The thirteenth change made him think that maybe been compromised wasn't always a bad thing…

Beta:OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles

Compromised

One of the worst things that could happen to a man, in Mycroft's opinion, was being considered stupid. Embarrassment and awkward moments should be avoided at all costs – that's why he always kept himself in check, made plans for every situations and, no less important, followed them. Holmes can never look stupid. Even Sherlock understood that small rule, even though he tended to break it more often than his older brother. Mycroft thought it was because he overlooked the importance of human communication too often.

But there were times, just like this one, when a man had to decide between looking stupid and becoming compromised. In Mycroft's career it was also of great importance to keep one's reputation.

Early in the morning, while dressing Mycroft stood up in front the large mirror to make his tie. He chose a light-blue shirt after noticing that one of his white shirts was missing, probably borrowed by Lestrade when the DI rushed to the Yard in the middle of a night. If the phone call he got was anything to judge by, they wouldn't be seeing each other for a whole day. Mycroft was counting on the daily report to find out about what had happened in London during that night, which needed the attention of the DI so urgently.

He noticed the problem immediately and his fingers stilled in making a knot. One inch over the line of his collar, a little too high to be hidden by the fine material of the shirt. A glaring piece of evidence of his lover's attention. It was somewhat flattering, especially when memories of the previous evening returned for a brief uncontrolled moment. At the same time, though, it was aggravating.

Mycroft Holmes never changed his style, so even the smallest addition to his attire would not go unnoticed. More so, if it was a scarf on a warm spring day. Looking stupid or compromised? Or probably, both.

Mycroft reached for the scarf, eyes still locked on his reflection. With a sigh he put it around his neck.

The moment he stepped into his office, his PA meeting him by the door with that twinkle in her eyes, Mycroft knew he wasn't fooling anyone. He didn't even bother with making up a lie that he had a cold. He'd leave this lie for his business partners; maybe he'd be able to make it more believable by then.

"Sir?" Alice, the changeable PA, inquired tentatively. She didn't even try concealing the small smile playing on her lips.

"I need you to take these documents. Make a copy and send it. The address is in the file." He instructing, ignoring the amused looks he was getting from the woman. Mycroft loaded his PA with work so that she wouldn't look up from her Blackberry for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, hiding in the office for the day was not an option.

"Mycroft, it's so unfortunate that you got sick," Mycroft's interlocutor said with a mock concern as soon as the man settled in a chair across from the owner of the office. "Early Spring can be deceptive. If you won't be careful it can be so easy to get caught up in the warmth and forget about the precautions."

"Oh, it's nothing, really." Mycroft answered, keeping his annoyance to himself, making his voice sound pleasant. He waved his hand, running his fingers over the material of the scarf softly. "Just a small cold. I'll be better in no time."

"Sure," the man across from Mycroft put his elbows on the armrests and looked at Mycroft pointedly over his entwined fingers. "I really hope it doesn't mean that you are losing your authority. If such a small weakness could get to you…"

Mycroft actually rolled his eyes at this. That's why he hated dealing with his man. His love for theatrics, for idiotic metaphors and for making parallels between weather and policy – that was very annoying. And also took too much of Mycroft's precious time.

"There are a few things I need to discuss about your campaign." It was best to just get the visitor back on track. He was a politician, not a shady one like Mycroft, on the contrary, a stupid but useful public figure.

"Are you sure you're capable of it?" The man asked, tossing his blond hair from his eyes with a practiced move of his head. So full of himself, Mycroft thought in aggravation. "I mean, with your cold…"

Mycroft stared at the fool in his office, who believed he could outthink a Holmes. It'd be reasonable to let him continue thinking that way, but Mycroft's pride wouldn't let him. Slowly he ran his fingers over the scarf, tugging it a little as if to weaken the knot. His interlocutor's eyes, watching the politician with humor, fell on an unmistakable bruise just over the collar of Mycroft's shirt. The man's eyes widened, surprised, glued to the spot. He had a decently to turn away after a minute of staring, which was a minute too long by Holmes' rules, and coughed awkwardly.

"I need you to attend an opening of this exhibition tomorrow night." Mycroft said nonchalantly, handing the man a booklet. His interlocutor took it without any comments.

Oh well, so what if it cost him some embarrassment, he put the fool in place. Having a good love life was also a way to state his superiority.

That didn't mean that Lestrade was not going to pay for it, though, Mycroft thought with a smirk.

A/N: That's my first story that had got more than 50 reviews. That's so exciting. Thank you, dear readers, who reviewed, and also alerted and added this story to favorites:)