Everyone referred to him as "The Ice Man". Of course, not to his face. Oh no. He practically was the British Government. One person, however, could not see the reason behind the name.
To Gregory Lestrade, Mycroft was the most loving person he had ever known. Sure, he may be a tad controlling but Greg never really minded. He was a disorganised and laid back type of person and understood that Mycroft needed to be organised and in control. After all, it was in his nature which was what made him so spectacularly fantastic at his job.
Greg was sat at his desk trying desperately to get through this paperwork but failing miserably. He was so exhausted. Sherlock was on the case and Lestrade couldn't sleep knowing that he might do something stupid trying to catch the bloody criminal. John was there and wouldn't let anyone hurt him but it was Sherlock after all. He knew that Mycroft had people watching and would let both of them know the second he did something ridiculous but he still couldn't rest. Greg's phone began to buzz.
"Gregory, you must come home." Mycroft's velvet voice drawled out not even letting Greg say 'Hello'.
"Mycroft. I'd love to but I've got work to do here." Not really a lie but it still felt heavy. However, Mycroft wasn't fooled.
"Gregory. That paperwork can wait until morning. I have people watching Sherlock right now and John is with him. You needn't worry about him. Come home." Greg sighed and nodded.
"Okay. Fine. I'll see you in a bit." He hung up and rubbed his eyes. He didn't really need much persuading. Mycroft was right, of course, like always. That and the fact that he'd like nothing more than to be with Mycroft right now. Sighing he grabbed his coat, mobile and keys and stood up, turned the light out and strolled out of the office.
A sleek black car slid to a stop in front of him and Greg smiled. The driver got out and opened the door for him.
"Cheers, mate." He said as he slid in and leaned his head back on the seats. After roughly half an hour they were at Mycroft's place. It was a grand house and this was just the outside. Inside it was decorated very subtly. Plush furniture and old rugs, bookshelves stuffed with books and, of course, a fire burning in the living room.
One of the seats were occupied. Mycroft glanced over at Greg and gave him a smile. Not a controlled smile but a genuine smile of delight. Greg's heart fluttered at the sight. He had a glass of Brandy in his hands and his legs were crossed. He was wearing his usual three piece suit but the jacket was hung over the back of the seat. Mycroft's phone was on the arm of the chair.
"Hi, love." Greg said walking over and placing a kiss on Mycroft's lips. He flopped down in the empty chair in exhaustion.
He'd been fretting over Sherlock and the case for three days and his body was now beginning to register the fragmented sleep, late nights, early mornings and total stress. Sherlock never contacted Lestrade when something happened and it didn't help.
"Sherlock is at 221B throwing petrie dishes across the room. He's nowhere near figuring it out yet, so you can relax for now." Mycroft tried to sound nonchalant but Greg could see concern in his lover's eyes. Greg smiled at Mycroft and nodded.
"Well, it's half twelve, I think we should be heading to bed, don't you?" Greg told him. Mycroft's eyes shimmered and he nodded.
"I'll put the fire out. You head up and I'll join you in a moment." Greg nodded and kissed Mycroft caressing his cheek gently before pulling away.
"See you in a bit." Greg told him with a small smirk before he headed to the bedroom.
Greg stripped off his clothes and dumped them of the floor where he stood at the side of the bed, not bothering to hang them up and shoved on a pair of pyjama bottoms and climbed under the duvet. Mycroft walked in a few seconds later. Greg watched him walk around the bed to his side and hang up his jacket. Then he unbuttoned his waistcoat, his nimble fingers dancing down his waist before he shrugged it off and hung it up.
Greg got out of bed then and crossed to Mycroft. Mycroft watched him with a raised brow even though he knew what Greg was doing. Greg moved his hands and started to unbutton the younger man's shirt looking into his eyes before slowly leaning in and placing a gentle and loving kiss on Mycroft's lips. Mycroft didn't hesitate to kiss back and Greg pulled him closer by the shirt and continued to unbutton it. He pushed the shirt over Mycroft's shoulders and threw it on the floor smiling against Mycroft's mouth.
"I love you, Mycroft." Greg told him suddenly pulling away. He looked into Mycroft's eyes and willed him to understand exactly how much he loved him.
"I love you too, Gregory." Mycroft leaned in and kissed him. A gentle yet firm kiss. Greg kissed back and the kiss got more passionate. Tongues danced, hands roamed and legs tangled. They fell onto the bed with Greg on top.
He pinned Mycroft down and kissed Mycroft from his mouth to his jaw, from his jaw to his neck, from his neck to his clavicle, from his clavicle to his chest and then finally, deciding that he missed his mouth all too much, he worked his way back up, languidly kissing him. When their lips met again, Mycroft was the first to slip his tongue into his lover's mouth. They fought for dominance but it was Mycroft who won in the end, not that Greg minded in the slightest.
Lestrade shivered in pleasure and ran his right hand up and down Mycroft's body enjoying the feel of the younger man's smooth warm skin under his hands which were by contrast slightly callused. Mycroft enjoyed the sensation of his hands over his body and a moan escaped his lips. He wasn't entirely sure he meant it to escape… Greg smiled into the kiss loving the idea that he could make this formidable man make such noises. Here was the British Government totally at Lestrade's mercy. He enjoyed the feeling of power he had and decided he was going to exploit this feeling to its fullest tonight.
Needless to say, that night Greg's exhaustion was forgotten about and he was well and truly relaxed and de-stressed by Mycroft's mouth and body.
The next morning, the couple were embracing in the warmth of each other's arms under the duvet. Greg was gently massaging small circles into Mycroft's bicep with his fingers. Mycroft was beginning to snooze when an idea crossed his mind lazily.
"Stay with me today. Don't go in." He murmured sleepily. Lestrade looked at him and kissed the crown of his head. He was so comfortable in the bed with Mycroft and he didn't want to pull himself away… But Sherlock.
He was loath to let Sherlock loose around London on his own. He was forever getting himself into trouble and Lestrade liked to be there to make sure he didn't get into too much of it. But, he could always call Dimmock. He would step up to the post. He was in charge when Sherlock took on the Blind Banker case and Sherlock was fine. Sherlock also remotely respected him so… Mycroft had his men watching too so he could be there at a moment's notice to help out if he was needed. Dimmock… Greg almost went to work. Almost.
"Alright." He said nodding against Mycroft's silky auburn hair. "I'll need to phone in and tell them Dimmock is in charge for the day."
"Already taken care of." Mycroft purred.
"What?" Greg asked mildly surprised.
"I took the liberty of giving you the day off, Detective Inspector. You work far too hard." Lestrade shook his head.
How did he not guess that Mycroft had done something like that? He could have done it last night whilst he was putting the fire out. Of course Mycroft knew he'd stay. If it meant Greg could spend the day with Mycroft – especially in bed – then he was putty. He chuckled lightly.
They spent the day lounging in bed, kissing, cuddling and making love. It wasn't until late afternoon early evening that a thought crossed Greg's mind.
"Mycroft, can I ask you something?" he asked his lover. He was sat up in bed with his fingers threaded through Mycroft's. Mycroft glanced at him, eyes flicking over Greg's face and body. He knew he was being deduced and smiled. Though, it was only through false of habit that he was deducing Greg, he didn't mean to do it, which made Greg smile even more with this knowledge in mind.
"Certainly, Gregory." He said in his matter of fact way, eyes betraying his trepidation.
The thing you had to learn about the Holmes brothers is that they were both very self-conscious. Neither of them were used to being in a relationship and they didn't understand why someone would love them. He and John had had this conversation in the café next to 221B multiple times. This was one of the main reasons Greg kept telling Mycroft how much he loved him. And one of the reasons he didn't agree with the Ice Man label.
"I love you, Mycroft. I love you so much, I really do." He told him. Mycroft's eyes softened in a minute way but Greg saw it. He took Mycroft's face in his hand and gently rubbed his thumb up and down his cheek. Greg also saw the look of This Isn't A Question Gregory.
"Mycroft, love, will you marry me?" No point in fudging the issue. Mycroft looked visibly stunned.
"Gregory." It was all Mycroft could say. Lestrade chuckled. Mycroft Holmes – The British Government – was speechless. And it was him that had made him so.
"So, what do you say?"
"Certainly, Gregory." Mycroft answered.
A grin broke out on Greg's face spreading from ear to ear. He leaned over and kissed Mycroft as passionately as he was able. He pulled away after a moment and leaned over to the bedside table and took a little box from the drawer. Inside was a small golden band, much like a wedding ring.
"I didn't really know what to get but I wanted to give you something. I thought you'd like it." Greg said shyly.
"I love it, Gregory." Mycroft told him as he took the ring and put it on. He gently wiped his thumb over it, a tender action that made Greg's heart do a little dance. He knew straight away how much it meant to him. "Although, I shall be needing to remove this before the ceremony." He said a glitter in his eyes.
"I guess you will." Greg laughed. "I love you, Mycroft."
"I love you too, Gregory."