Hello, my dears!

Haha, I couldn't control myself, I love Mystrade so much! Don't worry about this: I will make a series about the past relationship between them! \o/ It is good, isn't it? So, be ready for more: teenlock, fluff, angst and, I hope, a happy ending!

And, of course, you should listen to "What It Takes" - Aerosmith!

Thank you so much for reading this!

PS: English is not my first language and this isn't beta'ed either. Please, tell me if I have made any mistake, right?

PS2: To fully understand this, I recommend you to read "We've been to hell and back again", another fic of mine.


Heavens, it was the worst week of his life!

First, Mycroft had a meeting with the Primer Minister about some terrorist attack in London. Second, he had to make legwork to rescue Sherlock and bring him back.

With no word of thanks!

And now, this.

"Anthea?" He called through the device on his table.

"It is Jane this time, Sir." She answered, entering the office and closing the door behind her.

Mycroft nodded, glancing towards his desk. "What is this envelope?"

It took one look to Anthea, or better, Jane recognize it.

"That is an invitation for the Detective Inspector Lestrade's birthday."

He nodded again, crossing his legs and arms at the same time.

"And who sent this?"

"The Yard, Sir."

Mycroft took the envelope and looked it carefully.

"Is it a surprise party?"

"Not at all, Sir. The Detective Inspector knows about it."

He carefully played with it on his fingers.

"And why would the DI send me an invitation?"

Jane remained still under his gaze.

"It wasn't him, Sir. John Watson and Mary Morstan, his fiancé, are the ones in charge of the guests list."

Mycroft nodded quickly, turning his attention to his papers. Jane nodded too and left the room.

The older Holmes waited until the door closed. Sighing deeply, he dialed one number on his phone.

"Doctor Watson?"

"Yes, Mycroft. What do you want?"

The British Government chuckled silent.

"Am I disturbing anything?"

"Would you hang up if you were?"

"Probably not. " He chuckled again, unable to avoid it. Then Mycroft remembered his motive and the smile faded on his face. "May I ask you why I was invited to Detective Inspector Lestrade's Birthday?"

It was John's time to chuckle.

"The proper question is why you shouldn't have been invited."

The older Holmes sighed.

"My relationship with the Detective Inspector is entirely professional."

"Oh, really? What… Wait a minute." Mycroft heard John yelling at someone. "I am so sorry, Mycroft. Sherlock told me you and Gregory were friends for years, I thought… God, forgive me. Forget it."

Mycroft frowned. Was Sherlock trying to do some prank on him or did he really know what happened between them? Despite all his efforts to forget it, Mycroft and Gregory surely had had a past. A hurtful past.

"Thank you, John. Maybe I should drop by to say my best wishes. After all, he took care of Sherlock so many times."

Both chuckled. Then, the line went dead.

For nothing on Earth Mycroft would admit it, but he was eager to see how was Gregory going after all these two years.


Gregory Lestrade was really, really happy on that day. His credibility was restored, there was no bad feelings between him and Sally and Anderson, Sherlock was alive, John was moving on with his life, his divorce didn't hurt that much anymore and all his friends were here to celebrate his birthday.

It was the most awesome day ever!

Of course, as the host, the DI stood at the door to welcome every guest. Even when Sherlock arrived insulting him and everyone, he just smiled and hugged the younger Holmes.

However, when Anthea arrived, his smiled faded.

"I am sorry, whatever is your name now, to be rude, but this is my birthday and I am not going to meet your posh boss today."

She smiled, freeing the way. Looking behind her, Gregory saw a ginger hair and the most beautiful eyes on Earth.

Crap.

"What a manner to receive your guests, Detective Inspector. I almost feel at home. " Said the man with an smirk.

Gregory turned his hands into fists.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft faked an innocent expression.

"Didn't you know? I was invited."

"Invited?" Said Gregory with widened eyes. What on hell was going on? There was no reason to Mycroft be invited. Not at all! "This is impossible."

"Ask John and Sherlock yourself. For my little brother, you and I apparently have a beautiful and ancient friendship. I am here to honour that estament."

Lestrade closed his eyes, unable to avoid it.

"I am warning you, Mycroft. One more word of it and I am out of here. I am going to stay in the same place with you against my will only because of my guests, and not without some effort. Don't mess with me."

The older Holmes nodded and walked to his table, where Jane was already sitting, without another word. Inside his head, however, Mycroft was surprised. After all these years, Gregory's hurt feelings still on.

Greg took a deep breath, avoiding to follow the man with his eyes. Gosh, why would deserve that? Why couldn't Mycroft stay away from his life?

Sighing again and putting a smile on his face, Greg walked to the stage, talked to his guests and invited Sherlock to sing, who, against all odds, didn't complain about it.

When Sherlock began to sing Killer Queen, however, Gregory almost laughed out loud. Of course Mycroft was the reason!

Mycroft… Shaking his head, he ordered some whiskey, unable to avoid it. When John and Sherlock have finally recognized his feelings in front of everyone, Greg became even more depressed.

At least, one Holmes had a heart after all…

When his turn of singing came, he was drunk, feeling slightly dizzy. Taking the microphone, he waited the tempo and began to sing:

There goes my old boyfriend

Well there's another diamond ring

And all those late night promises

I guess they don't mean a thing

Everyone looked startled for a moment. Have the DI just said "boyfriend", not "girlfriend"?

Mycroft looked directly at Greg, starting to have a bad feeling about that. The man was drunk and the British Government presence was making him suffer… Oh, no. He wouldn't do that!

Gregory wouldn't dare to sing and expose to everyone his relationship with Mycroft!

So baby what's the story

Did you find another man

Is it easy to sleep in the bed that we made

When you don't look back

I guess the feelings start to fade away

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, worried. The younger looked back, arching an eyebrown. Oh, did he notice that too? For a moment, Mycroft felt an urge to make Sherlock pay for this. It was his fault, the bloody bastard!

I used to feel your fire

But now it's cold inside

And you're back on the street

Like you didn't miss a bit, yeah

Gregory was with eyes shut, an expression of total pain and loneliness that made the people whisper about it. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he happy?

Tell me what it takes to let you go

Tell me how the pain's supposed to go

Tell me how it is

That you can sleep

In the night without thinking you lost

Everything that was good in your life to the toss of the dice

Tell me what it takes to let you go

After Sherlock had whispered something at his ear, John looked mad at Mycroft. The older rolled his eyes.

Boy before I met you

I was f. I. n. e. fine

But your love made me a prisoner

Yeah my heart's been doin' time

Now everyone was sure Gregory was singing to a man. And more: this man was at the karaoke-place too. Who was he? Anderson, perhaps?

Spent me up like money

Well then you hung me out to dry

It was easy to keep all your lies in disguise

'cause you had me deep with the devil in your eyes

Some people noticed John and Sherlock' glares at Mycroft and started to eye him too, trying to find out what the man had with that.

Tell me what it takes to let you go

Tell me how the pain's supposed to go

Tell me how it is

That you can sleep

In the night without thinking you lost

Everything that was good in your life to the toss of the dice

Tell me what it takes to let you go

Gregory looked direct at Mycroft's table, and the redhead couldn't suppress a shiver, the bad feeling growing even more.

Tell me that you're happy that you're on your own

Tell me that it's better when you're all alone

There was some tears appearing at Greg's eyes. With an impulse, the Di ran out of the stage to Mycroft's table, grab the front of the man's coat and started to sing right at the older's face:

Tell me that your body doesn't miss my touch

Tell me that my lovin' didn't mean that much

Tell me you ain't dyin' when you're cryin' for me

With that, Gregory dropped the microphone on the floor and left the bar, unable to look back.

Mycroft sighed and stood up, coming after the DI. He was glad he told Anthea – no, Jane – to do nothing even if Greg tried something. The detective would be dead by now.

Not that Mycroft wouldn't kill him, of course, because Gregory had made him angry too.

The older found the DI some blocks away, with many tears running down his face.

"Gregory."

"Go away. Look what you have done!"

Mycroft shrugged.

"I haven't done anything, Gregory. You were the one who started to sing, anyway…"

The DI pushed him hard against the wall, unable to control his angry.

"I am not talking about this damn party, Mycroft! I am talking about me. You have destroyed me!" He let go Mycroft's coat, cleaning away his tears with another hand. "You can't control yourself, right?" He sighed, trying to feel more calm. It was useless. "I loved you so much, but you couldn't be with me. I tried to be happy without you, but you couldn't allow that, could you? I am yours, right? I've always been yours…"

Mycroft was wordless. Of course he knew everything about it (for God's sake, it was this way about twenty years now), but still, Greg's reaction did surprise him.

"I apologize if I have made you feel this way, Gregory."

Greg's eyes widened with the indignation.

"You are /sorry/? Oh, don't worry, apologies accepted. Now, go to your posh place with your posh arse and be happy, Mycroft Holmes."

He only watched as Gregory started to walk away. For the first time on his life, he didn't know what to do.