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“To hell with this…” Detective Inspector Lestrade turned to walk away.
“Detective Inspector, I’m not done! Let me say-”
“Don’t!” Lestrade spun back quickly, pulling a hand from his trench coat pocket to point a finger that vibrated with rage mere centimeters from Mycroft’s face, before he stormed away again.
He gave a slight nod to Anthea as she lowered her subtle ‘stand down’ gesture to the hidden security detail that surrounded them in the warehouse.
Luckily, the police officer would never know how close he came to being shot.
Mycroft pulled his eyes from the unseen sky, annoyed at how aggravating the man was turning out to be.
Who the bloody hell does he think he is?
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“I’ll get the job done, regardless, but I’d be a fool not to use an available tool to get the job done faster.” Lestrade sighed.
“Though you and your ego do wish my brother were not always so much of a tool about it?” Mycroft offered.
“Fair assessment.” Lestrade gave a short huff. “Would be nice if he stopped, though.”
Because Mycroft knew his brother well, he had to ask, “And if he does not stop…?”
“Don’t worry…” Lestrade laughed depreciatively as he stepped out of the sedan in front of NSY. “I know he won’t stop. I put my ego aside for the greater good.”
Mycroft looked up at the clear London sky as the sedan pulled off.
What makes him so patient?
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How does he find the strength?
“Thank you for bringing him in,” Mycroft spoke softly as he entered the room. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“I know.” Gregory rose quietly from his chair and offered Mycroft his seat by the hospital bed where Sherlock lay quietly sleeping. “He asked me to bring him in.”
“He did?” Mycroft sat wearily.
“Yeah, I think this time scared even him. I made Sherlock an offer, and he has accepted on my proviso.” Lestrade said supportively.
“Anthea told me. She’s made the arrangements. I appreciate that more than you could ever know,” Mycroft softly admitted. “I worry about him -constantly… What if he…”
“Like you, he’s always kept his word to me,” Lestrade assured him. “As long as he keeps clean, I’ll keep giving him cases. Don’t worry, I won’t stop…”
“You’re a good man…Gregory.” Mycroft called out of the blue.
“Ta.” Gregory smiled at what they both knew was Mycroft’s first time using his given name. “Despite your best efforts to convince me otherwise, so are you, and someday, if we’re very, very lucky, Sherlock will be, also.”
Mycroft looked beyond the door that closed behind Gregory.
“Where does he find such faith in Sherlock? In me?”
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“Gregory…?”
“Yes, Mycroft…?”
“We’ve been meeting…” Mycroft cleared his throat, “…for over a year now, in a way I think it is fair to state it as socially.”
“Meeting…?” Greg chuckled, “I think it is fair to state it as dating, yes?”
“It would be.” Mycroft agreed. “It would also be fair to state that after the past few months, we have gone well beyond dating, but there are things…”
“No,” Greg interrupted him.
“No?” Mycroft blinked.
Greg reached out and caressed his jaw. “I understand… don’t worry…”
“Don’t worry about what…?” Mycroft asked, caught off guard by the only man who can have him wondering if they are in the same library, let alone reading the same book, sometimes.
“Don’t worry that I’ll run. I won’t. Don’t worry that I won’t say ‘yes’ when you ask someday. I will.” Greg smiled. “But you do have to ask.”
The thrill of knowing that they were, in fact, on the same page ran through Mycroft as he rolled onto the man that he had had the honor of loving and being loved by for over a year.
“Then, will you do me the honor of becoming Gregory Lestrade-Holmes?” Mycroft returned the smile that was making his insides melt.
“I know who you are, Mycroft Holmes-Lestrade. Don’t worry, I won’t stop loving you.” Greg pulled him down for a kiss. “Yes.”
Mycroft looks at the beam of sun streaming through a gap in the drapes.
I don’t know why you’ve given me this man, but I thank you.