He had watched from a black car until he was sure Sherlock and John had left and checked his phone. One of his assistants had sent him news of Sherlock's latest case, and given the details, he assumed that the consulting detective and his army doctor might not even be back until morning. This would be an adequate amount of time for him to complete his task. Picking up his phone he started a new text message:
'Come soon. I have new details. –SH'
Mycroft Holmes smiled at his driver, who smiled back at him from the rear view mirror. Opening the door he stepped out onto the street in front of Speedy's, his umbrella and freshly polished shoes clicking down onto the ground in sync.
Stepping lightly but with purpose towards the door of Sherlock's flat he smiled to himself. The black car pulled away as he produced his spare key to the flat and let himself inside. Once he was in the hall, he was greeted by Mrs Hudson. To avoid all confrontation he simply told her Sherlock was waiting on him and that he had given him a spare key ("You know how lazy my brother can be Mrs Hudson!") and she let him go, slightly flustered and halfway through a myriad of sentences as Mycroft stalked up the stairs, still smiling. He could hear Mrs Hudson talking to herself about hearing things, thinking that her boys had already left when he stepped inside of 221b Baker Street.
One solitary lamp was on, and he shifted over to it awkwardly, trying to decide whether or not to leave it on or turn it off, to plunge the flat into empty darkness so as to better hide himself. In the end, he flicked it off quickly, walking backwards a few paces to stand in the kitchen and await his visitor.
It didn't take long at all before his plan fell into action. Standing silently, feeling awkward and slightly uncomfortable with his predatory stance, he shifted from foot to foot, waiting patiently.
He had heard the door open, and watched, his eyes already accustomed to the dark, as Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade made his way into the living room. The detective called out for John and then Sherlock, which struck Mycroft as particularly odd. He did what Mycroft had hoped he would, turning on the lamp and sitting down in John's seat. This was when Mycroft made his move.
Lestrade shifted slightly in the chair, adjusting the little Union Jack pillow as Mycroft took his first step forward. A floorboard creaked and Lestrade sat upright, frozen. For a brief moment, Mycroft feared that he had blown his cover, that he had just ruined his chance with the man he had coveted for so long. Who he had wasted thousands of pounds of the country's money and hours of the British Government's time following and researching. Who he had spent night after night lusting after as he sat alone in his own home. Greg Lestrade, the man he was going to make his own.
Mycroft had managed to stay still and silent enough to allow Greg to settle down again. This time, he moved with precision, holding his umbrella just off the floor, picking up pace as the adrenaline took control of him and he made his way over to Lestrade.
Another floorboard creaked, but Mycroft was quick enough and lifted the umbrella up to the side of Lestrade's face, so as to constrict his movement. He stood for a moment, allowing Lestrade to collect himself and after a few minutes of conversation Mycroft decided he'd had enough.
By the time the lust became all-consuming, he was standing directly in front of Lestrade, staring at him, taking in every inch of his body, noting the vulnerable position the inspector was in. Mycroft was unsure how the rest of this would go, but he was sure that he would be the one to initiate it, and he'd have to start off just right otherwise he'd face rejection.
Watching Lestrade stare at the floor in confusion, Mycroft picked up the umbrella and pressed it against Lestrade's chest, dominating the situation, holding him, pinning him against the chair but not putting too much pressure on it so as to give the option of moving away. Since Lestrade didn't shift he traced the buttons up and down.
As Lestrade looked up from the floor pouting his lips and his large brown eyes glistening and shining in the dim light, Mycroft Holmes leaned in and kissed the man he had been fixated on for months on end.
Mycroft worried for a moment that he perhaps been too forward, until he felt the other man's lips press against his own, returning the favour. Since he was now sure that the feelings were reciprocated, Mycroft flicked his tongue over Greg's bottom lip and then ran it along his top, pleading for entry to his mouth. After a few seconds, Greg parted his moist lips and opened his mouth wide for a full on kiss from the charming Mycroft Holmes.