The day after his visit Lestrade's flat found Mycroft in his office as usual. Anthea entered with a file he had requested. "Thank you, my dear. Please see that I am not disturbed for the next few hours. I have much to attend to." Anthea nodded and glided out of the office closing the door behind her.

Mycroft placed the file to the side of his desk and opened his computer. He entered his security credentials and accessed the feed from the cameras he had surreptitiously placed throughout the Detective Inspector's flat. He scanned the footage from the previous night after his departure. Mycroft watched Lestrade fiddle with his phone, 'Probably texting Sherlock', before rummaging about in his kitchen to prepare a simple meal. After Lestrade ate he went directly to the bathroom, where there were no cameras, apparently showering as he exited ten minutes later dressed in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips.

Mycroft swallowed drily. Lestrade dropped the towel giving the government official an eyeful, 'Good Lord, the man is exquisite!'

The older man sauntered to his dresser, rummaging for a pair of pajama bottoms which he quickly pulled on and proceeded to go to bed. Mycroft hoped he might have left Lestrade in such an excited state that he would pleasure himself before falling asleep but Lestrade simply turned off the lamp by his bed and curled up under the covers. 'Perhaps he took matters in hand in the shower. One can only hope,' Mycroft mused.

He closed the footage and was quickly swept up in the usual routine of his work. Meetings with ambassadors, intelligence briefings and correspondence took up much of the rest of the day. Mycroft decided to spend the evening at his club in order to give the detective inspector a chance to cool off and hopefully consider Mycroft's proposition.

The rest of the week continued in the same manner. In the mornings, Mycroft would review the footage from Lestrade's flat the night before. It was obvious the inspector had a fairly simple routine in the evenings when work didn't keep him too late. He would come home, change into comfortable clothing, eat takeaway or a sandwich before sitting for a bit in front of the television with a beer. He tended to nod off on the sofa before shuffling off to bed. Only one evening did Mycroft witness the man pleasuring himself. Mycroft watched this part avidly hoping Lestrade would give away his attraction for the government official but sadly it was Sherlock's name on his lips as Lestrade brought himself to completion.

Mycroft had intended to visit Lestrade at the Yard or his flat on the following Friday but a small crisis in the Cote D'Ivoire required his full attention and he was forced to spend the entire weekend in the office, putting out fires thousands of miles away.

On the following Monday, Mycroft eagerly anticipated watching the footage from Lestrade's flat. Perhaps how he spent his weekend would give Mycroft an indication as to how he should proceed in wooing the stubborn DI.

Once he was ensconced in his office with orders not to be disturbed until after lunch, Mycroft pulled up the camera feed on his laptop. Friday evening, Lestrade did not return home until very late, his demeanor and unsteadiness on his feet indicating a pub night with colleagues. That night the man changed quickly into sleep clothes and passed out on top of his covers.

Saturday saw Lestrade going to the shops for groceries and puttering around the flat. He hoovered the sitting room and cleaned all the dishes that had piled up in his sink. In the afternoon, he got himself a beer and sat on the sofa to watch a rugby match.

Mycroft fast forwarded through most of the the match viewing, only pressing play when he saw Lestrade turn his head towards his front door. Sherlock strode in, having let himself in with a key. 'Not picking locks anymore, brother mine?' Mycroft watched jealously as Lestrade beamed at the tall man while he got up to greet him with a long hug and a lingering kiss.

"When did you get back? Solved the case, I'm sure." Lestrade said, pulling back to give Sherlock room to remove his coat and scarf which the younger man carelessly tossed on an armchair.

"This morning. The case turned out to barely be a 5. It was tedious and time consuming and nowhere near as interesting as the client had intimated in his correspondence. I can't believe I was in Wales for an entire week. John wouldn't stop complaining the entire time. In the end, it was the client's cousin who had stolen the heirloom, hoping to hock it to cover gambling debts. Boring." Sherlock walked to the sofa and flounced lengthwise on it. Sherlock lifted his head and Lestrade slipped underneath the other man, immediately carding his fingers through curly hair with one hand and rubbing the detective's temple with the other.

Mycroft watched as Sherlock melted into the touch. His brother's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed contentedly. The pair remained in this position for the rest of the rugby match, Lestrade glancing at the TV occasionally but mostly gazing down where Sherlock lay with his head in his lap.

Lestrade picked up the remote from the end table and turned off the TV. "Come on, let me give you a proper homecoming." Sherlock stretched like a cat before getting to his feet and heading to Lestrade's bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

Mycroft paused the footage here.

While he had no desire to witness his brother engaging in carnal acts, he most certainly did want to see Lestrade in such a position. This entire situation was a messy one where boundaries and emotions were concerned. Mycroft decided to watch what happened next while keeping his focus on Lestrade and ignoring his brother or perhaps even imagining himself in Sherlock's place.

Pressing play, he watched Lestrade walk towards his bedroom, swiftly pulling his t-shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor of the hallway. Once in his bedroom, Lestrade paused in the doorway to look at his lover who lay sprawled naked on the bed. Mycroft found himself uncomfortable with the look on the Lestrade's face. It was a look of such affection and lust that he began to question the wisdom in his pursuit of the detective inspector.

He shook off the count and the footage continued to play.

Sherlock sat up and beckoned Lestrade closer. Once the older man was standing next to the bed, Sherlock leaned over and buried his face in Lestrade's stomach, wrapping his long arms around and holding him in place. Lestrade gazed down at Sherlock and rested his hands on the other man's shoulders. After a moment, Sherlock let go to drag him down on the bed, straddling Lestrade's hips.

"I missed you," Lestrade said gruffly, reaching a hand to cup Sherlock's cheek. His brother leaned into the touch, "I missed you, too." He leaned down to kiss Lestrade, a gentle embrace that quickly turned passionate.

As Mycroft watched with growing sense of dread, his brother availed himself of the lube on the nightstand, slicking up his fingers which then disappeared beneath Lestrade. The camera angle didn't provide an adequate view but Lestrade's reaction made it clear Sherlock was working him open. The other man moaned Sherlock's name and clutched at the bedsheets.

After a few tortuous moments of watching Sherlock tend to Lestrade, his brother leaned back and slicked up his erection, Mycroft averting his gaze to avoid witnessing his brother handle himself.

When he looked back at the screen, his brother had apparently entered Lestrade and was thrusting vigorously into the older man. The speakers filled with the sounds of the two men coming together, moaning and grunting, flesh slapping lewdly.

It was obviously an intense coupling and it did not last long. Lestrade achieved orgasm first, crying out Sherlock's name. A few uneven thrusts later, Sherlock was joining his lover in bliss, his entire body shuddering in completion. As he collapsed exhausted next to Lestrade, Mycroft heard his brother say, "I love you, Greg." The government official felt his heart clench uncomfortably. Lestrade said, "I love you too, you bloody genius" before grabbing the coverlet and pulling it over their naked bodies.

Mycroft slammed the laptop closed.

He'd read this entire situation incorrectly. Lestrade would not be parted from Sherlock, not by any means. He had not been merely giving lip service to the idea that he was loyal to Mycroft's brother. And Sherlock was not using Lestrade for access to more cases or for simple bodily pleasures. The two were in love. Even if they had said nothing, it was obvious in their interactions. Mycroft was a fool.

He gave himself a few moments to grieve what might have been before opening his computer. He closed the camera footage without a second glance. Mycroft immediately sent an email to a surveillance team with an order to remove the cameras in Lestrade's flat, inconspicuously of course.

He then arranged to have cards sent to both Lestrade and his brother. He mulled over what to put on it the card for Lestrade before settling with: "I apologize for my unwanted attentions. It will not happen again. We will not interact outside an official capacity should a situation emerge. I wish you all the best with my brother. - MH"

To Sherlock, the note he sent said simply, "Congratulations."