Firstly, I must say, however much I may want to, I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any other recognised characters.
My beta, the amazing Lydia, my best friend is to thank for any adventurous vocabulary and amazing spellings and any mistakes are mine.
I shall be (trying) to post a chapter each day as I'm going for the advent effect but... who knows?
I don't like to ramble so, enjoy and on with the Mystrade!

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December 1st - A Text

Gregory Lestrade was sat in his office finishing off paperwork in the almost dark; only the light from the lamp and a slight glow from the window was being cast across the desk. His coffee had long since gone cold and the computer had given up flashing his Scotland Yard screensaver.

With a flourish, he signed his name at the bottom of the file he had been checking and dropped his pen unceremoniously while he flicked the folder closed with an unsatisfying slap.

Greg pushed the file away from him as he leant back in his chair, letting a loud yawn echo around the room. He stretched his arms above his head and checked the clock on the wall opposite. He just made out the hands pointing out that it was very late. 11pm.

Well, he didn't have anything to go home to tonight. Or ever. But today was especially dull and had lowered his mood considerably. It was the first of December and the thoughts that hit him with this information had been cruel on his conscious.

This would be his first Christmas alone in fifteen years. Greg slumped further into his chair.

His phone flashed, causing the room to glow an almost blue colour and cast menacing shadows. He picked up and unlocked his phone to find a new text message from one Mycroft Holmes.

You deserve some rest, Detective. -M

Greg couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips. He and Mycroft had become friends over the years since Sherlock had started working on cases and Mycroft always knew how to cheer him up.

Of course they had gotten around to asking each other to use their given names and Mycroft had accepted, even if that meant using his whole given name. However, it seemed that Mycroft resorted to using Greg's title when being especially pushy.

Lestrade glanced over at the pile of paperwork that was yet to be completed and decided to leave it until tomorrow when he was thinking properly and not sleep deprived.

He placed both palms on his desk and pushed himself into a standing position with a groan. God, he definitely wasn't as young as he used to be. Then that thought made him feel a little more lonely. He hadn't a chance of meeting anyone new to fill the emptiness and spend lonely nights with at this age.

There is a car waiting to take you home. Take care of yourself, Gregory. -M

There it was again. The perfect timing to lift his spirits once more. Mycroft was a godsend, and that wasn't the first time he had thought that. The man knew everything and always made him feel better.

Lestrade pulled on his coat and stepped out of the office, locking the door behind him. He left the Yard with a spring in his step and he entered the waiting sleek, black car that waited. There wasn't anyone else in it so Mycroft must have been busy. That just made the texts even more special if Mycroft found time in his hectic schedule to look out for Greg.

When the car pulled up outside of his apartment block, he sighed happily and left the vehicle with a smile on his face and a reminder to himself to invite Mycroft round for Christmas.