Chapter Two

"Good evening, DI Lestrade." Lestrade nearly dropped his steaming cup of coffee. He put it down, very carefully, and looked up with a tired sigh at the man that had interrupted his well deserved coffee break. Been a bad day.

"Mister Holmes." Lestrade nodded curtly in acknowledgement.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Mycroft pointed, with his umbrella, at the empty chair across the table from Lestrade.

"Should I brace myself for a long, slightly threatening conversation?" Lestrade rolled his eyes, he was quite proud of his self-control, but Sherlock was really pushing it recently! Always witholding evidence, sometimes, not even telling Lestrade what he was investigating. He had Sally and Anderson on the edge of their seats and it was Lestrade who had to listen to their childish rants at the end of the day.

At Mycroft's slightly reprimanding look, he let out a sigh. "Sit, please, it would be my pleasure." he near growled.

Mycroft sat.

There was a long stretch of silence while Mycroft did a preliminary examination of the DI before Lestrade finally caved in. "Did you want something?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "Coffee? Tea? ...Chai?" Something vaguely resembling a smile flitted across Mycroft's face before disappearing.

"Tea, thank you." Lestrade waved for the cafe waitress to come over and placed the order. "And a scone." Mycroft added, just as the young lady was about to leave.

Lestrade nodded at her with an apologetic look. "A scone for the gentleman, please." The lady nodded and left

They waited for the tea and scone to be delivered before pursuing any further conversation. "Do you have any idea why I'm here?" Mycroft asked after a dignified sip of tea.

Lestrade just looked at the mysterious man, eyebrow raised. "Well, the more publicly accepted reason would be 'for tea and scones' wouldn't it?" he grumbled. "Though, you're a Holmes, so I really wouldn't count on it being that." he rattled off casually.

Mycroft looked just slightly amused by his response. "Have you spoken to my brother recently?" he asked Lestrade.

"Why?" Lestrade asked mock-curiously. "Have you?" Oh, now he was just being childish!

"I'm concerned as to what he's gotten himself into now." Mycroft said, ignoring Lestrade's quip.

"Arn't we all?" Lestrade sighed tiredly. "Though, he's not talking to me about it, so it's probably a legally dark area. Meaning, I really don't want to know."

"You're not even a little bit curious?" Mycroft's brow wrinkled a little in puzzlement.

Lestrade let out an impatient groan. "See here?" He lifted his hand horizontally to his eye-level. "That's how deep I am stuck in my work... on a good day." He dropped his hand limply to his side. "When Sherlock gets involved in a case, it's usually double that! I'm not going to risk that just to feed my curiosity." He slumped deeper into his seat. "You should see how much paperwork comes with your brother." he groaned in despair. "Have to write apologies for complaints filed against him. Bail him out of jail for breaking-and-entering, suspicious actions, disturbing the peace... And then there's always the trouble of having to cover his tracks on a crime scene to dispel suspicions from higher-ups. You have no idea!"

Mycroft frowned a little at the discouraged man. When Sherlock had first 'invented' his career, Mycroft had braced himself for trouble with authorities. He had been pleasently surprised when he learned that no complaints had been voiced, so far, by 'higher-ups' as Lestrade had called them. Who knew? Someone else was doing his job for him!

"Was I wrong?" Mycroft asked, "in thinking that Sherlock's knack for observation was a help on the field?" He inclined his head.

"No, no." Lestrade waved at him dismissively. "Sure, he's an annoying prat to work with." he admitted. "And, if my officers and I had his level of deductive skills, I would throw him out of the investigation without a second thought... but, we don't." Lestrade looked out of the cafe window with a dark frown. "And, God help us, we need all the help we can get." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "And I'm not above asking Sherlock for it, either."

Mycroft nodded in sympathy for the distressed man.

Then, Lestrade glanced at his watch with a start and a groan. "Sorry, you will excuse me, I've got to go." He gathered up his coat from where he hung it on the back of his chair and dropped a few bills on the table. "Got to give a profile at the station. Crime never rests, and all. Afternoon. Enjoy."

"Going so soon?" Mycroft asked in slight surprise. "You haven't even been here for more than two minutes before I came."

Lestrade blinked, expression carefully blank. "Dear God, I hope you're not stalking me." Tone surprisingly neutral.

Mycroft shook his head. "No."

"You do this to everybody?" Lestrade asked suspiciously. "Just to intimidate them?"

Mycroft let out a low chuckle. "I do 'this' to everybody, yes. But to intimidate them? No."

Lestrade let that sink in for a moment. Then he nodded carelessly. "Okay, enjoy your tea and scones, anyway." And he began walking away.

Mycroft watched him go for a second. "Hm, not bothered by that in the least...?" he murmured, if Lestrade heard him, he made no inclination toward it. "Inspector!" Mycroft called out suddenly. Lestrade stopped and turned on his heel, raising an eyebrow in polite curiosity. Mycroft snatched up his umbrella from where he had hung it over the table's edge and extended it toward the DI, making no move to stand. "Looks like rain, doesn't it?"

Lestrade turned to look outside and observed the water-laden clouds. He sighed and walked back over to Mycroft, taking the umbrella with a slight nod of genuine appreciation. "Obliged." he murmured and walked out.

Sherlock, Mycroft knew, for a fact, would never know the pains the DI went through to keep him out of trouble. Lestrade was far too modest to tell anyone, and too professional to let any of his collegues know. One very importantly question hung in the air around Mycroft. All this trouble, why?


"Oh. My. God." John swiveled around to catch Sherlock gaping unabashedly into Lestrade's office, ignoring the stares and frowns being directed his way.

"What is it?" John asked curiously, wondering what had gotten his usually calm and collected flatmate's jaw sweeping the floor.

"Sherlock, what's going on?" Lestrade asked, walking down the hall to meet them.

"Dear God in Heaven," Sherlock gasped again. "is that Mycroft's umbrella, on your desk?" he asked in amazement. "Why is it on your desk?"

Lestrade peeked around Sherlock's tall shoulders to see inside the room. "Oh, that, he let me borrow it earlier this afternoon." Lestrade told him.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade and stared incredulously... for a long time. "Did you steal it?" Did the DI not know the significance of the umbrella! It was Mycroft's umbrella, for God's sakes!

"No, Sherlock!" Lestrade sqwawked indignantly. "I did not steal it!"

"Mycroft never lets go of that umbrella, much less, lets other people touch it!" Sherlock persisted.

"Well, he offered it to me." Lestrade told him calmly. "I should know, I was there!"

Sherlock ran a critical eye over the DI, obviously looking for some kind of change in his behavior or expression. Lestrade shrugged his shoulders and shook his head innocently in a way that meant 'Nothing to be seen here, Sherlock. I'm telling the truth!' Then Sherlock's eyes widened in epiphany. "No! You!" he sounded incredulous. Then a disgusted look. "Eww!"

John and Lestrade shared a bewildered look before turning back to Sherlock. "Mind elaborating?" Lestrade asked gingerly, not really sure he'd like the answer.

Sherlock looked at Lestrade, aghast. "Dear God, do you really not know?"

"By your reactions, I'm not sure I'd like to know." Lestrade replied uneasily.

Sherlock just shook his head and grabbed John by the elbow, steering him away. "Nevermind, I'll let you two handle the... situation on your own." Then a feral smile grew across Sherlock's face. "Well, I've got a text to send to Mycroft... I'm never letting him live this down!"

And just like that, they were gone. Lestrade blinked after them in bewilderment, then he looked back suspiciously at the innocent-looking umbrella sitting on his desk, quite unsure of what to do with it.

"Aw, bugger it!" he groaned in frustration. "Why can't I get any normal aquaintances!"