fic: When Greg asked Mycroft out
When Greg asked Mycroft out
Rating: G
Pairing: Lestrade/Mycroft
Disclaimer: Just playing in someone else's sandbox.
Beta: Amazing theshockblanket, thank you so much. <3 All remaining mistakes are mine.
Summary: Mycroft gets Greg to ask him out.
There was a gentle rap on the door. Greg looked up, startled; ordinarily, his staff preferred to charge in without bothering to ask permission.
“Come in,” he called.
The door opened and a man in a very neat suit walked in with an air of confidence that had startled Greg the first time they had met. Nonetheless, Mycroft Holmes was nothing if not unswervingly polite; after a few chance meetings through Sherlock, he had thawed out, becoming as friendly as someone like Mycroft Holmes was capable of behaving.
To outsiders, he still seemed like an impossibly imposing figure, armed with a smile that raised the hair on most of the Yarders’ necks. Most of them skulked away when he appeared, unexpected and announced, at the station, and wondered amongst themselves about precisely why DI Lestrade seemed to be so at ease with Mycroft Holmes. Then again Lestrade was - for the lack of a better word - friends with Sherlock.
“Good afternoon, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft smiled pleasantly.
Greg waved his hand at the seat in front of him and leaned back in his own chair. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said, slightly warily. Mycroft Holmes had never struck him as the sort of man to make social calls. "Has something happened?"
Mycroft smiled again. “No no, I was just having a, ah, chat with the superintendent over some small matter that happened involving some, shall we say, people who do not need unnecessary publicity.”
Greg cocked an eyebrow. He knew Mycroft did something for the government, though nobody seemed to be able to explain precisely what. Regardless, Greg knew how to pick his battles - and finding out what exactly Mycroft did that apparently necessitated his knowing everything about everyone was one of the few battles he had given up immediately.
“Well, I hope the matter got sorted.”
“Quite so,” Mycroft nodded. “I thought that whilst I was in the figurative neighbourhood, I could perhaps, ah, pop in and say hello. Since my brother has been behaving himself of late, I have not had the pleasure of your company.”
Greg's stomach did a funny turn at the word pleasure. He forced the feeling down. It was just a figure of speech, after all.
“I think the doctor has a good effect on Sherlock,” Greg said. “Sherlock was almost civil to my team members yesterday.”
Mycroft's lips quirked up into something resembling a smile. “Yes. It seems that Doctor Watson has had quite an impact on my brother.”
Greg thought he could hear something underneath the words - but what? Relief that Sherlock had someone in his life? Sadness that despite all his efforts, Mycroft had not been able to...to what? Greg knew Mycroft loved his brother, despite Sherlock’s deliberate pushing and blocking all of his efforts to show that he cared - and yes, Greg admitted to himself, sometimes the efforts were not what you would perhaps call normal. Then again, it was the Holmes brothers and very little was normal with them. He didn't think he could ask Mycroft about it, not now. Maybe if they ever found themselves in some more informal environment…
He wondered if he could ask Mycroft for a pint. Somehow, he couldn't see Mycroft sitting casually in a pub, just relaxing after a day at the office, chatting about sports or anything else normal.
“It's good that he has found someone to balance him out,” Greg said finally, after the silent had stretched out a bit too long for his liking. "What about you?"
The words were out before he had realised that he had been thinking them. Good going, Gregory, Greg thought to himself. Mouth, meet foot.
Mycroft quirked one of his odd smiles again. “Unfortunately, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting someone who could, ah, balance me out, as you so delicately put it.”
So. Mycroft was unattached. Greg had suspected as much; no one had ever mentioned anything about any additional family - the mysterious ‘Mummy’ not included - and God knew Sherlock used everything he could to make his remarks about Mycroft hurtful if the mood struck him right.
“Well. I'm sure you're too busy for relationships anyway, what with your...job.” Greg waved a hand awkwardly, as if to clarify that by job he meant whatever it was that Mycroft did during his waking hours.
“While it is true that my job can take up a great deal of my time, I would make sure to have enough time for my, ah, partner, were I fortunate enough to have one. Unfortunately, as it is, no one has expressed any kind of romantic interest towards me.”
Greg had a suspicious feeling his ears were turning red. How had he ended up having this kind of conversation with Mycroft bloody Holmes?
“And yourself, Detective Inspector?” Mycroft was studying him with intense eyes. “Anyone balancing you out?”
Greg cleared his throat. “No, not really. Me and my wife... well, we filed for divorce but it will take some months before it's done. I'm still married, I suppose, but only on paper.”
“Ah, how pitiful it is. Two single men sitting together like this, wishing for companionship with someone they can trust.” Mycroft sighed theatrically.
Greg stared at him for a moment, bemused. Then it hit him. A slow smile began to work its way across his face.
“Fine, fine, I get it. Do you want to grab a drink sometime?”
“Make it a dinner and it's a date.” Mycroft's eyes shone with mirth.
Greg felt a warm fluttering feeling spread inside of him. “Friday, at seven. Meet me in front of the station.”
"Yes, sir." Mycroft's smile was wicked.
Rating: G
Pairing: Lestrade/Mycroft
Disclaimer: Just playing in someone else's sandbox.
Beta: Amazing theshockblanket, thank you so much. <3 All remaining mistakes are mine.
Summary: Mycroft gets Greg to ask him out.
There was a gentle rap on the door. Greg looked up, startled; ordinarily, his staff preferred to charge in without bothering to ask permission.
“Come in,” he called.
The door opened and a man in a very neat suit walked in with an air of confidence that had startled Greg the first time they had met. Nonetheless, Mycroft Holmes was nothing if not unswervingly polite; after a few chance meetings through Sherlock, he had thawed out, becoming as friendly as someone like Mycroft Holmes was capable of behaving.
To outsiders, he still seemed like an impossibly imposing figure, armed with a smile that raised the hair on most of the Yarders’ necks. Most of them skulked away when he appeared, unexpected and announced, at the station, and wondered amongst themselves about precisely why DI Lestrade seemed to be so at ease with Mycroft Holmes. Then again Lestrade was - for the lack of a better word - friends with Sherlock.
“Good afternoon, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft smiled pleasantly.
Greg waved his hand at the seat in front of him and leaned back in his own chair. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said, slightly warily. Mycroft Holmes had never struck him as the sort of man to make social calls. "Has something happened?"
Mycroft smiled again. “No no, I was just having a, ah, chat with the superintendent over some small matter that happened involving some, shall we say, people who do not need unnecessary publicity.”
Greg cocked an eyebrow. He knew Mycroft did something for the government, though nobody seemed to be able to explain precisely what. Regardless, Greg knew how to pick his battles - and finding out what exactly Mycroft did that apparently necessitated his knowing everything about everyone was one of the few battles he had given up immediately.
“Well, I hope the matter got sorted.”
“Quite so,” Mycroft nodded. “I thought that whilst I was in the figurative neighbourhood, I could perhaps, ah, pop in and say hello. Since my brother has been behaving himself of late, I have not had the pleasure of your company.”
Greg's stomach did a funny turn at the word pleasure. He forced the feeling down. It was just a figure of speech, after all.
“I think the doctor has a good effect on Sherlock,” Greg said. “Sherlock was almost civil to my team members yesterday.”
Mycroft's lips quirked up into something resembling a smile. “Yes. It seems that Doctor Watson has had quite an impact on my brother.”
Greg thought he could hear something underneath the words - but what? Relief that Sherlock had someone in his life? Sadness that despite all his efforts, Mycroft had not been able to...to what? Greg knew Mycroft loved his brother, despite Sherlock’s deliberate pushing and blocking all of his efforts to show that he cared - and yes, Greg admitted to himself, sometimes the efforts were not what you would perhaps call normal. Then again, it was the Holmes brothers and very little was normal with them. He didn't think he could ask Mycroft about it, not now. Maybe if they ever found themselves in some more informal environment…
He wondered if he could ask Mycroft for a pint. Somehow, he couldn't see Mycroft sitting casually in a pub, just relaxing after a day at the office, chatting about sports or anything else normal.
“It's good that he has found someone to balance him out,” Greg said finally, after the silent had stretched out a bit too long for his liking. "What about you?"
The words were out before he had realised that he had been thinking them. Good going, Gregory, Greg thought to himself. Mouth, meet foot.
Mycroft quirked one of his odd smiles again. “Unfortunately, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting someone who could, ah, balance me out, as you so delicately put it.”
So. Mycroft was unattached. Greg had suspected as much; no one had ever mentioned anything about any additional family - the mysterious ‘Mummy’ not included - and God knew Sherlock used everything he could to make his remarks about Mycroft hurtful if the mood struck him right.
“Well. I'm sure you're too busy for relationships anyway, what with your...job.” Greg waved a hand awkwardly, as if to clarify that by job he meant whatever it was that Mycroft did during his waking hours.
“While it is true that my job can take up a great deal of my time, I would make sure to have enough time for my, ah, partner, were I fortunate enough to have one. Unfortunately, as it is, no one has expressed any kind of romantic interest towards me.”
Greg had a suspicious feeling his ears were turning red. How had he ended up having this kind of conversation with Mycroft bloody Holmes?
“And yourself, Detective Inspector?” Mycroft was studying him with intense eyes. “Anyone balancing you out?”
Greg cleared his throat. “No, not really. Me and my wife... well, we filed for divorce but it will take some months before it's done. I'm still married, I suppose, but only on paper.”
“Ah, how pitiful it is. Two single men sitting together like this, wishing for companionship with someone they can trust.” Mycroft sighed theatrically.
Greg stared at him for a moment, bemused. Then it hit him. A slow smile began to work its way across his face.
“Fine, fine, I get it. Do you want to grab a drink sometime?”
“Make it a dinner and it's a date.” Mycroft's eyes shone with mirth.
Greg felt a warm fluttering feeling spread inside of him. “Friday, at seven. Meet me in front of the station.”
"Yes, sir." Mycroft's smile was wicked.