It was two weeks later when Sherlock Holmes mysteriously died. John had some complications with infections so he hadn't even been released from the hospital yet. When Lestrade stopped by to give him the news, he watched helpless as two tears leaked from the doctor's rapidly blinking eyes.
"What we talked about?" John rasped. "Will you…?"
"It's all taken care of." Lestrade answered.
"Thank you." The doctor said before curling tightly into himself and shutting out the painful world around him.
Lestrade quickly left the hospital and took a cab to his new office in a nondescript building in a grubby part of London. He'd been promoted to an obscure branch of government last week and had taken a crash course in espionage from Mycroft's nameless PA. He smirked at the memory of Mycroft's sneer when he'd explained what he wanted and he'd almost cheered at the look of astonishment that flashed across the taller man's posh features when he revealed that he was aware of Sherlock's little plan.
"Doctor Watson." Mycroft said icily after a few seconds of stunned silence.
"The one and only." Lestrade challenged.
The git had sized him up coldly before smiling condescendingly and shrugging his shoulders. "It would be beneficial to have someone with an emotional attachment to my brother involved in this little operation. I'll have Helen arrange it."
Lestrade shook off the memory and grabbed his secure mobile reading the text that was waiting for him.
Asset Marple in transit- MH
His codename is Marple! GL
I thought it was rather fitting-MH
Hilarious. GL
He entered his office to find Mycroft sitting behind his desk with his phone laced between his long, slim fingers.
"Hello, Inspector." Mycroft smirked.
"I have a phone." Lestrade sighed. "I know you know I have a phone. You just texted me. So, call me. On my phone if you have things to discuss."
"One would think that you don't want to see me, Inspector." Mycroft said silkily.
"And one would be right." Lestrade growled. He felt a clench in his gut as he watched hurt, anger, and arrogance flicker across the taller man's posh features. He rolled his eyes in response. It was probably all just some manipulative act anyway. This man seemed incapable of expressing any genuine emotions ever.
"You seem a bit put out." Mycroft drawled. "Might I remind you that you asked me for this little job."
"Yes, I did." Lestrade answered. "But that doesn't mean that I want to spend time with you."
"Your right knee says differently." Mycroft scoffed.
"Well, thank goodness that I don't actually make decisions based on the opinion of my knee." Lestrade answered sharply.
"How was I to know that?" Mycroft smirked. "You often make several decisions with another appendage…"
"You're an arse." Lestrade sighed. "Get out."
"As you wish." Mycroft shrugged. "I left the file on Sherlock's first assignment on your desk. Have a good day, Inspector."
Lestrade felt his entire body shiver with goosebumps as the taller man brushed his hand across his jaw on the way out. This was going to be hell.
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"You can't just antagonize the entire Austrian government and not expect to get thrown in jail!" Lestrade shouted at the rumpled form in the tiny cell.
"Is there a point in your useless ramblings or can I go back to sleep?" Sherlock grumbled.
"There is a point." Lestrade snapped back. "The point is that the government's reach, Mycroft's reach, isn't as far as you think. We can't keep bailing you out of these ridiculous situations if you aren't going to actually show any progress. It's been five months, Sherlock! And you've got nothing!"
"I've got a lead." Sherlock growled. "I'd have more than that if you'd just give me a little room to work."
"Yeah, because Chile was such a brilliant idea, wasn't it?" Lestrade said angrily.
"I miscalculated." Sherlock answered.
"That seems to be your MO lately." Lestrade sneered. "What is going on with you?"
"Nothing." Sherlock answered heatedly. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine, Sherlock." Lestrade snarled. "Ever since this entire business began you've been reckless, distracted, and antagonistic. Now this was your fucking idea, so what is it! What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." He snapped. "I'm fine. I've been fine. I don't need anyone. I don't need help. I can do this on my own."
"What are you on about?" Lestrade asked confused. "You ARE alone. By your own actions, I might add."
"How is he?" Sherlock said and Lestrade felt something twist in his gut as all the fight left the consulting detective's eyes as he collapsed in on himself.
"Do you honestly think you deserve that information after you were so determined to leave him behind?" Lestrade cut angrily.
"He's my friend." Sherlock said firmly.
Lestrade rubbed his temples roughly taking a deep breath into his chest before releasing it roughly. "He's fine."
"When was the last time you spoke to him?" Sherlock asked.
"Last week." Lestrade answered. "We went for a pint."
"Oh." Sherlock said quietly. "Dating Sarah?"
"You're a complete idiot." Lestrade growled. "You'll be released in the morning. Here's a flash drive from Mycroft. Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. Don't run off again."
Lestrade turned to leave the damp prison when Sherlock's voice brought him to a halt, "I'm doing this for the world."
"No, you're not." Lestrade countered. "You're doing this for your own amusement."
Lestrade exited the prison and hurried back to the airport. He had a mountain of paperwork to complete because of Sherlock's recklessness and he wanted to get back to London before as soon as possible.
The flight was long but uneventful. Mycroft at least was considerate enough to fly him business class which made his random jaunts across the globe a bit more bearable. It was close to midnight by the time he let himself into his building and sighed heavily at the woman texting on her cell outside his flat.
"He's inside." She said simply.
"Bloody fucking hell." He growled. "At least make an appointment."
"I sent you an email after your plane landed." She answered.
He rolled his eyes and strode into his flat, dropping his satchel on the sofa and ignoring the umbrella-bearing twit in his kitchen.
"I see you're continuing to ignore me." Mycroft drawled with a smirk.
"I'm not ignoring you." Lestrade said simply heading toward his bedroom. "I send you emails several times a week with updates on Sherlock."
"Being deliberately obtuse, Geoffrey?" Mycroft said lightly.
"Outside of Sherlock, we don't have anything to talk about." Lestrade said firmly undoing his tie and ignoring the tall man slithering into his closet behind him. He jumped when he felt to strong arms wrap around his waist and a sinful pair of lips began nibbling at his neck. Oh, god. He felt his mind unravel at the soft texture of skin on skin.
"You seem tense," Mycroft purred. "Would you like me to assist you?"
"Mycroft…" Lestrade's breath hitched.
"Come now, Geoffrey." Mycroft said beginning to unbutton his shirt slowly. "The physical release will be beneficial for me."
Lestrade felt something shred his insides and he jerked away in a desperate attempt at self-preservation. He fell against the opposite wall and felt his face flush with humiliation.
"I'd rather just have a wank, thanks." Lestrade breathed angrily unable to meet the taller man's gaze.
"Very well then." Mycroft said simply. "I expect a full report of the incident in my inbox by 10am tomorrow morning. I'll show myself out."
Lestrade felt his vision blur but he was able to hold his composure until the door latched. He slid down the wall and clutched at his head pushing away the emotions clawing at his throat. Working in close quarters with Mycroft was like repeatedly shooting himself in the gut with a high-powered staple gun. If it wasn't for John, Lestrade would have bowed out of this circus months ago. Thinking about John brought him back around to some measureable level of sanity. John was doing fine. Of course he was doing fine. He was a survivor, a soldier, a fighter. He picked himself up and began forming some semblance of a life within a week of the funeral, but that didn't change the pain and loss hiding behind those tired eyes. He'd be fine. They both would. At least they had each other.
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"How are things?" John asked hesitantly.
"He's fine, John." Lestrade said knowingly.
"I wasn't asking about him." John said sheepishly. "I was asking about you. How are you doing?"
"I'm…well…I'm fine." Lestrade hedged quietly.
"Mycroft being an arse?" John asked.
"That would imply that there are times when he isn't an arse." Lestrade answered. "He's just being himself."
"If that's Mycroft's normal," John shivered. "Remind me to stock up on ammo for the next time he gets angry."
"Is he still kidnapping you?" Lestrade asked curiously.
"No." John said quietly. "I guess that's a good indicator of my future with the Holmes brothers, huh? The older doesn't kidnap me, so the younger doesn't care about me. He's probably deleted me by now."
"John…" Lestrade began.
"No, sorry." John said hurriedly. "Just been a rough week at A & E. I can't believe it's been an eight months."
"Neither can I." Lestrade sighed.
They bantered back and forth for another hour or so watching the game and sipping on pints. John glanced at his watch and sighed before grabbing his cane to stand.
"Next week? Same time? Same place?" John asked with a wry grin.
"You even have to ask?" Lestrade smiled back. "See you then, mate."
"Bye, Geoff." John said before limping out of the pub and down to his flat.
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"You can't honestly be serious." Lestrade growled angrily.
"It's merely a state dinner, Geoffrey." Mycroft smirked. "It will be beneficial for your new role."
"I don't have a new role." Lestrade said. "I'm working with Sherlock until he figures this shit out and then I am promptly going back to the Yard."
"Of course you are." Mycroft said. "But in the mean time, you have to behave in a way consist with your station."
"I'm not going." Lestrade firmly.
"You are going." Mycroft countered. "I've already sent back your RSVP."
"You can't make me go." Lestrade said.
"But then I might be forced to fill your position with a more suitable candidate." Mycroft shrugged. "And then who would look after our dear Sherlock?"
"You're a horrible person." Lestrade growled.
"It won't be so bad." Mycroft waved his arm dismissively. "There will be good food, informative conversation, and the opportunity to form relationships with some very influential people."
"Why would I want to do that?" Lestrade asked.
"Honestly, Geoffrey." Mycroft sighed. "Must I spell it out for you? Interacting with these people will enable you to form connections that will help ease Sherlock's passage through the continent. Know the right people, and you can accomplish anything."
"Fine." Lestrade deflated visibly. "Give me the address."
"Don't worry about that." Mycroft smiled. "I'll have a car sent round."
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Lestrade was adjusting the bowtie from the sleek black suit that had mysteriously shown up on his doorstep when he heard his doorbell go. He grabbed his keys, phone, and wallet before exiting the flat and following the non-descript driver down to an obscenely nice sedan. He slid in and felt his entire body jerk in surprise at the other occupant.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget to mention that I was invited as well?" Mycroft purred. "I thought it would be easier if we just shared a vehicle."
He stayed silent and clung to the opposite door handle in a white-knuckled grip as the car slid smoothly through traffic. He got through the introductions, made small talk deftly with the myriad of people that were "just so happy" to make his acquaintance, and sat through the first five courses of the dinner successfully when Mycroft finally brushed his thigh with his fingertips one too many times.
"I'm off to the loo." He said exiting the room quickly. He leaned against the counter heavily just taking deep breaths. He reached into his pocket and sent an angry text to John before splashing some cold water on his face. Then he promptly shrieked when Mycroft's slim form slid into the room and locked the door behind him.
"You're incredibly entertaining." Mycroft began. "It's satisfying to see you squirm and become flustered from a few subtle touches."
"Did you just bring me here to make me uncomfortable in public?" Lestrade asked flummoxed.
"Of course not." Mycroft smiled. "But I do enjoy multi-tasking."
And that was officially Geoffrey Lestrade's limit. He was sick of being the only one uncomfortable. He was tired of being the only hormone-driven idiot in the room. If he was going to feel hot and a bit bothered than this posh arse was going to experience it as well. He turned and shoved Mycroft roughly against the locked door and felt something warm fill his gut at Mycroft's startled huff of breath. He crashed their lips together brutally shoving his hand roughly over the taller man's groin at the same time. The startled yelp only urged him on and he smirked as he felt the hard bulge in Mycroft's trousers. He deftly undid the buttons and slid his hand between the two fabrics grasping at the genius's cock and working quickly as it grew rigid with arousal. He mercilessly attacked Mycroft's lips and felt heat flood his own body at the involuntary moans coming from his partner. And just before the taller man could find release he stepped back withdrawing all contact and smirked at the desperate whimper from Mycroft.
"Have a lovely evening." Lestrade teased. "I'll find my own way home, thanks."
He lightly shoved the flushed and aroused bloke out of the way before throwing the lock and stepping out into the crowded room. He adjusted his bowtie and quickly exited the building. He would miss the last two courses but at this point he really could care less. He checked his phone and sent a confirmation email to the other mad genius he knew before catching the Tube south. He wouldn't share this story with most people, but he figured John deserved to hear it firsthand. He was just a bit proud of himself.
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"You didn't?" John asked with his signature giggle rippling through the pub.
"I most certainly did." Lestrade said unable to hold in the gloating smile. "He deserved it. The great arse."
"I wish I could have seen his face." John said with a content sigh. "That would have been worth a thousand kidnappings."
"Well," Lestrade sighed. "He'll probably get his own back soon, but it felt so very nice to cause that man an ounce of embarrassment."
"I'm quite proud of you." John smiled.
"I'm pretty chuffed myself." Lestrade laughed.
"Well," John said holding his pint up in a salute. "Here's to fucking the man. Literally."
"Cheers!" Lestrade answered happily.
They chatted for another hour or so before John begged off stating that he had an early shift at the clinic in the morning. Lestrade checked his phone before heading out of the pub and gulped nervously at the text waiting for him.
Not amusing, Geoffrey. MH