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Mycroft had feared it, the mating urges he expected to appear when he decided on a mate. When none came, he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or disappointed. Mycroft hadn’t shown himself right away, of course. It was well into their second year of ‘dating’ that Mycroft revealed what he was, knowing that there was a fine line between waiting too long and not waiting long enough.
Lestrade had actually reacted better than Mycroft had expected. There had been yelling and cursing, but when it was all over, instead of running, it had ended with Mycroft as a fox curled up on Lestrade’s lap as he ran his fingers through Mycroft’s red fur. In fact, after a long day’s work on both their parts, such a position had become a favorite for them, a way to help them relax.
Lestrade had, of course, worked out that Sherlock wasn’t so very different from Mycroft, and he’d laughed when he realized the shock that John was in for.