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“Since you’ve chosen to visit King’s College at University of Cambridge, I’ll go ahead and assume that you’ve done some research and have been impressed by the accomplishments of some of our alumnus. And that you understand that it’s going to challenge you...intellectually.”
Mycroft looked down on this prospective student. Though he looked a little older than the typical student.
“I studied at University of London for a couple of years. Thought I’d enter the Police Executive Course here for Applied Criminology and Police Management. Will need all that for making D.C.I. one day, won’t I? King’s College seemed like a good fit.”
Mycroft started. He’d not expected this commonly dressed man with stubble on his chin to sound intelligent. And here he was, being surprised by someone. He wasn’t often surprised. He looked down at the tour sheet. “Well...Mr. Lestrade-”
“Greg.”
“Gregory. Let me show you the facilities, dormitories, library, etc. and you can ask any questions you may have, or ones you may come up with, while we’re on the tour.”
Mycroft was again surprised by the intelligent questions by this man who obviously had high aspirations in life. He was certainly going to make detective and Mycroft would not be surprised by having, one day, to work with him in the future. He’d imagine that Gregory would be a good match as a liaison for MI6.
During the tour, Mycroft thought Gregory might actually be flirting with him. He’d observed it happening to other people, but never toward himself. It was a strange sensation - that of being appreciated for more than just a superiour brain. Mycroft found himself smiling frequently and laughing heartily at Gregory’s jokes.
The tour took them all around the college and ended at Waterfront Bar & Kitchen.
“You have to be a King’s College student or a guest of one to come to this pub.” Mycroft informed him.
“I appreciate the inside visit, then.” Greg replied with a large, sincere smile. “I also genuinely appreciate the tour you gave. I know people are required to say such nonsense when they don’t mean it, but I do. It was informative without being overly stuffy.”
Mycroft scoffed at that last comment. “No one’s ever said I’m not stuffy.”
“Maybe I got a special tour, then.” Greg supposed with a twinkle in his eye. “Mycroft - by any chance are you housed at King’s College?”
Mycroft looked up at Gregory’s suddenly shy expression and replied quietly, “I am, in fact.”
“I don’t suppose I could have a...private look into an occupied dorm.” Greg looked down at his drink and swallowed loudly enough for the barman across the room to hear. “Could I?”
Uncharacteristically, Mycroft threw back the rest of his scotch and replied darkly, “you could.” He grabbed Gregory’s hand and pulled him out the Pub.
Gregory’s “private tour” of the dormitories ended two days later when Mycroft had a lab he couldn’t miss.