"A New Job"
"Thank you for coming to see me," Mycroft said, and he gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Greg Lestrade sat down.
"Not like I had any choice," he said. Then he muttered, "Not like I've got anything better to do."
Mycroft winced imperceptibly. "I must begin by saying how truly grateful I am for the support you have given my brother over the years, and I only wish that your loyalty could have been repaid appropriately."
"Yeah, well." Greg didn't really have much to say about that. Nothing he hadn't already said time and again.
"He was innocent. Moriarty was behind my brother's fall; Richard Brook never existed. I intend to prove this, perhaps even with your assistance."
"And what can I do?" Greg asked, sweeping his arms wide as he scowled at Mycroft, sitting so calmly in his leather office chair. "I haven't got access to the Met's records anymore. In case you didn't notice, I've been suspended."
"Oh, I did not mean for you to continue working as a policeman, Gregory. May I call you Gregory?"
"Call me Cinde-bleedin'-rella if it means you get to the point."
Mycroft smiled indulgently. "I am offering you a job where your talents - which have, until now, been sorely wasted - shall be appreciated. The compensation is far greater than you have received at New Scotland Yard. You merely need hand in your resignation—"
"Oh yeah? What's this job when it's at home, then?"
"Have you not worked it out yet? How disappointing."
"Look, the only thing I can think of - since this is you - is that you want me to join the Secret Bloody Service, or somethi… Wait. You're not serious?"
"With the breakdown of your marriage, and being an orphan, there are few family members from whom you must keep your work a secret," Mycroft said.
"You don't have that problem anymore," Greg said. Then he flinched. "You know what I… I'm sorry, all right? Just been a bit stressed lately. But… MI5?"
Mycroft arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think that it is that particular division that I had in mind?"
Greg's eyes widened. "Look, I… Stop talking in riddles, Holmes! What do you want me to do?"
Mycroft smirked. "Do not tell anyone of this conversation. I will not put you to the test in this matter; you have suffered sufficiently as it is. But it is my duty to my br— my late brother to continue to look after you." He stood up, and held out his hand. Greg hastened to shake it, also getting to his feet. Mycroft's words didn't make any sense, but he just nodded. "I look forward to hearing your answer in three days' time."
Two days later, Greg's letter of resignation was on his governor's desk, and there was a black car waiting outside.
Originally posted on Tumblr, like many other fics I've started posting. I figured that Mycroft should totally help Lestrade after everything that happened. Maybe that's what he's doing in the trailer!