Meeting the man

Mycroft Holmes was about to do something strange. Something very strange indeed. He was going out, out for a walk, maybe even a drink. Anthea, his PA (personal assistant) had successfully convinced him to. He adjusted his suit, made sure his hair was combed to perfection and picked up his favourite umbrella out of the wide collection. It was a deep navy color, so deep it looked almost black, just like his suit. Satisfied with his appearance, he left his office.

He had been walking mindlessly, letting his mind wander for the first time in ages, for quite some time when he heard a familiar voice. Or rather, a voice that should not be familiar since they had never officially met, but nevertheless familiar because he was always in the shadows. He looked up and saw that he had stopped in front of a pub, a pub of all places. He sighed but got in, curious as to what a certain person was doing here. There, on a stool at the bar sat the man Mycroft had curiously watched for several years now. His name was Gregory Lestrade. He seemed to be quite tipsy, but not drunk, though not quite far from . He shouted something that made Mycroft chuckle. "Sherlock holmes is heartless bastard!". He quietly sat down next to the man, who didn't immediately notice his presence. "Although that is not quite true, Sherlock does tend to act that way, I can assure you." Mycroft said.

Greg had been very, very upset when he entered the pub. His wife had divorced him a few months ago leaving him homeless and with a lot of stress, and on top of that, Sherlock bloody Holmes had been pestering him all day. Why couldn't the bloody man just give him a break? He heard his tipsy self shouting some stupid things, and immediately regretted when he heard a soft but mesmerizing voice chuckle quietly and respond: "Although that is not quite true, Sherlock does tend to act that way, I can assure you."He looked up and looked right into a pair of eyes that were very much alike sherlocks, and yet so so different. They looked knowing like sherlock's, but in a different way. " Hold on, aren't you.." "Mycroft Holmes, pleasure." The man said, giving him a small smile. Gregory was baffled, that his drunken shout had been heard by Mycroft Holmes of all people. He didn't know much about him, only that he practically owned the british government and that he was sherlock's brother. He felt himself blush and stammered an apology, which Mycroft casually dismissed. I wholeheartedly agree with you, Mr. Lestrade. "You can call me, Greg, mr Holmes, especially you." Greg stammered, still awe of this man. He looked so calm, yet so powerful. He was all Greg wanted to be when he was younger, actually, all he still tried to be, though he never seemed to be able to. He realised he had been staring, and quickly looked down.

Mycroft didn't know what to do. This was the very first time in his entire life that he was nervous, and he hated it. To be honest, this was also the first time he didn't know what to do. Off course he knew that looking up gregs files and watching him from the shadows wasn't exactly normal, but when his assistant Anthea had caught him he had just waved it off as security business, although he knew that wouldn't fool her. She was a lot smarter than she let on. Besides, when had he, Mycroft Holmes ever been normal? He tried to keep his face straight, and saw Greg quickly looking down...as if he was embarrassed. Despite himself, he couldn't possibly come up with a reason why greg would be. "You can call me Mycroft, if you please". He said, his voice quavering ever so slightly, but he hid it with a small cough. Greg smiled. They sat in silence for awhile, enjoying each others company and their drinks. Mycroft actually really enjoyed a good scotch and a few minutes later, they chatted away, like friends who knew each other for years. Mycroft couldn't believe himself, he was chatting! Apparently handsome men had a certain influence on him. Wait, did he really just think that? Handsome? Since when had he started to become sentimental? Since when had he started to care? Since the day you saw him, you stupid sod! He answered himself. He had to admit it to himself, he was incredibly attracted to this man. He had always been, but he had mentally waved it off. Till now. Till he actually met the incredible man called Gregory Lestrade.

After quite some time, and a lot of drinks on both sides, it was 1 Am. Mycroft looked on his golden pocket watch and was shocked. He had never before interacted with another human this long. He looked over at Greg, who definitely drunk now. He got a cab and helped Greg in. "Where do you need to go?" He asked. "Noowhereee, I don't have a home anymore...I j-just kinda live at the office at the moment...and a bit with mah parents, reeeally". He slurred. Mycroft gave the cabbie his address. "Come with me" He said. "You can sleep in my house for this night, for as long as you need, really. He added hastily. What was he doing? This was going to be his death, being around this bloody gorgeous man for so long, he was sure his...bodily urges couldn't handle that, to say the least. But when he looked into gregs eyed, scared that he would reject the idea, finding it preposterous, he saw his eyes lit up happily, and then, greg hugged him. He actually hugged him. Despite what many said, the ice man wasnt a Virgin. But that was a long time ago, and he had lost all his self confidence about his body even though he tried to work out regularly. It just didnt work with him being the british government and all. Mycroft felt all warm and tingly, he felt happy. All because of 1 hug of greg. This was going to be a long week indeed.