Chapter Eleven: He Does Look Quite Dashing


Author's Note: Ah, and we come to the final chapter. I hope people have enjoyed this story and thanks to all those who have reviewed, favourited or added this story to their story alert. It's a pleasure writing for all you Mystrade lovers. Cheers.


Things just seemed to slot into place after that. Weekly dinners were arranged and Mycroft always made sure he was free. Unless there was a massive emergency Mycroft would accompany Greg to a nice dinner at a small restaurant with his parents. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Greg's parents began to warm to the idea of Greg and Mycroft. They would probably never accept it, not completely, but Greg didn't care. As long as they could be happy for him and like Mycroft that was all that mattered.

Greg and Mycroft managed to fit time together into their busy schedules. They didn't get to see each other as often as either would like but that was just the way things were.

After a month long trip Greg practically dry humped Mycroft when the politician stepped into the flat.

Mycroft chuckled. 'Food before sex?' he asked.

'Why?' Greg whined and Mycroft kissed him softly. 'Hello.'

'Hello there,' Mycroft smiled.

Greg dragged him into the living room where take out containers were waiting.

'You tease me, Gregory,' Mycroft said.

Greg grinned. 'It's what I do best.'

They both dropped onto the couch and opened the containers as Mycroft poured wine and got comfortable, peeling off his coat, jacket, waistcoat and tie. He smiled at Greg and they both leaned back into the couch.

Doctor Who started and Mycroft smiled at it. Greg looked at him, watched as the younger man sipped his wine, ate his takeaway, and watched the TV. He had his body twisted in Greg's direction and his knee was pressed against Greg's thigh.

He looked around the flat, suddenly realising he never wanted to leave. He'd been there for seven months but it had never felt like home; it had always been Mycroft's flat. But the wardrobe was half filled with Greg's stuff. There was beer in the fridge, his toiletries in the bathroom, his DVD's and books stacked neatly alongside Mycroft's. It was as much Greg's flat as it was Mycroft's.

Greg smiled as he realised that he was finally happy; he finally felt safe. He had a wonderful boyfriend who he loved, his divorce was final, he'd come to terms with his new sexuality. Work would always be the same, Sherlock would always be the same, but now Greg had somebody he truly loved to come home to.

'Gregory?'

He turned to see Mycroft watching him, wiping sauce from his bottom lip.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah,' Greg grinned and leaned forward to kiss Mycroft softly. 'I'm great, actually. Erm...'

'Yes?' Mycroft asked.

'Can I stay here?' Greg asked. 'Forever?'

Mycroft paused, blinking at him. Finally he swallowed whatever food was in his mouth and said, 'Are you asking if you can live here permanently?'

'Yes,' Greg said. 'I practically do anyway.' He looked Mycroft over carefully. 'Unless you don't want me to.'

Mycroft dropped his food and wrapped his arms around Greg tightly, his lips crushing into the DI's. 'I want you to stay forever.'

Greg grinned. 'Forever is a long time, Mycroft.'

'Not long enough, my love.'

Greg smiled and leaned back, shifting closer to Mycroft, who moved so their shoulders and legs pressed together. Mycroft glanced at him every few minutes as they ate, smiling when Greg caught him.

Greg grinned back.

-oOo-

Greg yawned and pulled himself up, flipping his phone shut and dropping it back on the dresser. He stumbled from bed and went straight to the wardrobe to pull out a suit.

'Where are you going?' Mycroft demanded, still buried in their sheets.

Greg smiled as he reappeared, 'Work.'

'Why?'

'Bills,' Greg said and pulled his trousers on.

'Stuff the bills,' Mycroft yawned and Greg chuckled. 'Come back to bed.'

'There's been a murder, Mycroft.'

'Let Sherlock solve it.'

Greg shrugged into a shirt and buttoned it up as he approached. Mycroft had rolled over to his side of their bed and blinked up at his boyfriend. 'Why do you suddenly want me to stay?'

Mycroft rolled his eyes. 'I love you.'

'Mm, I think it's because I completely fucked you last night.'

Mycroft chuckled and leaned up to steal a kiss. 'Maybe. Is that such a bad reason to stay?'

'It's the perfect reason to stay,' Greg said but pulled back. Mycroft whined as Greg grabbed his jacket. 'I have to go, Mycroft.'

Mycroft yawned and sat up. 'I'll give you a lift.'

'No, go back to bed.'

But his boyfriend was already untangling himself from the sheets. He stood and stretched, giving Greg a full view of his pale and freckled torso. He ran his eyes along Mycroft's body, right down to his muscular thighs. Mycroft smirked at him.

'You're doing that on purpose.'

'Maybe.'

Greg chuckled and wrapped his arms around Mycroft. 'I have to go to work.'

'And I'm taking you.'

'You need sleep.'

'I need you more.'

'That's a lie.'

'Nope.'

'Mycroft–'

'I won't be home until Wednesday,' Mycroft said and kissed his lips lightly before moving along his jaw. 'That's three whole days, Gregory.'

'Mm,' Greg mumbled as Mycroft's lips pressed against the tender area beneath his ear.

'That's three whole days without you, without touching you like this...' he trailed off as his warm, soft hands ran along Greg's neck and beneath the collar of his shirt. 'That's three whole days of not breathing the same air as you.' He mumbled the last sentence against Greg's lips and the DI swallowed.

'Uh huh.'

'I won't be able to do this,' he whispered and let his hands fall to grip Greg's hips. 'Or this.' He thrust himself forward softly and his erection pressed against Greg's. 'Three days, Gregory.'

Greg suddenly found that he didn't really want to go to work. How could he possibly leave when Mycroft was pressing against him like that? How could he leave when Mycroft was gripping his hips and running his lips along his jaw?

'Gregory?'

'Kiss me,' Greg moaned. Mycroft pressed his lips against his boyfriends softly and Greg pulled him forward. He threaded his fingers through Mycroft's hair and dragged him closer, crushing his lips against the politician's. He pushed Mycroft back onto the bed and climbed atop him. 'You... planned... this...' he mumbled as he pushed himself forcefully against Mycroft.

'Maybe,' Mycroft grinned coyly and dragged Greg down. 'Don't you have work?'

'Fuck work,' Greg said and unbuttoned his shirt. Mycroft chuckled as Greg pulled at his pants.

-oOo-

Greg stepped from the sleek black car and cleared his throat as Mycroft joined him. Sally Donovan spotted them and came over.

'Holmes and the doctor beat you here,' Sally said. 'What took you so long?'

Greg swallowed and scratched the back of his head. 'Er, traffic, you know,' he said lamely and glanced at Mycroft. Mycroft just smiled pleasantly and Sally snorted.

'What are you doing here?' Sherlock demanded as he and John approached.

'I'm a cop,' Greg said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Not you, Lestrade,' he said and glared at Mycroft. 'You, why are you here?'

'I enjoy crime scenes,' Mycroft said. 'The yellow tape is very soothing.'

Greg snorted and John chuckled. Sherlock scowled. 'You are interfering with my life, Mycroft.'

'I merely gave my partner a lift to work, Sherlock,' Mycroft said and leaned against his umbrella. 'There is no crime against that.'

'And you needed to dress in a pompous suit to do that?'

Mycroft rolled his eyes. 'Not all of us can pull off the casual look, Sherlock.'

'I hardly dress casually, Mycroft,' Sherlock sniffed and glanced down at his tight-fitting suit. 'Who wears waistcoats anyway?'

'I do.'

'You look ridiculous.'

'Oh, Sherlock, I'm hurt,' Mycroft said. 'Surely you are just jealous.'

'Of what?' Sherlock demanded. 'Your thinning hair and weight gain?'

'Not all of us can weigh less than fifty kilograms, Sherlock,' Mycroft huffed. 'Some of us actually enjoy eating.'

'Some of us enjoy stuffing our faces,' Sherlock said.

Mycroft glared at him. 'I hardly stuff my face.'

Sherlock smirked. 'Did I touch a nerve, Mycroft? Are you unhappy with your appearance?'

'My appearance is just fine thank you very much,' Mycroft said. 'At least I don't look like a racoon.'

'A raccoon?' Sherlock spluttered.

'Do you style your hair like that on purpose or does it naturally look like a bird's nest?'

'I am not about to take fashion advice from you!' Sherlock spat. 'I am far better looking!'

'You are not.'

'John would agree with me.'

'Gregory would agree with me.'

It had become a full blown Holmes bickering session and Greg and John both knew they were about to get dragged in. They quickly retreated and left Sally Donovan to question a witness as they walked to the body.

'Tell me about the victim,' Greg said and glanced her over.

'Woman, thirty-two,' John said. 'Strangled, Sherlock says with barbed wire.'

'I see,' Greg said and took out his notebook. He wrote down what John had found. When he was done he glanced over to see that Mycroft and Sherlock were still arguing.

'Let me guess,' John said, turning to Greg. 'You agree with Mycroft; the elder Holmes is far better looking than the younger.'

Greg smiled and looked at John, whose eyes were on Sherlock. Sherlock was arguing with his hands and Mycroft was leaning on his umbrella as he snapped at his brother. He glanced at Greg briefly and smiled. Suddenly Sherlock's voice rose higher and Mycroft retorted with something that had Sherlock balling his hands into fists.

'You have to admit, John,' Greg said and gestured at Mycroft with a nod. 'He does look quite dashing in those suits.'

{THE END}


Author's Note: And the story comes to an end. I want to thank everyone who reviewed this story, favourited it or put it on their story alerts. It means so much to me to know that people are enjoying my stories.

I also just wanted to say that this story came to me when I thought about Mark Gatiss in those Mycroft suits. I just thought, 'He does look quite dashing,' and I decided to make it something Greg thought. A simple sentence turned into a few thousand words which turned into eleven chapters.

Please note that I am working on a sequel that may or may not eventually be put up. It has a tentative title of 'Sherlock: He Does Look Quite Striking' and that may change. I've only written half a chapter so far so it may take a while for an actual story to unwind. It will most likely cover proposing, marriage, kids, so on and so forth.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this story. If you didn't, tough cookies.

I live to entertain.

And, most importantly,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}