This ended up a little intense and I didn't intend it to be that way. This series was going to be strictly fluff, but you can't stop where your brain takes you.

I promise that if you stick with me and this story, there will be a lot more fluff in your future.

Anyway, this is a series of one-shots that I will update as ideas pop up in my head. I'll warn you now that there won't be regular updates. The one-shots have nothing to do with each other except for the main characters. It is in some sort of loose chronological order. And if multiple chapters do have to do with each other it should be obvious and I will let you know if they do.

Mycroft Homes was in a very bad mood. Everything was chaos since he walked in the door of his office, (location private) and he had yet to catch a break. Someone in the government very nearly started a war and he had to fix it; there had been a murder among his colleagues and New Scotland Yard were stumped as to who the suspect is. This meant that the murder was his business. It also meant that his brother would be on the case. And so, at the very near end of his patience, Mycroft made his way out of his office (again, location private) and to the crime scene.

At the tape marking the crime scene was Sergeant Donovan.

"Great," She sneered. "another Holmes." Mycroft gave her a glare that could cause the weak to die of fright.

"I'll have you know," he said stiffly. "I am already in a bad mood, and have the power to make your life hell due to my minor position in the government, so I suggest you shut your judgmental mouth and let me through. I am not my brother and you have no authority to decide that fact. Either way, I doubt my brother has actually done something directly to you to offend you-so I do advise you to lay off."

The elder Holmes gave her one of his smiles and ducked under the tape and went to find Lestrade for details, twirling his umbrella as he walked down the street. He used the short walk to compose himself and assume his usual polite smile. (Though it was always a little tight and clearly dignified as well.)

"Detective Inspector Lestrade." Greg turned as Mycroft came up behind him; his expression looked exasperated with a hint of obvious disdain.

"Oh great, just what I need. The victims with the government." Mycroft's expression faltered slightly. The DI caught it and made his face visibly relax. "I don't mean you Mr. Homes. It's just that Sherlock's been in a bit of a sulk since before he got here apparently and I'm at my wits end. A crime of, now such a high degree, just grated against the small headache the bastards given me." He smiled apologetically.

The bureaucrat pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, and sighed.

"I do apologize for my brother's behavior."

"There's no need for you to apologize for him."

"Yes but I'm sure he hasn't apologized for himself."

"Yeah, but John did. I don't know how John can keep him under wraps and stand being with the man so often, but I wish he'd share his secrets."

"Don't we all." Mycroft smirked, and Greg grinned in return. To hide his flushed face, Mycroft stepped around Lestrade to look into the B&B.

Caring is not an advantage you twat.

"So what are the details?"

"Levi Harrison, head of security, was going to hold an early morning meeting here and decided to spend the night so he would have more time to set up. The first of his colleagues to arrive walked into the reserved room to find it empty. He walked into the suite-which was suspiciously unlocked-to find him dead."

"I was supposed to go to that meeting," Mycroft said absently. "It was the first thing that was said to me when I walked into work this morning." The Detective Inspector raised an eyebrow.

"Well that's a wonderful way to start your morning." The elder Holmes sighed.

"I imagine your morning started that way as well." Greg pursed his lips.

"More or less, although I got to hear good news first." Mycroft got a sinking feeling that pissed him off.

"Oh?"

"Yup, the murder from the case Sally was working on was caught." He reprimanded himself for the absolutely ridiculous irrelevant reaction. He tried to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Any suspects yet?" The DI nodded at the open doorway.

"Sherlock's working on that right now."

"Right, difficult case." The two stood in silence before Mycroft turned back to Greg. "I'll be needing a file for myself." Greg waved an officer over.

"I figured that, so I had a copy made for you." He took it from the officer and handed it to his secret crush.

"You were informed of my involvement?"

"I anticipated it." Lestrade gave him a flat smile. *i.e. :I* Just then Sherlock walked out with John trailing after, saving Mycroft from having to come up with an answer. His little brother's face went cold and John-catching the shift-held his arm. *like you would on a date btw's*

"Mycroft."

"Hello brother dear." He pointed his usual smile in John's direction. "John."

"Hullo Mycroft. Government business?" Sherlock shot John a not so subtle look.

"Afraid so."

"Well tell them what you have so far Sherlock." The detective pulled a grudging look before complying.

Mycroft sighed and scrubbed at his face. Another murder had been committed just hours after the first, and it was just as brutal. Mycroft didn't go to the crime scene of the second one as he was too busy with highly important paper work. But he phoned Lestrade to give him the information he needed, and to have another portfolio sent to his mailbox at the Diogenes. According to Sherlock's deductions, Mycroft was in danger, as it seemed he intended to work his way up as high in the government as possible; but not to worry-Sherlock said it was easy, the murderer made numerous mistakes and would be caught by the end of the day.

At one o'clock Mycroft was called and informed that another murder had been committed, confirming their guess at a three hour patter. After hearing the victim's name he told Greg in turn that he had worked with the woman many times, and insisted on seeing the crime scene. The DI refused immediately. And after a long argument Mycroft realized that it was inappropriate because being in the position he had, he had authority and could do whatever the hell he wanted. So after ten minutes he took on his 'government' tone that no one had the guts to speak against, and told him that he would be there, expecting a portfolio, in ten minutes.

"But Mycroft-" Said man's face flushed at the casual use of his name, but suspected it was just because the DI was just too focused on making him stay put. All the same, the way it rolled off his tongue and how it sounded in the man's voice made Mycroft shiver. Having hung up on Lestrade, Mycroft had to find out where the crime scene was himself, which took all of ten seconds.

Mycroft chided himself the whole ride as he lounged in the seat, taking advantage of no one seeing him. It was utterly pointless to argue with Greg, yet he did. He was mad at himself for letting Lestrade's voice cloud his judgment as he should have already been at the crime scene by now. Then there was the matter of his reaction to how his name sounded when said by Lestrade. Thinking about it made his face turn scarlet and he had to spend the rest of the ride to compose himself and build up a front.

It was completely shattered when the Detective Inspector came up to him, looking rather disheveled.

"Mycroft," he said half exasperatedly have angrily. "I told you not to come. It's dangerous; you should be somewhere safe right now." Mycroft went ahead and let himself copy the casualness and decided to just pretend he didn't notice how hot his face felt.

"While I do appreciate your concern Gregory, it is not needed as I can very well take care of myself."

"Greg-Yeah well if we don't stop this guy he'll be classified as a serial killer and you're how he intends to become one." Mycroft's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"How do you know that?"

"He left a note." His eyes widened and he headed straight for the crime scene, Lestrade on his heels.

When he walked into the room he dropped his umbrella in horror. On the walls, clearly written in the victim's blood, was his name. His face was white as a sheet when the DI looked over at him with a grimace.

"You're not leaving my sight until this person is found Mycroft."

He didn't look at him; his mind was reeling as something similar had happened before. It was in secondary school, when he was thirteen he started getting bullied for being a loner, skipping a few grades, being a little on the heavy side, and was repeatedly called a faggot for dressing smartly. The group of kids that bullied him wrote his name on a wall in paint and he was forced to stay late to clean it up. Those kids had made his life hell.

"Mycroft?"

"Hm?"

"You alright?"

"Wha-yes," he turned to Lestrade with his usual smile. "Yes of course Gregory, just thinking."

"Greg."

Naturally Mycroft did not listen to Greg as he still had some damage control to work on back at his office, and managed to slip away from the crime scene unnoticed. Of course that just made his day worse. He had texted Anthea to pick him up down the block so they wouldn't notice right away that he had left. As soon as he was out of sight someone with a grip of iron, grabbed his arm and pulled him into an alleyway. They put a cloth to his mouth and the chloroform knocked him out before he could even defend himself.

When Sherlock and John walked out of the apartment, they were surprised they didn't see Mycroft.

"My brother didn't come?" Lestrade looked puzzled.

"Yeah he did, I told him he had to stick with me until you catch the killer, he's right over-" Greg froze when he turned around and didn't see Mycroft. "Fuck!" John looked exasperated.

"You let him leave?" He whirled back around.

"Not on purpose!" Sherlock groaned.

"You do realize that if he gets killed the government will fall to pieces."

"He said he has a minor position."

"Yeah, that's an understatement." Greg gaped at John.

"Great, just great." He raked his fingers though his hair. He was worried sick. Even if he didn't know Mycroft well, he liked him a bloody lot, and now he was god knows where.

"I already know who the murderer is so it will only be a matter of time."

"You do?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I just said I did, don't make me repeat myself."

"Oi!"

"He went to school with Mycroft. If he hasn't changed it shouldn't be too hard to find where he's hiding."

When Mycroft woke up he found he was tied to a chair in what looked like someone's living room, and there was an excruciating pain in his left shoulder that was almost unbearable. A man walked in with a large duffle bag, wearing only his pants and a t-shirt. He acted as if Mycroft had decided to drop by for a visit.

"Well if it aint Mycroft Holmes. Man I'll tell ya, I never would 'ave guessed you'd actually make it inta government. An so high up!"

"I'm surprised you used your brain at all Richard. Or do you prefer Dick? That is after all, what dictated your actions." Richard sauntered over and punched him in the face, sending the chair toppling to the floor, and Mycroft landed on his left shoulder. He cried out in pain before he could stop himself. The bully hummed to himself.

"Even now yer cries get me goin." He licked his lips. "Ya know how adults always tell ya when yer a kid that when people bully ya it'scause they're self-conscious 'em selfs. Well they weren't really lyin. See, I actually am gay." He set the chair right and leaned into the elder Holmes personal space. "I bullied ya cause yer reactions turned me on. Always 'ad ta wank off in the bathroom afta." He settled himself in Mycroft's lap and he tried not to squirm. The burly man grinned wolfishly. "Today I'm finally gonna get away wif ya. I bet yer anus is as tight as that fake smile of yers." Mycroft couldn't keep his eyes from widening in fright. Rich had always frightened him when he was a kid. He never admitted it, but two people had still been aware; and they were the kid himself, and Sherlock. Richard licked his cheek, and Mycroft couldn't suppress a tremble. The awful man beamed. "Alright, I can still scur ya! This'll definitely be fun."

A loud bang echoed through the space, making Mycroft jump. Richard's face contorted with confusion and rage.

"The fuck?"

Three police officers appeared in the door frame, their guns trained on Richard.

"Police, put your hands up where we can see them." Greg appeared behind them, and his expression filled with rage. Though Mycroft didn't see, as he had is head down and his eyes screwed shut. He was having a lot of trouble trying to stay calm and keep a straight face, and it annoyed him to no end. Surprisingly, Richard obliged and raised his hands. "Now stand up and kneel on the floor." He complied, but not after leaning his head down and kissing Mycroft on the lips, making Mycroft shudder. Lestrade's eyes were flaming now. The officers cuffed the murderer and led him out. When they left the room, Greg rushed to Mycroft. The DI knelt in front of him and placed his hands on Mycroft's knees, making him flinch. He made his expression soften to match his voice.

"It's alright Mycroft. I won't tell anyone if you can't keep yourself composed; I'll even close the door." Sally walked up to him when he reappeared in the doorway.

"Sergeant, I'm going to close the door, and I need you to make sure no one comes in." She looked puzzled.

"Why?"

"Just do it. And no one is to stand by the door either. Wait on the front landing." With that done, he closed the door after she and anyone lingering in the hallway left, and returned to Mycroft.

"Come on, it's just us blokes now." Slowly Mycroft opened his eyes, and he was so obviously scared Greg felt like he had been punched in the gut. To give him some alone time, Lestrade went to the back of the chair to untie the ropes. He took the bound man's hands gently and untangled them from the chafing rope once the knots were loose. When he went back to the front of the chair, Mycroft was calmly rubbing at his wrists as if nothing had happened; the slight tremor of his hands the only sign he had just been frightened for his life. Greg offered his hand to help the bloke out of the chair. "What do you say we skip the questioning and all the medical tests, and just go get some cake? We'll just have you come in first thing in the morning."

"I'm not going to turn down cake after a day like this." Mycroft took the DI's outstretched hand and let him pull him up. The two stood there awkwardly for a moment or two.

"Um, I saw you rub your shoulder just now. Do you need it examined?"

"I want cake." Greg sighed.

"Right." They stood there a moment longer; before Mycroft slid his hand out of Lestrade's and walked to the door, willing his face to return back to normal. He paused with his hand on the handle, "Thank you, Gregory." then turned it and walked out the room. Detective Inspector Lestrade smiled to himself, shook his head, and followed his crush out the door.

"Why do you insist on calling me Gregory?"

"I'm a sophisticated man; I'm not going to call you Greg."

"But I don't like my full name."

"Well I do, it's charming." Greg stopped in his tracks.

"You think my name it charming?" Mycroft went red, and stopped as well, looking ahead. "You don't think it makes me sound like a pretentious bastard?"

"Of course not; I meant what I said." Greg smiled.

"Thanks."

"Let's just go get that cake. I need it after today." Mycroft started walking again and Lestrade jogged to catch up. The DI gave him a sidelong glance. He noticed Mycroft's flushed face but didn't say anything.

"Are you sure you're alright? Maybe I should have a look at your shoulder."

"Why do you insist on looking at it? I'm fine."

"It's my fault your hurt."

"No it's not."

"Yeah it is. I was supposed to be watching you and I let you slip away from the crime scene. If it wasn't for Sherlock you'd be dead right now."

"I still can't believe he actually remembered that man. Why didn't he delete it?"

"And you're still not gonna tell me what exactly happened between you and this guy?"

"Not at all-maybe someday, but not anytime soon." Greg just sighed.

"Twat." Mycroft smirked and the detective grinned back at him. "Are you ever going to show people your real smile?" The government man scoffed. "Twat." Mycroft chuckled, and let a small smile form on his face. "A-ha!" Greg grinned in triumph and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Twat."

Please do review

I value readers opinions and getting them just make my day :3

Also, if you like Johnlock and want more to read, I have two one-shot series that you can check out if you're interested.

One is called Sherlocked

The other is called One Step Closer

And now I bid you good bye

Unless you will tune in when the next one-shot is published

So if you are going to be one of those people, then I shall instead say

See ya later!