Chapter Nineteen
It was hard for Lestrade to keep an eye on Mycroft through all the gyrating couples on the dance floor and he found that it worried him to no end when Mycroft wasn't in his line of sight. It was much easier to keep track of the black A-line sweetheart evening gown Mycroft's dance partner sported.
They neared each other and Lestrade timed his move perfectly.
The moment the music swelled and men twirled their lovely dance partners around, Lestrade released Hoover's hand and turned in the opposite direction, sliding smoothly between Mycroft and his dance partner, causing the lady to twirl straight into a startled Hoover's arms.
"Oh, very clever, Lestrade." Mycroft chuckled, taking Lestrade's hand and continued dancing like nothing had transpired in that moment.
"Wasn't it? I timed it perfectly!" Lestrade laughed back. "I don't care if you think me strange, but I'm quite proud of my accomplishment!" Mycroft shook his head and grinned.
"So, who was that lovely lady? If I remember correctly, she was at the hospital." Lestrade nodded his head toward the woman in question.
"Ah, yes. I don't believe you two have officially met. She is my assistant, Anthea." Mycroft told him.
"Anthea, huh? Quite a pretty lady, very tasteful, Mycroft." Lestrade teased.
Mycroft rolled his eyes and twirled Lestrade around. "She is a secretary, if you will." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "Nothing more."
"Alright, if you say so." Lestrade smirked. "Anyway, anybody stand out to you in particular?"
Mycroft shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. Although, it is getting late and people will soon begin to excuse themselves to get home. It would be about this time that I would also retire."
"And you should, force whoever's after the List to make his, or her, move." Lestrade suggested.
"Oh, good, I was beginning to tire of all the mundane small-talk." Mycroft sighed in relief. They broke off the dancing group and strolled casually out of the building, bidding goodnight and goodbye to the people they passed along the way.
Anthea followed them off the floor, Hoover trailing behind meekly. "It's not fair, Mister Holmes!" the MI-5 agent whined half-heartedly. "Both my dance partners abandoned me in favor of you!"
"Sorry." Lestrade apologized with an embarrassed look, Mycroft just chuckled at him.
"That is because you always choose the wrong dance partners, Hoover." They moved out into the green outside the building and walked toward the vacated parking lot.
There was a loud 'honk' and Lestrade jumped. "Swans." Mycroft smiled pointing down a small knoll to a lake.
In that moment of distraction, they heard a rush of movement behind them and Anthea let out a pained grunt. They spun around. Lestrade called out a concerned 'Anthea!' while Mycroft bellowed an indignant 'Hoover!'.
Hoover held Anthea between them and him, twisting her arm behind her back. "Oh, come on, gentlemen!" Hoover called out. "You can't honestly say you wern't expecting something like this to happen." Lestrade's eyes fell closed briefly as he muttered obscenities under his breath. So Hoover had seen straight through them and had waited for them to isolate themselves before making his move.
"Hoover." Mycroft's voice was dangerously low. "Let her go."
"Um..." Hoover inclined his head, pretending to think about it. "No, I don't think so. I quite like her." He smiled cheekily. "But in all honesty, I was hoping to get that one just to see your reaction." He raised his eyebrows and nodded toward Lestrade, Mycroft instinctively stepped between them, gripping his umbrella handle tight. "He's quite a catch, that one. I've got to give it to you, Mycroft, you really do have good tastes."
"Can I kill him?" Lestrade muttered darkly to Mycroft.
"If you've got a gun, I'd like to use it." Mycroft responded calmly.
"Yes, it's unfortunate, isn't it?" Hoover smiled, pulling out a gun. "That I've got the only gun." He pointed it at Mycroft. "The List, please, Mister Holmes-... actually, you don't mind me calling you Mycroft, do you?"
"I would appreciate if you didn't." Mycroft grumbled but complied, pulling out the USB from his trouser pocket.
"Oh don't be a stranger, Mycroft!" Hoover chuckled. "Put the List on the ground."
Mycroft did so.
"Back away, slowly." Mycroft and Lestrade exchanged glances and took a few steps backward. "Thank you." He closed one eye and aimed at a point right between Mycroft's eyebrows. "Goodbye, Mycroft Holmes."
He pulled the trigger.
Lestrade was already moving before his mind caught up to the fact that Hoover was really going to shoot. He tackled Mycroft to the ground in a half-remembered rugby move and heard the bullet whizz just past his ear before their bodies were tumbling down the knoll toward the lake.
Hoover let out a harsh curse and threw Anthea aside, diving for the USB drive.
But before he could reach it, the toe of a black shoe covered it and the other found a place on Hoover's nose. Hoover fell back with a howl of pain, clutching his face. "Ooh, I heard something crunch." Sherlock grinned at John like a child with a new toy. "Now, what was that he was saying about having the only gun?"
John rolled his eyes, training his military issued handgun at Hoover. "You know, Sherlock, I'm not actually supposed to have this gun?" he said. "I hope you won't continue broadcasting it."
Lestrade and Mycroft untangled themselves from each other with a few pained groans and lay flat on their backs, listening to the swans honk at them disapprovingly. Mycroft sat up and looked at Lestrade in amazement. "Sometimes, I really admire your will to live." he said almost reverently.
Lestrade threw his head back and laughed.
"You alright down there?" Anthea called from above.
Lestrade sat up a little and propped himself up on his elbows. "Agent Hoover thinks I'm a catch, and Mycroft admires my will to live. I don't think I've ever been so popular." he responded dryly.
Anthea raised an eyebrow. "Nothing hurt but my pride, Anthea." Mycroft assured her. "And what, may I ask, are you two doing here?" he asked Sherlock and John.
Sherlock pointed at John. "He was worried, and I was bored."
"Lestrade looked a bit pale when he left Baker Street, didn't want him collapsing without any back-up." John chimed in. "Sherlock found this address when we stopped by Lestrade's flat."
"Remind me to get a guard dog." Lestrade groaned, laying back down and entwining his fingers behind his head. "A really, really vicious one."
Then, of all things, it began raining.
"We should get inside." Mycroft remarked, not moving to stand yet. "Got to secure the List and take Hoover in for questioning, you have no idea how complicated this is going to be." Neither of them moved to stand while Sherlock, John, and Anthea moved inside, dragging Hoover with them. "No, seriously, we should get in before we catch colds." Mycroft continued, trying to sound convincing. Lestrade still didn't respond. "Lestrade?"
He turned to see that Lestrade had closed his eyes and seemed, for all the world, asleep. Lestrade sensed Mycroft's gaze on him and opened one eye. "Oh, come on, Mycroft! Let it rain on England for five minutes. At least you've got an umbrella!"
Mycroft snorted, shaking his head with a smile. "Like a child without a care in the world..." He snapped open his umbrella and held it over the both of them.
Honk! Lestrade sat bolt upright with a start. Then he scowled at the swans who were beginning to cross over to the other side of the lake. "Oh, you bleeding wanker! Sod off, will you! I'm trying to sleep!" the DI shouted at their retreating backs. "And I'm yelling at swans." he groaned in despair, propping himself up on his hands.
Mycroft shook his head with a chuckle. "When the serene moment is gone, it's really gone with you, isn't it?"
Lestrade smiled... and it was that smile.
Purely on instinct, Mycroft leaned in and kissed him, surprising himself more than it did Lestrade.
Lestrade froze for a moment, shocked, before slowly melting into the kiss. "What was that for?" Lestrade gasped when they broke apart.
"A thank you, I suppose." Mycroft responded nervously, very, very conscious of how close their faces still were. "For saving my life." They were so close, Mycroft could taste Lestrade in the air and felt his warm breath on his hyper-sensitive lips.
"I seem to be doing that alot." Lestrade smiled back slowly, a little tense. "That must make you the damsel in distress." he tried to joke.
Mycroft pulled back several inches, gallantly giving the DI some breathing room. "I'm-... I'm sorry if I've made things awkward-..." The government agent swallowed thickly, a shade of red blossoming on his cheeks as he watched Lestrade raise a hand absently to the place Mycroft's lips were just a moment ago. "I didn't mean to-..." Lestrade's gaze leapt up at him, unreadable.
"Um, Mycroft-... I-..." Lestrade stammered over his own words.
"No-...no, don't..." Mycroft bit his lip, stomache churning. "No, sorry, you have something to say. I should listen." It was his obligation, Mycroft thought, kissing Lestrade would put their present working relationship into complete disarray and Mycroft needed to know where he stood with Lestrade now.
"It's... I don't know." Lestrade sighed, carding a hand through his hair, making it stick up every which way. "I-... I'm not - wasn't-" Lestrade didn't seem to be able to make up his mind. "... Not gay." he said finally.
Mycroft imagined, in his mind's eye, a nail being driven into a coffin. "Okay... I understand." He swallowed and moved to leave.
Lestrade's hand darted forward and latched onto Mycroft's sleeve, anchoring him into place. "No! No-... I meant - I mean, didn't mean...!" Lestrade released Mycroft's sleeve with a dispairing sigh as he dropped his face into his hands. "Ohh, this is really awkward."
Mycroft bit his lip, contemplating what to do now that Lestrade freed him of his grip. He could leave... run away, more prescisely. Take the coward's way out. But it really wouldn't be fair to Lestrade, who seemed to be alot more distressed by the situation than he was.
He sat back down and waited for Lestrade to continue. He'd never felt so vulnerable in his life. He vaguely wondered what possessed him with such an unhealthy interest in a liability... a straight man, no less! He tried to remind himself that this is why he never let people get under his skin. He never really learned how to distinguish complete trust from... love. Mycroft startled at the realization.
"I don't know, Mycroft, I'm not attracted to men, in particular. I mean, I've got a wife... divorced a wife, actually." Another nail was hammered loudly into Mycroft's imaginary coffin. Lestrade shook his head, grimacing. "Can't imagine kissing other men." Another nail, Mycroft just stared at his feet stretched out in front of him. "It's... different. It's new-... I'm not saying I'm against it, mind, just that I've never done it." Mycroft absently noted that the hammering of nails in his brain were exactly on beat to that of his heart in his ears.
The stress and utter embarrassment of the situation was just too much for Mycroft. "I get it, I do. Lets-... we don't have to mention it again." he said firmly to Lestrade.
Lestrade gaped at him. "No! I said, 'Can't imagine kissing other men', stressing 'other men', Mycroft!" he exclaimed hastily. "Just-... I don't know, maybe it's just the one." he added, quieter. "What I'm trying to say is, I like you Mycroft, I do. Maybe, if I'm very honest with myself - which I haven't been, a little more than professionally. And I'm-... well I'm willing to try it out... if you're willing-..." Lestrade threw his hands up. "Sod this, I give up trying to explain!" He reached over and buried his fingers in the hair on the back of Mycroft's neck and pulled him in for another kiss.
It was like Lestrade had taken the lid of Mycroft's coffin and thrown it straight off its hinges and peered in, hollering 'Hello there!'
"Well," Mycroft gasped, stunned at the turn-out. "when you say it that way..." He felt Lestrade smile against his lips.
"I've got a horrible way with words." he hummed, shifting back to laying on the ground again.
"Oh, Sherlock will have a field day when he finds out." Mycroft sighed in apprehension, threading his fingers through Lestrade's short hair, eliciting an appreciative moan from the man.
Lestrade grunted his agreement and planted a chaste kiss on Mycroft's lips. "Then we're both rightly screwed, arn't we?" He smiled boyishly.
Mycroft laughed and snogged Lestrade hard. "Never more right."
Lestrade grinned and tackled Mycroft back to the ground, kissing him, ignoring the mud and rainwater soaking into their already wet suits and hair. Mycroft let his umbrella drop out of his grip to wrap both arms around Lestrade.
After all, England can look after herself for at least five minutes in Mycroft's absence, right?
The End