sherlockbbc_fic | prompting part XXIII

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prompting part XXIII

All new prompts go on Part XXIV
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Lestrade already knew about the affair but he was still trying to work it out with his wife because he felt so guilty since he had an affair first, with Mycroft.

A newly separated Greg desperately wants to try again with Mycroft who now believes "All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage."

Angst with a happy ending is love ♥

I've been thinking of writing a whole story where Mystrade happened while Greg was still married. I really like the idea of an affair between the two because they do not seem to do something so...outside of the rules.

I may just have to work on this now.

OP here!

Please, please do! Thanks for considering.

I love the idea of the affair, especially because it doesn't seem like something they would ever do.

I am writing something because I couldn't get it out of my head, but I want to ask a question since it is your prompt. I know you said that you wanted Greg to have an affair first, but my Greg sort of thinks his wife might be but doesn't have any proof and doesn't really want to know. Is that alright?

I just didn't want to hijack your prompt!

It's absolutely fine! Thank you so much, I can't wait!

AN: This idea just wouldn't leave me alone, so I figured I would try and fill. :/ Hopefully it's alright.

Gregory Lestrade was used to death threats, the begging of grieving families, and the general political bollocks one cannot escape when having a job in the public service. However, he was not used to a simple black car pulling up beside him with a pretty young woman in the back telling him to get in.

“What?” He questioned.

“I’ve been asked to collect you, Detective Inspector. Official business,” the woman said looking at him carefully.

“What official business?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, sir,” she said quietly. “Please, sir.” She gestured with a hand.

Greg rolled his eyes and huffed but slid into the car. Fucking politics. Can’t just tell me what it’s about. Have to be all mysterious about it.

Greg watched the streets of London pass by his window and didn’t try to engage the woman in conversation. It was clear that she was preoccupied with something and he didn’t want to interrupt her.

After ten minutes, but what felt like an hour in the awkward silence, they arrived outside the Diogenes Club. It was a very posh looking building filled with very posh people. Many people working with or in the government knew about it, as well as a few of the famous and wealthy. It was an extremely private club that was almost taboo—it was never talked about in the open.

All Greg knew about it was that it was private and quiet—he never really understood the reason for the club. It was just a place where men could congregate together. Why didn’t they just use a regular club? He stood outside the door, awkwardly looking around trying to keep his eyes from remaining on the door or the sign for too long. He didn’t want to look like a hopeful entrant.
Although, he doubted anyone would mistake him for a member in his worn trousers and shabby overcoat.

“Am I supposed to go in?” He asked the woman who was leaning against the black car.

“No. He’ll be out in a moment,” she responded as she composed a message on her phone.

“Right,” he said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He rocked onto his heels as he waited for the man he was apparently supposed to meet. He knew, as an officer of the law, he should have taken more precautions about meeting some unknown person, but he hadn’t thought of it as a threat. He honestly hadn’t felt anything remotely similar to animosity or vengeful from the woman.

He was, however, starting to get annoyed. Did they really expect him to wait? He knew Catherine was expecting him home soon and he had no idea how long this would take. He checked his watch, noting that he had been waiting almost fifteen minutes.

Finally a man exited the club with an air of superiority. He used his plain, black umbrella as a cane, but he didn’t limp. He was wearing a black, pin-striped suit, complete with a waistcoat, gold pocket-watch chain, and burgundy coloured tie. He smiled at the woman and nodded to her as she went back into the waiting car before driving off.

The man turned to Greg and smiled again. “Ah, Detective Inspector. Thank you for waiting.” He gestured toward to the right. “Shall we?”

“What do you want?” Greg asked, bracing his feet and looking the man dead on.

The man smiled pleasantly. “I assumed we would go for a walk during out chat,” he said in his soft voice. “If that’s not agreeable, I can call and have us taken to any place you desire.”

Greg cocked his head but didn’t say anything. He was going to make this man explain himself before he went anywhere with him. He wasn’t going to ask for his name because he shouldn’t have to. This man practically kidnapped him.

The man sighed and shifted his umbrella to his left hand. “My name is Mycroft Holmes. I believe you are acquainted with my brother. Now, would you care to walk?”

Greg nodded and fell into step with Mycroft Holmes. “So this is about Sherlock?”

“In a way.”

“Jesus. You Holmes boys love your theatrics,” Greg said with a chuckle.

“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft asked. His mouth twitched.

“Well, there’s Sherlock who glides into the middle of a scene with that frantic look or when he sashays into my office to throw a fit about my lack of interesting cases.” Greg looked Mycroft up and down. “And then there’s you, with your immaculate suit and umbrella, speaking as though you are about to start reciting Shakespeare at any moment. Not to mention the wave of mystery you have surrounding yourself.”

“I can assure you that is not my intention,” Mycroft said. Greg detected a minor note of distaste from Mycroft at his insinuation.

Greg chuckled. “Are you sure? I almost feel as though you are about to dash into the nearest telephone booth or restaurant to change into your Superman suit.”

“That’s preposterous,” Mycroft said, but Greg saw a light behind his eyes.

“You’re right. Superman was a ridiculous suggestion.” Greg smirked as he walked next to Mycroft. “You are obviously Batman.”

Mycroft chuckled once but turned it into a cough. “I believe I informed you that I would like to speak about my brother.”

“What about Sherlock?”

Mycroft nodded. “I was hoping that you would be willing to keep me informed on how he is doing.”

Greg nodded, watching Mycroft out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. But I don’t know how much help I can be. He doesn’t really…confide in me.”

“No, of course not,” Mycroft agreed. “However, you are around him more than most.”

“Why do you need me to watch out for him? You obviously have some pull, why not just hire a bodyguard?” Greg asked.

Mycroft placed his hand on Greg’s arm, forcing him to halt his steps before they crossed the street to walk toward the park. “He would notice them instantly. I need someone who would be able to fly under the radar, so to speak.”

“So you want me to be his babysitter, incognito?” Greg asked with a sigh.

“I suppose.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “I am willing to…compensate you for your efforts, if that’s what you desire.”

Greg rubbed his face. “Look, Mycroft. You seem like an alright bloke, but I’m not about to spy on Sherlock. He has one of the best minds I’ve ever come across. Even if he is an arrogant prick most of the time.” He turned, with every intention of leaving Mycroft when he felt Mycroft’s hand on his arm again, slightly restraining him.

“I’m not asking you to spy on him, Detective Inspector. I am only asking if, when you encounter him, you keep an eye on his condition and inform me about the process,” Mycroft said softly. He seemed to remember his hand was still gripping Greg’s arm and jerked it to himself.

“What condition?” Greg said softly.

“The drugs,” Mycroft admitted as he shifted his eyes to the ground.

“Oh.” Greg had known Sherlock was using—it was hard not to. They way he always seemed to be bouncing off the walls or going one hundred miles an hour. Not to mention the shakes and trembling that seemed to set in if they were on a case for too long. But Greg hadn’t wanted to really believe it. It was easy to just brush off as Sherlock’s eccentric personality.

If Greg was honest, he ignored the drugs because he didn’t want to lose Sherlock’s genius. Even though he was infuriating and constantly belittled everyone around him, Greg needed him. He needed Sherlock to make those crazy, amazing leaps of logic that helped him close cases.

“I see you are aware,” Mycroft sighed. “I worry about him going too far again.”

“Again?”

Mycroft closed his eyes. “It’s been a problem of his for…longer than I would like,” he admitted quietly.

Greg nodded but didn’t press the issue. He wanted to know the story behind it, but knew Mycroft did not wish to divulge that information. “Okay, so you, what? Want me to tail him to see if he’s using drugs again?”

“No. I am simply asking for you to watch out for any signs he’s using and inform me,” Mycroft said quietly.

“You do know he’s using now, right?”

“Yes, of course. I do not, however, know how bad he is. That’s why I need you.”

“Why can’t you just go to him yourself? You are his brother.”

“Yes, you would think that would be acceptable. However, Sherlock and I have never really…seen eye-to-eye on everything.” Mycroft pulled his pocket-watch out to check the time. He didn’t want to keep the DI any later than he needed to.

It made more why Mycroft was going to him for help after learning that the Holmes brothers didn’t get along. If Sherlock refused to speak to him, how was he supposed to know how badly things had gotten? “So you want me to ignore his drug habits until you deem it necessary?”

“You are already, are you not?” Mycroft countered with a raised eyebrow.

Greg cursed inwardly and sighed. Mycroft was right, of course, but it didn’t make Greg like this any better. He felt like Mycroft was telling him how he should do his job. “I cannot keep doing that forever. I’ll lose my job.”

“I can assure you, Detective Inspector, that your job will remain safe,” Mycroft told him. “I am not asking you to ignore it forever. I am simply requesting that you allow it for a little while longer. I am hopeful that the situation will fix itself before it gets out of hand.”

“How can you be sure?” Greg asked, coming to a stop to look at him.

“I’m not. That is why I am requesting your help,” Mycroft told him, looking at him with a carefully blank expression.

“I don’t know if I…feel comfortable with being your snitch.” Greg’s hands were fidgeting, so he stuffed them back in his pockets.

Mycroft nodded. “I can appreciate your concern. What if I proposed a contract of sorts?”

“What are you suggesting?”

He cleared his throat. “I will ask you to watch him for one month, mostly just watching for any major changes to his habits. Then I will contact you to set up another meeting. At that time you may either inform me of what you have found out or you may choose not to meet with me. That way, someone is looking out for him for a month and it shouldn’t compromise your morals.”

Greg nodded slowly. “That sounds do-able. Alright, I promise to look for anything strange, or more unusual, with Sherlock, but I cannot promise to tell you if I feel like it’s not your business.”

Mycroft nodded. “That is the agreement. I give you my word that I will not force you to tell me anything at that meeting. I understand the position I am putting you in and do not wish to make it any more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Agreed.” Greg stuck out his hand to shake Mycroft’s. His hand was cold and thin. It was stupid, but it almost felt frail. “I will see you in a month.”

“Yes. Thank you, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft smiled a hesitant little smile.

Greg nodded his goodbye and turned on his heel to walk to the nearest tube stop. He would have liked to have been able to drive, but they only had one car because Catherine said it wasn’t economical to have two. He had tried to convince her that a motorbike would be acceptable because it wouldn’t take up much space and it was something he wanted. But she hadn’t budged and claimed that it was too dangerous. So Greg was stuck taking the tube.

He sat down, an almost unheard of feat for him. Then he remembered that he was later than normal. He allowed his mind to wander and was unsurprised when it wandered upon Mycroft. It was strange how a man he had never met before suddenly became incredibly important to Greg. Mycroft Holmes shouldn’t matter—they had just met.

It was ridiculous how this man affected him. He wanted to see more of Mycroft and spend time with him, but he couldn’t understand why. Mycroft was obviously not a very open person, nor did he seem the kind of person who would welcome friendship.

However, there was a loneliness about him, some deep-rooted sadness that made Greg want to assure Mycroft that someone was there for him, if he required them. He knew Sherlock didn’t need people, nor did he want them, but he was not getting that feeling from Mycroft. It seemed as though he wanted people, perhaps even needed someone, but refused to allow himself that sort of comfort.

It was as though Mycroft closed himself off to the rest of the world—in a personal sense, and that made Greg’s heart ache. Granted, he really didn’t know much, or anything, about the man, but he hadn’t made DI based on his good looks. He had an intuition of sorts about people. He was able to see, really see, who they were, through their eyes. Mycroft’s eyes were closed off, but every so often he saw the cracks there.

It was obvious Mycroft wanted, perhaps even needed someone but Greg figured hell would freeze over before Mycroft actually admitted that. So he would make himself available, making sure Mycroft knew that someone was there to call on, someone who actually wanted him. Whether Mycroft accepted that or not was another story.

He let himself into his flat. “Catherine?” he called out hesitantly as he toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket.

“Late again, Greg?” she asked from the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. We closed the case today and the paperwork had to be filled out and filed.” He stood off to the side.

“Of course it did.” She sighed. “When are you going to see how much that job is ruining you?”

Greg looked down. “I love my job.” This was always one of the main discussions they had. Catherine didn’t understand how much he loved his job. He loved being able to help people.
Even though he complained about it, it was really the only thing he wanted to do.

“Yes, Greg. I know. I love my job too, but you don’t see me coming home late every night.”

“Catherine, you’re an accountant. Your hours are pretty steady. I’m a DI for the Yard. My hours are more fluid. You know that.” He sighed, feeling the slight anger. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Obviously not, as you never listen to me.” She set down the book she had been reading. “It would be nice if you were around more. There’s quite a lot that needs to be done.” She stood up. “I’m going out.”

“So you want me to stop going to work so I can what, be your errand boy here?” He resisted the urge to yell.

Catherine narrowed her eyes. “No. It would be nice if you realized that your job isn’t the most important thing in your life.” She put on her coat and walked out on him, something she did quite frequently.

Greg grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat at the table. This was how things were between them now. She demanded that he stop working so much to be home, but when he did come home, she left.

He tried, truly he did, to finish things up around the end of his shift because he knew how much she wanted to spend time with him. He had been successful the whole week prior to this one. Then the case happened and, despite his wife’s protests, he couldn’t just leave his team. Especially not after seeing the grieving husband of the victim.

Would she mourn me if I died? Greg knew the thought was morbid, but it was something he had been thinking about a lot lately. He wasn’t really sure anymore.

They had been happy, once, a long time ago. He had met her right after she finished university and they just got on really well. A few years later, they were married. Everything remained good for a while, until she started going out with her friends a few times a week.

He knew that he had no right to demand her time, especially since there was no guarantee that he would be home. But after a few months, she started getting upset over everything. The fact that he liked his job, that his job took up a lot of his time, that he didn’t do everything on her list as soon as she wrote it down.

Greg knew he was not a perfect husband, but he didn’t think he was as horrible as she made it seem. He always got through everything on her list, it just wasn’t as fast as she would like. Every time he would have off of work he would make sure to do everything on her list. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a lie in or a lazy day during an off day.

In all honesty, Greg couldn’t remember the last time he had been truly happy with Catherine. She always seemed to be angry with him, and it wasn’t always warranted. She would say something to him or yell at him and then go out to the gym, or her sister’s, or out with her friends.

Her excuses were running thin and Greg was not an idiot. He knew she was cheating on him, at least he suspected. He didn’t have proof other than the way she acted around him. It seemed as though she attacked him so he wouldn’t focus too much on her. It she was cheating on him, she had been for a while.

It was ridiculous that he allowed himself to be manipulated this way, he was a Detective Inspector, after all. It was just easier to pretend he didn’t know about her lovers because he didn’t want to be alone.

It was pathetic, he knew, but his job did take a lot out of him and the thought of coming home to an empty flat was disheartening. He wasn’t really a catch for anyone. He was in his forties, completely devoted to his job, and not much fun anymore. He wasn’t ready to give up the only person who he had interaction with, despite his being unhappy.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop thinking about Mycroft. He could see some of his own unhappiness and sadness in Mycroft.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mycroft Holmes sat in his chair carefully reading the newspaper. He kept glancing at his phone, expecting it to light up. He had been hopeful for the past two weeks.

He wasn’t even sure why he was hoping Gregory Lestrade would contact him. Mycroft was certain that Gregory did not have his number. But there was something about his warm brown eyes and his soothing, carefree voice that Mycroft longed for ever since meeting him.

He knew it was childish to behave in such a way, but he could not help the feeling of excitement that just the thought of Gregory brought.

He had called him Mycroft. Just Mycroft. Not Mr. Holmes. Not Sir. It was very refreshing and Mycroft wanted more of that. He had felt as though Gregory had been treating him as an actual person, instead of his position.

He knew that as soon as Gregory discovered who he really was, that would change. He would no longer by Mycroft. But Mycroft Holmes. Mr. Holmes. Sir. That didn’t sit well with Mycroft. He wanted to have Gregory continue to treat him normally. Or, as normally as anyone could truly treat him.

It had been a very long time since someone just talked with him, joked with him, without having an ulterior motive. It had taken him by surprise, especially his quip about being a superhero. It shouldn’t have made Mycroft laugh as it was childish, but it had.

Now Mycroft had been stuck in the same place for the past two weeks—torn between wanting to talk to him again while knowing he cannot.

He wanted to talk with Gregory again because there was something so open about him that made Mycroft want to open up. It made him relax a little more. He wasn’t sure what it was about Gregory that made Mycroft feel that way, but he wanted to feel that way more often.

On the other hand, he knew that it was dangerous for him to get too comfortable around one particular person. They always tend to act the way they think you want them to act until they have gained your trust, then they switch drastically. Before you even have a chance to blink, the person you thought you knew was gone and has been replaced by a stranger.

That was what Mycroft knew happened. It was what always happened. He knew that first hand.

But there was a part of him that truly believed that Gregory was not like. That, perhaps, this man wouldn’t be like everyone else. Maybe Gregory was actually genuine and would want to truly get to know Mycroft, the real Mycroft—or as much of the real Mycroft as he was willing to share with Gregory.

That thought scared him more than almost anything he had encountered in his life. There was one person he had truly shown himself to, and that person no longer spoke to him unless he had too. He should know better than to wish about spending time with a man he barely even knew.

Although, he had plans to change that. He had put Anthea on a special, secret assignment. He needed to know that Gregory was someone he could trust, at least in regard to Sherlock. So he had Anthea look up his records and find out everything she can about him to prove that he wasn’t an undercover enemy spy or a member of a terrorist organization.

He would have done it himself, but he found that he didn’t want to learn about Gregory through old files. He wanted to learn about him from the things he shared—that was why Anthea was only going to tell him the things he absolutely needed to know.

Mycroft set his paper on his lap to press his hands into his face. He was over thinking things. He had no guarantee that Gregory would even help him. If he refused, there was nothing that would keep him around. It was not as though he could try to convince Gregory to continue talking with him.

Even if Gregory agreed to help him, he might not want any more to do with Mycroft that he had to. He might prefer to only talk through e-mail or texting.

Mycroft wanted a drink that was stronger than tea. He was a genius when it came to plans or puzzles or strategy. But he was a blundering fool when he had to account for someone else’s feelings. It was why he’d never really had a relationship. He was honest enough to admit that he had trouble with the emotional aspects of life and forming connections with people.

Sherlock would never admit that because he didn’t think he needed anything or anyone. That was the difficult thing about Sherlock—instead of admitting to having faults because everyone has them, he always acted as though he was above them. According to Sherlock, he had no faults because they are unacceptable to him.

Mycroft knew he had faults, many of them. He just did not make them widely known. He dealt with them from the comfort of his own flat because he did not like to have to include other people. If someone else saw him at his weakest, they would be able to use that against him and that was simply unacceptable.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts that were apparently on an endless loop. He kept thinking about Gregory and then how he had two options, which turned into many potential outcomes. It boiled down to Mycroft wanting to get to know Gregory better, or more importantly have Gregory get to know him more; but, that was not an option for Mycroft because he could not expose himself in that way. Not to someone he was not sure he would be able to trust.

He was in a dilemma, one that he did not like and did not know how to solve. It was frustrating.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been an exhaustingly short few weeks. Time seemed to fly by after Greg caught that serial rapist case. It was particularly gruesome because the roots stemmed back to before the victims were in primary school. That was also why it was exhausting. Greg seemed to hit a dead end every time he thought he found something.

It was almost four hours after the official end of his shift and he was still in his office finishing up paperwork. There was a gentle knocking on his door. “Come in!” he called without looking up.

“Detective Inspector, I do hope I’m not intruding,” Mycroft Holmes’ quiet voice sounded from the doorway.

Greg glanced up and smiled. “I’m just finishing paperwork. Almost done.” He turned back to the papers, scanning them for anything he missed. “Have a seat.”

Mycroft remained silent but took the offered seat. He twisted his umbrella in his hand, a nervous habit of his. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here. He hadn’t told Gregory of his plans to arrive now, or even asked if it was convenient for him to have the meeting now. Gregory, however, didn’t seem too upset.

After Greg finished he looked up and smiled. “What can I do for you?”

Mycroft felt his face heat for a second at the implications those words made him think about. “I was hoping now would be an acceptable time to have our quick meeting.”

“In my office?” Greg leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

“Yes,” Mycroft adjusted his tie. “I did not want you to feel like a prisoner, so I presumed it would be more comfortable for you here, in your office.”

Greg smiled. “How thoughtful. Now, I assume you want to know about Sherlock.”

Mycroft tried to keep the displeasure at Greg’s bluntness. He had hoped they would have made idle chat for a little while before delving into the real reason of his visit. He’s married. What are you expecting? Mycroft nodded once.

“Well, nothing really seems to have changed from before. He is getting better at hiding the symptoms. I wouldn’t even notice the trembling if I wasn’t looking for it.” Greg folded his hands and rested them on his stomach.

Mycroft nodded. “That is good to hear. I take it this…arrangement is something you can live with?”

“For the moment, yeah. Someone needs to look out for the man since he clearly isn’t doing it for himself.” Greg chuckled. “It’s astounding that you two are brothers for how different you are. At least how it appears.”

“How do you mean?” Mycroft raised his brow. Everyone always commented on how the brilliant Holmes boys were like two peas in a pod. They were awfully similar. It was strange to hear someone say they were different.

“Well, you have Sherlock who cares a lot about himself while seeming to not care at all about anyone else.” Greg looked at him, his brown eyes searching Mycroft’s own. “Then there’s you…who cares about so many. At least that’s what I understand.”

Mycroft tilted his head. How so?

“You have this weight that seems to have settled itself on your shoulders, most likely from caring too much or having a lot of responsibly. I’m assuming that you do care a lot about many things and people, while not putting yourself first once in a while.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft said, a little fire behind his voice. “You do not have the authority to make a claim like that.”

Greg held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t saying anything negative by it. I was just pointing out an observation.”

The room filled with a tense silence.

“I apologise,” Mycroft said softly. “I know you were simply making an observation.” Albeit a correct one. How could he know so much without spending much time with me?

Greg nodded. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Mycroft stared at him. He wasn’t used to that level of sincerity when it came to anything to do with himself. Whenever someone had to apologise to Mycroft, it always had the underlying feeling of fear or obligation. No one, at least no one in a very long time, ever seemed to apologise because they upset him. Not only apologise, but mean it.

However, the fact that Gregory knew something had bothered him meant that he was showing too much. He had to get himself back under control. “It’s quite alright.” He fidgeted with his umbrella again.

Greg sighed. “How frequent do you expect these meetings to be?”

“We could just converse through e-mail, if you would prefer that,” Mycroft said quickly.

“No. I mean, if something comes up, then of course I’ll contact you. But…I think these meetings are important,” Greg said. “It would give us a chance to…form a partnership of sorts,” he finished quietly. He had wanted to say friendship but knew Mycroft would not be open to that.

Mycroft nodded. “If you wish. How frequent would you prefer?”

“Maybe, once a week? They don’t have to be long or anything. We could even just meet for coffee or tea?” Greg suggested, feeling more and more like a teenager trying to do everything in her power to get her crush to notice her. That was ridiculous because Greg was married, not to mention he knew nothing about Mycroft Holmes other than his name, his brother, and that he cares for his brother.

“That could easily be arranged,” Mycroft said, hoping he wasn’t smiling. That would mean Greg was winning at trying to get more out of Mycroft than he wanted to give.

Greg smiled, excited. He couldn’t explain what it was about the stone, stoic man that caused this obsession, but Greg wanted to uncover him, figure him out. He wanted to know all there was to know about him. He sounded pathetic, even in his own head.

“I regret to say that I will be out of town for the next two weeks, so I will not be able to meet. However, I can give you my mobile number which you may use to contact me if something should come up,” Mycroft said as he reached into his pocket to grab a pen. “Paper?”

Greg handed him a piece of scratch paper to write his number down on. “Do you prefer calls or texts?”

“It doesn’t matter. Whichever you prefer,” Mycroft said with an easy smile. He was surprised that someone thought to ask that. Most people just assumed that texting as it was used most frequently.

Greg smiled. “I’ll be in touch, then.”

Mycroft nodded. “I appreciate that, Detective Inspector.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “It’s Greg. Or Gregory if you prefer.” He tilted his head. “I think we’ve moved past the formalities, yes?”

Mycroft smiled hesitantly. “Apologies…Gregory.”

Greg smiled. “See, it’s not too bad, calling someone by their first name, is it?” he teased. He was stalling and he knew it, but he didn’t know why he was so hesitant to say goodbye to Mycroft. They had really only met twice and discussed Sherlock.

“I suppose not.” Mycroft stood. “Goodbye, Gregory. I will be in contact with you when I return.”

Greg turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. “If you need someone to talk to while you’re away, you can always contact me. To, you know, have someone who’s expecting you to return.” He winced.

Mycroft cleared his throat. “Are you requesting that I inform you of when I return?”

“Yeah. And when you get wherever it is you’re going safely,” Greg said. “Someone has to look out for you.”

Mycroft felt a pleasing feeling wash over him at the thought that Gregory wanted to make sure he came back. It was, of course, mostly for Sherlock’s benefit, but Mycroft could fool himself for a few moments. “You would like to be that person?”

“I’m volunteering,” Greg said quietly, looking up at Mycroft. “I’m sure that you have a million people who are required to keep tabs on you, but I would like to be included, just to make sure you actually do come back.”

Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the ground. “Very well. I will inform you of when I arrive at my destination as well as when I return. Does that suit you?”

Greg laughed. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want, Mycroft.” He rubbed his neck. “I know it’s a ridiculous request, but I don’t want you to feel like I am only looking out for Sherlock. As far as I’m concerned, I took on both the Holmes brothers that day.”

Mycroft didn’t know what to say, so he nodded. Gregory wanted to check in with him and not just about Sherlock. Surely that meant he wanted to see more of Mycroft, right? Unless it was simply to make sure his new employer didn’t die and leave him empty-handed. “Goodbye, Gregory.”

Edited 2012-01-12 06:56 (UTC)

“Safe trip,” Greg said as he watched Mycroft leave his office. He packed up his things to start his journey home. He didn’t want to be in this stuffy office anymore.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Greg arrived back at his flat over an hour after he said he was going to be home. He felt incredibly guilty, but it wasn’t as though he planned to be forced into a meeting regarding his latest case. He had truly tried to get home.

He walked into the kitchen and spotted the note. He picked it up and read:

Went out with the girls. Plate for you in the fridge. It would have been nice to enjoy it together.

He groaned and reached for his phone to call her. He wasn’t surprised when it went to voicemail. He left a message apologizing and saying that he had been taken into a last minute meeting that he couldn’t have gotten out of. He hung up feeling dejected.

He crumpled the note and threw it away. He should have called her, he knew that now, but at the time he was too focused on memorizing his surroundings in case they tried to kidnap him for real.

Greg couldn’t tell if it was out of courtesy for Mycroft or out of selfishness on his part to want to keep Mycroft to himself. Mycroft was so different from everyone else and that was attractive. It wasn’t as though Greg was going to shag him blind the next time he saw him, but he did want to get to know him better.

He wanted to learn why he held himself as though always under scrutiny. He wanted to actually talk to this strange, eccentric man, have a real conversation that didn’t involve a case or some sort of office politics. Or one that didn’t involve discussing all his failings and faults.

For once, he just wanted someone to want to talk to him as a person, not as a DI for the Yard or a horrible husband. Him, as Greg Lestrade. He wasn’t sure if Mycroft Holmes was the person for that, but he finally met someone new. Perhaps this was just what he had been waiting for.

AN-That turned out longer than I anticipated. Bear with the length. It may take awhile for them to really get together because, you know how Mycroft is. I hope the first chapter of laying the groundwork was alright. Also, as a side note, I'm going to London for the next few months so I'm not sure how frequent updates will be. Bear with me! :)

It's only one chapter, but it's great already and I'll definately watch out for the updates.
I really like the way you write both of them, their feelings and thoughts. ^^
*sips tea and waits patiently for updates*

Thank you so much for your lovely review! You are positively wonderful!

Hopefully I'll have an update within the week, but it depends on RL. ;)

Great great start!!! And so long too!!!!!

Thank you so much!

OP here!

I love this very much! They are both so smitten with each other. Greg is adorable, already wanting to take of Mycroft, who doesn't stand a chance, does he? *g*

Thank you so much for this first and long chapter, I can't wait for the rest. :D

OP...I'm so glad you like it!! I am hopeful that the next part will be this coming week sometime!

Loving it <3 Please write more!

Re: Criminal Conversation 1i/?

aislingdoheanta.livejournal.com - 2012-01-21 00:19 (UTC) - Expand

Beautiful. Simply Beautiful.

Re: Criminal Conversation 1i/?

aislingdoheanta.livejournal.com - 2012-01-21 00:19 (UTC) - Expand

I love a good slow build up with lots of pining. Looking forward to the continuation of this.

Enjoy you time in London! Are you going as a student?

Re: Criminal Conversation 1i/?

aislingdoheanta.livejournal.com - 2012-01-21 00:19 (UTC) - Expand

Will you be continuing to work on this? It's been quite a while, and you've written other things since.

Re: Criminal Conversation 1i/?

aislingdoheanta.livejournal.com - 2012-03-06 22:42 (UTC) - Expand

I'm so sorry everyone! I know I epically fail at updating--you can hate me, it's completely fine! I just have been so busy and then whenever I try to write for this story, I end up writing something else, or a scene that will not happen for a while and I just don't have much focus to write the middle bit before things start happening!

I am travelling for the next few weeks, so I probably won't have a chance to update, but I'm going to try and continue writing if/when I can!

Hopefully you all won't completely give up on me!

Re: Criminal Conversation 1i/?

melody-in-time.livejournal.com - 2012-04-07 08:33 (UTC) - Expand

10016 comments

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