Chapter Text
Christmas time was rapidly approaching, and it was one of the rare moments in which Lestrade chose to take some days off instead of keep working through the holidays.
It was unusual enough that made Sherlock interrogate him and throw him a good bunch of side eyes when he went to their apartment to pick up John, with whom he agreed to go to the bar again. Unfortunately, even John seemed shocked enough to ask Lestrade in a more subtle way, like ‘hey, everything okay, mate?’ or ‘good to see you finally let yourself relax for more than 20 minutes an afternoon’.
In the end, Lestrade saw himself forced to reveal the actual reason he wasn’t going to be overworking himself yet again during such festivities. “My family—well, my parents and my grandma specifically—they wanted me to go visit them this year. It’s been a good while since I paid them a visit, I guess.”
As he promptly finished the quick explanation, he lifted his gaze from his cup, observing John’s raised eyebrows before the man decided to go ahead and ask out loud. “Uh huh, which means you’re going to…” Lestrade deadpans and finishes while also replies to John’s question. “France. In case you didn’t notice, my surname doesn’t exactly scream British-” “Hey, hey. I just didn’t want to assume, plus since you have lived here since I don’t know how many years, maybe your parents could’ve just moved here too, dunno.” Lestrade sighs and says “Fair enough” before he pays for the drinks (with some protests from John) and they soon leave the pub together.
They walk a few steps into the street before they part ways, John towards Sherlock and his apartment while Lestrade marches towards his own. He takes a few still seconds on his spot before starting to move step by step, though.’I will have to organise everything for the trip and that’s gonna be such a bum…’
The scattered, little particles of joy or even just normalcy that settled down in Lestrade with John when they were hanging out together were soon vanishing further and further with each step he got closer to his pathetic excuse of a house.
It wasn’t the apartment itself which drove and forced Lestrade back into the depressive state—not completely, at least. It was more how it reflected so raw and cruelly the constant and continually growing apathy and misery inside his very mind and heart. It hurt a little.
As he finally entered his building, he tried his best to brush away all the cloudiness that had been stuffed into his brain. He took his time, slowly walking up the stairs towards his door which was on the 3rd floor. Each step made a big, expansive ‘thud’ sound across the building, which wasn’t helping his current mental distress, what with it feeling like he was in a horror or a thriller movie at the moment.
By the time he arrived at the inside of his home, Lestrade was exhausted enough he started feeling the numbness wash all over him in an oddly relieving way. He sighed and closed the door behind him, sitting on his couch in the middle of whatever mess his place was. Suddenly, he blinked and it was already midnight, pitch dark outside and inside, since he didn’t turn on any lights when he came.
Lestrade grunted and rubbed his face roughly with his calloused palms, it wasn’t his first time dissociating badly but it was bothering how the frequency just kept increasing, and it only started going even faster downhill after his divorce and his daughter leaving for university. ‘I can’t really blame them for wanting to get away from me, honestly, I’m fucking pathetic.’ Greg’s mind provided miserably.
And that’s how he ended up spending the whole night packing and organising his luggage instead of resting the day before his flight.
—
Greg wouldn’t be lying if he said he did not remember anything about how or when he arrived at the airport, he did not recall either anything from the flight itself. He didn’t sleep though, that much he had clear, but he had yet once again dissociated badly, which for once it wasn’t that inconvenient since he hated flights and the whole process of those, and a very kind lady that sat behind his seat had snapped him out of his episode when they arrived.
He quickly grabbed his luggage and walked out of the airport after all the nasty procedures were done. A kink was already forming on his neck and his overall body was feeling the consequences of sleeping (zoning out) for hours straight two times in barely 24 hours, first on his couch and now on the plane’s seat—he couldn’t state too confidently which had been more uncomfortable from the two right now.
Thankfully enough, the taxi would be comfier at least. Or would have been.
His family lived in a town, not too boisterous like the big cities but neither too deserted like the most rural little places in the country. Unfortunately, Greg’s only plane destination choices tended to always be in the big cities, and the closest one just had to be Paris.
Even so, it wasn’t exactly close either, needing around 2 hours or maybe more to arrive to his hometown. On top of that, Lestrade felt the sudden yet blinding need to smash his head against the concrete walls or something of the kind. He forgot to bring money.
Sure, he did have his good old but trusty wallet he used in his everyday life, but that poor worn out thing barely contained the 20 euros he usually carried around just in case or for when he’s genuinely starving out there while pulling another extra hours. Lestrade knew that, although the taxi prices usually weren’t that horrific—especially considering that it’s Paris—, he wouldn’t be able to afford the long-ish trip with the little money he had with him.
“Gregory?” Greg almost jumped out of his skin as he heard a familiar voice call him from behind. He quickly turned around and easily recognised the figure that approached him in the characteristic three piece suit and umbrella in hand. “Mycroft?” I can't help but muster out a little dumbstruck.
“Oh, sweetheart! I didn't know you'd be here too?” Lestrade’s former tired, miserable expression lifted up slightly as his brain finally processed the situation.
Him and Mycroft had been a thing for a while now, not exactly a conventional romantic couple. Greg had done his personal research online and although Mycroft was indifferent towards labels, he was quite sure the best way to describe their current relationship would be a queerplatonic one.
In Greg's case, he'd always been quite confident in his bisexuality, but with Mycroft—who would probably be in the aromantic or aroace spectrum, most likely—he explored and found himself comfortable within the asexual umbrella, too.
“Work. Remember I told you I'd be out of the country for Christmas?” Mycroft said as he got closer and tested his head on Greg's shoulder, probably a little exhausted himself. “Oh, yeah that makes sense. I don't know why I thought it'd be a trip to discuss things with the Chinese governor again- hehe.” Greg says a little flushed now from embarrassment while he unconsciously rubs soft circles with his palm on Mycroft's neck. “You're always so tense, sweetie.” “And you're all slumped.”
Greg chuckled softly, his ribcage vibrating lightly against Mycroft's, which was pressed into his. So close and so warm and fuzzy.
“You're here to visit family, right?” Mycroft asks, a little muffled as he keeps on rubbing his face into Greg's shoulder like a stray cat. Greg nodded and sighed as he remembered his situation. “You won't happen to have some free space for an extra passenger in whatever private cab you're gonna use by any chance, mhm?”
Mycroft finally raised his head again and smiled a bit. “Yes, come with me.” Greg couldn't help but blush a little and melt, allowing Mycroft to drag him by the hand towards the outside where his private car waited for him.
“Uhm, I won't be interfering with your work right-” Mycroft looked back at Greg before looking back forward, “It's okay.”