Chapter Text
Still Breathing
Are you scared to death to live?
Ch 1- First Date
Greg Lestrade was a best-kept secret that no one was supposed to find out about. Not yet. Not even to his best mates. They all still called him Annalise. But that was torn away from him in a brief instance when he came across one Mycroft Holmes.
His friend had set up the blind date, and Greg had worn a black, skull-patterned dress, a black choker, and knee-high combat boots. He was dreading this. Once again, he would have to play the pretty punk-rock girl for whatever obnoxious sod people threw at him. But soon he would act gruff, or the boys would notice his leg hair, or say he was too “tomboyish” and that would be the end of it. He had almost given up on dating altogether since it always ended the same. But his friend had reassured him that this would be different, that they would click together so well. So Greg had figured what the hell and told his friend to arrange it. But now apprehension turned his stomach as he approached the cafe...and saw the most damn handsome man.
Greg fingered at his choker, hoping beyond hope that perhaps he would be for him. And that perhaps it would be different this time. Greg shoved open the door to the cafe and stepped inside with a swagger, his boots clicking on the floor, and approached the table, leaning against it and putting his thumb to his lips. "So are you the boy I'm meeting, I'm hoping?"
He saw the young man look up, take in the short, soft, dyed-silver hair, the piercings, the hardcore outfit, and grin, almost terrifyingly. "I take it you're Annalise Lestrade."
Greg gave a nod, smiling back as he looked at Mycroft, "That's me."
"So what's your real name?"
"What?"
"I know many things, but I cannot pull out of the air the male name you have chosen for yourself."
"Wha' are you talking about?" Greg turned his lip up in a snarl. There was no way this...stranger could know his biggest secret. There was no way anyone could know it.
"Oh sorry, was it not supposed to be obvious that you were transgender? I could tell before we even met, just by the way my acquaintance described you. Now that you're here, you've confirmed my hypothesis."
"There's nothing to confirm, cuz it ain't true." Greg snapped. His closest friends didn't even know about it, no way in hell was Mycroft Holmes going to be privy to it in an afternoon.
"You wish I hadn't figured it out. It's private, a secret you've been keeping for five years, since you were seventeen years old. Let me assure you, your secret is safe with me. I'm quite knowledgeable about the subject since helping my brother through his transition and do not wish to cause you any unnecessary stress. I merely wish to address you properly"
"Yeah, great job with that," Greg snorted. "If you must know, you madman, it's Gregory. Greg Lestrade. But--."
"But no one else is to know. Of course, Gregory. Now shall we actually do what we came here for?"
Brilliant, Greg couldn't help but think. It felt nice, Greg thought, to have the pretense ripped away. But he suddenly felt disgustingly overexposed, both in soul and appearance. God, had it really been five years? And no one knew except a single person he hadn't told. He was twenty-two for god’s sake and he was still hiding who he was. Unable to transition and be properly himself out of fear. It was ridiculous!
“He should be angry at Mycroft, at himself. He was embarrassed that he wasn't brave enough to share his label and had been called out on it. He wasn't brave enough to dress how he liked, act how he liked, or even use his name. He wanted that. He hadn't even realized how badly he'd wanted that until now. He could turn away from his desires right now...or he could actually have someone who called him Greg. Well, Gregory.
"Yes, let's."
The date went on for an hour and a half, and Greg was surprised to discover how compatible he and the posh boy were. They even liked the same music! Not to mention, Mycroft had the most sultry way of saying his name, in that proper accent, that it made Greg shiver every time he did it. He couldn't help but stare at the young man's lips, his brilliant ginger hair, his freckles, everything. Greg knew he wanted to do this again very, very soon.
On the walk back to Greg's house (Mycroft had insisted on escorting him), Greg shoved a slip of paper into his hand, "Oi, call me alright?"
Mycroft nodded, smiling slyly. "Of course, Gregory."
Greg felt a slight stab in his chest. It was so wonderful to hear his name aloud, but at the same time, he knew he was trapped in Annalise. That no one else would be calling him that anytime soon, because he was a coward. He was lost in thought, but Mycroft gave him the courtesy of not commenting on it.
When they reached his house, Mycroft took him by both hands and turned Greg to face him. "I had a lovely time," and thankfully Mycroft noticed that Greg's mother was in the front room, right near the window within earshot, "Annalise." He mouthed the words "i'm sorry" at Greg and Greg gave him a nod of forgiveness. It hurt, but he knew it couldn't be avoided.
"Me too, My." Greg stood on his tiptoes to give Mycroft a delicate peck on the lips. They were chapped but soft and Greg got a quick glimpse of heaven. This person understood him.
He turned and ducked inside, running up to his room before his mum could corner him and ask about the date.
Greg was a best-kept secret that had failed to be kept.