The Mistletoe
Title: The Mistletoe
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1410
Warnings: Christmas things happen?
Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own John Watson or Sherlock Holmes or Mycroft or Lestrade. The originals belong to ACD and their modern counterparts to Gatiss and Moffat.
Author’s Note: Sorry I'm a bit late in posting this to the lj. Meant to do it almost as soon as it was up on AO3, but forgot. Oops.
Written for: The Elegant Cactus for the Sherlock Secret Santa on Tumblr.
Summary: John throws a Christmas party.
It’s still amazing to John that Mycroft and Lestrade had never met prior to his first Christmas party at 221B. They had shown up to enough crime scenes to fix Sherlock’s problems that he thought they would have run into each other at least once or twice. But, this had never been the case.
As John sits in his armchair on his seventh snowy Christmas morning in 221B, thinking of the preparations for Christmas this year, he chuckles as he remembers their first meeting.
Five years ago…
“I’ve invited your brother.” John says picking up a book on the table and wiping underneath it. He grimaces as he looked at the amount of dust on his rag.
“No.” Sherlock replies. He hasn’t moved from his standard lying position on the couch, hands steepled under his chin and eyes closed.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” John replies moving to hover over Sherlock’s headspace. “I don’t care what you say, or whatever reasons you have, he’s invited and I’m only telling you so you don’t throw a fit when he gets here tonight.”
“No.” Sherlock doesn’t bother to open his eyes.
“And just why not? Harry’s coming. I see no reason why you don’t want your family to be here for our first Christmas party.”
“He’s not invited because you didn’t have to grow up with him. You don’t know about the…nevermind. Fine. He can come.” Sherlock’s eyes shoot open and he sits up staring at John directly.
John smirks. “I don’t know about the what Sherlock?”
“Nothing. Carry on with your inane cleaning.” Sherlock begins to stand to try and make his way to the kitchen.
“No. Tell me.” John grabs hold of Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock stops, his head turned away from John. He stares at the ground and
“No, John. No. I don’t really want to relive memories of Mycroft and I trying to drown each other in the punch bowl if you don’t mind. He can come. I don’t care.” Sherlock pulls his arm away from John and sulks off toward the stairs.
John watches as Sherlock takes the stairs two at a time and disappears with a slam of the door.
It takes about three hours, but he manages to organize the flat into some state of clean and has even strung up some lights and garland. He hasput up a miniature tree that is sparsely decorated with the few ornaments his parents had left him before they died, and of course, a sprig of mistletoe just above the entrance to the flat.
John finishes putting the last bit of food on the kitchen table, a mince meat pie, when the door bell rings. He smiles and sprints down the stairs to answer the door to find Sally and Anderson. His smile fades slightly.
“Ah. Hello. Come in. Welcome. First to arrive then.” John says ushering them up the stairs.
“Are we?” Sally says. She hesitates for a moment before coming inside.
“Yes, but I imagine everyone else will be along shortly.” John says taking the stairs to the flat entrance two at a time. He opens the door and holds it open waiting for them.
Just as the two of them reach the top of the stairs, there is another knock on the door and John sprints past them on the stairs to open the door. This time Mycroft and his assistant greet him.
“John.” Mycroft starts, his upright posture not moving an inch.
“Mycroft. Glad you could make it.” John extends his hand to shake Mycroft’s, but Mycroft doesn’t move. He pulls his hand back. “And uh, Anthea, right?”
“Melissa.” Mycroft says giving John a small smirk.
“Ah, right. Well come in. Sherlock is upstairs somewhere. There’s food on the kitchen table, which is clean for once and um…enjoy.” John gestures and Mycroft and Melissa cross the hallway and ascend the stairs.
John breathes a quick sigh of relief and begins to shut the door, when steady streams of visitors approach the door. First is Sarah and Karen, one of the other doctors from the practice, followed by Mrs. Turner, who actually knocks on Mrs. Hudson’s door before both of them climb the stairs to the Christmas party waiting in 221B. Then comes Harry, who seems to already be a little tipsy.
Molly isn’t far behind Harry and Mike Stamford along with Bill Murray. And soon John is out of small talk to make with people at the door. Almost everyone has arrived by John’s count, so he abandons his post at the door and returns to the party in 221B.
He takes the stairs two at a time; pushes open the door to find himself standing underneath the mistletoe with Molly, who hasn’t moved from the doorway. She smiles awkwardly at John and he returns a friendly smile before reaching out and giving her a hug along with a small kiss on the cheek.
“Everything ok Molly?” he asks as he releases her from the hug.
“Yeah.” She smiles a little reluctantly and begins to walk to the kitchen table, where she picks up a cup and fills it with some eggnog.
John surveys the room. Sally and Anderson are snuggling together onto the couch, a drink in hand. Mike and Bill are chatting away. And Sherlock is in what looks like an argument with Mycroft.
John closes his eyes for a moment. ‘Please let me be just dreaming this. Why couldn’t he just behave for one night?’ He thinks. He inhales and exhales to calm himself before walking over to intervene.
“I don’t care what you think Mycroft, you are definitely-“
“Mycroft. Melissa. Sherlock. Lovely party so far don’t you think?” John interrupts Sherlock’s sentence. He glances at Sherlock and Sherlock glares back, but shuts up.
Mycroft smiles a wicked smile and looks from Sherlock to John. “Well, I don’t mean to outstay my welcome. I do appreciate the invite,” he looks to Melissa and makes a head motion toward the door. Without looking up from her blackberry, she heads toward the door and down the stairs. “Do keep in touch.”
“Don’t count on it.” Sherlock snaps. John shoots him another glare.
“We’ll try.” John says smiling.
“Fine. Fine.” Mycroft says as he crosses the crowded room, heading for the door only to find himself cramped in the doorway with Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.
John struggles to muffle a giggle as he watches the two glare at each other and then glance up at the mistletoe strung above the door. Sherlock is less subtle with his amusement.
Lestrade looks over at Mycroft and heaves sigh.
“Can’t make my day any worse.” He says pulling Mycroft by the jacket lapels into a full on kiss.
Mycroft struggles slightly, shocked by the sudden electricity of Lestrade’s lips touching his, but quickly relaxes and returns the kiss.
Lestrade pulls away and stares up at the man. Mycroft stares back almost in a trance.
“Right.” Mycroft says. “Merry Christmas. Must be off.” He darts down the stairs; Lestrade’s eyes following his every move. The door slams behind him as he leaves.
Lestrade turns his attention back to the party and crosses to John, who is still holding back silent giggles. He rolls his eyes.
“Sorry mate. Didn’t know that was going to happen.” John squeaks out in between giggles.
“At least he wasn’t a horrible kisser.” Lestrade retorts.
John smiles at Lestrade and lets out another small giggle. Lestrade turns away and walks toward the kitchen table. He looks haggard and it doesn’t surprise John when Lestrade pours himselfa very large glass of scotch. ‘I wonder what’s wrong?’ John thinks and his mind begins to wander.
John’s phone vibrates in his pocket and it brings him back to reality. He pulls it out of his pocket, but before he can read the text Sherlock interrupts him.
“His wife just left him. Took his little girl with her too.” Sherlock says.
“That’s so sad. And this close to Christmas.” John says, his finger still hovering over the view key of the cell phone. He sighs, looks down at the phone, and hits the view button.
‘John- Who was that gentleman on the stairs? Mycroft Holmes’ The text message reads.
‘Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.’ John types in reply.
John waits a moment, looking at his phone waiting for a reply. One doesn’t come and in a moment of brilliance, John realizes why. Mycroft Holmes is falling for Greg Lestrade.