HIS WAY
A BBC Sherlock Vampire AU fic
Vampire!Mycroft/Lestrade
by
Nana
Chapter 1
Author's Notes: Hey! Welcome to another AU story. As promised, here is a little something featuring Mystrade. It starts a few months after the events of my other fic, Possession, with DI Lestrade asking unwelcome questions that might blow the entire thing wide open- questions that Vampire!Mycroft will not allow him to ask.
Dedication: For Duo Swords, who wanted a more in-depth exploration of Mycroft's relationship with his first wife, Anthea, and for Francis Lovey, who wanted a Mystrade fic. Enjoy!
"Well, John," said Mycroft. "How long has it been since we last met? Three months? Four?"
"Three and a half months," confirmed John, nodding.
Mycroft smiled, giving John a nondescript once-over as he sat across from him in the small private room of the Diogenes Club.
To judge from his clothes, John had come directly from work. He looked well. Gone was the haunted visage, the tired lines about his eyes and mouth. His eyes were clear and his cheeks had filled, giving his face a healthy, rounded look.
John looked happy.
To be truthful, Mycroft had wondered how things were going to be between Sherlock and John once they moved past the honeymoon stage.
"I trust everything is well with Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.
A slight tilt of John's lips was his only reply.
Definitely happy.
Goodness only knew how they were doing it in that distant dream sphere of theirs, but it seemed his brother and John were making it work.
That's good, thought Mycroft.
"You didn't mind that I got you into the Diogenes as a member? That will help explain your occasional visits here without drawing attention to our...association," he said.
"I did wonder about the membership card when it arrived in the mail, yeah," said John.
"But I take it this is not a courtesy call?" said Mycroft, eyebrows lifted.
"No."
"I thought so."
John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Somebody came to my clinic office asking about Sherlock," he began carefully. "He came the other day. A Detective Inspector Lestrade."
Mycroft's smile receded ever so slightly. "Oh?"
"He says he's investigating the case of the missing boy, Carl Powers. He started asking questions about the circumstances surrounding Sherlock's...death."
Mycroft sighed. "That is already a closed case. All of it," he said heavily.
"Not to this man it's not," said John softly.
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him I'm afraid I couldn't help him," said John, shrugging. "I signed Sherlock out of my care before he went back to Oxford, and I knew nothing of what happened to him there."
"That's good."
"I don't think Lestrade bought any of it," said John.
Mycroft said nothing, merely returned John's stare.
"We have a situation, you know that, don't you?" John continued. "Inspector Lestrade has managed, for some reason, to connect Sherlock with the disappearance of Carl Powers, and you know where that is ultimately going to lead."
"Lestrade was in charge of the boy's case," said Mycroft. "I took care to provide all the details to ensure that the case was closed early this year. Everything has been take care of."
"Everything except giving the grieving parents something concrete about the boy."
"There is nothing left of him to give back," returned Mycroft, his words deliberately, dangerously soft and slow.
John was unperturbed. "Lestrade will have to know...something; otherwise he will not stop asking questions."
"I can make him stop asking questions," said Mycroft flatly.
"No." John shook his head. "No, you're not. This is a good man, Mycroft. Don't make him disappear. In fact, don't do anything to him."
"He cannot go around asking these questions."
"Perhaps the best way would be to tell him something about the truth concerning Jim Moriarty?"
"What? That he was a dangerous devil worshipper and head of the Church of Blood?" Mycroft scoffed. "If the Metropolitan police force gets wind of that, just how far behind are the tabloids?"
John did not seem to have heard him. "Don't do anything to the man," he merely repeated. "He just needs information to give to the parents."
"He needs to be contained," said Mycroft. "You are right to call my attention to this matter, John. I will see what I can do."
There was a finality to Mycroft's tone that signaled that things had been settled. John's shoulders sagged. After a moment, he nodded.
"I take it Sherlock has been showing you the contents of his mind palace?" asked Mycroft, changing the subject as John made to take his leave.
"Bits and pieces," said John evasively as he shrugged into his coat.
"Hmm." Mycroft nodded, already lost in thought. "Make sure to ask him about his stint as a pirate. I seem to remember that time of his life as one of his favorites."
Without waiting for John's reaction, Mycroft turned and walked out of the room.
He was displeased. Very much so.
A closed case was a closed case, especially when Mycroft made it so. Everything had already been made clear to the police. It was not in DI Lestrade's power to reopen a case that was going to stay closed, as far as Mycroft was concerned.
Apparently the police inspector did not know who he was dealing with.
Perhaps it was high time he knew.