the last of the cigarette.
“I was so sick of finding drunk people,” he began, “I would find anyone who would have me.” I ran a hand down his arms reassuringly. “I thought… I assumed that I wouldn’t be able to find someone who cared about me, someone I cared about. But then Sherlock started to work with you, and I vetted you, and I started to feel things for you. But that just created more problems. Suddenly I had someone to care for, but no chances of anything with them.”
“I feel like a fool,” I moaned, “All this time we could’ve been together, wasted out of fear.”
“And then last night,” he continued, ignoring my outburst. “Last night, I’d had enough. I didn’t care if I ruined everything between us, ruined everything for my brother. I was so angry with him, I almost wanted to ruin his chances of getting any more cases. So I called you.”
“And I am truly glad you did,” I whispered, “because now we both know the truth and we don’t have to ignore us. And I fully intend for there to be an us, Mycroft Holmes.” He laughed and turned to face me, taking my hands in his own.
“I have no problems with that, Gregory.” A large grin spread across his face, identical to my own. I rested my forehead against his, just taking in this new information. Mycroft and me. Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade. If only that stupid woman could see me now, finally happy with someone, and that someone wasn’t her. She could take her stupid new boyfriend and his teacher’s salary - I've got Mycroft. It was only a few seconds later that my mobile decided to go off somewhere in the distance.
“I had better go get that.” I dashed back into the foyer, snatching the phone from my coat, which was strewn over the back of a sofa, just as it went to voicemail. I glanced at the number - Sally. That means a case. “Mycroft,” I called back to him, “I’ve got to head into work.”
“I’ll drive you in if you’d like,” he called from the hall.
“Great,” I replied as he entered the room. I slipped on my shoes as he grabbed his umbrella and we were out the door.
He dropped me off about a block from the station. I walked in everyday and didn’t really want to start a commotion arriving in a government-issue, black sedan at five-fifteen in the morning. I strolled into the offices, trying to keep a grin off my face - after all, such exuberance wouldn’t be acceptable at a crime scene. Sally started rattling off the details of the case: four people dead in an alleyway, no knowledge of murder weapon, no suspects apprehended.
“Just call in Sherlock,” I ordered.
“I’m calling in Sherlock, favour to John,” I lied. In all honesty, I just wanted this over with as soon as possible so I could spend the evening with - no. Mind on the job, Greg. Don’t let this get in the way of your job.
I clambered out of the car outside of 221B. Heading up to the flat I could hear the violin through the floor boards. Mrs. Hudson popped out of her doorway.
“Oh. Is there a case? He’s been ever so terrible this week.”
“There’s a case, alright, Mrs. Hudson. An important one, I might add. So if you wouldn’t mind…?” I trailed off hopefully.
“Right. Of course. Sorry, Detective.”
“See you later.”
As soon as Mrs. Hudson disappeared back into her flat, I dashed up the stairs and knocked on the door. The violin went silent immediately and the voice inside snapped, “What do you want, Inspector?”
I pushed open the door and cautiously entered, watching for falling mold or some other dangerous substance about to attack me.
"Good morning, Sherlock," I prompted to which he grunted in response.
John shambled into the living room as I was giving Sherlock the basics of the case.
“Morning, John. What are the chances you can make him take this case?”
“Pretty high I’d say, just give me a couple minutes.”
“Fantastic,” I left the flat as quickly as I had come in, but with a slightly jauntier step as I was that much closer to an evening with My - no. No, damn it - focus on the work. I climbed back into the driver’s seat next to Sally.
“Freak’s not coming?” she asked. “Ooh, spoke to soon.”
Sherlock was dashing out of the front door towards the police car, a smirking doctor following him at a leisurely pace. As we drove to the crime scene Sherlock began to get antsy.
“So just what were you up to last night, Detective?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I defended.
“Well you obviously didn’t go home last night, and you didn’t stay at work. So the question becomes, where –or rather with whom- did you spend last night?”
“Sherlock!” John reprimanded. “That is none of your business.”
“Thank you, John,” I replied, a bit relieved that I wouldn't have to describe my love life to the whole of the car.
Moments later we arrived at the crime scene. There was nothing particularly gruesome, and god knows I’d seen some disturbing murders in the past few years. There were four bodies scattered around the ten-foot stretch of the alleyway - all male, all of impressive stature. Sherlock circled each one before scoffing at our incompetence and declaring the case not even a two.
“I mean even Anderson could have solved this one.”
“Hey,” came the call from the forensics van, “I heard that.”
“You were meant to,” Sherlock retaliated with a laugh before he rattled off his description of the murderers. “Yes, of course there were two. Both tall, military or government trained. The victims are criminals of a dastardly nature. You really shouldn’t look too far into this one - the perpetrators will have high-level clearance and kill orders. You can see from the way the farthest body is lain that it was moved, meaning the killers attempted to clean up their mess but were interrupted and left in a hurry. I do believe that is enough information for you to be getting on with, Detective. Good morning.” And with that, he began to walk away, no doubt to hail a taxi. It was at precisely that moment a black sedan pulled up to the mouth of the alley among the police vehicles.
“Speak of the devil,” Sherlock exclaimed, turning to face me. “The government itself has arrived to clean up its little pets' mess.”
Mycroft stepped out of the car.
“Good morning, Sherlock, John,” he called out. “I hope my people haven’t caused you too much trouble,” he continued as he came close to us. “Detective.” I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. God he looked so good right there. Sun catching his hair, eyes lit up in a smile. I looked at the ground, trying to control my breathing.
“Good morning, Mycroft,” Sherlock began in an abrasive tone, “There’s something odd about you today and I can’t quite place it. It’s almost as if - and this would truly surprise me - you were happy. That can’t be the case. We all know you can’t even comprehend emotions let alone fe-” It was my fist colliding with his jaw that finally shut him up. I’m not entirely sure what about his speech made me lose my temper, but I do know it felt truly amazing to see him sprawling on the damp cement, rubbing his jaw. And with that look of triumph I turned to see Mycroft gaping at me. I grinned, stepping closer to him and throwing my arms around his neck. Mycroft pulled back a little and my arms fell limply back to my sides.
"Not here, Gregory, we do have work to do."
"You just don't want your brother to know about this do you?"
"Gregory, it's for your own good, as well."
"I don't care what people think, and I know that's why you're doing this," I spat out angrily. "This is something serious to me, and I assumed that's what you wanted as well. If that's not the case-"
"That's not what I meant, I just assumed you would want to keep this a secret. It would certainly make things easier for you."
"As interesting as this is," Sherlock interjected suddenly, "Would you kindly take this elsewhere, brother?" I took Mycroft by the elbow, leading him a little ways away.
"You are mine now, Mycroft," I informed him, "and no one, not even your brother, can ever tell me different." And with that I snaked my hand around his neck, pulling him down those two inches to brush my lips with his. A small sigh escaped him at the contact.
Suddenly every officer on the force was discussing my new relationship status, in very loud voices, followed by cat-calls and wolf-whistles.
“Oiy, back to work the lot of ya,” I shouted, pointing at the four dead bodies on the ground. “They need to be taken back to the lab.” I turned back to the man clambering up off the ground, trying desperately not to kick him for being so dramatic, let alone for the look of astonishment on his face.
“I see now why you were so happy, Mycroft,” he jeered as John helped him dust off. “Looks like you finally found someone who will pity you enough to stay with you more than just one night. Although I truly would have assumed you had higher standards than that, Detective. Although I guess after your wife left you for a PE teacher, you wouldn’t hold much hope.” I almost decked him a second time, it was only Mycroft's hand on my wrist that reminded me where I was.
“Now you listen here, Sherlock, and you listen well. I am the only reason you are allowed to work on these cases. Just what do you think would happen if I happened to find reason to keep you from participating in any sort of investigative tasks? Your brain would rot, you’ve said so on numerous occasions. And if you ever say anything I could find remotely offensive to your brother or myself again you will find yourself in desperate need of a new job. Do you understand?”
“You need me, Detective. Without me murderers would walk free.”
“And I would let them go just to spite you,” I countered through gritted teeth. “Now do. You. Under. Stand. Me?”
He spun on his heel and stalked off to the main road. I slipped my hand into Mycroft’s. “That should give us a nice solid week’s worth of peace.”
He smiled at me.
“I’m really happy for you, two,” John whispered, obviously not wanting Sherlock to hear him collaborating with the enemy. “Ignore him. He’s a git,” he continued when he saw my gaze flick over to Sherlock.
“Thank you, John,” Mycroft whispered back, “You really are good for him.”
“I can only hope so,” John mumbled as he turned and followed Sherlock into a taxi.
“Well that may have been the most eventful crime scene I’ve ever been to,” I laughed.
“I’ve certainly never been to a better one,” he squeezed my hand, “I have strong emotions for you, Gregory”
“Definitely good ones. Good enough to be love.”