Masquerade
Title: Masquerade
Author: aislingdoheanta
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters/Pairing: Mycroft Holmes, Gregory Lestrade, slight Mystrade
Summary: While in fancy dress, Mycroft Holmes admits his crush to one Gregory Lestrade.
Rating: T
Word Count: 4190
Notes: Written for the Mystrade Fest prompt 44. This idea ran away with me, so it might not be exactly what you were looking for.
Warnings: Picturing Mark Gatiss as the Phantom is extremely distracting.
Disclaimer: Obviously Not Mine
Mycroft Holmes stepped out of the back of his hired car and took a few steps to the side to wait for Anthea. He straightened his dark maroon, velvet suit, adjusted his opera cape, and touched the mask covering half of his face.
"Don't worry, Sir. You look wonderful." She gently shifted the mask. "The Phantom in all his glory." She winked, which was appropriate as she had chosen to appear as Marilyn Monroe. She had claimed that she wanted to see if blondes really had more fun or not. Mycroft had pretended not to hear that.
He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I look foolish."
Anthea chuckled. "No. You do not. You look very desirable...and I'm not the only one who thinks so." She tilted her head minutely toward the left.
Mycroft glanced over to the side and saw a few women dressed as barmaids, although they most certainly would break quite a few laws wearing that ensemble to work. It was...flattering, all this attention, but there was only one person he hoped to see tonight: Detective Inspector Lestrade. Mycroft wasn't sure what he would say to the man, or if he would even gather the courage to speak to him. Mycroft was a genius when in charge of operations or negotiations, but became a bumbling teen when faced with the object of his affection.
It was all quite embarrassing. Not that he would admit that.
"Let's go inside. You need to look for your Detective." Anthea chuckled again and linked her arm through Mycroft's and led him into the conference room that had been set up for this event.
The Powers That Be had decided that a fun, social party would be a great morale booster for those in the public service. They had decided to make it a fancy dress party in hopes it would remain as informal as possible and give people a chance to relax and socialize.
Mycroft took in the amount of Naughty Nurses and Sexy Witches wandering around. The Firemen made Mycroft wrap an arm around his middle--Must they flit about like that? It's indecent.
He hadn't been planning on going until Anthea had uncovered that the Detective Inspector was supposed to be here as well. She knew of Mycroft's liking of the man and always made a point to bring it up whenever she could. Since she had asked, he agreed to accompany her. It was not to see the Detective.
Well, not only to see him.
His fingers trembled on the stem of the wine glass Anthea passed him and he took a hearty drink whilst gazing around the room. Anthea tapped his arm as she passed him on her way to one of the Fireman wandering around. They really shouldn't be allowed to walk around without a shirt on--it was the middle of December after all. Mycroft was only looking out for their own health.
"Jesus. When did it become appropriate for everyone to show up to functions half naked?" Detective Inspector Lestrade had arrived and was standing next to Mycroft, talking to him.
Mycroft startled at the voice and glanced to the left. "I am not sure. But I did not receive that memo either."
"Well, it would have been a disaster if you had received that memo. It would have been a shame for you to waste a perfectly good Phantom outfit." The Detective smirked. "You look," he licked his lips. "Extremely dashing. It suits you."
Mycroft felt his face heating up and looked down at his feet. He lifted his glass and meant to take another drink of wine, but found his glass empty.
The Detective Inspector signalled to the bar tender. "Can I get a Guinness and another glass of whatever he was drinking?" He smiled back at Mycroft as he handed him the glass.
"Thank you, Detective Inspector," Mycroft said softly.
He laughed. "Yeah, not much of a participant at this fancy dress party, I guess. But I just came from a case."
The Detective looked extremely sexy, in Mycroft's opinion, in one of his normal striped shirts with a leather jacket over his shoulders. "You came all this way for a boring fancy dress party?"
He levelled Mycroft with a look. "That was the original plan, yes. But...I found something much better to have shown up for." He winked.
Mycroft glanced down. "You flatter me, Detective Inspector."
"It's Greg. Or Gregory, if you prefer."
Mycroft nodded but couldn't say anything more. He took another sip of wine. He was saved by the bell signalling dinner.
"Am I going to learn of your identity?" Gregory asked as he placed a hand on the small of Mycroft's back and started leading him toward the dining area.
"Perhaps."
Gregory chuckled. "And I guess you have to leave by midnight."
"Well, I do have a rather early morning." Mycroft was joking--flirting?--with Gregory. It was not something he was used to. Nor was he used to someone laughing at Mycroft's attempts at humour. A small smile broke through to his lips.
Gregory sat down next to Mycroft and turned to him. "What if I guess?"
"You could. However, I am under no obligation to inform you of the truth," Mycroft said cheekily as he took a bite of his salad.
Gregory nodded. "What if I propose a trade? I get to ask you questions and every question I ask you, I have to answer as well. In the end, I get five guesses as to who you are. Does that sound fair?"
Mycroft chewed on his food and thought. It did seem fair, but he wasn't sure if Gregory would like that Sherlock Holmes' older brother had a small crush on him. "What if, at the end of the night, I do not wish you to know my identity?" Mycroft didn't look at Gregory.
Gregory placed a hand on Mycroft's thigh and squeezed gently once. "I won't pressure you."
Mycroft took a shaky breath in and turned to Gregory, studiously trying to ignore the hand on his thigh. "What if I have a question for you?"
"You can ask, but then you also have to answer." Gregory smiled and took his hand off Mycroft's thigh.
Mycroft chuckled and nodded. "Alright."
"What is your favourite colour?"
Mycroft let out a bark of laughter. He hadn't been expecting that. He was expecting Gregory to jump right in with the identity questions. "I suppose it would be teal or perhaps yellow."
Gregory smiled. "Mine is, actually dark red. It's part of the reason I think you look incredible in that." Gregory took another bite of his food as he thought. "Favourite foods? I'm a seafood man, anything at all. Along with chocolate pudding and custard."
"No doughnuts for the cop?" Mycroft asked with a smile. He couldn't tell if he was feeling more bold than usual or simply comfortable around Gregory.
Gregory laughed. "Of course there's doughnuts. But that's more of a cultural thing than my favourite food. I mean, it's like a war zone whenever there's doughnuts. And the looks given to the casualties--those who didn't quite make it in time. It's brutal those days," Gregory said shaking his head.
Mycroft laughed along with him. Then he cleared his throat. "Well...I am on a diet at the moment, so I do not have anything I love that I am allowed to eat."
Gregory stared at him. "You're on a diet? You?" Mycroft straightened in his seat and steeled his face. Gregory was quick to right himself. "I didn't mean anything bad by that. It's just...you look fantastic. Gorgeous, if I'm going to be honest. I just...can't see it. Why you'd need to."
For the second time that night, he felt his face heating up. He figured it would probably be a regular occurrence with Gregory. "Well, thank you." It wasn't often Mycroft was complimented on his appearance.
"You still need to answer the question," Gregory said as he angled his head.
"I like pasta," Mycroft said softly. "And sweets, like carrot cake or banoffee pie." So their banter continued throughout dinner. It was the first time Mycroft hadn't been completely aware of how much time had passed.
"Your turn," Gregory said as dinner began wrapping up.
"Um...do you read?"
"Not as much as I would like to. I'm assuming you do. Favourite book or story you could keep re-reading?"
Mycroft turned red, trying to find a title he both liked and was an acceptable answer. "I really enjoyed The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." He picked at the napkin over his legs. "The novel I could read over and over again is actually a play. 'The Tragedy of Richard II' by Shakespeare."
"Oh...you're a Shakespeare fan? 'Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate'," Gregory reached over and placed his hand over Mycroft's. "Afraid that's all I have memorized at this point."
"Then I'm afraid that this conversation is over," Mycroft said. He prayed Gregory would understand his version of sarcasm.
Gregory laughed and squeezed Mycroft's hand. "I could not have met you because I would remember your wit. I'm sure of it."
Mycroft glanced down where Gregory's hand rested. "We have met. A few times."
"When? Where?"
"I don't believe those are valid questions." Mycroft gently placed his other hand over Gregory's.
"You're right. I'm not playing by the rules." He stood and pulled Mycroft with him. "Let's go a little more...away from the centre of things." Gregory leaned against the wall and smiled at Mycroft.
"I have a question for you," Mycroft said tentatively. "Why are you talking with me right now?"
Gregory stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Mycroft cleared his throat. "You could be talking to anyone else."
"If I wanted to talk about nothing or what I thought of "Waterloo Road" or that other one about Coronations, then I'd go over and chat with one of them." Gregory gestured vaguely to the crowd of people. "I'm enjoying having an actual conversation with you." Gregory sounded a little put off.
"I didn't mean to offend you," Mycroft said quickly. "It's...Most people don't prefer me over others."
"Well, I'm not most people," Gregory said easily.
"No, you are not," Mycroft agreed and snagged a glass of whatever the waiter was walking around with. He took a long sip. He already felt the alcohol going to his head, but he didn't care. He took another drink. He was going to let loose...a little.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Alright! Alright!" Gregory said, laughing boisterously.
They both had been drinking and chatting for the past two hours. They talked about random things--Gregory had asked Mycroft his position on cheese. Mycroft still wasn't sure why--and serious issues, like what they had both hoped to achieve by the time they were forty.
"Okay," Gregory said. "Why did you come to this party? I mean, I don't think either one of us would every really come to something like this." He took a drink of his beer. "I came because, basically, my boss made it clear that someone needed to be here and I was that someone."
"Yes, me as well." Mycroft started then cleared his throat, changing tactics. "I was also hoping to run into someone."
Gregory chuckled. "Ah...the mysterious man has a mysterious interest. Interesting." He laughed. "Are you looking for the Christine to your Phantom?"
Mycroft laughed quietly. "I suppose you could say that."
"Yeah, you could because you're the Phantom of the Opera and you need to find your Christine. The person you have met a few times but they do not know you, not really. Now you need to find them so you can show them who you are." He scanned the crowd as if he was looking for who Mycroft was looking for. "I'm right, right?"
Mycroft smiled. "In a way. But it's much less mysterious than you are making it out to be."
Gregory looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Mycroft took a deep breath. "I came here to see you." He felt his face burning and was grateful for the mask. Whenever he was in Gregory's presence, he appeared cold and unemotional, because if he didn't, he would be a bumbling fool who constantly tripped over his own words.
Gregory looked baffled. "Me? You came here for me?"
Mycroft looked down. "Yes."
"Why?"
Mycroft sighed and shuffled his feet. "I...fancy you," he practically whispered.
"You fancy me?"
"Yes." Mycroft did not appreciate having to repeat himself. Especially in this situation. He wasn't even sure why he was telling Gregory this. He decided to blame it on the wine.
Gregory laughed. "I haven't heard that in a while." He brushed his hand down Mycroft's arm. "I wish I knew who you were. I could fancy you too."
Mycroft shook his head and tried not to display his sadness. "No, you would not."
"How can you be so sure?"
Mycroft ignored the question and decided to make a bold move. He grabbed Gregory's shirt and pulled him to him. He pressed his lips to Gregory's and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. For Mycroft, there wasn't.
The next thing Mycroft was aware of, Gregory had him pinned to the wall and was devouring his neck and jaw. Mycroft lost himself in the moment. It had been a long time since someone treated Mycroft this way. So Mycroft allowed himself to act like a teenager and snogged in the corner.
All too soon, it had to end, and Mycroft pulled away. "I have to go."
"Please. Tell me who you are."
"I'm afraid I cannot. You don't want me to spoil the night, do you?" Mycroft questioned.
"What if I want to know who you are?"
"You do not know me well enough to wish for an identity. You simply want to know what I look like behind the mask to see if I'm worth the trouble," Mycroft said sadly and pressed at his mask, making sure it was still firmly in place.
Gregory grabbed his hand and stopped him from leaving. "If you fancy me so much, you should know that's not true. We've been talking all night and I've enjoyed myself. I though you did too. Why don't you want to give us a chance?"
Mycroft smiled. "It was just one night. Can't that be enough?" He kissed Gregory's cheek. "Goodbye, Gregory."
Gregory didn't say anything as Mycroft slipped from the building.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Greg Lestrade was not afraid of a challenge. And if the Phantom refused to tell him who he was, Greg would find out another way. It wasn't disturbing someone's privacy if Greg wanted to just find them and talk with them. If more happened, he wouldn't object.
Greg had felt so comfortable talking with the Phantom. He had shared things he hadn't shared in a while and he had laughed more that night that he had in the previous year. It had been a long time since Greg had had that kind of connection with someone. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having that kind of connection with someone.
It was frustrating to know that he would probably never learn who his mysterious Phantom was.
Sherlock Holmes chose that moment to saunter toward one of his officers. And it struck him like the obvious solution it was. He could just ask Sherlock to help him find his Phantom.
"Are you a complete moron?!" Sherlock was insulting the officer he had with him on the scene.
Yeah, Greg would wait just a little longer to consult Sherlock for help.
"Lestrade. I cannot work with these...people." Only Sherlock could make the word "people" sound like a fatal disease.
"Sherlock," Greg sighed and rubbed his face. "It's too early for that."
"I couldn't agree more." Mycroft Holmes seemed to have appeared out of no where and materialized next to them. He was wearing one of his signature three piece suits and leaning gently on his umbrella. He looked at Greg. "I do hope I'm not intruding. However, this case requires everyone to be...discrete."
Greg sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Fine."
"No." Sherlock sounded like a petulant child. "He is not needed."
"Sherlock," Mycroft sighed. "I know that you think I am impeding on your territory, but I am needed here."
"I don't need you. Lestrade doesn't need you." Sherlock looked at him. "Why are you here?"
"I know that neither of you require my help, but I have been informed that my presence may be needed if certain details come to light." Mycroft explained as he shoved his hand in his pocket.
"Any help you're willing to give is appreciated," Greg said with a smile. "As Sherlock says...we're all a bunch of idiots here."
Mycroft shook his head. "I do not believe that's true."
Greg shrugged and turned to walk to the Constable who was in charge of standing guard near the police tape. It also helped clear his head and try to invision the scene the way it would have been last night. He tried to envision the scene playing out in his mind. A lovers' tiff turned into a nasty quarrel with one party ending up dead in a fit of passionate anger.
"How was your party? I didn't think you would stoop so low as to go to a fancy dress party," Sherlock's voice flitted over to where Greg was standing and watching over the scene. He was closer to the brothers than he had originally thought. He probably shouldn't eavesdrop...but a fancy dress party. Those didn't happen everyday and Greg was curious as to if Mycroft had been at the party the previous week.
Greg had a hard time picturing Mycroft Holmes at a fancy dress party. He had an ever harder time imagining him in fancy dress. Actually, he had a hard time picturing Mycroft Holmes in anything other than he usual three piece suit.
"It was fine." Mycroft sounded impatient.
"Oh...you met someone there?" Sherlock giggled--Greg was thrown off by that. "You did, didn't you?"
"I...will not be discussing who I may or may not have met."
"It's someone I know? It is, isn't it?" Greg could hear Sherlock's coat swishing around him as he turned from side to side.
Mycroft remained silent and Greg had to use everything in him to not turn and look at the pair, but keep his attention focused rigidly on the front of the building. He was thankful his back was to them.
"Alright, fine. You went as Raoul, didn't you? You've always had a strange love for that musical," Sherlock tutted at Mycroft's continual silence. "Oh, of course," Sherlock said, which must have been in response to something in Mycroft's demeanor. "It was the Phantom?"
"Sherlock!" Mycroft hissed.
Greg was floored. Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft was the Phantom that night? He wasn't sure what to do with that. Mycroft had always been an attractive man, Greg did have eyes after all. But he always seemed to never want to entangle himself in anything resembling a relationship. Clearly, he didn't want one with Greg or he would said something that night.
"Oh!" Sherlock's coat swished and he clapped his gloved hands together once. "You just had to play the role of the mysterious suitor! Oh, Mycroft. How very juvenile of you."
"I will not dignify that with a response." But he sounded a little shaken up.
Greg thought back to that night. Mycroft had told him he fancied him and Greg said he might fancy him back if he knew who he was.
No, you would not.
Mycroft had sounded so sure that there was no way Greg could even consider him if he had known. Maybe he did want to try something with Greg, but was afraid of how he would have been received. It made sense. Mycroft had always been a closed book, never speaking more than absolutely necessary.
"You could just--"
"No." Mycroft voice was sharp as he cut off his brother. Greg could practically feel the intensity of their gazes. It was time for him to do something.
"Oi!" He turned to face them. "Have you two figured out what caused the lovers' tiff?" They stared at him and he wasn't sure if it was because they were trying to figure out if he had been listening or wondering how his small brain figured it out. "I am a DI, you know. I do actually know what I'm doing."
"Debatable," Sherlock said as he waved his arm and made his way to Greg. "What have you figured out. Or, more accruately, what do you think you've figured out."
Greg rolled his eyes and gestured to Mycroft to join them. "Well, it's obvious that the attack wasn't premeditated. I mean, not many people would chose to use an antique book-end as a murder weapon."
"Quite right," Mycroft's soft voice said. Greg smiled at him. Mycroft looked to the side.
"Yes. We're all very happy that you are able to do your job. But you're wrong, it was premeditated. She had been planning this for a while because she was upset he wasn't going to leave his wife for her." Sherlock sighed. "How boring."
"Almost exactly right," Mycroft added. "She had been planning it, that's obvious from the lead up. However, she hadn't planned on following through this night. She had, of course, been planning on using a poison. More accurately, she planned to poison him on a night she was to be preoccupied."
"What?" Sherlock looked around and his eyes seemed to be franticly searching for something he had missed.
"Amazing," Greg said with a chuckle. "I've never seen him so quiet. You should accompany him on every case."
Mycroft looked down and tapped his umbrella. "I am not needed. He just sometimes forgets to take emotions into consideration. It's just a simple oversight." Mycroft sounded as though he was comforting Sherlock more than responding to Greg.
Sherlock huffed and walked away. Mycroft shook his head.
"I meant that, you know. You're always welcome to help."
"That's very kind, Detective Inspector," Mycroft said quietly. "But I'm afraid this is my brother's department, not mine."
Greg nodded. "I understand. Then how about dinner sometime?" Greg hadn't thought it was possible to startle Mycroft Holmes, but he had. The man's eyes widened for a second and his face turned pink. "Or coffee, tea, or drinks if you prefer."
Mycroft cleared his throat. "It's really not necessary. I was only helping my brother."
Greg chuckled. "Mycroft. I'm asking you out. It's not out of any obligation I feel on my part or a need to thank you. It's a date." He watched as Mycroft seemed lost for a second. "If you're not interested, that's fine. Just...don't look like I'm sending you to the gallows."
"No, I do not think that," Mycroft said, his voice a little harsher and quieter than normal. "I was not prepared for this."
Greg smiled and shifted slightly closer. "Alright. What do you say?"
"Yes. I would enjoy that." Mycroft smiled but he looked down.
"Tomorrow morning, say 10am, would you meet me for coffee?"
"Tomorrow is Saturday," Mycroft said and sounded like he was talking to himself more than Greg. "Yes, I believe that could work."
Greg smiled and reached out to place a hand on Mycroft's back. "I'm looking forward to it," he said softly as he leaned close to Mycroft. He took a step back and smiled. "You should wear red. I think it would suit you." He turned to walk back to the scene where his team was being harassed again by Sherlock.
"Detective Instpector--"
"Gregory." He corrected as he turned around.
"Gregory...you know, don't you?" Mycroft looked upset that Greg could know that he had been the Phantom.
"Know what?" He said, tilting his head to the side.
Mycroft looked down. "Nothing. It's...not important."
"I'm sure it's not," he said smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"
Mycroft nodded. "Yes."
"Good."
Greg turned back around to head back to his team, a huge grin on his face. He was going on a date with his Phantom.
"You asked him, then?" Sherlock said.
"Asked who?"
"Don't be daft, Lestrade. My brother. You asked Mycroft for coffee. Is that because you found out that he was at the party that night?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. What party?"
Sherlock shook his head. "He's not a good bet. So don't blame me when it all falls apart."
Greg smiled. "You might want to make sure you're paying attention. I would hate to have to call Mycroft over here to double check everything."
Sherlock's mouth closed with a snap.
Greg did not stop smiling for the rest of the day. It had raised a few looks as he was currently investigating a murder, but Greg didn't care. He was found out a way to shut Sherlock up and he was going on a day with Mycroft Holmes. All in all, quite a good day.