TheusualDisclaimers:
Don'townanyoftheCharacter's...justdoingthisforfun.Notearninganymoney.
"I'm sorry about my brother." Lestrade looked up from his desk, he hadn't even heard the other man come in. "Mr. Holmes!" he exclaimed "Hello. Uhh... What do you mean?" Mycroft Holmes sat down in the chair opposite Lestrade without bothering to what for an invitation "My brother. He must have been a real nuisance to you and your department. I only wished to apologise for that. Your superiors must be quiet relieved that he is not going to cause anymore trouble."
The Detective could only stare at the older man in utter disbelieve and shock. They had carried Sherlock to his grave not two weeks ago, and now here was Mycroft, sitting in front of him and making apologies. Apologising, Lestrade was sure, for a man Mycroft had never understood nor liked, despite their biological relation. He simply couldn't believe it, and suddenly anger rose up inside him as if something in him had exploded and set his blood to boil. Before he knew what he was doing, he had jumped to his feet, leaped around his desk and punched Mycroft Holmes in the face.
He could feel his anger subside, now that he had, quite literally, let it out, and he regained composure. "I'm not sorry I did that. You deserved it. Your brother might have been difficult to get along with, and I didn't agree with him all the time, but he was an asset to the work we do here at Scotland Yard. You might never have understood him or his work, and you might never, but that doesn't mean his loss is smaller then yours might be." "Are you threatening me, Mr Lestrade?" Mycroft interrupted dangerously, rubbing his somewhat swollen nose. "Of course not." Lestrade snapped, beyond irritated by this point, "That would be very foolish of me. I'm merely stating the fact that you have no right, none whatsoever, to come in here and make apologise for your dead brother being true to who and what he was. I'd like you to leave, and if you don't do so on your own I'll have you removed from the premises. No matter the consequences you and your 'friends-in-high-places' come up with for me".
With that, he calmly walked around the desk again and sat down patiently in his chair. He didn't look at the other man again, but turned to his paperwork and listened for the door to open and close. When it did, he reached for his telephone, called the extension of the legal department and made an appointment with the best lawyer their people could come up with for the next day. He knew he was defiantly going to need it.
As he hung up the phone, he could almost swear that he heard the sound of a violin being played out on the street. But that was impossible; he looked out the window and sighed. The world looked a little less bright without Sherlock, a little less, Erratic, he smiled slightly at the word and bend back down to his paperwork.
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