Fic: In the Rain (Mystrade)
Title: In the Rain
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Rating: PG
Summary: Lestrade has had a tough week.
They ended up walking in the infernal rain of London after Greg snapped "I'm sick of always having a woman stuck between us on the fucking way home". Not that he meant any offence to Anthea - the lovely woman who was more in love with her smartphone than anyone or anything else in the world - nor did he normally mind having her in the car. But he had had only a few hours of sleep for a week over a tough case, living mostly on coffee and cheap biscuits (not even donuts), he just couldn't help feeling absurdly unreasonable when Mycroft appeared at the door, impeccable as ever, ready to drive him home.
Now, as they walked shoulder to shoulder, with Mycroft's big black umbrella decidedly tilting towards the inspector's side so that he was sure the taller man must have been half soaked, Greg was beginning to feel ashamed of himself. He knew Mycroft hated walking, least of all walking in the rain in the middle of a damned freezing night. Yet this was exactly what he was doing now, willingly, just because his lover felt like behaving like a five-year-old.
"Mycroft - "
"It's all right, Greg."
Mycroft gave him a soft pat on the hand. Neither of them was ever the kind to display affection in public, be it in the dark or in broad day light. So the briefest of touch was enough for Greg, an assurance of understanding and love and that there was no need to apologise, or say thank you.
He found himself smiling for the first time in days. Though he didn't turn his head, he knew Mycroft was smiling too.
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Rating: PG
Summary: Lestrade has had a tough week.
They ended up walking in the infernal rain of London after Greg snapped "I'm sick of always having a woman stuck between us on the fucking way home". Not that he meant any offence to Anthea - the lovely woman who was more in love with her smartphone than anyone or anything else in the world - nor did he normally mind having her in the car. But he had had only a few hours of sleep for a week over a tough case, living mostly on coffee and cheap biscuits (not even donuts), he just couldn't help feeling absurdly unreasonable when Mycroft appeared at the door, impeccable as ever, ready to drive him home.
Now, as they walked shoulder to shoulder, with Mycroft's big black umbrella decidedly tilting towards the inspector's side so that he was sure the taller man must have been half soaked, Greg was beginning to feel ashamed of himself. He knew Mycroft hated walking, least of all walking in the rain in the middle of a damned freezing night. Yet this was exactly what he was doing now, willingly, just because his lover felt like behaving like a five-year-old.
"Mycroft - "
"It's all right, Greg."
Mycroft gave him a soft pat on the hand. Neither of them was ever the kind to display affection in public, be it in the dark or in broad day light. So the briefest of touch was enough for Greg, an assurance of understanding and love and that there was no need to apologise, or say thank you.
He found himself smiling for the first time in days. Though he didn't turn his head, he knew Mycroft was smiling too.