Chapter Ten
John returned from the grocery store the next day to see Mycroft and Sherlock in a another one of their catty stare-down battles over the accepting or declining of a case.
"Oh God, tell me when it's over." the doctor groaned, cutting through the room and making a bee-line to the kitchen, unloading all the shopping.
Mycroft just sneered slightly at his younger brother and Sherlock hissed.
John made himself a cup of tea and peeked back into the sitting room. Still staring. He sighed and rummaged through the cupboard for some jam for his biscuits.
Five minutes later, Sherlock was playing a few light melodies on his violin and preening. The file that had been on the coffee table when John walked in was gone.
It seemed like Sherlock had won this round.
"Finished, ladies?" John said.
"I think he's talking to you, Mycroft." Sherlock said derisively.
Mycroft narrowed his eyes back dangerously but let it go.
"How's Greg?" John asked as he sipped his tea.
Mycroft paused for a brief second as he raised his own teacup to his mouth. "He is well."
Sherlock lowered his violin bow, sharp gaze zeroing on him like an eagle stalking crippled prey. "What did you do?"
John looked from Mycroft to Sherlock. "What?"
"I assure you, it is none of your business." Mycroft replied coolly.
"Oh, shit." John sighed heavily, already having a bad feeling about whatever Mycroft was about to say next.
"We had a bit of a... disagreement." Mycroft said reasonably.
"Which, knowing you, could mean anything from World War III to 'swimming with the fishes'." Sherlock pointed out sarcastically.
"Thank you, Sherlock." John snapped. "You're not helping. But I am impressed that you remembered that reference." The ex-military man rounded on Mycroft. "How is he?"
"He has taken up dwellings on Inspector Dimmock's sofa." Mycroft told them.
"Ha!" Sherlock barked, grinning at Mycroft's uncomfortable expression.
"Shut up, Sherlock!" John groaned. "Let the grown ups talk, okay?"
Sherlock made a childish face and stalked off to the window where he resumed playing his violin.
John sighed and turned back to Mycroft. "I hope it wasn't about yesterday's incident."
Mycroft frowned. "I'm afraid it was."
"Well, I can tell you that it really was our fault." John said hurriedly. "We didn't exactly try to stop him hard enough."
"It is not what we did, or did not do, that my brother is upset about." Sherlock chimed in from his place at the window, back still turned to them. "He's upset that Lestrade did not stop us."
Mycroft glared at his brother's back, but did not say anything to contradict him.
"Ohh..." John let out, not knowing what else to say. "I see. Well have you-..."
"Like I said, it is none of your concern." Mycroft repeated, cutting John off, earning him an annoyed glare. "I will handle the matter."
Sherlock snorted. "You? Handle Lestrade? Since when were you so able?"
"Well, what would you advise?" Mycroft shot back testily.
"How about-..." John tried to inject, but Sherlock spoke over him.
"Leaving him alone, he can do what he pleases." Sherlock said flatly.
"An apology wouldn't go amiss." John interrupted loudly before Mycroft could speak. Both Holmeses looked at him, slightly startled. The Doctor raised his teacup to his mouth and sipped delicately. "But this is just the 'dull' and 'boring' human instinct talking, don't mind me."
It didn't take a gifted observer to see that John was clearly annoyed at all the brotherly arguing going on. His expression said 'It's teatime, you brats. Argue over teatime, I dare you. I am going to drink my tea, and free both hands for retribution in just a moment, so run.'
Mycroft stood up and smoothed out his suit with his hands. "Well, this has been fun." he said. "But I must be off. Good afternoon."
And he walked out.
If it is not too much to ask, I would like to see you. -MH
Lestrade stopped rifling through the envelope of photos he had brought in his overnight bag and picked up his phone.
"Is it the elder Mister Holmes?" Dimmock asked, seeing his conflicted expression.
Lestrade looked at him. "Yeah."
Anthea has informed me that it is proper to apologize to you personally. -MH
"You okay?" Dimmock asked him.
"Uh, we had a row." Lestrade confessed.
"Ah, yeah..." Dimmock wrung a dishrag in his hands. "You mentioned that before. Can I ask what happened?"
Lestrade was about to tell him, when he remembered his friend's, and his own, occupation. Perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas to tell him he'd B&Ed with Sherlock and John. "Maybe some other time."
"Well, okay..." Dimmock shrugged. "But, you're alright? He's not giving you any problems, is he?"
Will you come? -MH
Lestrade stared at his phone contemplatively. "Uh... I'll get back to you on that one."
Mycroft had been sitting at his table in the cafe for an hour before someone slid into the seat opposite.
He looked up.
"I was about to give up hope that you'd come." he said.
Lestrade shrugged. "I wasn't gonna. But Dimmock was bothered about that car you sent to hang around outside his flat."
Both knew that Mycroft parked his vehicles with the utmost subtlety when he did not want to be noticed, and was not usually noticed by the average passersby, especially not Dimmock.
Mycroft was surprised enough that Lestrade noticed it without knowing to look for it.
"Have you eaten?" Mycroft asked him, remembering his manners. When Lestrade didn't answer, Mycroft rephrased his question. "Will you eat with me?"
Lestrade rolled his eyes slightly and sighed reluctantly. "Might as well."
Mycroft waved over a waiter and both placed their orders.
When the waiter left, Lestrade turned back to Mycroft. "So, you wanted me to come?" He spread his hands over the table. "Here I am."
"I-..." Mycroft cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize to you about my behavior the other day. That was-..." he faltered for a brief moment when Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "... Inappropriate of me, not to mention unfair to you. If my words have angered or insulted you, I'm sorry."
"Well, I wasn't going too easy on you either." Lestrade admitted. "I was upset and everything I said was meant to hurt you." he looked a little sheepish. "I don't actually mean what I said. ...Sorry."
Mycroft let out a silent sigh of relief, but his shoulders sagged enough to notice to someone who was watching. "Let's call it even?" he proposed.
Lestrade nodded. "We're even."
Mycroft mirrored him. "Good... that's good."
Lestrade's eyebrow rose. "Anything else you'd like to say?"
"I don't underst-..."
A waiter cut Mycroft off as he set down their orders. Mycroft frowned a little at the interruption. Being served quickly was nice and all, but not while he was talking!
Lestrade saw his affronted expression and snickered. "Saved by the waiter, Mycroft." he hinted. "You might want to rethink your reply."
After their meal had been served and glasses of drink filled, the waiter left.
"I'm sorry." Mycroft said when they were alone again.
Lestrade twirled a bite of pasta around his fork. "What for, this time?"
"I-..." Mycroft sighed. "You must understand, Gregory, that there are many things in your life that are - you can say - complicated. With or without your memories."
"Isn't everybody's life like that?" Lestrade asked, sipping from his glass of water.
"Yes, I suppose." Mycroft conceded.
"So, what's so complicated about my life?" Lestrade prompted.
"Let's see, you are on very good terms with Sergeant Donovan, who is one of your closest friends, who annoys you greatly when she fights with Sherlock, who is also one of your close friends, who annoys you greatly when he picks fights with people, especially with John, who is also a close friend of yours, who annoys you greatly when he shoots people, who work under the influence of the consulting criminal - Moriarty, with the Browning L9A1 that he legally does not possess. Which causes the criminal world to cause a ruckus which means more work for the police. And that, in turn, irks me, who you have been at odds with for many years. Have I mentioned that we are in a relationship?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows with an expression that said 'Well? You asked for it'.
Lestrade was frozen in shock, fork levitating in the air between his plate and his gaping mouth. All he wanted was a, 'I'm sorry for not telling you that you were in a relationship before you went around and flirted with other people'! A gob of pasta comically fell off the utensil with a 'plop'.
"If you have not noticed, you are a very complicated man with a very difficult life." Mycroft said with a sympathetic smile. "I apologize about hiding our relationship with you, I did not wish to complicate matters further."
Lestrade finally closed his mouth, but his mind was still reeling slightly at the information overload. "Oh."
"I was, in actuality, waiting until you came to grips with life, handling Sherlock and Scotland Yard, before I told you." Mycroft explained. "The way I see it, you can only be associated with a Holmes, or in a relationship with one. You cannot have both without presently going mad."
"Right." Lestrade said slowly, then his head jumped up. "Waaait a minute, I work with Sherlock, and I'm in a relationship with you!"
Mycroft just smiled and let Lestrade fret over what that smile meant.
"I hate you." Lestrade said grumpily once he realized Mycroft was just having fun at his expense.
Mycroft ignored him and picked up his fork. "Are you eating?" he asked sweetly.
Lestrade narrowed his eyes at the man's petty antics. "Not anymore." he joked, expression mock indignant.
Mycroft grinned slightly. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Bastard." Lestrade growled back, and continued eating. "By the way, who's Moriarty? Is he a friend?"
Mycroft almost choked on his bite of food. "Gregory, we really must school you on your life."
"Crash course on the life of Gregory Lestrade?"
"Quite."