The 5 Times Greg Caught Mycroft & the 1 Time Mycroft Caught Greg

by: Ismira Daugene

Chapter 5

It had been a week since their first official date. Mycroft and Gregory had texted back and forth a few times asking after the other's day in that time, but both had had particularly busy schedules to contend with leaving no time to get together. Gregory had been busy first with catch up on paperwork (there was a lot more paperwork than one would suspect when it came to catching homicidal maniacs), and then with another case that had worn him ragged. Sherlock, who was fully recovered from his earlier poisoning, had stepped in upon Greg's request and helped to solve the triple homicide, but even he had been stumped for a while during the case.

There had been one night in particular that had scared both Greg and Mycroft. Sherlock had been particularly vexed with the lack of leads in the case and quietly slipped out to purchase a little something to help organize his thoughts. However Mycroft had suspected that it would be a danger night and had warned Gregory who had a trusted officer staking out Sherlock's Montague Street flat. It was a mark of just how desperate for a hit Sherlock had been that he didn't even notice the plain-clothes officer following him. The officer had quickly called Lestrade who then raced to Sherlock's destination, a small park along the Thames. He'd arrived just as Sherlock was about to make a deal and had wound up arresting the dealer and throwing Sherlock in a cell for the night. The younger Holmes brother had ranted and raved at Lestrade and his officers, but Gregory had held firm. Luckily a lead had come the following morning in the form of a witness who had been too scared to come forward earlier. With her testimony, they'd solved the case quickly. Despite this, Sherlock still was not speaking to either Lestrade or Mycroft at the moment, and was sulking in his flat. Mycroft figured so long as he wasn't going out to buy drugs, that he'd let his brother sulk.

It was Wednesday morning, exactly a week since he'd gone for coffee with Gregory. Mycroft was busy readying himself for a meeting with the Iranian delegation again (they still hadn't come to any agreements) when he received a text message from Gregory.

Have u forgotten its ur turn to pick what we do? I'm about ready to pick the most likely thing that will have u falling into my arms again. ;) – GL

Mycroft smiled and texted back.

I have not forgotten. In fact I have something planned and was about to ask if you were free Friday afternoon? – MH

There was a pause as Mycroft suspected Greg was checking his schedule. While he waited he gathered up the paperwork he would need at his meeting. As he snapped his briefcase closed, Gregory's response vibrated his phone.

Assuming the criminals of London cooperate, I should b free then. – GL

Excellent. I shall send Lewiston around to pick you up from Scotland Yard at 3PM then. – MH

Great! See u then! – GL

oOoOoOo

Friday afternoon came as slowly as possible. Despite the fact that Mycroft had at least three meetings every day and was constantly busy, it seemed that time only inched forward. It was Friday at 2:30PM when Anthea entered his office after a quiet knock. "What is it, Anthea," he asked not looking up from his computer.

She proceeded to lay several reports on his desk. "Just these, sir."

Mycroft looked up then and raised a brow. He could tell by the tenor of her voice there was more. "And?"

"It's your negotiations with the Iranian delegation, sir."

"What about them?"

"Our intelligence has heard rumors that the Russians are not happy with how they're going."

Mycroft snorted. "The Russians are never happy."

"It's more than that, sir. There's rumors that they're planning to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Uncertain, sir. However your security task force is recommending you have one of them with you at all times in public."

"That's a bit much, wouldn't you say?" Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"It's not my place to make judgements, sir. Colonel Darrow made the recommendation himself though."

Mycroft let out a sigh, but nodded. "Fine. Tell Colonel Darrow that I will accept his recommendation and give him my schedule."

"Yes, sir," she nodded and began tapping away at her Blackberry to do as he'd asked. "Lewiston is waiting for you in the car, sir."
Mycroft let a smile creep onto his face then. "Very well," he kept his voice calm though. "I will be unavailable for the rest of the day," he said as he packed up his laptop and a few reports to read later at home.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Anthea that will be all."

"Yes, sir," she glanced up and gave him a small smile this time before exiting.

Mycroft gratefully left the building and made his way down to the familiar black sedan. "Scotland Yard, Lewiston," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

They arrived at the Yard at 2:58PM and waited. They didn't have long to wait though before Gregory was walking out the door, Sally Donovan following him. He looked to be giving her last minute instructions as she kept nodding her head. Finally, he gave her a pat on the shoulder and turned to see Mycroft leaning against the back door of the sedan. Greg quickly covered the distance between them and leaned up to place a quick kiss along Mycroft's jawline.

The politician blushed, once again cursing his fair complexion that made it so noticeable, and grabbed hold of Gregory's hand. "Come, I have a surprise for you," he said as they climbed into the back of the sedan.

"Where are we going?" Greg asked, buckling his seatbelt.

"That would ruin the surprise," Mycroft grinned.

The car ride didn't last long, perhaps only twenty minutes before Lewiston pulled up to number 15 Savile Row. A deep green awning with gold gilded lettering proclaimed the red brick building to be Henry Poole & Co. Greg stared with wide eyes as Lewiston strode around the car to open the door. Mycroft slid out and pulled Greg with him. "Shall we?"

"Henry Poole?" he asked incredulously. "I can't afford Henry Poole, Mycroft," he said quietly as he got out of the car.

"You don't need to afford Henry Poole, Gregory. I can afford Henry Poole." He straightened his jacket and led the way into the shop. Greg, still gaping, hurried to catch up. Inside was all dark green carpeting, rosewood shelving, dove gray walls, brass accents, and leather furniture. Impeccable suits, ties, shirts, pocket squares, cufflinks, and tie pins sat on display.

Greg nearly ran into Mycroft as he stopped to hang up his coat. "How can I help you, gentlemen?" a young man dressed in a three piece charcoal gray suit asked with a welcoming smile.

"We have an appointment under Holmes," Mycroft replied.

"But of course, Mr. Holmes!" the man said. "I'm Timothy and will be glad to assist you in any way I can this afternoon." He gave a short bow. "If you'll follow me please?" He turned and led them along the narrow hall to a fitting room with several mirrors and a chair. "Radcliff will be out in a moment with your selections, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Lestrade," Timothy gave another short bow. "I'll be just around the corner should you need anything in the meantime.

"Mycroft, what are we doing here?" Greg whispered, leaning close.

"I'm replacing the suit you lost last we met," he replied.

"I don't need anything this fancy though!" Greg insisted.

Mycroft turned to face Greg who had creased worry lines running across his forehead. "Indulge me, Gregory. I will be asking a tremendous favor of you in a few moments."

"What favor?"

"You'll see," Mycroft smiled as he took a seat in the chair and crossed his legs.

At that moment another man, this one older and with greying hair at his temples, entered with several items laid over his forearm. He hung the shirts, jackets, and pants on the rack against the far wall and turned to face them. "Good afternoon, sirs. I'm Radcliff and I'll be your cutter today. As per your request and measurements given, I've selected several items that would be suitable for Mr. Lestrade. If you'll please try this on for starters, we'll see where to go from there," Radcliff said as he handed Greg a white button up shirt.

Greg took the shirt and glanced over at Mycroft who gave him a small nod. With a sigh, Greg stripped out of his jacket and cheap button-up shirt leaving him in just a sleeveless white undershirt. He carefully pulled on the new shirt and buttoned it up. "And these, sir," Radcliff handed him a pair of black slacks and stepped out, closing the door.

"Do you want me to leave as well?" Mycroft began to rise from his seat.

"Only if it makes you more comfortable," Greg shrugged.

Mycroft considered his options and sat back down. It wasn't like Gregory would be nude. He was just changing into slacks. Greg grinned at him and stripped out of his trousers. He wore navy colored briefs underneath, the same color as a standard policeman's uniform, and Mycroft felt his cheeks burn as he tore his eyes away from the revealing Y-fronts.

A quick thirty seconds later though, Greg was standing there dressed simply in a white shirt and black slacks. Mycroft tapped at the door and Radcliff entered again. He paused to examine Greg from head to toe. "We'll need to take in the shirt a little here," he ran a hand along Greg's waist, just hovering over the actual shirt. "And let it out just a tad here," he pointed along Greg's shoulders. "If you'll please stand with feet apart and arms held at shoulder length?"

Greg did as asked and Radcliff began taking measurements and pinning both the slacks and shirt in places where they needed to be taken in. The entire process of taking measurements lasted almost an hour, and by the end Greg was ready to sit down for a while. Mycroft readily moved from his seat to allow the Detective to rest for a moment while Radcliff went to select a few materials to choose from. "So what is the favor you wanted to ask?" Greg asked looking up at Mycroft from his seated position.

Mycroft's cheeks turned faintly pink again as he looked down to the floor then back up to Greg's warm brown eyes. "This visit is for more than just to replace your sports jacket," he started.

"I gathered," Greg replied, but didn't say any more.

Mycroft sucked in a deep breath and let it out before continuing. "Gregory, as it happens every year, I have been invited to the Royal Caledonian Ball. I have attended stag several times, and each time is an excellent opportunity to learn the most recent happenings of my peers. However in recent years I have found that attending this event solo is not as entertaining as it once was." He paused for a moment and gathered his courage before carrying on. "What I'm trying to say is that I would be honored if you would consider attending with me."

Greg stared at Mycroft for along minute, and Mycroft feared he had gone too far. However a moment later, Gregory stood and took both of Mycroft's hands in his. "I would be glad to go to the ball with you, Mycroft," he replied.

Mycroft smiled brightly. "Thank you, Gregory," he said quietly.

The rest of the afternoon was spent picking out material for both the sports jacket replacement that Mycroft insisted on purchasing for Greg and the white tie suit that would be needed for the Royal Caledonian Ball. In the end they chose the fawn pinhead with light blue window pane overcheck in wool for the sport coat and the milled finish dress barathea midnight for the tux.

oOoOoOo

It took a couple of weeks and several fittings, but eventually the sports coat and white tie tux where ready for their final fitting. If everything fit and Radcliff was happy with how it sat, Greg would be taking them home today. Mycroft and Greg entered the shop and were greeted by Timothy again. He led them back to the fitting room where Radcliff was already waiting for them. "If you'll step inside, Mr. Lestrade, your garments are ready to be tried on. Why don't we do the evening wear first?"

Greg nodded and stepped inside to try on his new outfit. This time, Mycroft waited outside. It only took a few minutes and Greg was opening the door again. The politician gaped at the man before him. No longer was this simply Gregory Lestrade. In front of him was a silver haired fox wrapped in a remarkably well cut suit that hugged his every curve and highlighted his broad shoulders. Mycroft felt himself sway slightly and the next thing he knew Gregory had reached out and pulled him into his chest, both arms wrapped around his torso.

"Whoa there!" He exclaimed as he caught the ginger. "I thought you said that there wouldn't be any catching with this suit business?" he commented with a sly smirk. "Also, did you seriously just go weak in the knees at the sight of me in this suit?"

Mycroft pushed against Greg's chest to right himself. "I beg your pardon, sir, but Holmes' do not go 'weak in the knee'!" he protested taking a step back and crossing his arms.

"Right," Greg drawled. "So if I pull the security footage of this place later, I won't see you literally fall into my arms?"

"That would be an abuse of your authority, Gregory, and frankly I'm shocked to hear you suggest such a thing!" Mycroft looked down his nose at him, but his voice had taken on a playful air.

It was at this point that Radcliff intervened. "If you two are quite finished, let's have a look at you," he grumbled moving to better see Greg. He made several hums and uh huhs as he moved around Greg, examining the suit from every angle. He even had Greg raise and lower his arms as well as cross his arms over his chest to gauge the tightness. "Well, everything seems in order here," he finally approved. "If you're happy with the fit, Mr. Lestrade, I think we can call this suit finished."

Greg looked at himself in the mirror again and turned around. "I would have to say that I'm very happy with the fit, Radcliff," he grinned, eyeing Mycroft.

"Excellent, now go back in there and try on the sports coat."

Mycroft was sorry to see the silver haired fox go, but he knew that come the Royal Caledonian Ball he would be able to stare at Gregory all night long with no shame.

The sports coat fit perfectly as well, and while it did Greg's figure wonders, Mycroft did not need to be caught again. Instead Radcliff put the items in garment bags while Mycroft and Greg headed up front to the desk. "Shall I put this on your account, Mr. Holmes?" Timothy asked typing away at the computer.

"Yes, that will do."

"Are you sure about this, Myc?" Greg asked learning against the counter.

"Of course I'm sure, Gregory. And I won't hear any more about it," Mycroft quickly signed a piece of paper that Timothy put before him with a flourish. "Thank you, Timothy," he said as Radcliff came out with two garment bags.

They thanked Radcliff and he gave a short bow of his head and welcomed them back anytime. Lewiston as well as the personal security guard that Colonel Darrow had assigned were waiting for them outside. Lewiston took care of the garment bag while Lieutenant McIntyre opened the car door. Greg and Mycroft slid into the back seat and were soon being whisked away from Savile Row. Mycroft eyed Greg, who seemed to be struggling to say something. "Do just say what's on your mind, Gregory," he said quietly.

"Well, it's just that…. I want to thank you, but the words don't seem enough."

"The words are plenty, and you're welcome," Mycroft sent him a small smile.

"I feel like a kept man," Greg chuckled.

"You are anything but, Gregory," Mycroft raised an admonishing eyebrow.

"Still, I'd like to thank you properly."

"Oh? And how would that be?"

Greg only smirked as he glanced at the divider window between front and back seats then leaned over and pressed his lips against Mycroft's. The ginger startled slightly at the sudden nearness, but relaxed back into the seat as Greg worked their lips together. It was nice. It was then that Greg's hands started wandering though. His left came up to cup Mycroft's cheek, while his right rested on his chest and began sliding down. Mycroft shivered and closed his eyes. Greg's right hand continued sliding down to the juncture between his lover's legs and gently squeezed. Mycroft jumped and jerked back. "Sorry! Is that not okay?" Greg asked with a furrowed brow indicating his worry.

"I…" Mycroft started, but he was still feeling jumpy, and his breaths were coming fast.

"Myc, it's okay if you don't want to."

Mycroft looked up to see the truth in Greg's warm brown eyes. He'd never had another tell him that it was okay to not want this. Maybe… just maybe Greg would be the first to understand. "I don't want that," he replied quietly once he'd gotten his breathing under control.

Greg's face dropped a little, but he quickly caught it and smiled. "That's fine, Myc. Maybe some other time?"

"No, Greg… just listen," Mycroft stopped him. "I… have never wanted that from anyone," he started. "It's not just you, or this moment." He took in a deep breath as he examined Greg's face. The man's features showed acceptance, if also a little confusion. "Coitus… sex," he began again. "The entire thing makes me extremely uncomfortable. I've never had a desire to have intimate relations with another person, male or female."

"Mycroft," Greg said quietly. "Are you… asexual?"

Mycroft looked up quickly, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Asexual?" he repeated.

"Yeah, you know… when you have no sexual attraction to anyone?"

"I… but I do have… erections. I do respond," he said quietly, not understanding what sexual attraction was.

Greg sent him a small smile though and grabbed up his hand to squeeze for support. "Myc, asexuality is different from libido or sex drive. You can still get hard and have erections and get off without being sexually attracted to anyone."

"Gregory, how do you know of this? Are there many people who feel this way? Are you asexual?"

Greg chuckled a little. "I know about it because my ex-wife was gray-sexual. It's a subset of asexuality. When we were first together, I learned a lot about it so that I could understand her wants and needs better. Turns out it wasn't her wants and needs I needed to worry about though," he grumbled remembering how they had slowly fallen apart as he'd advanced through his career. "As for how many people there are, it's uncertain. Last time I read something, experts were saying that about one percent of the population was asexual or a subset of it. But they also said it could be as much as four percent. Also, no, I'm not asexual. I'm pansexual."

Mycroft sat still as he let this information roll over him. How had he never learned this before? After all these years of feeling broken and hurt by others, this was the answer? Not only that, but there were others who felt the same way? He'd never thought to do a search on this. He'd only assumed that it was a peculiarity of his body, or that eventually if he found the right person he would feel something. The car slowing down pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see they'd arrived at his townhome. He looked back over at Greg to see that the man was watching him patiently, and that he was still holding his hand tightly. "You okay, Myc?" he asked quietly as Lewiston strode around to open the doors for them.

"Yes, or at least I will be," he answered. "Gregory, what else do you know about asexuality?"

Greg smiled and glanced at Mycroft's home. "Invite me in for a cuppa, and I'll tell you everything I know and where to find out more." Mycroft returned the smile and gladly led the way into the townhome, Gregory firmly at his side with a hand tangled in his.

Author's Note: Hey! Sorry for the late update on this (it's 10:35pm here). It was my first day of classes and I forgot about uploading. Anyway, hope you like this chapter. There's only one more after this! I should have it ready and up for you to read by this coming Friday (8/26). Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave comments!

P.S. The research I got to do for this chapter with Henry Poole & Co. and men in suits/tuxes was VERY satisfying! Probably the best research I've ever gotten to do! Also, did you know you can get an inside tour of Henry Poole & Co. on Google Maps Street View? It's pretty awesome! It was a great help while writing the dressing room scenes!