Mycroft's fountain pen stopped scrapping the paper, when he fully focused on a group of the men talking behind him. Usually, he would not pay any attention to them, this time though, there was a name mentioned and he couldn't help but listened. He listened to the students talking about his roommate.

They weren't particularly close, they didn't even know each other too well. Actually, Gregory Lestrade appeared in his life as violently as unexpectedly.

When Mycroft had been applying to the university, he had decided he didn't want to take advantage of the cons his family provided, instead settling on getting a room in the dorm, but only as long as it would be a single room. Not only did he got that, but the room was quite spacious and he felt there rather like in a small flat. Probably, someone else would sooner or later get overwhelmed by living like that, barely talking to anyone during or after the lectures and then coming back to an empty room. But Mycroft Holmes wasn't just someone and, to be honest, he couldn't think of a better solution. The happy state was kept exactly like that for a few weeks, before suddenly everything was thrown upside down.

One day, Mycroft just came back from his courses to learn there was a stranger in his room. A stranger with already half unpacked bag, premature greying hair and unusually well shaped arse. Holmes blushed furiously when he was welcomed by that very last thing being presented in his direction, covered only with colorful boxers, as the stranger was bent, apparently busy with searching for a pair of trousers which he could pull on.

When the auburn haired man eventually tore his eyes away from the unexpected guest, he noticed the second bed that had to be moved there while he was away. He felt himself swoon. What was that supposed to mean?! Later Mycroft received the explanation, but it had done nothing to soothe him. In fact, it only caused him to be even more exasperated.

Greg Lestrade, as the man later introduced himself (Gregory, Mycroft's mind automatically corrected) was one year older, came from Braintree, Essex, attended courses in Hedon Police College and due to some unfortunate events had to change the dormitory.

Mycroft didn't really make it to the part when Lestrade was explaining how he could even afford living in London on his own and why exactly he was placed in this particular room. Somewhere half way he got distracted a bit, his eyes betraying him and slipping down from Greg's face. Slowly, he took in the other's broad shoulders, muscular arms and the very fine chest with an off-white t-shirt stretched over it and accenting everything that was worth accenting, the colour underlining his slightly tanned skin tone - the sing spending a generous amount of time outside during the summer, very generous, seeing as it still remained there. Holiday work or sportsman. Perhaps both.

Eventually Holmes reprimanded himself inwardly and struggled to take in control his own sense of sight again. Gregory turned out to be rather talkative person and Mycroft thought he probably didn't even noticed the second participant of the conversation turned off for a moment. Not just probably, the stream of words really turned into some kind of monologue by now. Discretely distancing himself from the reality once again, the younger man tagged the unexpected newcomer as a, without any doubt, handsome one, quite clever in comparison to the average, but not knowing how to use this advantage properly and definitely not aware when was the time to stop talking.

Mycroft alarmed by the sudden silence, stopped his train of thoughts, glancing back to where the other man was sitting, wide grin spread over his face, and expectantly looking to him. God damn it, he asked something. Mycroft nodded slowly, forcing a small smile and hoping it was the right answer. The sudden burst out of happy noises and a clap on his shoulder blade didn't reassured him at all. And when even did Gregory managed to get so close?!

Even though overall figure of the young policeman-to-be maybe did not seem as bad as he expected after the first look, Holmes didn't change his mind whether to live alone or with company and didn't waste time, soon after making his way to the quarters of management of building. Of course, he could deal with it over a phone, but the common rooms and the corridors were crowded at the hour, and it probably would be rude to have this conversation with Gregory around, especially after what seemed to be an agreement he received.

It turned out that his legwork could go to hell, because even after some time given to the explanations from the management's side, a few minor suggestions from Mycroft's and then utter apologies from theirs, the answer the man got was not even in the slightest bit as satisfying as he wished. Gregory Lestrade shalt have the place provided due to his sports scholarship and having a person like that would even increase the place's status (like it needed it anyway, Mycroft snorted in his mind), therefore they were oh so eager to keep him. The subject was closed. Mycroft Holmes gained a roommate.

The auburn haired man slightly leaned back in his chair, spinning the fountain pen in his fingers. Honestly. He couldn't see a point why would the other inhabitants of the dorm talk about Gregory so much, which lately they did. He wasn't interesting in the way which could give a proper subject to a conversation, he was sticking to the rules of the dormitory, he was going to the pubs and flirting like every other man at his age, he was slowly, but successfully passing the police exams one after another. Indeed, his... comeliness could be something to talk about, Mycroft had to admit, but the grumpy voices from behind couldn't possibly debate about that.

"I get so upset by people like him!" Sigh.

"Thinking he can just turn up in definitely not his partition and do as he likes amid us, just because he can run after the ball..."

"Has a pretty nice ass though, could be not bad if he could just shut up sometimes."

"Well, you can always find a way to shut him up." Wave of chuckles, quickly fading away, probably under the glares of the person which were actually using the library for its original destiny.

"No, but really, if he brings me up again, he overdoes."

"So what? What will you do?"

"Teach the brat a lesson!" A series of cheers-up, cut off by one backed off voice.

"I wouldn't do that on your place..."

"And why's that?"

"Do you know who's he sharing the room with?"

Dramatic silence before someone whispered...

"Mycroft Holmes" and the company started to laugh once again. "Who'll most likely want to keep his pet, if he didn't get rid of him by now."

Mycroft could almost hear the sound of eyebrows being wriggled. He leaned back forward, stiffed, his own eyebrows drawing together. Apparently unaware of his presence that near, the group let their imagination go wild, creating the image of Lestrade keeping up with the upper class by... The words couldn't even go through Mycroft's mind. He couldn't picture himself doing that for anyone, ever, even in the cruel and uncompromising world of politics. He was a man of rules and some rules shan't be broken. And so was Gregory. Still, if he didn't know Gregory too well... they couldn't even say they knew anything at all.

He didn't listen anymore, but gathered his books and stood up, the chair shuffling on the floor a little too loud. The conversation died and the politician-to-be felt four scared, no, terrified glances plastered to his back. He turned around, slowly, with a cold, sly smile on his face. They were older than him, a year or two, Mycroft didn't care. They could tell it was him and it was enough, no need to exchange attentions.

"You will leave Gregory Lestrade alone" He said in silky voice, but with undeniable firm order underneath. "Whether it is now or in the future, you will not stand in his way." Not waiting for an answer, Holmes excused himself and with the same confidence remaining in its place, walked out from the library. The glances stayed on his silhouette to until he disappeared behind the wooden door.

Greg bent, propping his gloved hands on his thighs and trying to catch his breath, ignoring the tangible frost in the air. Someone walked over, clapped his back and congratulated, the rest of his team did the same. He looked up, grinning and saying his goodbyes. It was probably the last match of the year, seeing as the temperatures weren't so kind to let them play longer, but they won it! Lestrade shook his head, laughing breathlessly to himself. It was mad, really. They were already loosing, but the last five minutes aaand boom! Even sudden first snow didn't stop them. Truly mad.

Eventually Greg straightened up and let his shiny eyes wander to the small stands. Some people still sat like they were frozen to their seats, other were already leaving, a few girls with pom poms and painted faces kept waving vigorously in his direction. He waved back with a flashing smile. Greg continued his little survey and couldn't help but felt his hear fall a little, when amid them there was no sign of a man in a bespoke three-piece suit covered with an expensive coat and a soft scarf wrapped around his neck. Not that Greg ever touched it, nope. Of course, he didn't really expect Mycroft Holmes to come, but still, finally he found the courage and did ask, so it would be a really nice surprise to see the younger man there. Surely he had far better things to do than freezing his ass off just to see Lestrade and a few strangers run around and kick the ball.

Shrug to his thought, involuntary shudder and Greg decided it was the best to go, before his ass would be completely frozen too. Time to gather himself, come back to the room and if he would be lucky enough, he could even get a little lesson from his roommate. Some time ago Lestrade manages to talk Mycroft into a bit of couching. Surprisingly, both of them could carry some profits out of the deal. Greg's knowledge about the law and its use widened startlingly and apparently Mycroft found pleasure and calm in sharing the information he had with someone else than his boring professors (at least according to Greg's opinion, because honestly, the lectures about politics just had to be boring), someone who listened (until he would fall asleep in the middle of the carpet, leaving Mycroft lost and confused about what to do) and wanted to learn.

Actually, he could say he was truly surprised by how well they were getting along. Two completely different persons, stuffed into one room and left to live together. After some time they worked out some kind of routine, and it seemed to accomplish its aim. They got used to each other, Greg gaining more confidence to steal glances every now and then. Damn, the man was attractive! Once Lestrade found himself brave enough to talk to persons that seemed to be Mycroft's colleagues from the year, asking if the politician-to-be had a kind of relationship with someone. From no apparent reason he took it as a good sign, though he had to admit... Mycroft didn't look like a man of romances and affairs. Everything about him yet to explore.

When Greg quietly entered the room, the auburn haired man was already there, occupying the desk and doing something on his laptop. Ruling the world, as he liked to call it. He stood up on his toes to look over Mycroft's shoulder and catch a glimpse of whatever he was doing, but from the place in the small anteroom he couldn't really see anything. Although... Greg frowned deeply, having seen a piece of a photo of someone suspiciously familiar to himself... The sports bag slipped from his shoulder and tumbled to the floor with a loud bump making him jump and the other man close the computer suddenly, his back going stiff. That was surprising, by the time, Mycroft had never reacted so violently, as for him, with Greg around and there was no way someone else could get it.

When he turned, there was nothing unusual in his face or eyes, Lestrade noticed surprised. Perhaps he just got oversensitive about clues in other's behaviour, hours of lectures and exercises haunting him. He even got a tiny smile, before Mycroft turned back and spoke.

"Good evening, Gregory. I thought you were to play football tonight and come back late. Had I known you would finish earlier, I would have prepared a meal."

Greg just rolled his eyes at the exaggerated politeness, throwing his bag onto his bed - a warning look from the other man making him only smirk slightly - before falling onto the furniture himself and waving a dismissive hand.

"Nah, don't bother. You look tired. If you pass me my mobile, I'll order a take away."

Mycroft stood up slowly, took the phone from his roommate's desk and handed it over to him, earning another roll of eyes. Honestly, even he would already lose his count on how many times Gregory did it at him.

"So, wha-"

"Nothing for me, thank you. I had already had my supper."

Dark haired man could tell it wasn't truth, but he also couldn't force Holmes to eat, so he just shrugged the truth off and carried on into the evening.

The next morning, when he woke up, Greg found himself alone in the room. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and glanced at the clock. First in the afternoon on the day without the lectures. Yep, definitely still morning. His aching muscles were begging him not to bother and just stay in the bed, but the stomach let his protest obvious with rather sonorous rumble and Greg had no other choice than stand up and get something to eat.

Having grabbed some leftovers from the previous day, he collapsed onto the chair and started to think of what to do with himself, the action accompanied only by the loud sounds of chewing.

No more football this year - too cold for that. Mycroft would most probably be gone for the whole day, so no entertainment from his part either. Studying? Oh, God, no.

Lestrade looked around slowly, his eyes eventually stopping at the other man's computer. The scene from yesterday's evening playing in his mind once again. Cautiously, he moved with his chair closer to the second desk. There was no way that Mycroft's laptop wouldn't be password protected, was there? Everything about Mycroft Holmes seemed to be password protected. Honestly, Greg only knew what the other allowed him to know, even the other students didn't talk about him much. Or didn't talk about him at all. But from what he knew, the younger man didn't keep any data there and used the notebook only for browsing the internet. And as far as his memory was concerned... Mycroft didn't really turn off the device the day before.

The takeaway box was soon forgotten, as Greg quickly went to wash his hands and eventually tentatively opened the lid. The screen flickered for a moment, but then the content showed up, making the man smirk.

"Bingo!" He whispered, hands reaching to the touchpad to search through the open tabs. News, news, news, MI6, Russian dictionary...? He raised his eyebrow, but looked further.

"There you are..." Lestrade murmured, opening the page which, it turned out, only confirmed his thoughts. It was his photography, indeed. And all his personal data. Along with something what could be called a biography. Information about his parents, his brothers, his education, even the history of his little football career.

Greg's mouth went dry. Slowly, he leaned back into the chair, feeling the dizziness in his head. Who the hell was the man he lived with? Who the hell was the man he even thought he fancied?! Did he write this? Or did he only have access to such things? Well, Mycroft was doing something like... deductions, yeah, it was that, but Greg didn't think he could tell such details after one look. But why the fuck would it interest him? He wanted to check the similarity out of clear curiosity, but what he saw...

The student was abruptly pulled out from his thought by someone clearing his throat behind him. He vaguely remembered looking up to meet Mycroft's face, surprisingly plain and collected as always, and then a hand closing the lid. He stumbled to stand up, his hands gripping the back of the chair.

Mycroft didn't say anything, he didn't have to. Lestrade easily read the question from his narrowed eyes, the small crinkle between his brows, from the way his whole silhouette was arranged. It all seemed to scream What do you think you are doing? Greg suddenly felt little and helpless under the piercing gaze of the steel eyes. It made him immediately regret what he had done.

"What are you doing here? Weren't you... I mean... don't you have a lecture now?" Silver haired man kicked himself inwardly. The worst thing he could possibly say just left his lips.

"Apparently I do not."

"Yeah, noticed that one." Congratulations Lestrade, another wise answer. "Look. Look, it's just... "

"I thought I asked very clearly not to use my computer. Definitely not without my knowledge and when I am not around."

Gather up Lestrade, gather up! There was no use in defending himself, he was caught red-handed. He could only move on to the offensive. "Why? You have there more... things? More files just like mine?"

"They are accessable to the people that need such an access." Mycroft answered coldly, the tone only making Greg's fingers clench on the wood harder.

"Everyone that someone decide they might be, I don't know, dangerous? Useful? They have their files there, whole fucking stories of their lives for everyone in need to check out? Brilliant. Bloody brilliant!"

"Very limited amount of people can gain such an access."

"Oh, and you just happened to be one of them? I don't know, are you even studying or just live here so you can spy on people and win the bloody contest for the person that update the most new info?" Holmes looked highly offended by the words, but Greg couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything else than rage and disgust. "I could tell you everything. Fucking everything. I answered your every question just to find out that you have already known everything! That you lied to me all this time! Was it a test or what? Because I can't understand. I can't understand what the bloody hell is going on."

And now Mycroft was... Was it a glimpse of surprise flashing in his eyes for a fraction of second? Whatever it was, disappeared as soon as it was there and Mycroft's gaze was once again only cold and focused.

"I have never lied to you Gregory."

Greg could barely keep his hands by himself and not do any harm to that exquisite face he used to adore for these weeks they lived together. "Yeah? So what was that? That page?"

"It was necessary for me to search for exactly one thing and I can assure there was nothing else I have known about you from the file, beside the basis information I received on the day you moved in here."

"Necessary for you? What the hell was so bloody necessary?!"

"The one thing you lied about."

"Don't wind me up, Mycroft, I warn you. I've never lied to you."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes even more. If he wanted to hear it, it was now or never. He straightened his back, confidently looking the other in the eye. "Why exactly were you expelled from your prior dormitory?"

Lestrade gritted his teeth visibly, but it didn't stop the younger boy from leaving a second question hanging between them.

"When did you plan to use me as well?"