"How's Sherlock?" Mycroft asked from the doorway, looking over to where Greg Lestrade was at his desk.
"You already know how he is, I'm sure." Lestrade gestured to an empty chair, "Come in, Mycroft. And close the door behind you."
"Yes, but you're the only person who I ask that he actually talks to. Apart from John of course." Mycroft stepped across the room and sat in the chair that Lestrade had indicated, hooking his umbrella over the arm rest.
"Well he's the same as normal. Irritating." Lestrade looked over at Mycroft, "I only put up with him because of you. Donovan and Anderson can't stand him at all. No one else will work with him."
"I pay you enough." Mycroft was examining his nails, "Though most people still would have quit by now I commend you on your ability to put up with my little brother."
"He is a trying man. But he is brilliant."
"If only he would put that brilliance to better use. He does worry me so."
Lestrade sighed, "Mycroft can we please stop the act? We both know why you're here and it's definitely not to check up on your little brother's exploits."
Mycroft smiled at him, "Oh all right. How have you been, Greg?"
"Busy with work. And I was starting to worry, you haven't been here for a few weeks."
"No... I have been rather busy at work myself. All top secret you understand."
"In the same way that these meetings are?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow.
"These meetings are no longer exactly secret. I'm sure people are beginning to talk." Mycroft chided.
Lestrade got to his feet and moved over to him, "Your brother doesn't know."
"I'm sure he doesn't." Mycroft stood up as the other man got closer. "Though he never could understand situations of this manner."
"Are you sure the door's shut?"
"Absolutely."
"And locked?"
"Most definitely. We wouldn't want to be interrupted." Mycroft put one hand softly on Lestrade's shoulder before leaning in to him, capturing Lestrade's lips with his own. The other man closed his eyes, pressing against him. As cold as Mycroft's façade could be at times when they were alone like this is was a rare occasion when his defences were down. All the broken facades seemed to lie at their feet as they embraced.
When the time came for Mycroft to leave would be when they picked up the pieces.
Author's Notes: I don't own Sherlock. This is a 2am piece of random inspired by a conversation with my friend about Mystrade. I blame her for everything (you know who you are!). Hope you enjoy lovely readers. This is the first thing I've uploaded in months because I've been so busy but if you read my other stories, they will be up and running again soon!