Chapter Text
Greg Lestrade bounded up the stairs at 221B Baker Street. He knocked and then let himself into the room, stopping short when he saw that John and Sherlock had company. Sherlock was yelling at an attractive man in a very nice suit who was sitting in one of the armchairs, tapping an umbrella impatiently against his foot.
“If you are quite finished, Sherlock, it appears that you have a visitor,” the man said, nodding at Greg.
Sherlock turned. He was clearly very annoyed about something, which hurt Greg’s chances at getting his help. Wordlessly, Greg handed the file he was holding over to Sherlock. Sherlock looked through it and then tossed it back to Greg. “It’s a three. Come back when you have an eight.” He turned back to face the well-dressed man in the chair.
“Hello, Greg!” John said, entering from the kitchen. “What brings you over? Oh, Mycroft’s still here. ” He looked mildly disappointed at the presence of the other man, who didn’t seem to notice or care that John was upset he was there.
“Since no one else is going to, I’ll introduce us,” Greg said to the man. “Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Greg.” He held out his hand to shake.
The man stood up and shook Greg’s hand politely. “Mycroft Holmes. I suppose I shall be leaving. Would you like a ride, Detective Inspector? I have a car.”
Since Sherlock hadn’t seemed interested in the case, Greg didn’t really have a reason to stay. He nodded. “Ta, that’d be great. Pub tomorrow, John?”
John nodded and Greg followed Mycroft down the stairs. “I apologize for my boorish brother. He was not beat enough as a child.”
Greg laughed and climbed into the luxury car that was waiting after Mycroft. “It’s okay, I’ve known Sherlock long enough to not take offense. I didn’t know he had a brother, though.”
“I don’t suppose that you would. Sherlock and I are hardly close, so he wouldn’t mention me. And, as you saw, Doctor Watson despises me.”
“Why is that? I thought John was friends with everybody.”
“Oh, I kidnapped him. I had to ensure that he would be an acceptable friend for my brother. He did well.” Mycroft looked very approving as he remembered the interaction.
“Do you often kidnap people?” Greg thought that he should perhaps be more concerned about the man casually mentioning kidnapping someone, but he didn’t really sense a lot of danger with Mycroft. If he had been dangerous, John would not have let Greg go with him. Greg wasn’t so sure about Sherlock, but he knew that John would stop him from accepting a ride from someone who would hurt him.
“When necessary. I considered kidnapping you when my brother began your association, but I decided it wasn’t worth my time.”
“So you know exactly who I am, then?”
“More or less. I take an interest in my brother’s well-being.”
“Well, that’s hardly fair. You have the upper hand in any conversation we may have.”
Greg noticed that they had pulled up outside of his flat, without Greg giving any instructions to Mycroft or the driver, whom he hadn’t seen. “I tend to have the upper hand in every conversation, Detective Inspector.”
Greg watched Mycroft for a moment. The man was completely at ease in a way that would have come off as smug if it didn’t seem so natural on him, so right. There was a small smile on his face that was strangely endearing and his eyes looked like they could read every thought in Greg’s head. Knowing Sherlock, Greg didn’t doubt that this mysterious man could read him just as well as Sherlock could. Could he read the attraction that Greg was feeling? Did he know that Greg was half hard already, just by looking at the man sitting calmly in his car? Greg didn’t think that Mycroft knew he was attractive. Surely he knew that he was well dressed and he took pride in his appearance, but Greg was positive that he didn’t know how distractingly sexy he was in that suit. Greg had a sudden impulse and decided to run with it, trying to throw Mycroft off balance.
“Would you like to go to dinner with me Saturday night?” Greg asked, one hand on the door handle to make a quick escape if the answer was no.
Mycroft looked slightly confused, which made Greg smile. He had succeeded in at least evening the playing field. “Dinner? As in…”
“A date. Dinner, wine, conversation, perhaps other things.” Greg kept his voice casual, but he made his best bedroom eyes, which made Mycroft flush.
“A date,” Mycroft parroted, apparently at a loss for words.
“Aw, go on,” Greg said, reaching over and picking a piece of lint off of Mycroft’s lapel and smoothing it. “Agree to a date with me. We’ll have fun.”
Mycroft took a breath and seemed to center himself, regaining his calm demeanor from before. “I would enjoy that, Detective Inspector. Here is my card, you may contact my assistant with the details.”
Greg took the card with a small smile. No one had ever had him set the details of a date with an assistant before. He was sure that he was going to have a very interesting time going out with Mycroft Holmes.
***
The next day was Friday. Greg took a break from working to call the number on the card that Mycroft had given him.
“Hello, Detective Inspector Lestrade,” the woman who answered the phone said.
“You know who I am before I say hello?” Greg asked, laughing.
“I am very good at my job, sir.”
“And your name is…?”
“Anthea. Mr. Holmes informed me that he will be meeting you socially tomorrow night. If you provide me with a time and a place, I will ensure that he arrives punctually.”
“I can’t pick him up at his home with a dozen roses, then?” Greg joked.
“Unfortunately, we find it inadvisable to share Mr. Holmes’ home address with you at this juncture.”
“Probably wise. I’m a shady type.” He gave her the details of his favorite restaurant, an intimate Italian place he thought would be nice for a first date. He made a few more jokes, but didn’t get so much as a chuckle from Anthea. Oh well, he thought as he hung up the phone. If all went well, he was sure he’d get to know her a lot better.
That evening, he met John at their favorite pub for a pint or six. “Guess what I’m doing tomorrow night,” he said after they both had one under their belt.
“Hot date?” John joked. Since his divorce, Greg hadn’t dated anyone or even shown an interest in anyone. John had tried to set him up a couple times, but Greg had always said no. It had been twenty years since his last date and he always said that he didn’t feel like starting all over again.
“Actually, yes. With Mycroft.” Greg took a calm drink of his pint while John spluttered.
“Mycroft? Mycroft Holmes? The bloody ‘British Government’?”
“Ah, is that what he does? I gathered he was quite important.”
“He is the biggest git I’ve ever met. Why would you go on a date with him?”
“Have you seen him? He’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to see what’s under that suit.”
John shuddered. “I can’t think of Mycroft like that. It’s like thinking about your teacher having sex.”
“Or your brother-in-law?” Greg asked with a smile.
John ignored the comment and took a long drink. “I didn’t think that Mycroft dated. I’ve always assumed that he didn’t have time for sex, like Sherlock. ‘Not really his thing.’” “I hope not. It’s been ages for me and I’m very interested in him. He agreed to a date, so that’s a start.”
“Mycroft Holmes on a date. You’re mad, Lestrade.” John shook his head, making Greg laugh.
***
Saturday morning found Greg with a massive headache. He spent several hours trying to recover from the many pints he had shared with John, eventually coming home from a nice long run feeling like a human being. He took a hot shower and spent over an hour perfecting his appearance. He normally spent about ten minutes getting ready, including a shower, but he wanted to ensure that he looked perfect. Mycroft was bound to look like he stepped from the pages of a magazine, so Greg wanted to look as nice as he possibly could. He decided on a black button down shirt, no tie, with the top two buttons open, revealing what he hoped was a sexy smattering of gray chest hair. He put his best black jacket and the trousers that hugged his arse in just the right way on and carefully arranged his hair to look slightly messy.
He arrived at the restaurant early and ensured that they had been given the nicest table in the building. He set a single red rose across Mycroft’s plate and waited nervously. He wasn’t sure about the flower, but his wife had once told him that the most romantic date she had been on (not with Greg) had started with a single red rose on her plate when she arrived at the restaurant.
At precisely 8:00, Mycroft entered the restaurant. As he was led over to the table, Greg was able to have a good, long look at him. He was wearing a dark gray pinstripe suit that was striking against his pale skin. The suit fit him like angels had crafted it to his exact specifications and the sight of him in it made Greg ache with want. Greg shifted slightly so his need wasn’t so obvious and stood to greet Mycroft, pulling out his chair for him.
Mycroft picked the rose up and smelled it daintily, a smile playing at his lips. Greg couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone light up with delight like that, especially at something so small. It was clear that Mycroft’s dating history was as sparse as Greg’s, which put Greg at easy.
“How was your week, Detective Inspector?” Mycroft asked.
“Call me Greg. It went well. Nothing catastrophic happened, which means it was a success. And yours?’
“I had a very productive week. It was satisfactory.”
“What is it that you do, Mr. Holmes?”
“Mycroft, please. I occupy a minor position in the government. It isn’t anything that would interest you.”
“As long as it interests you. That’s what is important, right?”
“Quite right, Gregory.” He paused while Greg ordered wine for the two of them and then looked at Greg with keen interest. “May I ask why you invited me on this date?”
“Quite frankly, I find you very attractive,” Greg said, making Mycroft flush red. “I haven’t been on any dates since my divorce two years ago and I thought that I would quite enjoy a date with you.”
“Your divorce?”
“Yes, I married Karen when I was twenty-one and we decided to end it after twenty years. It was hard for a bit, but I haven’t even thought about her in months.”
“If I may be inquisitive, are you bisexual?”
Greg smiled. He had been about his sexuality often when he was young. “I suppose I am. I’ve dated men and women and was married to a woman for a long time. It’s been ages since I was with a man. And yourself?”
“I lean more toward the homosexual end of the spectrum. My dating experience is minimal. I hold a position that intimidates most. Very few men have shown an interest in me.”
“The men you know are idiots,” Greg said, leaning forward. He was rewarded with a self-conscious smile that made him want to grab Mycroft and drag him into the nearest loo.
They had a very nice time as they ate their dinner, learning a lot about each other. They had several interests in common, mostly books and holiday destinations. When they had finished, Greg walked Mycroft outside. “Would you like to come back to mine for a cup of tea?” he asked nervously.
Mycroft froze. There was fear in his eyes, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. “I would enjoy that, however—”
Greg reached out and took Mycroft’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Just tea. Nothing more. If you like tea and you like me, come back with me.” He remembered Mycroft saying that his experience with dating was small, and was beginning to wonder just how inexperienced he was.
“I do like you and tea, however, I need to go home,” Mycroft said quietly, his eyes sad.
“Well, I had a nice time tonight,” Greg said with a hopeful smile.
“It was lovely, Gregory.” Mycroft looked down at the rose in his hand. “I would enjoy doing this again.”
Greg felt like his cheeks were going to rip apart, he smiled so widely at that. “I would love to. Would you like me to call your assistant?”
“Here is my private number. You may call and text it as you wish.” He handed Greg another card with a different number on it.
Greg pocketed the card, leaned in, and gave Mycroft a kiss on the cheek. “I will see you soon, Mycroft,” he murmured before pulling away, then turned and walked off, leaving Mycroft staring after him.