DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything of this, except maybe the idea.
A/N: This is my first Mystrade shortie which I originally posted on tumblr. It was inspired by a picture found here: wolfthatroamsshadows. tumblr post/ 75642533785/ mystradesexytimes-mycroft-and-greg-kissing-at-a (please delete spaces). And now enjoy! :)
Of Mad Men and Goldfish
It had been a particularly mad arrest they had just made.
Detective Inspector Lestrade of the New Scotland Yard mused as he gently held an ice pack against his bruised shoulder.
Of course it had to involve a certain "consulting detective" and his blogger. Those two had apparently the sole monopoly for danger.
Sherlock had texted him an address, a time and told him to be ready. They were there and ready at the appointed time. The only ones who weren't there were Sherlock and John.
Lestrade was just wondering, if he'd been set up, as a gunshot rang out in the cool night air. And soon enough the dynamic duo bounded out of an alley. After them a brute of a man with a gun in his hand.
Lestrade had jumped the brute from the side. Seemingly the man hadn't noticed the police officers standing on the street.
It had set the big guy off, he started to thrash about, waving his gun haphazardly around. Another shot rang out, a hiss of pain and then Greg was slammed into a wall by the guy who just dropped himself backwards against it. Greg knew his shoulder would be sore for the next days. He let go of the man. The other officers immediately sprang into action, subduing the criminal. The arrest was made.
Currently there were John and Sherlock sitting in the back of an ambulance. It had turned out that the second gunshot had just grazed Sherlock's thigh. John was in doctor mode and treated Sherlock. Mainly because Sherlock would let no one else even remotely near his injury.
Greg was standing off to the side with his ice pack watching the pair. They were fun to watch. Like an old married couple. Just then he noticed the black car parked on the other side of the street. He'd know that car anywhere.
Dropping his ice pack in the ambulance, he made his way over to the tape around the scene.
Mycroft got out of the car and also made his way to the tape. The DI and he had a routine. Whenever Sherlock had been in danger, he'd drop by, the DI'd let him on scene to have a few choice words with his brother and then he'd be off again.
But this time something was different in the air between them. They regarded each other with measuring looks. Curious glances, whilst walking towards each other.
Meeting at the tape they stood there for a moment just looking at each other.
"How does your shoulder feel?" Mycroft asked. Greg raised his eyebrows. Mycroft never made small talk. Absolutely never. Their routine was a silent one. Something was up.
"Fine." Greg answered.
"Good." Mycroft looked at him with one of his disinterested looks, usually Mycroft would be looking down on his umbrella, twirling it a bit.
That was the moment that Lestrade noticed something was really not right. Mycroft had no umbrella with him.
Lestrade grabbed the tape and wanted to lift it for the elder Holmes to duck under, when... "Gregory."
Looking up, Lestrade found himself on the receiving end of one of Mycroft's most intense stares. He was hypnotised. The other man was always dashingly handsome in Greg's opinion but the eyes were something else entirely. And that stare, that intense gaze... Why was Mycroft Holmes looking at him like that? Greg found out just a moment later.
Mycroft grabbed Greg's face and pulled him into a desperate kiss.
It took Greg a moment to come to terms with everything. He was shocked. That was something he really hadn't seen coming. Nevertheless, it stirred things in him that he hadn't believed possible. But once over the shock, he melted into the kiss. Who would've thought that the British Government was such a good kisser?
In the back of the ambulance, Sherlock sat next to John.
Suddenly Sherlock made a noise. John looked over at him, concerned. But Sherlock just seemed as if in thought. But John knew him long enough now to know that whenever he looked as if in thought and made a noise, he wanted to be asked what it was. And John felt in a giving mood, so he asked. "What?"
"Hm... It seems as if my brother has found himself a...goldfish." John blinked once.
And then some more for good measure before asking. "What?"
Sherlock just nodded in the direction of Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes all but making out at a crime scene.
John did the only thing he could come up with in this situation.
He giggled. And Sherlock soon joined in. And once more, the detective and his blogger were decidedly not giggling at a crime scene.