A/N: My Internet connection keeps dying; don't think Mycroft liked my last comment about his sneakiness but heyyyyyy. I just want to know, is this plot making any sense? cheeerrrss me dears. Another fave and alert, I'm very lucky (Reviews would be very appreciated but not life threatening) :P Edit: Haha I just realised Lestrade threw his phone away while writing this, lets just say Molly gave it back after she got rid of the text. I dunno why I keep making Lestrade suffer :/
Enjoy!
Emm xx
Chapter 8
Mycroft fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably. He was used to travelling by private jets not waiting for an hour before he had to check in, in a crowded airport. If Sherlock were here, he would be scoffing at the snobbery of his older brother, laughing at his awkward appearance, sniping about his pathetic escape from the person he loved the most; but he wasn't and Mycroft had failed at his brotherly duties once again, and for the final time. He had tried to care for Sherlock the best he could when he was allowed to do so and to his credit he hadn't done everything wrong.
At the sound of his phone beeping, probably Gregory leaving another message about his whereabouts; he went to press voicemail. Sure enough the strained voice of the Detective Inspector could be heard and with a weary sigh, he deleted the message, better to cut all ties.
"Is this seat taken?" Mycroft looked up to see a young male, student going by the state of his jeans and hoodie. He had dark blond wavy hair and warm brown eyes, but there was something vaguely familiar about the way he held himself, not slouched over like many other young adults. Judging by his accent he was Canadian.
"Please, be my guest." He replied smoothly, removing his leather holdall off of the seat and allowing his new acquaintance to sit down.
"Thank you." The two men sat in compatible silence for a while; Mycroft tapping out messages to Anthea to tell her that he needed to get away for an undecided amount of time and the student fiddling around with his ipod. The ringtone that Gregory had assigned for himself a couple of months ago broke through the quiet abruptly and he winced sharply. He should get this over and done with.
"Mycroft Holmes."
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the student's pale eyebrows rise curiously in response to the introduction. He bit back a smirk and focused in on what Gregory was saying.
"Mycroft! Oh thank God, My. I've been worried sick, where the fricking hell are you?"
"Gregory, you need to calm down."
"Calm down! Calm down? Mycroft your bloody little brother just died, and you're nowhere to be fucking found!"
"There is nothing that I can do to be of assistance there, it is better this way."
"Nothing… You can do? My, what? Seriously, please just tell me where you are."
"I'm at the airport Gregory."
"Oh, you uh have a business meeting. Right, this soon afterwards. Guess this means you'll be missing the funeral."
"No. No,Gregory. Not a business meeting. I'm- I'm leaving London, I have to start again."
The silence on the other end of the phone was heartbreaking.
"Gregory?"
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. He had hung up. Not that Mycroft blamed him, not at all.