Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade looked quite unlike himself in the back seat of the car. He kept shutting his eyes, tilting his head back, and then snapping awake. He blinked, heavily lidded. He was alone, for now. He thought if he could just shut his eyes for a moment, he would be fine. He leaned his head against the door, let his eyes close slowly, and instantly began snoring.

He hadn't the time for a proper shave and was looking quite scruffy. His fingers were nicotine stained, he had given up on quitting completely, and he was up to a pack a day. His fingernails had been bit down to the nubs, it was a terrible habit. He was surviving off of caffeine, refined sugar, and nicotine. He was high strung and not because of the finalizing of his divorce. He was far more concerned with the affair he was having off on the side.

Cases had been piling up, which was common with the changing of seasons, people started dying left and right when the weather cooled and the holidays loomed. The paper-work was atrocious and tedious. His eyes burned and felt like they were going to melt out of his head if he read the computer screen another minute. Then the black car showed up, to whisk him away. He called it a booty call, the other man called it business.

He was torn with how he felt about life. He was becoming quite desensitized to every form of stimulus. Every form except sexual stimulus. He would enter the room-of-the-week, there would be an arm chair propped up in the corner, he'd remove his belt, walk over to the chair, grip the back, and shut his eyes until it was all over. Then he'd smile to himself, turn around, and get his.

Lestrade smiled in his sleep at the thought, the corner of his mouth twitched. The car came to a stop. Lestrade's eyes shot open. His head nodded forward. The door opened. The driver held the door and Lestrade tumbled out of the car and looked half-drunk as he walked into the brick building. The surroundings were a blur as he was guided to the office door. The driver announced Gregory's presence.

"He may enter." Lestrade heard from the back of the office. Greg took a deep breath, tried to get his adrenaline pumping so he didn't pass out the minute he entered the door. Mycroft sat across the way, intently reading some files. "Have a seat." Mycroft didn't bother looking up, he kept his eyes locked on the photos and documents in his hands. Lestrade glanced over to the corner. An arm chair sat waiting. His eyes started to become heavy once more. He willed himself awake.

He tried his best to smoothly walk over to the arm chair. He stumbled a bit and plopped down. He hadn't yet actually sat in one of the arm chairs on which they conducted their business. It was quite comfy. The fabric was so... Lestrade jerked awake. He hadn't even realized he had dozed off. He looked down at his wrist-watch. He'd been out of the office for an hour already. "Sh-" he stopped mid-word and thought of Mycroft in the room. Shit!

"You are dismissed" Mycroft said coldly from his office chair.

"I... I just nodded off. I'm ready now" Greg hopped up and turned to clutch the back of the chair.

"Your services are not required today, thank you" Mycroft pointed to the door with his pen.

"My... services? I... I'm fine... fine now. Just a bit of fatigue. Fine now. Refreshed." He actually felt much better after the short cat nap.

"You are dismissed."

Lestrade's mouth hung open. He let go of the chair's back. Sat down and buried his face in his hands.

"I've been lookin' forward to this all week. It... it's all I have to look forward to. Can't we just?"

"The feeling has passed. Our time is up; you will be expected back at Scotland Yard shortly. I suggest you pull yourself together."

"I was just tired. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Please." Mycroft didn't respond; his eyes were still on the case files. Scanning. Deaf to Greg's pleas. "Fine." Lestrade stood and walked over to the desk. He stood opposite of Mycroft. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned in. "If you're not having yours, at least give me mine." He stared directly at Mycroft. Mycroft didn't bother glancing up. "You know what? Don't look up. I'll have my way with you for once. You can just read your God damned files while I fuck the hell out of you. Oh, the things I could do to you... all the hell you've put me through. Week after week I've been taking it up the arse, and for what? Just so you can suck my dick?" Lestrade was breathing hard, he was steaming with anger. "You posh bitch. I'd just love to fuck the snide look off your face."

Lestrade fell backwards on to his knees; he gripped on to the desk, and rubbed his forehead against his hands. "God what am I saying? Please... just have me. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I don't even want mine. Just... I just want to feel something. I'm so numb. I can't feel anything any more. This whole affair has been just fu-screwing with my head. I can't eat, I can't sleep. I need something. Anything." Lestrade looked up. Mycroft's expression was emotionless; he even let out a small yawn. Lestrade held on tight and pulled himself up, his knees were shaking. He was exhausted physically, emotionally.

"Please. Just look at me. I'm begging. You never look at me. Before, during, after. I just want... I want..." He gripped the desk as he moved to face Mycroft. He stopped at Mycroft's side. He clutched the side of Mycroft's chair and dropped to his knees once more. "I just want to... be held. Kissed. Anything. I'm going mad with this arrangement. God why won't you look at me?" He dropped his head on to the arm rest of the chair. He began to sob quietly.

He raised his head and looked up at Mycroft. He was stoic; completely indifferent to the grown man weeping next to him. Greg stood up. He lunged at Mycroft, grabbing him by his blazer and held him tight. His hands were shaking "Why won't you look at me?" he shouted. Mycroft's eyes finally met Lestrade's. Lestrade fell once more to his knees still gripping Mycroft's suit jacket. "God... I could make you... so... happy. If you would just... just let me... let me." Lestrade sputtered and started crying heavily. He let out heavy laboured breaths and rocked back and forth on his knees, holding on to Mycroft for dear life. "Why? Oh God. Why?" He let go and held his head. He fell to the floor, tears streaming down his face, he moaned in agony.

Mycroft straightened his suit jacket. Placed his hands on his desk and stood. He brushed himself off, checked his pocket watch and glanced down at the Detective Inspector. He let out a small sigh.

"Gregory, I fear that our little arrangement has become too much for you to manage. You have become far too attached, emotionally, and therefore, your services are no longer required." Mycroft walked curtly past the man crying on his carpet. He grabbed his umbrella at the door, placed it on his forearm and went to make his leave. "Good day, Detective Inspector."

The Iceman

All of Lestrade's past hit him at once as he lay on the floor. His wife leaving, finding out she was with his daughter's PE teacher, losing the custody hearing, his own parent's divorce, losing both his parents, his childhood dog, his first goldfish. Nothing, compared to the pain he felt for becoming so emotionally attached to a man who was made of ice. He cried until the tears ran dry. Until he passed out from exhaustion on the office floor.

He woke some time later, in his own bed, in his dingy two bedroom flat. His eyes were stinging and he was unsure of his surroundings. It took a moment to figure out where he was. He had no idea how he got there. All he remembered was breaking down completely and passing out in Mycroft's office. Lestrade felt strange inside. He had experienced an intense release. He had pent-up all his emotions for his entire life and they were now just coming out. All at once.

For once, he felt relief. He was near happy. Laying everything out on the table had felt good. Usually after seeing Mycroft Holmes he felt filthy, used, yet he always wanted more. He didn't realize he had wanted so much more. How alone he had felt. Now that he had admitted it, he felt good inside. It wouldn't last, the crushing realization of what his actions had caused would hit him soon enough. For now though, Greg could close his eyes and sleep. Blissfully.