Mystrade Short for Toomerrymaiden
Have you ever had something sneak up and blindside you? Not like, a person-or a criminal, that's happened before-but more like a realization. Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector at Scotland Yard, has an epiphany in the middle of a small café. He's sitting there, waiting for Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft bloody Holmes. The man who occupies 'a minor position in the British Government' and can ruin him life with a single phone call.
They're going to have coffee and talk.
Not like it's not a normal occurrence for Greg. Ever since he'd met Sherlock and helped him get clean Mycroft had kidnapped him on a regular basis to check in on his brother. After a while Greg had just told Mycroft to meet him at this café every Thursday.
And he'd agreed.
He wonders how many people get this much of the elder Holmes' time. Probably not a lot, but he's more than positive he's not the only one Mycroft visits to talk. He knows John has been kidnapped on more than one occasion. He knows Mycroft visits the flat about once a month.
But none of this helps him with his revelation; he's got it bad for the elder Holmes. He doesn't want to say he's in love-but then again, he's always been bad about admitting the truth to himself-but he knows he feels quite strongly for the other man.
And that doesn't bother him. The being a man thing, not the feelings; the feelings are scaring the ever living out of him. He's knows since his first year of college that he'd been bisexual, but after marrying his ex-wife, he never thought it'd matter.
So there he sits, waiting for Mycroft who's an hour late and feeling stood up. It's not uncommon for Mycroft or Greg to have to reschedule-they do it often enough with their jobs-but today he'd received no such call. He looks down at his phone-not the first time he's checked it either-and contemplates swinging by to see his kids. He's got plenty of time and he's got today off. But his ex-wife had told him they had plans today.
Sighing, he grabs his coat from the back of the chair and leaves the café, wondering how he's going to spend his day off. Once outside, he sighs and watches as his warm breath clouds out in the chilling winter air. Making a split decision, he turns left and starts making his way down the street at a leisurely pace. With no destination in mind, he ends up at the park where he and Amanda had taken the kids often. Now, it seems like he never sees his kids.
Reaching into his large coat pocket, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He contemplates not smoking, but he figures he's got nothing going for him in his life but his job, so why not? He places one between his lips and shoves the pack back into his pocket before looking for his lighter. Before he can get through two pockets, a voice calls out from behind him.
"Do you need a light?" Greg turns, slightly surprised, and sees Mycroft holding up his lighter.
Greg holds back a smile, turning to the elder Holmes and letting him light his cigarette before taking his lighter and pocketing it.
"Are you picking up habits from Sherlock now? That's a bad idea you know." He takes a long drag before taking it away from his lips, holding it between his fingers where he can idly fiddle with it.
"You left it in the café. My apologies for my tardiness, I…lost track of time." Mycroft dodges.
And Greg is used to that; he never gets a forthcoming answer from the ginger about his personal or work life.
"You usually call." Greg takes another drag before, "I felt a bit stood up Mycroft. That was very rude." Greg wonders if Mycroft can tell when he's being teased.
More importantly, Greg wonders if Mycroft knows he's flirting. Just a bit. Not like anything will come out of it.
'Nice self-confidence, there, Greg.' He thinks to himself.
But Mycroft doesn't even bat an eyelash. He gestures for both of them to walk with his ever-present umbrella and Greg follows without a single protest. They make their way through the park talking as they usually do; How Sherlock is handling being sober, how Sherlock is handling working with Scotland Yard officially now that he's back from the dead, how John and Sherlock's relationship is fairing-and Greg is as vague as possible because he doesn't want to ruing John's confidence in him-now that John let him back into 221B, and how his life is going.
He finds it odd that Mycroft will listen to him talk for an hour and a half-how long their chats usually last-without so much as a peep if unprompted. But he's not complaining; Amanda never let him get a word in edge wise and every time he did it backfired so spectacularly he ended up sleeping on the couch voluntarily.
After they've circled the park for the third time, Mycroft leads the way towards the edge-and it shocks Greg that he barely even touched his smoke after starting their little walk-where a black car is waiting for the ginger haired man. Next to the door is Anthea-or whatever her name is this week, he and John simply call her Anthea so they know who is being talked about-in her usual black pencil skirt and stilettos.
"Detective Inspector." She greets with a nod of her head.
"A." He nods back that the shorter woman.
She opens the car door before walking around and getting in on the other side. Greg turns to Mycroft and smiles, a bit disappointed that his time with the slightly taller man is coming to a close.
"Next Thursday, then?" Greg turns to leave.
"Actually," Mycroft turns to him, "I was wondering if we could reschedule."
"Sure, what's up?" Greg turns back around.
"I have a…meeting at the normal time." Mycroft smiles that secretive smiles and Greg wishes it didn't looks so good on him.
And then Mycroft actually smiles at him, and Greg is blown away. There's just the barest flash of teeth
"I was wondering if you'd join me for dinner next Thursday."
Greg kind of stares for a bit, before collecting himself, "Sure. It's a date." He waves as he walks off, happy with the day's outcome.