"John." Lestrade said quietly. "Come on, mate. We have to get going."
"I don't want to." John whispered.
"John," Lestrade said forcefully. "There's nothing here. There's nobody here. There's no reason to be sitting here in below freezing weather."
"I'm not happy." John said. "It's not fair. Why can't I just be happy?"
"This isn't healthy, mate." Lestrade sighed glancing around the cemetery. "How much have you had to drink?"
"I don't remember." John slurred leaning heavily against the headstone.
"Come on, mate." Lestrade sighed stooping to pick up a drunken John. "Let's find a way to get you home."
They walked unsteadily to the exit of the cemetery and Lestrade huffed as he tried to carry most of John's weight. He frowned at the thought of trying to get the drunk man home. He didn't have his car and the Tube seemed like an awful idea but they were a good three miles from either of their flats and Lestrade had no cash for a taxi. He was resigning himself to finding the nearest Tube station anyway when a sleek black car slide to a stop beside them. The door opened and an umbrella-clad Mycroft exited smoothly to stand beside the two men.
"Not a good time, Mycroft." Lestrade growled.
"I'm merely here to offer a ride to your flat, Geoffrey." Mycroft said awkwardly.
"A ride?" Lestrade asked suspiciously.
"Yes." Mycroft shrugged. "I received intel that John had taken the anniversary of Sherlock's supposed death rather hard. I thought I would at least offer him a ride home."
"I think we can manage." Lestrade huffed readjusting the hold he had on his friend.
"Yes, the three miles home will be a breeze." Mycroft said rolling his eyes.
Lestrade huffed out a breath before heading for the idling car and tucking the doctor in securely before climbing in after him. He shifted uneasily as Mycroft followed suit and sat snug against his side. The ride to Lestrade's flat was awkwardly silent broken only by occasionally snores from John. Mycroft helped Lestrade get the unconscious doctor into the flat and onto the couch. He retreated to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea and was startled when Mycroft followed him.
"Thanks for the lift." Lestrade said awkwardly as he waiting for the kettle to go.
"Of course." Mycroft said. "I am upset by how hard this has all been for John."
"So you're acknowledging that what Sherlock's done to John is an arse-worthy move." Lestrade said.
"Of course." Mycroft said firmly. "John has been the best thing to happen to my brother since he got his first chemistry set at ten. And for Sherlock to cast aside someone so wholly devoted to him is just abhorrent to me."
"So you disagree with what he did?" Lestrade asked. "Then why did you go along with it?"
"Because he rarely asks me for anything." Mycroft sighed. "And he would have gone off on his own regardless. With my assistance, he at least stays in contact and stands a better chance of succeeding. But when you have someone that you care about and that cares about you in return, it is the most idiotic thing in the world to let them go."
Mycroft walked slowly toward Lestrade and the detective felt his pulse jump as the taller man leaned into his personal space mere centimeters from their lips meeting.
"Mycroft…" Lestrade said in a strained whisper.
"Please, Geoffrey." Mycroft purred before closing the gap in a heated kiss that left them both panting with need. They fought for dominance as Mycroft tugged at Lestrade's shirt buttons. Lestrade felt his resolve buckle as Mycroft moved to suck sharply on the skin under his ear.
"Shit." Lestrade gasped heavily and tried to formulate some coherent thought. He finally pushed the taller man away just as the last of his shirt buttons separated. "What do you want?"
"I want you." Mycroft growled as he reached for Lestrade's waist.
"Why?" Lestrade gasped.
"Because no one else can have you." Mycroft purred before jerking back in surprise and blushing fiercely.
Lestrade felt his entire world shift oddly at that declaration. He watched in a sort of detatched numbness as Mycroft lurched away from him and leaned heavily against the countertop.
"You weren't supposed to hear that." Mycroft said brokenly. "I have to go."
"My!" Lestrade said grabbing at the taller man lapels and hauling him close. "Tell me what you meant."
"Geoffrey," Mycroft said unable to meet his gaze. "Please, I have to go."
"No." Lestrade said sternly. "Tell me what the hell you meant."
"I can't…" Mycroft's sentence was cut short as Lestrade kissed him fiercely and possessively over and over again until the taller man was shaking with arousal and emotion.
"I want this, My." Lestrade breathed, knowing that he was going to have to be the brave one here. "I want you like this. I don't just want to be an occasional shag…I want us to be more. You just have to decide if that's what you want too."
He searched Mycroft's vulnerable features and stepped back letting the man have some room to formulate a clear thought.
"Just think about it." Lestrade whispered. He watched with an ache in his gut as Mycroft quickly exited the flat without another look back. He dragged himself to his bed after checking in on the still unconscious John. Positive that all the poor man would have is an impressive hangover in the morning, he fell into his sheets and dropped quickly into sleep. He had a flight to Portugal tomorrow and he needed all the sleep he could get.
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"I told you this would work." Sherlock said fiercely as he wiped off the heavy make-up in a dingy mirror.
"Well done, you." Lestrade rolled his eyes as he filled out the paperwork the government officials in Taiwan had stacked in front of him when he'd arrived. "Are you going to help me with these documents or not?"
"Come now, Lestrade." Sherlock said with a smirk. "We all have our strengths. I wouldn't want to deprive you of exhibiting yours."
Lestrade tossed a biscuit at the back of the genius's bleached curls before advancing his carpal tunnel syndrome even more.
"Don't you want to hear about how I did it!" Sherlock said triumphantly. "How I figured out Moriarty's plan with the underground prostitution ring?"
"Fill out the report form and I'll read about it on my plane home." Lestrade shrugged shaking his hand to try to get rid of the cramp.
"John would want hear how I did it." Sherlock sniffed.
"And whose fault is it that he isn't here?" Lestrade cut sharply.
"This was necessary." Sherlock said quietly no longer looking at him.
"That's such a load of shit." Lestrade growled.
"I'm doing this for you idiots." Sherlock growled. "Who else would be able to take down Moriarty's organization?"
"You're doing this for your own bloody ego!" Lestrade shouted losing his temper. "Don't even try to wrap this up as some sort of altruistic sacrifice on your part, you twit."
Sherlock fell silent and slumped against the opposite wall, all sense of mirth drained from him revealing just how bedraggled and exhausted he looked. He smoked cigarette after cigarette in silence as Lestrade worked through the piles of paperwork. Lestrade dropped off the sheets at the front desk and turned to find Sherlock meekly following after him.
"Here's your next flight." Lestrade said handing over a plane ticket and a wad of dollar bills. "You're off to Seattle. It's almost as rainy as London so bundle up."
Lestrade turned away and began flagging a taxi down to get a lift to the airport when he felt Sherlock's hand on his shoulder. He turned to find a somber genius looking nervous and a bit afraid.
"I'll be home soon." Sherlock whispered. "I'll fix it. With John. He'll understand."
"Would you?" Lestrade asked tiredly.
"No." Sherlock said quietly. "But he's a better…he'll understand."
Lestrade turned away from the clueless man and made his way back to the airport. They were 17 months into this assignment and he was so done with all of this.
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"Breakfast?" John asked curiously as Lestrade downed his entire pint and waved to the bartender for another.
"Yeah." Lestrade said with a slight blush.
"Mycroft Holmes invited you to breakfast?" John said quietly.
"I know, right." Lestrade sighed. "Hard to believe."
"It's not that." John said quickly. "You're fantastic, but I thought…well…I just assumed he was like Sherlock or possibly a robot."
"Am I completely mad for agreeing, do you think?" Lestrade asked suddenly nervous.
"Is this what you really want?" John asked. "The chance at a proper relationship with him?"
"Lord help me, but I think it is." Lestrade said quietly. "I'm completely barmy."
"Well good luck mate," John said with a slight grin and a friendly slap on the back. "You're going to need it."
"You're hilarious." Lestrade growled.
"I'm here for you." John said smiling. "When you need someone to talk to."
"Speaking of…" Lestrade said uncertainly. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." John shrugged blandly.
"Seriously." Lestrade said trying to not sound like a mother hen.
"What do you want me to say, Lestrade?" John asked a bit frustrated. "It's fine. It's all fine."
"What do you do in your spare time?" Lestrade pushed. "The only things you ever talk about are work and football. You haven't updated your blog in months. When was the last time you went on a date?"
"Don't." John said darkly before grimacing. "Sorry. I'm just…"
"You're not honestly waiting for him?" Lestrade said a bit harshly. "After what he did? Please tell me you aren't pining away for that arse?"
He jerked as John pushed his chair back roughly and slammed his hands down on the table.
"Waiting for what?" John bit out angrily. "We've already established that I meant absolutely nothing to him. There's nothing to wait for. I'm just not interested in shagging someone right now. Is that seriously some giant crime now? Do me a favor, Lestrade, and keep out of my business."
"John…" Lestrade scrambled. "I didn't mean…"
"No, it's fine." John said throwing some notes on the table. "Enjoy your indoctrination into the Holmes family."
With that, John stormed out of the pub leaving Lestrade feeling like a complete idiot. He settled the tab and went back to his flat. He texted an apology to John before collapsing onto his sheets and practically passing out.
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"I was hoping that this would be acceptable." Mycroft said awkwardly. He'd invited Lestrade to breakfast and he'd chosen a greasy spoon diner a few blocks from Lestrade's flat. "I read somewhere that you eat here rather often."
"You read somewhere?" Lestrade asked with a grin. "Where was that?"
"Just somewhere." Mycroft hedged playing with the edge of his napkin.
"That's not in the least bit creepy." Lestrade answered.
He watched as Mycroft's face fell suddenly and felt something twinge in his chest. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."
"I was kidding." Lestrade said hurriedly. "It was just a joke."
"I don't…" Mycroft huffed frustrated. "This isn't…I don't do this for a reason. It never works out. It won't work out now and there is no reason why we should even continue with this stupid attempt at a relationship."
"My, look at me." Lestrade said firmly. "Do you want this?"
He stared into the defeated features of the man sitting across from him and grabbed his hand with a gentle squeeze.
"Yes." Mycroft breathed staring into Lestrade's eyes.
"Alright then." Lestrade answered with a shy grin. "What are you getting?"
"Probably the egg white omelette with fresh fruit." Mycroft said with a resigned sigh.
"That sounds lovely." Lestrade said. "I'll have that as well."