A/N: I feel compelled to repeat that the second part of the previous chapter is posted separately. It's the story called Rain Starts. I used another POV there.
This is a new chapter, it happens sometimes after the Rain Starts. I actually googled lame jokes to write this. I hope they are not too bad. And I hope you'll like this chapter. Please, leave me a review:)
Beta: OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles
The sixteenth change simply made him laugh…
Laughter
Mycroft's fingers tapped on the tabletop, slightly out of tune, but it didn't matter because the melody existed only in his mind. It was a lovely morning, one when even Mycroft Holmes felt a little lazy. He was sitting in the familiar café, his body half turned to the window, watching people scurry about under the warm morning sun. Lestrade was sitting across from him and, even though Mycroft's mind was elsewhere, he could feel the DI's eyes on him.
"I agree that the play on the whole was nice, but some of the actors playing minor characters were simply awful. Thankfully their parts were too small to completely destroy my opinion of the play. And before you say it, I am not fastidious." Mycroft was saying into his phone, the feeling of Lestrade's gaze still as intense as before.
Mycroft Holmes didn't have many friends. Didn't have any at all some people would say, which technically wasn't true. There were people he enjoyed talking to. It may only be one person or two, but he didn't need more – he was content with what he had, in the sense of a social life at least. He turned his attention back to the conversation, his right hand holding the phone loosely. He laughed, his fingers stopping the tapping and reaching for the tea cup.
After a few more lines exchanged with his interlocutor on the other end of the line, Mycroft said his goodbye and disconnected.
"I'm sorry that you had to wait for me to end the conversation," he turned to Lestrade.
"I told you it's fine. You had to wait for me again; it's good you found something to pass time," the DI waved one hand vaguely, disregarding the matter. Then he asked curiously and a little hesitantly. "Who was that?"
"A friend," Mycroft replied, not avoiding the subject but not wanting to elaborate either. It was such a pleasant morning and he wanted to spend time pointlessly chatting with his partner. "Isn't the weather lovely?" He asked, contently taking a sip of his tea.
"Yes, it is." Lestrade let the question slide, taking a mental note to ask about it later. He leaned back in his own chair and stared pensively at the man across from him.
"Is something wrong?" Mycroft asked with a small frown.
Nothing at all," the other man answered truthfully, but his hazel eyes were still locked on Mycroft's face.
"Do I have something on my face?" He asked instead.
"No," Lestrade said, still watching closely.
"Then why are you staring at me?"
"You laughed."
"Well…" Mycroft thought how to respond to that. He settled for pointing out the obvious. "Yes, I did."
"But you rarely laugh. You smile, you smirk and sometimes you chuckle. But hardly ever laugh."
"There are not many things worth laughing at. Except my enemies' failures, of course." The last part was dripped with sarcasm even though it was very much true, but Lestrade could do better without knowing it.
"Then why were you laughing right now?"
"A good joke," Mycroft replied and took a discarded cup of tea in his hand again as a subtle hint for the other man to drop the subject. Lestrade, as the clever Detective Inspector he was, let it go, bringing up a strangely funny theft case that was closed an hour after the theft took place; without the help from Sherlock.
After minutes of idle chatting though, Lestrade suddenly asked: "What kind of horses go out after dusk?"
"Excuse me?" Mycroft asked in confusion at the change of subject. Very sudden and obscure.
"What kind of horses go out after dusk?" The DI repeated patiently, he was leaning over the table, his expression serious and waiting for the answer.
"Any kind," Mycroft answered, but it sounded more like a question.
"Nightmares," Lestrade gave the right answer and waited for the other's reaction.
"Was that…supposed to be a joke?" The politician asked slowly, barely containing himself not to make it sound sarcastic in favor of his lover. Mycroft was working on containing this side of his character, holding back the biting remarks and exaggerated eye rolls completed with lifted eyebrows. He didn't want it to come in the way of his relationship with Gregory. So instead his tone was flat and almost emotionless, head titled to the side, eyes curiously on Lestrade's face.
"Yes," Lestrade replied with a small sigh, obviously exasperated with his misfortune with the joke.
"It's not really good."
"Probably," the DI breathed out, slumping back in the chair. "The best I can come up with on short notice."
Mycroft just watched him in amusement.
The next day the moment Mycroft took his place at the table across from Lestrade he was greeted with a question: "How do you start a book about ducks?"
"I have no idea," the politician replied, taking the menu and paying it more attention than to his lover's attempt at a joke.
"With an introduction."
"I'm sorry I can't even smile at that," Mycroft said, a real regret appearing in his voice. Then he asked casually. "How was your day so far?"
"Ask me about it later. What do you get when you squeeze an olive?"
He only got a flat look as an answer.
"Oliver Twist!" Lestrade proclaimed happily.
"That…" Mycroft thought for the right words to express his feeling towards that particular joke, "was a bad joke."
"I know," the DI sighed dejectedly.
"I was thinking maybe a really lame joke would work…Obviously, no."
"Obviously," Mycroft confirmed with a nod. "I heard Sherlock broke into the victim's house again."
"What's brown and sticky?" Lestrade asked, ignoring Mycroft's question.
"A stick," he said, letting the irritation show in his tone. He looked up from the menu when the actual punch line didn't follow. Lestrade was staring at him.
"You know this joke?" He asked.
Mycroft just stared back at him before repeating it in his mind and realizing that he unintentionally gave the 'right' answer. The joke still wasn't funny. He shook his head from side to side and turned to the waitress who had just appeared at their table with the order. Lestrade did not pay much attention to the waitress, looking at his lover contemplatively instead.
"Did you hear the joke about the jump rope?" He asked when the girl left.
Mycroft thought for a moment before saying:
"Skip it." He smirked as the other man frowned.
"Did you hear the joke about the airplane?" Lestrade asked hurriedly, prompting his lover to formulate his answer just as quickly.
"It's way over your head." His smirk was more prominent this time.
Lestrade's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. Maybe it wasn't good for their relationship but Mycroft rather enjoyed this game.
"What did the apple say to the orange?"
"Apples don't talk."
"Actually it's 'Nothing, stupid, apples don't talk.' I think you left out a rather important part, don't you?"
"I think this joke will never be funny no matter what."
"Hm…" It seemed that the DI decided to change tactics. He leaned back in his chair, settling comfortably, his position open and relaxed. "How about this one?"
Mycroft waited and watched his lover take a big gulp of his coffee, take a breath, relax even more and start talking.
"A neutron walks into a bar and asks 'How much for a beer?'" Lestrade made a pause for the effect. "And the bartender says, 'For you? No charge.'"
"Better, but still not laugh-worthy." Mycroft commented.
"Two atoms are walking down the street together." Lestrade quickly moved on to the other joke. "The first atom turns and says, 'Hey, you just stole an electron from me!' 'Are you sure?' asks the second atom. To which the first atom replies, 'Yeah, I'm positive!'"
Mycroft contemplated the joke silently, then nodded. It was a nice try; he wasn't admitting it to his lover though.
"Oh come on," Lestrade said in frustration. "It's almost intellectual."
"Almost is the key word here. Plus I'm not a scientist. If I was, I probably could have appreciated this joke more." Mycroft added a consolation and combined it with a smile.
"I can't win this, can I?" The DI asked finally.
"Lame jokes will always be lame. They are not funny." Mycroft frowned. "I'm not sure that they are supposed to be funny."
"But the way they are so unfunny can actually make them funny." Lestrade contradicted.
"You are making it sound more complicated than it is." They sat in silence for another moment until Lestrade broke it, his tone devoid of any emotion and words quick but not hurried:
"Why can't you play cards in the jungle?" A pause for a beat. "Because there's too many cheetahs!"
He didn't wait for his lover's reaction this time.
"'Waiter! This coffee tastes like mud'." A pause. "'Yes sir, it's fresh ground'."
"What did Batman say to Robin before they got in the car? Robin, get in the car."
The last one deigned a raised eyebrow from Mycroft, who was amazed with the sheer stupidity of the supposed joke. Lestrade continued nonetheless:
"Have you ever seen an elephant hiding behind a flower? That's because he hides well."
"Gregory," Mycroft lifted one hand as a sign for his lover to stop. "Please, I can take no more of this torture."
The look on Lestrade's face was priceless. Who would have thought that the DI could look like that. A 'kicked puppy' didn't quite fit to describe it. The expression was exasperation mixed with annoyance and bordering on a pout. Mycroft just couldn't help himself. He chuckled. And then he started laughing. The low but full-force laughter filled the silence between them. His eyes, shining with mirth, locked with confused hazel.
"Those jokes are as far from funny as it can get," he said after his laughter died down. "But the way you are trying to make me laugh is very amusing."
"Laugh-worthy?" Lestrade asked, repeating Mycroft's words from earlier with a chuckle.
"Definitely," Mycroft replied.
They both laughed.