1. Embarrassment

When Greg winced while shifting in his chair, Sherlock couldn't help but snorted. John wasn't really fond of the situation, but Greg was still the same Greg and was his friend, so he politely nudged his flatmate and sent an apologizing glance to the cop.

And then, an idea appeared in his head. Shorter man pulled Sherlock's arm down to whisper something into his ear.

Lestrade's face strained as from many of words he only managed to hear Christmas, deer stalker and revenge and younger Holmes smirked, slightly nodding his head.

But it wasn't really because of that, as Sherlock had decuded! Because, honestly, there were plenty of ways you can get a pain in your arse, weren't they? Seriously. Greg just wasn't very lucky lately.

Five days before, he was driving his motorbike after a long time again. Despite the chilly winter night, wandering through quiet London was pretty nice and relaxing. But the seat. It just… didn't seem so comfortable as it used to be and after an hour the DI wanted only to get home and nestle in the cosy armchair.

Four days before, he slipped on a wet floor in the corridor of New Scotland Yard. Sally laughed at her boss' painful expression, but eventually smiled amicably and helped him to get up.

Three days before, when he was walking home, someone riding a bike bumped on his back and ran away without a word of apology. Youth these days…

Two days before, Lestrade returned really late at night. He didn't want to disturb already sleeping Mycroft as he knew, other man had a not very good day, so he got a concept to slumber on the sofa. Sadly, it was a bit too little and he ended up falling onto the carpet with a loud swearword.

So that day, it wasn't really his fault he couldn't sit properly. Nor Mycroft's.

Well, he had to admit, the previous day he got a firm spat or two or eight and, oh God, it was so good he begged for more,but still, Sherlock was wrong.

But he didn't say anything and let the memory of smiling detective blur over the paperwork and cases and older Holmes' embrance.

Christmas came and both of them was surprised, when the mysterious box wrapped with a ribbon arrived to their flat. There was a note attached, but it didn't explain more – just printed MR. HOLMES and NEXT TIME MAKE USE OF IT on the other side. Mycroft questioningly looked at his partner, but Greg only shook his head in answer. He also had absolutely no idea what was going on.

They decided to take a risk and look inside. Holmes worked on a ribbon while the DI was playing with the piece of paper, trying to figure out who could send it. He suddenly reminded himself John saying something to his friend in the office, something that included Christmas.

He went pale but then he felt his cheeks burning.

"Sher…lock…" was the only thing Greg managed to mutter, as he watched Mycroft opening a weird gift and shaking it contents off to the bed. Man raised an eyebrow at the bunch of variety kinds of supplies now laying on the sheet.

The cop was sure his face turned more intense shade of red than their deeply scarlet duvet had.

Hello!

This is my very first attempt to write fanfiction in English as well as Mystrade.
As you may already know, English isn't my first language, but I'm trying very hard and my beta is checking every little piece for me - but if there are still any mistakes, please, let me know so I could correct it and improve my language skill! ;)
Also please, after reading, leave a review. I'm a little afraid about publishing it and would love to know whether is likeable or rather not. Any kind of opinion very welcome! (just no hates, please. There are many ways you can say you don't like something without offending anyone!)

Only idea is mine, original story belongs to sir Arthur Conan-Doyle and characters desings to Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.