As per usual, I do not own anything related to 'Sherlock'. They, however, are the proud owners of my heart. I loves loves loves them!

Thank you BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffatt, for doing such a great thing with Sir ACD's amazing work!

Never again would John play Cluedo with Sherlock Holmes. The same force of conviction could be said of Greg Lestrade answering a late afternoon Mycroft Holmes'-summons to his office in the Diogenes Club. Greg had been kept waiting for close to an hour before Mycroft finally appeared, looking rumpled and exhausted.

Unbeknownst to Greg, Mycroft had had Jim Moriarty for weeks by this time and had just met with the Consulting Criminal for the first time. After leaving the prison, Mycroft knew he needed Greg, needed to tell him, needed him to know, before Mycroft lost what felt like his very soul to the psychopath in his charge.

"Hello, Gregory."

"Mycroft."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thanks. Why am I here, Mycroft? You had me waiting long enough."

Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in an uncharacteristically emotional manner. "Yes. I apologize for my delay. It was ... unavoidable." With drink in hand, Mycroft carefully lowered himself into his chair, sipped, and breathed carefully.

Greg worried. That was too easy. Mycroft never apologized - and meant it - as sincerely as he'd just sounded. "Mycroft? What's wrong? How can I help?"

Mycroft sat behind his desk, keeping his eyes on Greg. "I needed to see you Detective Inspector, for a very personal reason."

Greg remained quiet, standing, waiting, across from Mycroft's desk.

"Gregory, you've been an excellent influence on my brother, and I owe you much for that. You have my thanks and eternal gratitude."

Greg's eyebrows spiked into his hairline. "Yeah. Yeah, sure, Mycroft. No problem. I mean, he's not a treat to work with most of the time, but he's effective." Greg smirked a little at his assessment, knowing his description was very (extremely) mild in comparison to the truth.

"Yes." Mycroft gazed off into a distance far away in his own mind. "He is at that." His laser-point gaze focused on Greg as he allowed a precious moment to steel himself. "Gregory, would you accompany me to dinner tonight?"

Ohgodohgodohgod. Had he not been a cop far longer than anything else in his life, Greg Lestrade would have been a blithering mess on the floor. As it was, the dizzy spell that struck him...

"Um. Yeah... Okay. Sure, but there's no need. I mean, Sherlock's my friend, so..."

"No, that's not what I meant. I should have been more clear: Gregory, would you please join me for dinner, without any work or Sherlock or the rest of the world between us?"

Greg sat then, quite heavily, in the chair opposite Mycroft. "As in, a date?"

Mycroft cocked his head to the side and nodded once. "Yes. A date, if you will."

"So... you mean... you're... interested... in me?" Greg Lestrade will deny to the day he died that he squeaked the last word, but if it made Mycroft Holmes smile like that, he'd do it again and again and again.

"Good."

Greg blew out an unsteady breath, grinning at the end. For a moment, Mycroft had hope, and smiled back.

If it wasn't clear, when Mycroft needs to tell Greg / needs Greg to know, it means he needs Greg to know he's not a cold, callous, heartless bastard, and he does have needs and desires. Lucky for Greg Lestrade, Mycroft needs him... ;)

PS: Thank you Indiagold, Clytemnestra Mowan, and "Guest" for your reviews. They're so appreciated!