Chapter 5

Days and weeks came and went and Greg almost forgot about Sherlock until one day when he entered his office in the morning and found him sitting there, fast asleep. He managed to not drop his coffee-cup this time, but he cursed so loudly that Sherlock woke up.

"Ah Lestrade" he said, as though he hadn't been asleep at all. "Morning".

Greg grunted in response, sat down and tried to convince his heart not to have an attack. "You have got to stop sneaking into my office like that. I could've had a heart attack."

"That's hardly likely to happen, Inspector. You're relatively healthy, your heart is fine and apart from a few cigarettes now and then, you are well enough to live a few more years at least. Although you should cut down on the sweets."

Greg shot Sherlock a murdering look, but discretely shoved his untouched donut in the trash. Sherlock smirked.

"Why are you here?" Greg asked, changing the subject.

"You need my help." Sherlock answered. Greg didn't have any major cases at the moment, at least not any which required him to leave his office. It had been calm on the whole crime-committing- front lately, so he had mostly been catching up on his paperwork.

"I don't need your help, I don't even have a case at the moment." He said.

"Ah but you're wrong. You see, I have a case, which I've solved so now I only need your little group of imbecile officers to take care of it all." Sherlock said.

"O…kay. So really, you need my help?" Greg teased.

"Hardly." Sherlock replied coldly. "I do, however, need a few minions to do the dirty work, and seeing as we have a deal Lestrade, you'll fix it for me." Not a question, not a 'please', just a command. Greg sighed loudly, but he had to admit he'd missed this insane person. "Fine" he said, "give me a time, location and some goddamn criminals to catch".

Sherlock smiled his crooked smile. "Game on, Inspector."

Sure enough, Sherlock had once again been absolutely right, and Greg found himself locking up yet another criminal in custody that night. This time, it was a man who sold sleeping pills as fake flu-medicine online, causing his customers to sleep for days, some of them losing jobs because of it. Greg was rather surprised that Sherlock had turned his attention on something so mundane, but he was glad nonetheless. He'd left Sherlock in his office when he went to talk to one of his officers, but when he returned, Sherlock was gone. Greg sighed. He couldn't wrap his head around the mystery that was Sherlock Holmes, but as long as he helped them out like this, Greg saw no reason to complain. He looked at his watch. 17.39. He figured he might as well go home, so he gathered up his things and headed out.

The black shiny car was waiting for him outside, and this time he jumped in without asking any questions. He wondered what Sherlock's brother might need from him now, but he couldn't help but feel a strange sort of anticipation. He gathered it was probably because getting picked up in a black car and brought to some strange location to talk with Mycroft Holmes was a rather strange element in his normally dull life. This time the driver headed north, and they hadn't driven for more than ten minutes when the car stopped in front of a fancy looking office building. The driver opened the door for him and he got out.

"Eight floor, Mr. Lestrade. He's waiting for you."

Greg just nodded and headed into the building, pushing the button to the lift. The glass doors parted for him and he pushed the gleaming number 8. Everything about this building seemed brand new, modern and very exclusive. A soft woman's voice announced that he'd reached the eighth floor, and Greg stepped out into a large room. Everything seemed to be made of glass, from the secretary's desk to the walls and the tables, and Greg suddenly felt nervous about moving at all. The secretary looked up from her screen.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade I presume. Through the doors and straight to the left. He's waiting for you." Greg coughed and mumbled 'thanks' and then pushed a big glass door open and headed left. He walked past a few offices where people were either deeply engaged in phone calls or staring hard into a computer screen. He reached the office door that held a gold sign engraved with 'M. Holmes' and as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened, revealing Mycroft. Greg had almost forgot what he looked like but now he was once again struck by the flawlessness of the man, the perfect suit, the perfect hair, the perfectly polite smile.

"How nice of you to join me Detective Inspector. Please, have a seat." He gestured towards a chair opposite of his own. Greg sat down and took in the room. It seemed to be the only room exempt from the abundance of glass. Instead it held a large oak desk, two leather chairs, a table with liquid-filled crystal bottles and a dark cabinet against which the pink umbrella stood leaning. Mycroft sat down on his side of the desk after having offered a drink, which Greg politely declined. After a short silence and some awkward eye-contact, Mycroft said

"I need to talk to you"

"I figured". Greg said.

"Since you are obviously still involved with my brother, there are a few things you need to know."

Greg once again felt as though he was dating Sherlock, and that Mycroft was having a you-hurt-him-and-I-kill-you-speech. He was glad, however, that it wasn't the case since he had somehow no doubt that Mycroft actually would kill him if he hurt Sherlock. He didn't say anything though, and Mycroft continued.

"I'll say this in the best way I can. My brother has an unfortunate preference for certain…enhancing substances."

"Sherlock does drugs?" Greg asked crassly. He should probably be more surprised than he was, but he'd had his suspicions. No one could be that clever on their own.

"It has nothing to do with his extraordinary abilities," Mycroft said as though he'd read Greg's thoughts "but yes. I am aware of the severity of this situation, and I do everything I can to help him, believe me. What I need from you is a great favor. If you have Sherlock's best interests in mind, I would like you to, if you would notice anything with Sherlock, not report it to your superiors but to me instead. Does that seem like something you might consider? I know that it is a lot to ask, but you would of course get any kind of incentive that you want." Mycroft Holmes was a man who didn't really beat about the bush, and Greg liked the straightforwardness. Mycroft fell silent, while Greg processed this information. He could get into a lot of trouble covering up a drug use, he really could. But when he looked at Mycroft he saw nothing unethical, but a man constantly worrying about his brother, a man that would do anything to protect him. And it didn't feel wrong at all when he answered "Of course."

Mycroft looked surprised. He'd clearly hadn't expected Greg to agree right away.

"How much would you require for this service?" He asked politely.

Greg held up his hands. "I don't need money Mr. Holmes. Mycroft I mean." Mycroft looked pleased at the use of his first name. Greg continued "I would probably lose my job and my reputation and everything if this would come out, but I still want to do it. I haven't met Sherlock many times, but I like him. If I can do anything to help him out, I'll do it. Win-win." Mycroft nodded and Greg thought he even saw hints of a smile.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me, Greg."

"No problem. Besides, I know what it's like to worry about someone this much."

"So you are a big brother too then?" Mycroft asked.

Greg cleared his throat, and looked down. "I was."

"I'm so sorry." Mycroft said, his voice soft. "May I ask what happened?"

Greg considered it. He hadn't talked about it in years, and the truth suddenly tried to claw its way up his throat, wanting to claim its freedom. But no.

"Not today." he replied and Mycroft just nodded in compassion, not in pity as most people do. The room was once again filled with silence and Greg felt as though Mycroft too could see into his very core, into the darkest corners of his self, and he found himself liking the way those grey eyes roamed over him. He cleared his throat again. It had become rather a bad habit whenever he was pressed or nervous.

"I should get going." He said as he rose from the chair. "Was there anything else you wanted?" he asked.

"Your phone number." Mycroft replied, and Greg felt his face go red. "So we can get in touch regarding Sherlock." Mycroft added.

"Right. Yeah, of course." Greg stuttered out, and quickly scribbled his phone number on a note-pad provided by Mycroft.

"Thank you. And I promise I won't mention you breaking any rules for me." Mycroft smiled.

Greg smiled back. "I'll just tell them you blackmailed me into it."

"You could always try." Mycroft said seriously, and Greg honestly didn't know whether it was a threat or not. He raised his hand in goodbye and stepped out of the office and made his way back to the lift.

What it was with the Holmes brothers that made him so keen on bending the rules Greg didn't know, but he was starting to feel really curious to find out.