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"Thank you for helping with the decorations, John!"
"Not a problem, Mrs Holmes."
The mother Holmes smiles and continues: "Sherlock is a lucky man for finding a partner like you. Caring and helpful and all. You've been keeping him out of trouble, thank you for that." John chuckles and shakes his head, if the parents only knew about the problems and strict situations Sherlock gets them into. The Christmas tree was already standing proudly in warm lights and decorations in the corner. The fire in the fireplace was softly cracking, making the room very comfortable and warm.
"Sometimes he's a pain in the ass, though", John laughs softly, the mother giving a soft laugh and an agreeing nod.
They didn't talk in a small moment before the mother brings up a new conversation: "John... do you know what's wrong with Mike?"
"Mike? Mycroft?" John questions, he wasn't entirely sure about who the mother meant first. He's more used to his full name than a nickname. John indeed knows what's wrong with the man, but he wasn't sure about what the mother knows about Mycroft's personal life. So, he answers: "Maybe his work is just... stressing him. He's got a lot on his shoulders." John steps down from the chair he stood on while putting up some lights by the window. He takes his hands on his waist and turns to look at the mother. She was frowning lightly.
"John", she sighs, "I know when my boys suffer from a broken heart. Even Mike."
John couldn't try to lie now. He smiles sadly and curls his lips lightly.
"Mycroft... was rejected not so long time ago. I didn't think it would affect him this way", John sighs and explains. He looks down at his feet, he was wearing a pair of old woolen stocking, which Hudson made him a few Christmas' back.
"He might be hard person, but he still has a heart like everyone else", the mother explains and leans her head to other side.
"I wish his heart will heal soon", she continues and turns to get some other decorations. John hums and folds his arms on his chest. He was feeling very useless in the current situation.
-
Mycroft was in his study at the moment. Or the room was actually his father's study, but Mycroft has work to do so he is borrowing the room. There was a single table light on, nothing else. Behind Mycroft's chair was a large window. The snow was falling softly. Tomorrow they'd have the Christmas dinner with the whole family, but Mycroft wasn't in a Christmas spirit. He was working just a moment ago, but he had stopped to stare at a family portrait of the Holmes, which was sitting on the desk. He looks at his parents' smiling faces, everyone could tell they are happy. Mycroft was happy with Lestrade, but he didn't make Lestrade happy. If he had, they'd still be together.
Mycroft knows why Lestrade left him; Mycroft is not like the others. He's strict, formal and a hard person. He's never been in a serious relationship, no one's ever shown feelings for him before Lestrade. Mycroft just isn't a man who is supposed to be with someone. That's how he is starting to feel of himself.
His thoughts are interrupted when Sherlock rudely just steps in without knocking. He closes the door after him and slips his hands in his pockets. Sherlock was wearing his usual, dark suit while Mycroft was wearing a green collarshirt with a darker vest on top. He had loosened his tie while working.
"Don't you ever learn to knock?" Mycroft asks with an annoyed voice tone. He lowers his pen down and reaches for the glass of scotch and sips the drink. Sherlock steps in front of the desk and leans his head on side.
"I might be a sociopathic idiot to most of the people, but I know when my ice hearted brother is really suffering from the inside. You have to call Lestrade", Sherlock goes to the point immediately, with a blank face. He was serious, the brother could tell. Mycroft lowers the glass and sits quietly for a small moment before he answers: "He doesn't want to talk to me."
"Make him. I almost lost John, I had to take a risk and make him listen to me. And where are we now?" Sherlock explains and signs with his hands a bit.
"I wasn't three years dead, Sherlock."
"You weren't, but even if I was I was able to have John. How far are you prepared to go to get Lestrade?"
"How many drinks have you had?"
It was true, Sherlock never spoke like this. He is never so sentimental, but maybe he truly was worried about his brother. Or his father or mother or maybe even John had put him up to this, who knows.
"It's not my life, brother dear, but I'd consider calling him", says Sherlock and leaves the room just as swiftly as he had come inside. He even closed the door after him. Mycroft looks at the door for a moment before he leans back on his chair and sighs, swiping over his face with his hands. What in the name of the Queen is he going to do?
-
Sherlock comes to the living room, where John and his mother are continuing putting up decorations. As he passes John, Sherlock wraps his arm quickly around his waist and places a light kiss on the back of his head. He withdraws his arm and leaves John quite dumbfounded and flustered. The mother holds a wide smile on her face and winks for John. Sherlock used to make small little moves every now and then to remind John he cares for him, but he had never done so in front of anyone. Once, Hudson had accidentally stepped in while Sherlock was kissing John's neck. That was some time after Hudson had come in while they were practising dancing. It was for a case, Sherlock had said, but Hudson knew it wasn't. She just nodded and repeated 'yes, yes, of course' with a wide, stupid smile on her face.
Sherlock comes to the kitchen, where their father was sitting by the table and drinking tea. Sherlock takes a cup himself and sits down by the table. He feels utterly confused for having to prepare his own tea, since Hudson always did it for him. Sherlock never says it, but he's grateful for that person being in his life.
"So", the father starts and gets Sherlock's attention. The son turns to look at him, and after smiling for a couple of seconds the father asks: "When's the happy announcement going to be published? You know, the wedding?" Sherlock lets a small huff and turns to look away. He sips his tea and mumbles something unclear. The father chuckles softly, and then a car stops to the drive way. The study's door opens and Mycroft announces while he comes to the entrance hall to wear his jacket: "I'll be off to run some errands, don't wait for me. I'll arrive at the Christmas dinner tomorrow, I promise." The mother and John come to the hall, where the son kisses his mother on the cheek.
"Mycroft, always doing work... Can't you just relax for a few days?" she sighs and hums with a frown on her face. Mycroft gives a small nudge with his head.
"I'm sorry, mother, but the Goverment is never asleep." With that said, Mycroft steps out of the front door and into the dark, late night. Sherlock watches him get in the black car on the driveway, and soon the car disappears into the dark night.
-
Lestrade lightens up his cigarette and steps out from the Scotland Yard. His shift had just ended, and he'd be heading home. Thank god, he has a few days free. He can enjoy a Christmas dinner somewhere and just rest for a couple of days. Yesterday they discovered a new body, and it was rather grim to investigate a murder by the edge of Christmas. Lestrade didn't reach very far, when he notices a very familiar dark car by the Yard's corner, and a man standing outside, leaning against the car. The man was smoking too, Lestrade wonders about how many times he has told him to stop.
Gregory steps with heavy legs to the car and stops about a meter away from Mycroft. The Holmes stands up straight and has his eyes nailed on the detective. Something entirely new is reflecting from Mycroft's eyes; could it be remorse?
"I've told you numerous times to stop smoking", says Lestrade, and Mycroft drops the cigarette butt on the ground before stepping on it, killing the flame.
"I'll stop when you'll stop", Mycroft answers to Lestrade. Their eyes meet, and they stand silently for a small while. It was getting cold, and neither of them had enough to wear.
"Look, Mycroft... I thought we were over", Lestrade says and shakes his head. He points at the car and continues: "I've seen your goons tailing me for some time. I don't understand why you see it reasonable. I don't. I want you to stop it." Hesitating, and quite unsure about what he is supposed to say next, Mycroft swallows hard and says the first thing he could think of: "We are over. But I am not over you." Lestrade wasn't sure about what Mycroft could really mean by this, the man had shown no interest in their relationship. Could he really have become so desperate? Could this man really feel for another human being? Sherlock could, though, why couldn't Mycroft?
"Don't give me false hope, Mycroft, I-"
"I love you."
-
"I've never been able to say it outloud till now, and I love you, Gregory Lestrade. I needed to lose you, before I understood how I really feel", Mycroft explains quite quickly, as if afraid his words would get stuck in his mouth if he kept a breathing pause, and he wouldn't be able to talk them outloud. Greg was absolutely dumbfounded, maybe even touched. Mycroft never talked things like that, he had never said anything more sentimental, than 'I like you' or 'I've become fond of you.' This was a big step for both of them.
"I don't want to grow old and sit on a rocking chair, thinking about the fact I lost the man I really cared for, just because I was too afraid to engage and refused to bend. Being with someone means that you bend your own rules, and you've bend for me. I never did. I don't really deserve a man like you, but I am willing to bend and try to make this work, make us work. Because... I happen to love you, Gregory."
Lestrade moves his weight from leg to another, thinking about Lestrade's words. He wasn't sure if he really should give another chance to Mycroft. Gregory wasn't over him, of course he wasn't in such a short time, but would he end up hurting himself more if he gives a chance instead of just walking away? Lestrade drops his view down for a moment.
"I'll prove it to you", Mycroft continues, Lestrade looking up at him again. He inhales the cigarette and blows out the smokes.
"How?"
"I'll take you to the family Christmas dinner tomorrow. You'll meet my parents and you'll eat dinner with us."
Wow, Greg would be meeting Mr and Mrs Holmes. THAT was a big step, no kidding. Mycroft and Greg had been in a relationship for, how long, half a year? Greg was the one to call it off, since he didn't feel like he got anything back from Mycroft. And a man like Mycroft knows and understand how serious thing it is to take another person for dinner, with family, on Christmas. Could the man really be into this, could he really be able to bend his rules? He was able to say 'I love you', after all, and THAT is a big step for Mycroft. The man is shaking, for god's sake.
Lestrade licks his lips and says: "Okay. If I promise to come, and if we try again, you won't be tailing me anymore, right? I must say, it makes me a bit nervous." He knows Mycroft just wants him to be safe, but Lestrade is a cop, he can take care of himself. Mycroft can't help a small smile forming on his lips.
"Okay. I promise", he says and holds the smile. Gregory hums, a smallish smile forming on his face as well.
"Come on... we can go to my place", Gregory suggests, and Mycroft nods. He gives a sign with his hand to the driver, who takes off. Greg was impressed; Mycroft was willing to walk with him. Even if it was getting cold, Gregory feels good walking home with Mycroft. They even held hands for a small while.
-
"Has Mycroft called you, Sherlock? He'll be late soon", the mother worries as she prepares the table for the dinner. Sherlock is gathering the plates and cutlery as he answers: "No, mother, he hasn't. But he'll be home soon." The mother has been asking the same question for hours now. John was with the father, doing whatever the father saw necessary. So most likely just sitting around in the living room. Then, the front door opens, and two pairs of feet step in. Mycroft comes to the doorframe of the kitchen and announces: "Mother, this is Gregory Lestrade." Greg steps in the doorframe, holding a small nervous smile on his lips.
"Good day, Merry Christmas", he says and waves his hand for the pair, he ends up changing eyecontact with Sherlock. Sherlock holds a sly smile; he knew this would happen.
"I am sure you don't mind him staying for dinner", Mycroft continues. The mother was sold the moment he saw how handsome Greg was, and polite as well.
"I don't mind seeing you step down the aile to marry him either. Welcome, Gregory", the mother replies smiling and returns to prepare the dinner. Gregory feels how his cheeks start burning and he withdraws to the entrance hall with a quick 'thank you, Mrs Holmes', where Mr Holmes had come to greet him. Mycroft isn't sure about how to react, but he feels warmth on his cheeks as well.
"I wouldn't mind seeing you marry John either", the mother whispers to Sherlock and pokes his side with her elbow. Sherlock just clears his throat and turns to set the table. He turns to face Mycroft, who was still standing by the door. They didn't need to say anything, they both knew exactly what the other's thinking.
'I was right, wasn't I?'
'Shut up, Sherlock.'
'You'll thank me one day.'
'One day, perhaps.'