I'm sorry for not posting anything for a long time. A long time for me, anyways. I started this story a while ago, but the inspiration wasn't there yet. If any of you were there while I was still writing Johnlockness, you know it was a matter of days, even hours for that story. The ideas were flowing into my head and out of my fingers. This one took a bit longer to kickstart, since I tried to begin it right after Johnlockness was finished. Not a good idea. Add in school and friends' dramas, and the mind draining was complete. Also, I may not finish this for a few months. It won't be a long story, but I use my school computer, which will be taken away at school's end. Hope for ideas and inspiration to finish this in two weeks!

Enjoy!

Mycroft touched his kiss-swollen lips. He still couldn't believe it. He was now sitting in his office, staring at a file. For the first time, he had no idea what or who it was about. All he could think about was Lestrade, mischief in his eyes as he came to tickle Mycroft, then desire as the arms of the man he'd loved since their first meeting from a distance wrapped around his neck and pulled him down for the most thorough snog of his life.

Groaning at the memory of the kiss, Mycroft slumped over his desk, sinking his head into his hands. He had no control over his body, not since lunchtime. Of course, he hadn't been able to eat. The plan had been to stop at a smaller restaurant, where they would pick up the food Mycroft had ordered this morning.

Mycroft sighed. So much for that. He hadn't thought once of food. The only thing he could possibly think about was the DI's body pressed up against his, those perfect lips devouring his. And that tongue…

Mycroft moaned at that thought and thunked his head on his desk.

Anthea walked in, typing on her phone as she simply said, "Call him."

Mycroft snapped his head up so sharply, his neck almost broke.

"What?!"

She rolled her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic. You're obviously not going to get any work done. Just call him, text him, something."

Mycroft dropped his head back on his desk and groaned once more.

Hearing that, Anthea's head flew up. She stepped up right next the desk and slapped her hand down on the wooden surface. Mycroft rolled his head to the side to look pu at her.

"The entire country of England needs you to do your job," she hissed, "and you are going to put everything at risk for a crush. Either completely cut him out of your life or ask him out. But do something."

With that, the woman turned on her heel and walked out with a straight back.

Mycroft just started banging his head on the desk again.

After a few minutes of that, he went to his secret cabinet. His medicines and good brandy were stored there. He pulled out his favorite brand and poured a glass full. Then another glass. And another.

Suddenly talking to Gregory Lestrade didn't seem like such a bad idea. He picked up his phone, trying to focus on it. His number one contact was the detective inspector. He tried to hit call, but missed by several centimeters. He silently swore. Or maybe not so silently. Did Anthea hear him?

That's not important, he reminded himself. Gotta call Gregory, that's what's important.

After several tries and another brandy, his finger finally hit the call button. It rang about 7 times, though Mycroft couldn't be sure, then went to voicemail. Before he could leave a message, his finger hit End.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked his digit, wiggling it in front of his face. He decided to try again, this time hitting the right button on the first try. The brandy must be wearing off, he thought, and took another glass. The bottle was almost empty by now, so Mycroft left his phone on top of his desk to find a new one.

"Hello, Mycroft?" Lestrade's voice emanated from the smartphone. The politician hurried to pick it up, tripping over his chair and falling.

"MYCROFT!" the DI's voice yelled. "PICK UP THE STUPID PHONE!"

Finally the elder Holmes was able to grab his phone and answer.

He meant to say It's okay, Gregory, I'm right here, but it came out as, "S'kay, Gre, here."

There was a pause before he answered, during which Mycroft swallowed two more glasses of brandy.

"Myc, are you drunk?"

"S'possi." He meant to say It's possible. Why wasn't his mouth working?

"Okay…"

"Wash da kis."

"What?" Gregory sounded more confused than ever.

"Da kish."

Finally, Greg got it. He almost started laughing, but was able to contain himself. Mycroft got drunk over their kiss?

"Okay, My, are you at your office?"

Silence.

"MYCROFT."

"Ye." Greg took that to mean yes.

"Okay, I want you to call Anthea in, got it?"

"M'kay." The phone was pulled slightly away as the politician shouted, "Antha! Gesh in here."

Greg was still trying not to laugh when Mycroft's assistant picked up.

"Yes, Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

The DI managed to keep a straight face. "Could you take away Mycroft's bottle? I'll be there in a few minutes to pick him up."

The female voice got chillier. "And just what do you plan to do with him once you pick him up?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Take him back to my place, let him sleep it off. I'm assuming he had cameras placed in my flat, so you can keep an eye on us. It takes 12 and a half minutes in moderately good traffic to get to my place from his office. Time us."

"Got it. He will be waiting." The call was ended. Now Greg could crack up as much as possible.

*10 minutes later*

Greg pulled up to the Diogenes Club. He shut off the car and got out, unsure where exactly Mycroft would be waiting. Luckily for him, he didn't have to wonder long. The door to the club opened and ANthea appeared, Mycroft collapsed against her. She beckoned Lestrade to help her, almost dropping the very drunk and tall man.

Lestrade ran up the sidewalk, thankful his job kept him in shape. He slipped an arm around Mycroft's waist and the politician immediately transferred his head from his assistant's shoulder to Greg's.

"Hi, there," the DI coaxed as if he were talking to a baby. "Let's get in the car, okay? Then we can go home and you can sleep. Does that sound good?"

Mycroft nodded, burrowing his head into Lestrade's neck.

After half dragging the taller man to his car and doing his best to get him to climb in, Greg jogged around to the other side and slid in, turning on his car at the same time. He waved to Anthea and took off. He drove somewhat faster than was strictly legal, but he was in a police car, so no one would stop him.

*9 and a half minutes later*

They got to Lestrade's flat in record time. Mycroft instantly went to the bathroom and started retching into the toilet. Greg followed him and stroked his back, whispering nonsensical words. After that, Greg helped the younger man change into a pair of pajama pants before changing into a pair himself. Finally, Mycroft was helped into bed. Greg laid down next to him and pulled him close. The politician snuggled up to the older man and was fast asleep in no time.

Greg smiled down at him before falling asleep himself, both of them unconsciously getting closer to the other.

Review, review, REVIEW! Please, I need feedback!

Loves to my favorite sociopath, Thilbo4Ever! My first, and only, reviewer so far. And now becoming a fast friend, I'm thinking.