Mycroft heaved a sigh as he spared himself a glance in the mirror. He would be lying through his teeth if he said that he was completely prepared for this.
But it was Gregory James Lestrade waiting for him in the adjoining bedroom, and he knew he had to get himself together. It wasn't that he was completely opposed to Gregory and himself having sex, previous endeavors into that field had squashed any sort of ideas about that. It was the idea of having penetrative sex with Greg that was making Mycroft break out in a cold sweat.
Sucking in a deep breath, Mycroft made eye contact with himself, nodded once, then opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, shutting the bathroom with a soft click.
This is five things that happened the day after Mycroft and Lestrade had sex for the first time.
1)
The next day dawned grey and dismal. Mycroft sighed through his nose as he shifted around, attempting to find a comfortable place to sleep for just five more minutes before getting up for work. This caused a dull pain to flare up his spine, and he rolled into something warm and fleshy.
Mycroft groaned a little at the soreness, and the warm mound stirred. Mycroft groaned louder, the warm thing had been perfect to curl up against.
"Hey love, you doing all right?" a gruff, sleepy voice said.
"Mhmm. Now stop moving," Mycroft ordered.
Despite Mycroft's wishes, Gregory continued to shift around until he had one arm thrown over Mycroft's bare stomach.
"D'ya gotta go ta work?" Greg mumbled against the mattress.
"Yes. The entire country would fall if I took a day off."
Lestrade grinned. "That's my boy, saving Britain, one crisis at a time. I love you."
Mycroft froze in his efforts to half-heartedly struggle out of Gregory's grip. They hadn't said those words to each other yet, the both of them knew it was implied, or at least Mycroft hoped it was. And now Gregory had gone and said it. A warm feeling bubbled up in Mycroft's stomach and a silly grin spread across his face.
2) Six hours later DI Lestrade was called into work on a Saturday due to a double-murder suicide that wasn't actually a double-murder suicide and thus required the skills of Sherlock Holmes and his handler, one Gregory Lestrade.
Sally Donovan smirked as Greg pulled into New Scotland Yard.
"What's your bloody problem? There's been a triple-homicide and you're smiling? It's a bit hypocritical really, you calling Sherlock the freak," Greg snapped.
This only made Sally grin wider. "That's odd, I would've thought you'd be in a better mood than this."
"Because I'm at work on a Saturday? Or is it because I get to spend the whole bloody day with Sherlock?"
"Oh Jesus. Is Mycroft really that bad in bed?"
This had the effect of causing Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade to spit his coffee everywhere. This, in turn, caused Detective Sergeant Sally Donavan to burst into hysterical laughter.
"How in the seven hells do you know about that?" he roared at her, causing her to laugh harder.
"An... Anthea," she eventually choked out.
Greg sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm so telling Mycroft to fire her."
3)
The next time Mycroft woke up, Gregory had long since gone to work and the clock read 8:09. He had 12 missed calls and countless texts from Anthea.
With a sigh, he hit a speed dial number and called the Prime Minister of Britain to tell him that for the first time in 18 years of service, Mycroft Holmes was taking a sick day. This was cause for great concern, and a grinning Anthea showed up five minutes later at his house.
"Didn't sleep well last night Boss?" she asked upon seeing Mycroft still naked in his bed.
Mycroft sniffed. "I slept perfectly fine. I simply took a sick day, people do it all the time. Hand me my robe, I need to shower, and you need to leave."
"I'll be back later with some heating pads. I hear they're good for back pain, but I'm not sure how much good it'll do you," she said, smirking and sweeping away, hair swinging.
When she was at the front door, she turned and called, "Oh, and congrats on the shag Boss!"
Mycroft simply stepped into the shower, muttering something about nosy assistants.
4)
Five cups of coffee after swearing revenge on Mycroft's assistant, a call came in about a triple murder in a flat across the street from New Scotland Yard. It was a particularly tricky one that, unfortunately, required the assistance of one infuriating consulting detective.
Two hours after Greg called John (Sherlock was six times more likely to listen to the good doctor than the detective inspector that provided him with work) Sherlock showed up in his characteristic coat sweeping along behind him. Sherlock was entirely focused on the dead bodies in the room; the first time he looked at Lestrade was after he made a deduction.
Sherlock's mouth was open, he was about to speak, when he gave Lestrade an odd look. His eyes swept over Greg's entire body before Sherlock, a fully grown man, promptly fainted.
5)
It had been a long day for Detective Inspector Lestrade, and he was quite happy to come home and see his partner sitting in front of the television wearing pajamas and holding a cup of tea, watching a show about demons or something.
"No, you idiot, he's possessed! God, do any of these people have any common sense?" Mycroft yelled at the characters.
Lestrade chuckled and took off his tie. Mycroft froze at the sound and turned sheepishly toward the source.
"Have you been like this all day?" he asked.
Mycroft paused the show. "No, I was in bed until a few hours ago."
Lestrade smirked. "So I'm that good? I caused the great Mycroft 'I never take a day off' Holmes to take a day off of work?"
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Do shut up. I only have three more episodes in this season."
Greg chuckled and took off his jacket, throwing it to the side. He sat down next to Mycroft and threw an arm around him. The British Government snuggled into his side and let out a soft noise of contentment before mumbling something.
"Sorry, didn't catch that."
"I said that I love you."
"Aw, I love you too sweetie."
"Shut up."
Author's Note: I know, this was kind of OOC and cracky, but I think it's sweet anyway...
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