A/N: This is an AU. Mycroft is still the Mycroft Holmes we know, Greg, on the other hand, still being the man we are all familiar with, occupies a much more interesting position.
I have only some knowledge how British government works, all of it came from a couple of episodes of Doctor Who and a tv show Secret State, which actually is an inspiration behind this story. I hope I didn't mess it up too badly.
Also in this universe Mycroft's plan with the plane was successful.
Brit-picking: Riverdancer17. I am very grateful for all the help with my story.
Summary: AU. Upon becoming a Prime Minister Gregory Lestrade expected not to be told what to do anymore. He couldn't have been more wrong. Mycroft/Lestrade.
This is only the beginning...
It had been a difficult fight. Hard work, long hours of planning. Only getting home in the early hours of the morning, or not going to his flat at all, instead staying in the office, one day of work slowly merging into another. It had been worth it though; everything, missed family holidays and practically nonexistent personal life, had been worth this one moment.
The doors of his new office had closed behind him as he stepped over the threshold, leaving all the noise and people outside, giving him a moment of peace in what was going to be one hell of a life. Everything had changed, but not really. The same lonely sleepless nights awaited him but now he would have a satisfaction of knowing that he had made it – he had reached the top. He would be forever content in that feeling.
He breathed in slowly, the air filling his lungs, and let in out a sigh that turned his lips into a smile. This was it. The moment he had waited for his whole life, this was what he was always striving for. He got it. He made it.
With a smile he crossed the office and sat down behind a large desk.
Gregory Lestrade. Prime Minister of Great Britain.
It was only a couple of days later that his careful mental balance was broken.
It was late, sometime after eleven p.m., and Greg had already been considering going home. The day had been an easy one, nothing major warranting his immediate attention, but he still worked late, somewhat happy to stay in the office. It gave him confidence and even happiness, this constant reminder that he was worth it, that he had been elected to this position.
There was a soft knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer a person on the other side carefully slid it open and soundlessly stepped inside. Greg tensed. There were no visitors scheduled but the security had let this man pass without any question. Well, that only meant that the questions were left for him to ask.
"Who are you?" Greg did not raise his voice.
The man glanced at him but did not reply, instead silently crossing the room and settling into one of the chairs across from Greg's desk.
Greg Lestrade was not a coward, but as an ex-army man, he could sense danger. This man, sitting gracefully in front of him and regarding him calmly with only a hint of a smile glinting in grey eyes, exuded an air of confidence and power, someone to be afraid of, but not because of their physical power, because of the influence they held in their hands. Unconsciously the Prime Minister glanced at the stranger's hands, clasped on top of his crossed knees.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you." The man said; and now Greg was sure that he caught a fleeting upturn of his lips before his face was schooled into a mask of indifference.
"Not at all," Greg replied, leaning back in his own chair. The man seemed dangerous, but the Prime Minister didn't feel threatened. The prevailing feeling was curiosity. "But I'll be grateful if you answered my previous question."
This time the man allowed Greg to see his smile. "I believe we have already met." He answered. "But I guess you don't remember me. What a shame." A fake sigh and a glance away made a pretty but unconvincing picture.
Instead of asking any more questions Greg looked at the man's face more carefully. A very aristocratic appearance, pale skin, high cheekbones, blue-grey eyes. Handsome in his own way. Pale, thin lips – nothing to look at if not for that half smile and a teasing glint in his eyes accompanying it. Laughing at Greg; mocking the Prime Minister.
But the man was right; his face did seem familiar. "I believe we've met at all those fundraisers and official openings and whatnot. But I don't think we've ever been introduced to each other." Greg remembered noticing a tall man, attractive in an incongruous way, catching his eye once or twice. Though they've never been close enough to start a conversation or even exchange greetings.
The stranger nodded, pleased. "Mycroft Holmes, at your service."
"Gregory Lestrade, Prime Minister." Greg replied in kind.
The man laughed, sound soft falling from his lips. "Believe me I know who you are. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
"So you have some business with me, Mr. Holmes?"
"Mycroft, please. We will be working for a long time together, after all." He was teasing, playing, giving obscure answers so that Greg would have to press with more questions.
It could have been an interesting game, had the stakes not been quite so high. At 10 Downing Street you do not play with strangers.
"I'm not sure I like this conversation."
"We are on the same side, Prime Minister." The man placated him. "We share the same interest – the well-being of the British nation." Despite the excessive pathos of his words, it sounded sincere. "I'm sorry to say this, I truly am," he did not look sorry in the least. "But there is a lot you do not know about our beloved country."
"Really?"
"Truly," Mycroft nodded. "But now that you have reached this position…" He trailed away, not saying anything concrete, merely implying.
Greg frowned. "Who are you?" He asked sternly.
Mycroft smirked.
"I don't mean your name, Mr. Holmes."
"Well, my dear Prime Minister, I am the man who will be pulling your strings for as long as you occupy this post. Once you resign you will be free from my influence."
"So you want me to resign?" That seemed the most obvious answer. Like hell Greg was going to give up everything he had worked so hard to get.
"I didn't say that."
"Then what?"
"I already explained, Mr. Prime Minister." The mockery was so obvious in his voice.
"So," Greg leaned forward on his elbows. "You are saying that you are going to control my every action." He scoffed. "Yeah, sure."
"Not every action." Mycroft replied with a level of condescension that Greg really didn't appreciate. "Mostly foreign policy, some secret affairs."
"I believe I am familiar with the head of MI6 and he is not you."
"Oh he is a lovely man. And his wife makes delicious pancakes." Mycroft smiled while Greg was trying to quickly come up with another approach to the situation. "Also I am quite sure he'd advise you not to stand in my way."
"What will you do if I go against you?" This was ridiculous; Greg should not even be asking this question, he should not be considering Mycroft Holmes's words. The best course of action would have been to call Security and have this man escorted out of his office. But it was Security who let him in here in the first place. What was going on?
Mycroft sighed, as if all this was such a hardship. "I usually don't take part in what happens at Downing Street, and by that I mean I do not interfere with who is going to be elected as a new Prime Minister, but I do like crushing them down when they start making rush decisions that could only bring grief to my beloved country."
"Such a patriot you are."
"That I am," Mycroft nodded with a smile. But in the next moment it slipped from his face and the warmth disappeared from his grey eyes. "Do we have a deal, Prime Minister?"
"A deal?" Greg repeated incredulously. "I still have no idea who you are. And you are asking me to blindly obey you? Who in their right mind would agree?"
Mycroft looked away with a roll of his eyes. "I so hoped it wouldn't come to petty persuasion."
"Is that a threat? I do not take well to threats." Greg warned. He knew he should call the security – it was a right thing to do according to the protocol and, frankly, to common sense – but Gregory Lestrade had never had much common sense when his own well-being was in question.
"I am not making any threats, Prime Minister," Mycroft replied in a tone that suggested that the mere idea was preposterous. "I'm merely stating that you are more difficult than your predecessor."
Greg kept silent, despite all the new questions running through his head, preferring to wait for the man to continue. He didn't have to wait long.
"Are you familiar with the, so called, 'Bond Air' incident?"
"The plane crash."
Mycroft nodded. "And how much do you know about what had actually happened?"
Greg narrowed his eyes, mistrust rearing up with new force. Who was this man? "I know enough to understand what you are implying."
"Wonderful." The man replied with delight. "Then I only have to say that the whole incident was orchestrated by yours truly," he gave a slight nod. "And you'd understand me completely."
"How can I trust you? A man who broke into my office?"
"That's the thing, Prime Minister. I did not break in. I simply walked in, with no one stopping me. Because, trust me, people close to that one man in power – who is now you – know not to get in my way. I only do what is best for my country."
"That country being?"
Mycroft laughed airily. "Tricky question? It did not work."
Greg smiled despite himself. No matter the circumstances, it was a pleasure – talking to Mr. Holmes. "So you are saying we are going to be working together?" He asked lightly.
"Don't worry, Prime Minister, you will realize that everything I am saying is the truth soon enough." A smirk stretched across his thin lips at the playful tone.
Greg laughed, still not sure what to think of this man and his words. Anyway, he found he rather liked Mycroft. "Then call me Greg."