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Hiding in Plain Sight

Summary:

Of course Sherlock Holmes knows about the supernatural. His brother is the British Government, after all. By extension, Mycroft Holmes sits on the very top of the British Men of Letter's web of hierarchy. When Sherlock and John run into Dean and Castiel, their worlds become so much bigger.

Johnlock, Destiel, and Mystrade.

Updated sporadically.

Notes:

Per usual, this had started out with an immensely simple little tidbit that I wanted to share. All I needed was Johnlock and Destiel in a bar. But then, my mind supplied a tremendously fitting back story, and so, here we are. Lol. Buckle up for a multi-chapter Sherlock/Supernatural crossover! I'm as excited as you are to see where the story leads!

Chapter 1: The Deception of Truth

Summary:

Mycroft Holmes sees and knows all.

Notes:

Five years B.J.W (Before John Watson)

Chapter Text

Mycroft Holmes sat upon a rigid throne behind a fortress of mahogany, diligently attending to the never-ending stacks of paperwork on his desk. He had just released a quiet sigh of discontent when his assistant, Anthea, alerted him to an important incoming call.

"It's Dr. Coleman with an update on the vampire situation in Lower Clapton." She informed him as she transferred the call to his desk phone.

"Ah, yes." He replied curtly before answering.

"Dr. Coleman," The eldest Holmes brother greeted with a false tone of light cheer. "I do hope that things are being handled rather discreetly regarding this infestation."

A pause from the Men of Letter's head of security, however, alerted Mycroft to trouble. "Well, Mr. Holmes, we did have everything under control. That is until..."

Mycroft drew in a sharp breath and held it.

"...apparently, two or more of them were involved with an official police murder investigation that Sherlock was assigned to."

Mycroft didn't bother trying to conceal the frustrated groan that emanated from him upon this revelation. "He chased them off, then." He supplied, from simple deductions of his little brother's boringly predictable habits. Mycroft ran a hand over his facial features before posing a follow-up question. "Did he manage to capture or kill any of them at least?"

"No." Was the simple reply. "And now, the entire nest has been alerted. They've scattered into the wind, I'm afraid."

"I see. Do put Ketch and his team on it, then. It will take longer and require more resources, but we will still be able to exterminate them all."

"Yes, sir."

Mycroft swiftly returned the phone to it's receiver and then stared at it with scrutiny for a few moments, before turning to his assistant. "Anthea, I need you to do a pick up and then meet me at the old warehouse in precisely ninety minutes." He ordered.

******************************************************************

"What in the bloody hell do think you're playing at? Do you have any idea who I am?!?" A gentleman with salt and pepper hair barked as he exited the sleek black car in the middle of the warehouse. The sound of the passenger door slamming echoed through the building. Anthea quickly and quietly guided him over in her bosses direction, before returning to the vehicle.

Mycroft was standing with one foot crossed over the other ankle, leaning into his umbrella for balance. A bright overhead light lit him nicely from above in the abandoned warehouse. It was all quite theatric, which Mycroft throughly enjoyed. A genuinely pleased smile presented itself before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Yes, my apologies, Detective Inspector Lestrade. But it was imperative that we met as soon as possible."

Upon hearing his name and title the other man's body relaxed ever so slightly. "I'm sure you're aware that I do, in fact, possess a mobile phone." Greg snarked.

Mycroft tried not to smirk, though he was amused at the sarcasm. "I prefer to meet with persons-of-interest face to face." He explained.

"Ay, but I could have you arrested for kidnapping. And a detective inspector, no less." But his voice quickly dropped it's anger as he took in his surroundings.

"With all due respect, it may very well be an intriguing endeavor on your part. I certainly might get a thrill out of you putting me in handcuffs, however." Mycroft speculated boldly. The D.I.'s eyes went wide at that statement, but then his whole demeanor shifted to one of flirtation. The older man was so expressive and his devilishly handsome good looks had Mycroft's thoughts in an unusual place. Not that he never...well, anyway...He cleared his throat to ground himself back to reality. "We need to talk about Sherlock."

"Ah, bloody Christ!" Lestrade threw his whole body into the statement. His body tensed, he dipped his head, and his hands shot up. "I should have known. What with all the drama and the craziness that this," Greg gestured around the room and back towards the car, "whole meeting puts off. Geez, Is everything with Sherlock this obnoxious?"

Mycroft smiled lightly and dipped his head to try to hide his amusement. "Yes. I'm afraid that you've only just begun to uncover the eccentric nature of all that encompasses my little brother."

"...brother..." Greg said the word quietly and thoughtfully, like he was testing it out. "Alright." He stated, steeling himself a bit more and looking directly at the eldest Holmes brother. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

"Well, Detective Inspector Lestrade, as the elder brother it is my utmost responsibility to ensure Sherlock's safety, general well being, and to clean up his messes. However, because of the minor position that I hold in the British government, Sherlock's...escapades...tend to often interfere directly with my line of work." Mycroft sighed heavily and the D.I. took the opportunity to speak.

"You don't have to use my full title, it's a bit of mouthful, yeah? Greg is fine. Also, I didn't catch your name."

Mycroft found himself a bit stunned by this. Perhaps it was because the Inspector's attention was so obviously on him and not on the consulting detective they were meant to be discussing. After a moment of recovery, he replied. "Oh my. Do excuse my manners. The name is Mycroft Holmes."

"Mycroft. Seems fitting. An unusual name for an unusual gent...with an unusual brother." Greg smiled widely.

Mycroft blushed slightly under the D.I.'s gaze. He paused for a moment to fully read the man in front of him; The way he held himself, leaning in towards him slightly. The smile radiating confidence, but there was also the way he grasped one hand loosely in the other across his body, as though still guarded. The smile didn't completely reach his eyes: Nervousness. Speaking of his eyes, they were a beautiful shade of dark brown. Bagged underneath from sleepless nights, at the office, no doubt. He must spend most nights there, what with the state of his suit. Being a detective inspector doesn't pay as well as one might think.

He quickly wondered just how many suits the man owned. It seemed that the one he was in was worn rather frequently. Then there's the matter of that dastardly ring on his finger. Unhappily married though, as indicated by the tan line not standing out as much as it should if he never took it off, and the indentation not as prominent. No, it seemed this man was married more to his work than his spouse, and was not always faithful to either. The one thing he couldn't quite figure out is why the other man seemed to have an interest in him.

He must have been staring a bit to sharply because the Inspector seemed to clam up a bit under his scrutiny. "Right. My brother. The matter that we're discussing." He said, mostly to remind himself what he was supposed to be doing because this damn gorgeous flirt in front of him was disrupting his thoughts.

"Right." Greg's smile grew impossibly larger and he chuckled.

Despite himself, Mycroft returned the chuckle. "I really do need to have this discussion with you."

"You DO know that, while yes, it's your job to worry about your little brother, it's not actually your job to take on the full responsibility of his well being and you don't have to clean up his messes. In fact, you probably shouldn't. Sherlock has to learn how to do those things for himself."

Mycroft utilized a few seconds to internalize Greg's words. "I suppose you are correct, for the most part. However, Sherlock is a bit of a special case. And, again, his messes usually end up disrupting my most exceedingly crucial work. Not to mention, as with all addicts, he needs a bit more support to ensure that he's taking proper care of himself."

That shut Greg up spectacularly. Enough so, that Mycroft raised an eyebrow in question at the older man. "Surely, you knew about Sherlock's condition?"

"I...I had suspected." He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his broad hands. "Just...I was just hoping that I was wrong, is all."

"Oh, Gregory." Holmes despaired. Greg's eyes shot up to hold his gaze at the sound of his name on Mycroft's lips. "My brother has a brilliant mind, as you've witnessed, but unfortunately he does not handle 'feelings' or 'emotions' very well. I'm sure you'll come to learn this."

"Alas, the work that he's begun recently is good for him, as well as your police force. I don't wish to discourage it, only to monitor it." He finished.

"Monitor it." Greg parroted.

"Are you aware how often you repeat others?"

Greg ignored that comment. "What exactly are you asking of me?" He questioned instead.

"I can monitor my little brother quite well on my own," Mycroft assured. "However, it would be immensely helpful, were you to relay information and perhaps even steer him away from certain cases or situations."

"You're asking me to be Sherlock's handler, aren't you?"

Mycroft looked down at Greg's shoes as one corner of his mouth turned up in smirk (He seemed to be doing a lot of that in Gregory's presence.) before redirecting his gaze back to Greg's dark chocolate eyes. "I suppose if you really must put a word to it, then yes."

"No." Greg said defiantly.

Hmm. Interesting. Not that Mycroft couldn't just force his way, but he would much prefer not to. Besides, he only needed to invoke more favorable words of reason in order for Gregory to agree to his ways. "I would have to ask that you reconsider. For Queen and Country, and for the sake of the world itself."

Greg scoffed. "You really are a drama queen, Mycroft Holmes."

"I won't deny it, but my previous statement is true. There are things that you are unaware of out there, Gregory. Things that, if exposed, could destroy our entire world. I'm simply asking that you play a part in not allowing that to happen."

"What kind of things?"

"I'm afraid I can't indulge."

Greg’s confusion and hesitation was written across his features.

Mycroft sighed. (He was doing that a lot today too.) The lanky man then raised his left hand above his head, signaling his assistant. "Gregory, please." He practically whispered. "The sake of the world aside, I know you're fond of Sherlock and I suspect that you would like to see him reach his full potential as well."

Greg looked deeply into Mycroft's eyes for some time, searching for something. Seemingly having found what he was looking for, he nodded. "Yeah. Alright."

"Good. Anthea! Please escort our guest, here, to his location of choosing."