For lecroft, written for an April Showers Mystrade Exchange :)

Greg was in the garage, preparing his bike for the season - and everything would be normal, if he by accident hadn't caught a glimpse of something… interesting.

He carefully put the rag aside, and slowly walked over the corner of the room, resting hands on his hips. Mycroft had said about various things being kept here – some needed reparation (allegedly, since Lestrade didn't think his lover would save and keep something out of order), some had a native value and some just weren't currently needed at home. When he reached his destination place, Greg peeked around the garage. Not that he was forbidden to touch the things Mycroft hadn't given the clear permission he could, but he still didn't live there long enough to feel fully at ease about some matters and tried to avoid any… awkward situations. When he made sure no one was watching him, well, at least not personally, the detective pulled toward himself the thin sheet which was covering the mysterious object.

He whistled quietly, grin immediately tugging on his lips. The older Holmes never looked for him like a chap of amusement at all, but it never bothered him. Though, it seemed like Lestrade had much more to learn about his boyfriend. Because under the fabric, there was something Greg maybe supposed Mycroft was meeting with on these posh meeting he attended, but have never thought he would discover it here, in Mycroft Holmes' house.

Apparently, he was wrong. Because exactly there, in front of him, was standing covered with a nice, green cloth pool table. There was also a silver valise on the top of it, surely with the balls, and three firm cue sticks.

Lestrade couldn't resist and trailed his hand along the slightly dusted edge. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Mycroft – with concentration on his face looking over the table, deciding which option was the best, then gripping slightly the cue and bending over the edge. Just to give a precise stroke and shove the ball straight to the pocket.

Greg smiled to himself and opened eyes, reaching to the box. Instead of the casual pool set, he found there six balls in different colors, fifteen red and, of course, a white one.

"Oh, snooker then?" He hummed thoughtfully and carefully closed the valise, settling it back on its place. He had never had an occasion to play, but he saw it several times on the sport channel. Once you got it explained, the rules weren't so complicated, though, potting seemed to be not so easy as it appeared to be. Maybe Mycroft could teach him…? The detective burst into laugh at the thought and shook his head. Yeah, he would tell me the sticks are actually the inhibitors and the balls happened to be a bunch of the hand grenades. Greg had thought with the amusement, before he lifted the cue. It was lighter than he supposed it to be. He couldn't tell which kind of wood it was made from, but surely it wasn't anything cheap. When he brought it higher to his eyes, he saw a nice, floristic pattern on the wrap. For a moment he wondered if they were made on a personal request… Hearing the crack of the front door, Lestrade slowly put the stick down, covered the table back and moved to his previous occupation.

Later that day, while the younger man was reading in his armchair and Greg was curled up on the sofa, glancing at the telly, he decided his curiosity won. The man slowly pulled himself up to the sitting position and was peeking at Mycroft every now and then. The politician caught a glimpse of the other man's look and rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look up from the page he was currently reading.

"Something is bothering you, Gregory?" he asked casually.

"Umm, no, not at all... "

"But?"

Greg offered a small smile and turned on the couch towards his boyfriend. No one could fool Mycroft Holmes, even his own lover. Well, maybe other Holmes...? "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you play snooker?"

Holmes raised his brow and eventually looked up from his book. The detective felt a little abashed under Mycroft's questioning glance, but it was already too late to step back, and, honestly, what could be that embarrassing about finding the pool table…

"You saw Neil Roberston playing and now you want to check if my bottom is as good as his when he bends over?" Mycroft asked with amusement in his voice.

Greg's eyes narrowed, as man tried to recall the name and he scowled when the picture of the handsome snooker player appeared in his head. He shook his head and looked at his lover again. "I've just found the pool table in the garage." He admitted eventually.

The government's official closed his book, staring at Lestrade thoughtfully. He didn't even seem to remember he had such a thing in his house.

Sure, the cue table is that small I didn't notice I keep it… Greg thought, rolling his eyes slightly. "So?"

"Yes" Mycroft answered slowly, still carefully eyeing the other man. "I tended to play."

Lestrade smiled to himself, satisfied with the answer, and without any other words came back to watching the television, earning one more surprised look from Mycroft.

...

Lestrade decided he would take care of the table and then maybe play a little, just for relax. He had dragged it a little further from the wall and cleaned it little by little when he had some spare time. But apparently, dusting the expensive cloth was harder than he thought it would be. After a few tidying-evenings, he managed to have the surface, the pockets and the cues cleaned, and was just polishing last ball when his lover finally decided to come and see.

Mycroft let a small smile appear on his face when he saw the table back to its old glory. It was his father's and he didn't see it for so long. The head of the Holmes family used to play pool and snooker a lot, but it was when Mycroft was still a little kid. Probably adolescent Sherlock had never seen Siger Holmes with the cue stick in his hands, though, as soon as he could reach, the younger brother was taking a great pleasure in throwing balls at Mycroft.

The government's official shook his head delicately, getting rid of the memories, as he walked close to Gregory. His engagement made Mycroft chuckle a little, and the man nearly jumped, surprised by the sudden appearance.

"Finished?"

"Nearly" Greg said, wiping away an invisible particle of the dust from the cue ball.

"You want to practise?"

The cop shrugged a little, offering his boyfriend a tentative glance. "I'd like to try"

"You did a very good job."

"Yeah, thank you." Greg smiled a little more self-confident.

"Well, then, why don't we play a frame or two?" Mycroft proposed looking over the table.

The detective, even though so enthusiastic about practising the snooker earlier, now, wasn't that perky. He thought about Mycroft's skills and suddenly didn't even want to take the cue stick in hand, positive that he would hold it the wrong way, not even mentioning the actual game. Lestrade didn't really desire to make fool of himself in front of his lover.

The other man noticed his fallen mood and felt obligated to find something, which could encourage Gregory a little. It would be a shame, since the copper cleaned it up so nicely... He smiled to himself.

"Winner takes what he wants."

Greg looked up at his lover and moisturised his lips, before answering with a slight hesitation. "Anything?" It was better to make sure, any deal with Mr-The-British-Government wasn't safe to be settled right after. One inattentive word and one would have to work for the country for the rest of their lives...

"Anything." The government's official assured playing with a ball in his hand. His strategy seemed to work, though, he didn't really think Lestrade was going to win.

Greg offered the table another glance and eventually nodded, gathering all the strength and skills in himself. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

They'd soon settled the table, well, mostly Mycroft, since Lestrade didn't see the point in placing the black ball exactly 12.8 inches from the top cushion. "Rules are rules" Holmes said calmly and came back to perfectly positioning the ball in its place. When Greg admitted he had never played before, Mycroft decided he would also start. Just to make it easier for his lover, playing with the beginner required sacrifices after all.

Gregory with fascination observed how his earlier thoughts were materializing in front of his eyes. Holmes older with grace took the cue, bent over the table and with one smooth stroke sent red balls rolling in every direction. Man hummed with approval and stepped back, to give the other one access. The detective bit into his lip, and trying not to look towards Mycroft anymore, positioned himself to pot one of the red balls. Just before he pushed the tick, Greg heard a loud smack behind him, and slender fingers grabbed delicately his shoulders, pulling him up.

"What?" Greg snapped and turned around with a pout on his face. "Chose wrong ball, did I?"

Mycroft shook his head and frowned. "The ball is perfect, you just can't hold the cue."

Subtle as always Lestrade thought rolling his eyes. "Show me then."

The government's official turned his lover again to the table. Standing close behind, he reached to hold his hands, still clenched around the stick. Mycroft pulled one of them away and guided the second to the lower part of the stick. "It's called wrap." He said quietly, just next to Greg's ear, making the other man jump a little. Mycroft seemed not to notice and slowly continued to place his fingers correctly. "Hold it here. Not too loosely, but not too tight either. You need to be comfortable."

Lestrade did as he was told, letting Mycroft surround him and trying to focus on the orders, instead of the sensation and the warmth.

The politician continued to position him and slowly bent them over the edge of the table, slightly pressing his chest against Greg's back. This time he moved Greg's left hand and placed it on the green cloth covering the table. "Relax." He whispered. "You won't even hit the ball if you're strained like that. All right. Now rest the tip of the cue on your fingers." When the detective did it, Mycroft shifted his arm a little and then let go if his hand, leaving a small pat on his shoulder. "Now it's perfect. Don't just stay like that, Gregory, go on and hit the ball."

Greg bit into his lower lip and eventually slid the cue forward, hitting the balls and pushing one straight to the pocket. He grinned and straightened proudly, while Mycroft slowly clapped his hand with a small chuckle. "Perhaps, we could even make you into a snooker player someday."

Greg rolled his eyes delicately and, still smiling, settled again to pot another ball. Holmes was quite impressed – after being shown how to properly position himself, the other man managed to play… well. Even very well, as for the first time. He was choosing good balls, rarely failing and gaining many points. So many, that he even surpassed Mycroft, and about forty minutes later, when the politician potted the last ball, score was still on Lestrade's side.

He took the piece of paper with their points written down and with a chuckle showed it to Mycroft. "It seems this year Mr. Holmes didn't win the tournament"

"Next season won't be that easy for Mr. Lestrade" He answered, shaking his head with disbelief. "You said you'd never played, or did I mishear?"

"Yes, I said I had never played the snooker before, I didn't say anything about not knowing how to play." He shrugged a little, offering the surprised man a small smile.

"Of course, let's say I actually believe you."

"Oi! But it's true! Anyway…" Greg put the paper down to the table and linked his fingers behind head. The government's official gave him a questioning glance. "Isn't it time to get my reward? Anything, is it?"

"Whatever you wish."

"Is this table old?"

Mycroft raised is eyebrows, but nodded. "Old enough… Wait. No. No, I'm not letting you-"

"Calm down, love." Lestrade rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to sell it" He assured and as a reply got a sigh of relief from his lover. "Would it hold us snogging?"

"Gregory…" Another sigh, this time rather of disbelief. "You did all this cleaning just to make out with me on the pool table?"

"No!" Greg chuckled "Though, it's part of my wish."

"Which is…?"

The copper nervously licked his lips, his eyes wandering between Mycroft and the table. "Me. In charge. Till the midnight."

Holmes glanced at his pocket watch. "Then you don't have much time left" he said, with his brows still high on his forehead.

"That's why I didn't want to waste it with walking upstairs…"

"…and take an advantage from having the table right beside?"

"Yeah" Greg nodded delicately. "May I?"

Mycroft smirked slightly and raised his hands up in a submissive gesture. "Until the midnight – control is all yours."