Cally's Sherlock drabbles #2 [81/221] (28 September 2017)

[cally]

On 28/10/2016 at 1:13 AM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Yes, we all must; it is an imperative

And we shall continue to do so in the following drabble.

On 28/10/2016 at 0:38 PM, Aliena H. said:

love when Mycroft points out that he is always polite, no matter how bad he feels.

Well, you can't have him being rude, unless he means to be rude!

On 29/10/2016 at 3:34 AM, AngelEyes said:

Oops!

I love this! Adorable.

Let me tell you, it was a real frigging mess.  I know this b/c it happened to me.

On 29/10/2016 at 4:41 AM, matilda3948 said:

OMG!!! YAY!!!!  That's amazing! Good for you, Cally  

And you're drabbles are (of course) marvelous and I adore them...

but to have your thesis done is my favorite thing!!!

Thank you.  In hindsight, I should have put up a post about it, but after I was done I didn't want to type a text, let alone a brief post. 

 

And in the poor Mycroft department . . . .

60.  Tissues

Mycroft Holmes was an individual who preferred the finer things in life.  Bespoke suits and hand crafted leather shoes, silk ties and handkerchiefs, perfectly aged scotch. Despite this, he was a reasonable man in most situations.  His time in MI-6 had allowed him to hone his skills in malleability.  However, this particular day was seriously trying his patience, and in more ways than one.

First, he was expected to pay his weekly visit on his brother.  Spending time with Sherlock was trying at the best of times, but even more so, when Mycroft was still recovering from a rather prolonged head cold.  If only he could convince his tiresome younger sibling to allow Mrs. Hudson to dust every few weeks at the very least.  It would certainly make these visits more tolerable.

He was fortunate that the aforementioned Mrs. Hudson had already brought up a pot of tea, therefore lowering his chances of being poisoned or drugged by a considerable amount.  Mycroft was enjoying his tea from the comfort of Doctor Watson’s chair, watching Sherlock search through a pile of disorganised notes, when the sneezing started.

Heh……Heh……. Hhnnchx! Heh’tish! Tish! Huh’mffTSChhh!

Sherlock glared at him.  “Do you mind?”

Mycroft removed his handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and blew his nose.  “My apologies Sherlock.  Heaven forbid that I’ve disturbed your sear-heh-ching,” he said, before he was overcome again. 

Hhnnchx!  Mmmpfx!  Mmmmmpfch!  Heh’tish! Hng’ISSH! Heh’tishooo!

Mycroft was lucky that he had re-opened his eyes after his tenth sneeze, because Sherlock had thrown a box of tissues straight at his head.  Mycroft quickly snatched the box out of the air and set it down on the table beside him next to the tea.  “Sherlock!” He snapped, swiping at his nose with his increasingly damp handkerchief.

“What?” Sherlock asked, an innocent look on his face.  “At least it stopped you making all that . . . racket.  It was distracting me.”  He turned back to his disordered papers, ignoring his brother’s annoying presence.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. These brotherly visits were so taxing, but a necessity.  Otherwise, he’d have to explain to Mummy why he hadn’t seen Sherlock, and then she might come visit, and that would be, well it would be a clusterfuck, to put it mildly.  He would be forced to go see The Bodyguard or Kinky Boots (The Noise! The People!) and he would rather not have to be forced into another dismal theatrical performance, thank you very much.

Sniffling, he tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket.  It was already damp and it was still early in the morning.  He plucked a tissue from the box that Sherlock had hurled at him and dabbed at his nose, regretting the action immediately.  The tissue in question was rough and not very absorbent.  He sighed.  “Sherlock, these are abysmal.”

“Hmmmm?”  Sherlock dropped a stack of magazines on to the floor and moved on to another pile of haphazardly stacked papers and notebooks and continued his ransacking.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mycroft muttered, “It is of no consequence.”  If Sherlock wanted to use substandard tissues, that was his problem.  Mycroft rose from the chair and picked up his umbrella.  “I shall leave you to it, brother-mine.”

“What?”  Sherlock didn’t look up.

Mycroft rolled his eyes again as he headed toward the door.  As he was about to head down the hallway toward the stairs, he turned back to his brother.  “I believe the paper in question is on your music stand.  Good morning, Sherlock.” Grinning broadly, he took his leave.

Sherlock glanced up as his brother walked out the door.  And in a move that could have only been approved (and probably encouraged) by a certain former Army doctor, Sherlock flicked up two fingers at Mycroft’s retreating back.

Once secure within the confines of his car, Mycroft removed his handkerchief once again and blew his nose thoroughly.  He felt as if he would never feel healthy again; the dregs of this cold having lingered for weeks it had seemed.  Feeling slightly less drippy, he removed his mobile from his suit jacket pocket and composed a text.

Would it be possible for you to arrest Sherlock for attempted grievous bodily harm? –MH

Did he hurt you? What happened? –GL

He threw a box of tissues at my head. –MH

And? Is that it? –GL

The tissues were absolutely abysmal in quality. -MH

  –GL

Emoticons again? Really, Gregory? –MH

Mycroft huffed out a laugh despite himself, and immediately regretted it as he launched into a quartet of sneezes.

Hhnnchx! Heh’tish! Heh’TSSSCHH! Huh’Ishooooo!

He blew his nose again, rendering the handkerchief completely unusable.  He sighed, perhaps a bit dramatically, before tucking it away into an interior pocket of his suit jacket.  His sinuses were still considerably congested and uncomfortable; he rubbed the space under his right eye out of habit while he texted Greg again.

I fear I shall never be well again. –MH

Sitting at his desk at NSY, Greg gave a sad smile at this most recent text from his partner.  He also knew what Mycroft wanted from him right now.

Bless you, love.  I’m sorry you’re still feeling rough.  Do you want me to make soup tonight?  Would that help? –GL

Thank you. I suppose it might assist in improving my health. I shall endeavor to be home at a reasonable hour. –MH

Get a cuppa and take some Sudafed.  There’s some in your briefcase.  I’ll see you tonight. –GL

Mycroft smiled fondly at the message and moved on to his burgeoning inbox.

 

Later that same day:

Mycroft had just finished up a conference call with the PM.   He was extremely relieved that this meeting had been conducted over the phone rather than in person, as he was aware that his appearance was less than stellar at the moment. His nose was close to being Rudolph red, not to mention being chapped and irritated.

This was a far cry from his appearance earlier in the day, and Mycroft was livid.  Not because of said conference call, or any number of other matters he has had to deal with this afternoon, but because of the tissue supply in the office.  He wasn’t sure how they managed to be worse than the ones that were at 221B this morning, but they were, and his nose had paid the price throughout the duration of the afternoon.  If only he had not sent Anthea to attend to some legwork.  He was certain had she been present that this issue would not have occurred.  She would not allow such a threat to the realm, he thought to himself.

While on the conference call, he composed a to do list that consisted of the following: 1. Find out who authorised the purchase of these tissues and have them exiled to Siberia. 2. Compose an email to Boots quality control in regards to said tissues. 3.  Compose an email to a contact in the United States and arrange for a shipment of quality tissues with lotion in exchange for caramel digestives.

He was about to investigate who authorised the purchase of these appalling tissues, when he was unfortunately forced to direct a volley of damp sounding sneezes into them, scowling at their roughness on his tender nose.

Heh’tish! Tish! Tish! Huh’mffTSChhh!

“For heaven’s sake,” he muttered to himself as he blew his nose.  This was unbearable, he thought.  Enough, he decided.  He texted for the car, packed up his belongings and headed home. 

By the time Mycroft arrived home he was feeling miserable and sorry for himself.  His nose was irritated severely from the substandard tissues.  As promised, Greg had made him soup and he was very grateful for the warm aromas emanating from the kitchen.  He removed his suit jacket and hung it on the bannister to bring upstairs at a later time, and then joined his partner in the kitchen. Before he was aware of it, a pair of violent sneezes overcame him. He had no choice but to direct them into his arm, leaving a large and visible damp patch on his sleeve.

Heh’TSCH! Heh…heh’ETCHOOO!

Greg said nothing about this, instead leading him over to the table and got the younger man settled, before handing him a soft cloth.  “God bless you, love.”

Mycroft found he was unable to thank his partner right away, as his breath began to hitch.  Heh . . .Heh’Ishoooo!  He cringed at the high-pitched and rather vocal sneeze and hastily stifled the one that immediately followed in embarrassment.  Hhnnchx!  He winced, his sinuses protesting the action.

“God bless you again,” Greg said. 

“Thank you my dear.  My apologies.” Mycroft sat back in the chair and blew his nose, relishing the gentleness of the handkerchief on his raw nose.

Greg crouched down in front of Mycroft, trying to get a better look at his ailing partner.  He waited until Mycroft was done attending to his nose, and then reached up and stroked his cheek gently.  “Oh love, your nose.  You poor thing. What happened?”

“It appears that due to budget constraints, the brand of tissues purchased went from brand name to generic.  I blame Brexit.” Mycroft sniffed and dabbed at his reddened nostrils. 

“I plan on finding out who authorised this order and having them exiled to Siberia.  And once I have dealt with that, I plan on contacting the manufacturers and whomever is in charge of quality control for these alleged tissues and making sure that they are heavily penalised.”

Greg stood up during Mycroft’s diatribe so he could check on the soup.  He turned around to look at his partner.  “Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top?”

Mycroft looked outraged.  “I most certainly do not!” He huffed indignantly.  “Look at what those so called tissues did to my nose, Gregory!”

Greg couldn’t help himself and he burst out laughing.  “I’m sorry, love,” he said between peals of laughter. 

Mycroft sighed and turned away from the laughing detective inspector, shaking his head.  He took a calming breath.  Perhaps Siberia was overreaching, he though to himself.  Perhaps the north of Scotland in the midst of winter would be more reasonable.

Greg turned off the stove and got the bowls down from the cabinet.  He served up the soup and brought the bowls over to the table.  After he set them down, he went back over to Mycroft, who was still refusing to look at him directly.  He stood in front of him, and studied him for a second.  Then he smiled.  “It’s not that bad, love.”  And to prove his point, he bent down and kissed the tip of Mycroft’s reddened nose.

Mycroft reared back quickly.  His nose was overly sensitive and the feather light kiss prickled alarmingly.  His breath started hitching nearly immediately. He swatted at his partner’s arm.  “You did th-ahhhh-at on purpose,” he managed to get out before sneezing.

Heh……Heh……. Hhnnchx! Heh’tish! Tish! Heh’TSCH! Huh’ISHOOO! Heh…heh’ETCHOOO!

“Bless you!” Greg said.  “And yeah, I did do it on purpose.  To prove a point.  That I love you no matter what, red nose or not.”  He sat down next to Mycroft at the table.  “Now, eat your soup,” he said, gesturing to the steaming bowl in front of him.  “And afterwards, we’ll find some lotion for your nose, ok?”

Mycroft was a bit stunned by Greg’s words, so stunned that he didn’t offer up his usual apologies.  He nodded his assent.  “Thank you, my dear,” he finally said, and picked up his spoon.

[katy693]

35 minutes ago, cally said:

Greg stood up during Mycroft’s diatribe so he could check on the soup.  He turned around to look at his partner.  “Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top?”

Mycroft looked outraged.  “I most certainly do not!”

Oooo I could just feel the outrage when Mycroft said this - in a very Mark Gatissy way.

I'm so glad you're still writing these, I always get excited when I see there's another one.

[Shamaël]

I would like to quite my favorite parts, but I loved everything!!!

Well, maybe this one was my favorite:

3 hours ago, cally said:

Would it be possible for you to arrest Sherlock for attempted grievous bodily harm? –MH

Or maybe this:

3 hours ago, cally said:

“I plan on finding out who authorised this order and having them exiled to Siberia.  And once I have dealt with that, I plan on contacting the manufacturers and whomever is in charge of quality control for these alleged tissues and making sure that they are heavily penalised.”

And the sneezing parts of course.

Thank you for the brotherly interaction, which I always read with great pleasure!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

This. was. marvelous. But I think I told you that already. 

13 hours ago, cally said:

I fear I shall never be well again. –MH

Sitting at his desk at NSY, Greg gave a sad smile at this most recent text from his partner.  He also knew what Mycroft wanted from him right now.

Bless you, love.  I’m sorry you’re still feeling rough.  Do you want me to make soup tonight?  Would that help? –GL

I love that they've got their codes all worked out. How adorable! 

But this bit made me giggle...

13 hours ago, cally said:

“It appears that due to budget constraints, the brand of tissues purchased went from brand name to generic.  I blame Brexit.” Mycroft sniffed and dabbed at his reddened nostrils. 

[cally]

On 01/11/2016 at 0:23 PM, katy693 said:

I'm so glad you're still writing these, I always get excited when I see there's another one.

Thank you.  That's so nice to hear.

On 01/11/2016 at 3:33 PM, Aliena H. said:

Thank you for the brotherly interaction, which I always read with great pleasure!

I enjoy writing them, this drabble especially.  Their interactions amused me greatly.

21 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

I love that they've got their codes all worked out. How adorable! 

 

I don't know if it was necessarily a code.  Merely Greg reading between the lines of Mycroft's text.  

 

I'm actively avoiding adulting right now, hence the writing.  There are about 100 other things I should be working on.  This one came to me a few days ago.

 

61.  Let it Roll

Greg sat on the bed, watching Mycroft get dressed.  “Do you really need to go in?” He adjusted his position against the headboard and crossed his arms.  He was still pyjama-clad, his hair was mussed, and there was a mark on his right cheek from a pillow crease.

“Yes, dear.  Unfortunately, my presence is required.”  Mycroft finished tying a Windsor knot with perfect precision and glanced up at Greg’s reflection in the mirror. Greg’s appearance only endeared him to Mycroft even more right now, and he wished he could have spent the morning in a different fashion.

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?” 

Mycroft, who had been about to sniff, paused.  “I have recovered significantly, thanks to you.” He began to button up his waistcoat.

Greg watched, admiring Mycroft’s long fingers as they did up the buttons.

“I had other plans for your fingers this morning,” Greg said with a wink and a leer.

Mycroft blushed. “Gregory!”

He paused a moment, sniffing back moisture.  He blinked several times, trying to fight off the impending irritation. 

Greg raised an eyebrow, but didn’t intervene until Mycroft’s eyes fluttered shut, and he quickly cupped his hands around his nose, curling in on himself.

Mmmmmpfx! Mmmmpfx’gkt!  Mmmpfx’ish! Hhnnchx!

When Mycroft was finished sneezing, Greg was standing next to him, holding out a few tissues toward him.  “Bless you, love.”

Mycroft accepted them with a nod and dabbed gently at his nostrils.  “Thank you.  My apologies,” he said, tossing the tissues in the bin.  He reached for his suit jacket and put on the final layer of his armour.

Once the jacket was on, Greg began to run his fingers along Mycroft’s lapels, despite the fact they were already perfectly straight and aligned.  He did this reverently; straightening Mycroft’s tie and pocket square as he began to sing. 

Let it roll down through the caves
Ye long walks of Coole and Shades
Through ye woode, here may ye rest awhile
Handkerchiefs to match your tie
Let it roll**

Greg paused a moment to whisper in Mycroft’s ear all the things he had wanted to do this morning, and all the things he would do when he returned.  He then placed gentle kisses on Mycroft’s forehead and his lips and walked away, singing from the top.

Let it roll across the floor
Through the hall and out the door
To the fountain of perpetual mirth
Let it roll for all it's worth**

Mycroft smiled fondly at his partner as he followed.

 

 

 

 

**The song in question is The Ballad of Sir Frankie Crisp (Let It Roll), by George Harrison and you can listen to it here 

 

 

[AngelEyes]

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

First, he was expected to pay his weekly visit on his brother.  Spending time with Sherlock was trying at the best of times, but even more so, when Mycroft was still recovering from a rather prolonged head cold.  If only he could convince his tiresome younger sibling to allow Mrs. Hudson to dust every few weeks at the very least.  It would certainly make these visits more tolerable.

Oh dear!

 

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

Mycroft was lucky that he had re-opened his eyes after his tenth sneeze, because Sherlock had thrown a box of tissues straight at his head.

Rude!

 

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

As he was about to head down the hallway toward the stairs, he turned back to his brother.  “I believe the paper in question is on your music stand.  Good morning, Sherlock.” Grinning broadly, he took his leave.

LOL

 

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

  –GL

 

 

Emoticons again? Really, Gregory? –MH

Oh Greg!!!!

 

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

I fear I shall never be well again. –MH

Awwww, poor dear.

 

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

“It appears that due to budget constraints, the brand of tissues purchased went from brand name to generic.  I blame Brexit.” Mycroft sniffed and dabbed at his reddened nostrils. 

LOL!!!

 

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

Greg stood up during Mycroft’s diatribe so he could check on the soup.  He turned around to look at his partner.  “Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top?”

Not at all! Not when Mycroft's nose is at stake!

 

On 11/1/2016 at 6:47 AM, cally said:

“Bless you!” Greg said.  “And yeah, I did do it on purpose.  To prove a point.  That I love you no matter what, red nose or not.”

Awwww. Sweet!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Sigh... I just love it when Greg sings to Mycroft.  That is totally in my headcanon. Not necessarily that Greg sings well, but he will sing to his boy. 

On November 2, 2016 at 6:21 PM, cally said:

Greg paused a moment to whisper in Mycroft’s ear all the things he had wanted to do this morning, and all the things he would do when he returned.  He then placed gentle kisses on Mycroft’s forehead and his lips and walked away, singing from the top.

 

This little moment made me fell all gooey inside.  @Ju-OOooo-To come see... Fluff! Fluffy Fluff! The Fluffiest of Fluff!! 

[cally]

On 03/11/2016 at 2:03 AM, AngelEyes said:

Rude!

Seriously.  Sherlock needs to work on his manners.

 

20 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Sigh... I just love it when Greg sings to Mycroft.  That is totally in my headcanon. Not necessarily that Greg sings well, but he will sing to his boy. 

On 02/11/2016 at 10:21 PM, cally said:

Yeah, I never said he was singing well.

 

62.  Lavender

 

Early on in relationships, one is often enamoured, often to the point of missing the blindingly obvious.  Even someone as observant and perceptive as Mycroft Holmes is not immune.

It was a drizzly afternoon and Mycroft and Greg were meeting for coffee.  It was rare that they were both able to make the time, but they both found their schedules relatively clear late on a Friday afternoon.   The coffee shop was quiet and the two had a cozy booth in the back, free from the stares of any other patrons. 

They sat enjoying each other’s company; Mycroft over a pot of tea and Greg over a heavenly smelling latte.  They chatted about their days, Sherlock’s most recent antics, and there was a hint of a possibility of continuing the evening with dinner. 

Throughout their conversation, Greg noticed his nose getting progressively itchier.  He tried to ignore it, but still occasionally had to give the appendage a harsh rub.  He hoped Mycroft hadn’t noticed, although he was fairly sure he couldn’t get anything past the younger man.

Mycroft had indeed noticed that Greg seemed to be suffering some sort of minor irritation.  He hoped that his partner wasn’t feeling under the weather; he was certainly looking forward to spending the evening with him as their schedules finally had allowed them both some quality time together.  He was going to ask if Greg was feeling all right, when the man in question quickly turned his head away.

Greg gasped out a hitchy, itchy sounding breath, his eyes fluttering.  “Going to. .  .,” he began but was unable to finish his sentence, it being cut off by a vicious, ticklish sneeze that he directed into the crook of his elbow.  Heh . . . .heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“Goodness, God bless you!” Mycroft exclaimed.

Greg didn’t have a chance to thank him.  His face went slack and he quickly snatched up his napkin, turning away once again and breathlessly directing a pair of sneezes into it.  HRDSCHHhhhh!  Huh’RUHSHHOOOO!

“God bless you again, Gregory.”  Mycroft adjusted his position and took a second to remove his handkerchief from his trouser pocket.  “Here, please,” he said, offering it over

“Thanks,” Greg replied.  “Sorry,” he said rubbing at his nose.  “I’m not sure what’s come over me.  Just all itchy all of the sudd-ehhh sudden,” he gasped out, muffling the sneeze into the borrowed cloth.  Huh . . . Heh’DSCHHHH!

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  “And again.  Are you certain you are alright?”

Nodding, Greg took a moment to gently and quietly blow his nose.  He hoped that Mycroft didn’t think he was disgusting.  He had no idea what had caused him to have such a reaction, as he normally didn’t sneeze this much in a week, let alone at once.

While Greg tended to his nose, Mycroft took a moment to survey their area.  Behind the menu was a small vase containing small, light purple flowers; a small branch of lavender.  He hadn’t really noticed it before, with it being behind the menu.  And in his opinion, he had something far more attractive to consider right in front of him.

“Gregory, might I ask if you are allergic to anything?” Mycroft inquired, a wary eye on the vase.

“Not especially. Lavender tends to set me off a bit though.”  Greg’s voice trailed off as he followed Mycroft’s eyes.   “Bugger.  That explains ahhhh -it,” he said before sneezing viciously again.  Heh . . . . . . HRDSCHHhhhhuh!   Heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“God bless you.  We should take our leave, I think,” Mycroft said, rising from his seat.

Greg nodded, blowing his nose again.  He was quickly rendering Mycroft’s handkerchief damp and useless and he cringed.  He too rose from his seat, and followed Mycroft out of the café. 

Mycroft’s car was idling and they both got in, Greg still sniffling into the very damp cloth.  He was trying to keep from sneezing yet again, and rubbed his nose abrasively.  This failed to alleviate the prickling within his nostrils.  Greg felt as if midges had taken up residence within his nose and he huffed out another pair of ticklish sneezes.  HuhASHHHHhhooo!   Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“Dear me, Gregory.  God bless you!” He opened his briefcase and removed another handkerchief and a foil packet.

Greg flushed, embarrassed for sneezing all over the place.  Mycroft must be ready to exile him to the Outer Hebrides, he thought to himself.  He wiped his nose with the sodden cloth and shoved it into the pocket of his trousers.  “Sorry, Mycroft,” he sniffled. He couldn’t quite meet Mycroft’s eyes.

Mycroft frowned and he scrutinized the older man for a moment.  He tried not to deduce Greg, but found in the absence of any further communication from him, he was going to have to take these measures.  He was able to read the anxiety and embarrassment from Greg’s posture.

“Please, take this my dear,” Mycroft said gently, using the endearment purposefully as he offered up the fresh cloth.  You are going to need it in a moment, he thought to himself, as he watched the expression on Greg’s face change from worry to hazy, his brown eyes fluttering closed.

“Thanks,” Greg managed to get out before sneezing.  Huh’RUHSHHOOOO!

“God bless you again,” Mycroft offered, and he placed a hand on Greg’s leg.  “Is there anything else I can do for you? I have antihistamines if you would like one.” He held up the foil pack he removed from his briefcase.

Greg rubbed his nose with the fresh cloth and then wiped his damp eyes.  “Christ, I’m sorry Mycroft,” he said with a damp sniffle. 

“Please, think nothing of it.” Mycroft squeezed Greg’s thigh reassuringly.

Greg looked at Mycroft and could read nothing but concern in his eyes and relaxed a bit.  He squeezed Mycroft’s hand in return.  They were both quiet for a moment.

“Do you still want to have dinner?” Greg asked hesitantly.  His nose was prickling again, and he quickly turned away from Mycroft and muffled the sneeze as much as he was able.  Heh’DSCHHHH!

“S’cuse me,” Greg quickly muttered, blowing his nose.

“Goodness, bless you my dear.” Mycroft said.  He paused a moment and once again regarded the detective inspector.  He really was quite fond of the older man.  Perhaps it was time to take this relationship to the next level.

“Thanks, Myc,” Greg said.  He took in the expression on Mycroft’s face; kindness and concern, and perhaps something more.  He smiled at him.

Mycroft returned the smile and took the leap.  “I would love to have dinner with you this evening.  Perhaps, at my residence?” 

[AngelEyes]

I like the role reversal here. Greg being the one all sneezy and embarrassed and worried that Myc will be put off. Don't worry dear, you're just fine.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Nicely done and quite adorable.  

3 hours ago, cally said:

a small branch of lavender.  He hadn’t really noticed it before, with it being behind the menu.  And in his opinion, he had something far more attractive to consider right in front of him.

I completely agree. No way I'd notice a puny branch of lavender with the Silverfox sitting in front of me.

3 hours ago, cally said:

“Gregory, might I ask if you are allergic to anything?” Mycroft inquired, a wary eye on the vase.

 

“Not especially. Lavender tends to set me off a bit though.”  Greg’s voice trailed off as he followed Mycroft’s eyes.   “Bugger. 

I could see this perfectly in my mind. 

 

[Shamaël]

13 hours ago, cally said:

Early on in relationships, one is often enamoured, often to the point of missing the blindingly obvious.  Even someone as observant and perceptive as Mycroft Holmes is not immune.

Couldn't dream of a better start... I really like Gregory's sneezing.

13 hours ago, cally said:

His face went slack and he quickly snatched up his napkin, turning away once again and breathlessly directing a pair of sneezes into it.  HRDSCHHhhhh!  Huh’RUHSHHOOOO!

Hmmm... Yes, I definitely like it.

[cally]

On 05/11/2016 at 2:40 AM, AngelEyes said:

I like the role reversal here. Greg being the one all sneezy and embarrassed and worried that Myc will be put off. Don't worry dear, you're just fine.

It is a rarity at that.  I felt I had given Mycroft too much of a hard time lately.

On 05/11/2016 at 3:10 AM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

I completely agree. No way I'd notice a puny branch of lavender with the Silverfox sitting in front of me.

On 04/11/2016 at 11:23 PM, cally said:

Yeah no kidding!

On 05/11/2016 at 1:16 PM, Aliena H. said:

Hmmm... Yes, I definitely like it.

Well, I am glad you enjoyed.  Have some more.

This is just a fluff piece.  I'm working on some other things (plus prepping for my viva so . . . )

 

63.  Cashmere

It was a chilly but bright autumn day.  Greg had met Mycroft for a quick lunch early in the afternoon.  Some days these purloined hours here and there were all they could steal away from their careers and the rest of the world.

Once they had finished their lunch and had bundled back up in coats and scarves, they headed outside to where the car was idling nearby.  Greg turned to Mycroft as they walked. “Do you have a lot ahhh-on,” Greg stopped mid sentence and sneezed viciously, barely able to duck down into his scarf.  HRDSCHHhhhh!  Huh’RUHSHHOOOO!

Startled, Mycroft’s eyebrows went up nearly into his hairline.  “Gregory, that’s cashmere!”

As the sun was still in Greg’s eyes, he was only able to sneeze in reply. Heh . . . . . . HRDSCHHhhhhuh!   Heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

Mycroft gestured for Greg to get inside the car ahead of him.  “Good heavens! God bless you, my dear.”

Sniffling damply, Greg got inside the car, Mycroft immediately following.  “Thanks, love.”  He sniffed again, feeling that the tickle had not abated.  “Bugger,” he mumbled before sneezing roughly into his fist.  Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

Mycroft had anticipated this and was holding out a few tissues towards his partner, the travel pack in his other hand in case more were needed.  “Bless you again,” he said.

Greg accepted the tissues with a nod and blew his nose.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Mycroft replied, with what Greg could only think was a sort of half-tut at him.

“What?” Greg asked.  “Are you still on about the scarf?  Would you have rather I had sneezed on you?”

Mycroft huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms as if he were a petulant child.

“Hey,” he said.  He reached out and caressed Mycroft’s face gently.  “If it’s that bothersome, I can wash it when I get home tonight.”

Mycroft’s eyebrows made another ascent towards his hairline.  “You do not wash cashmere, Gregory!”

Greg burst out laughing.  “Ok, so I’ll send it to the cleaners.  It’s not the end of the world.  And it’s not like it’s covered in snot or anything,” he said looking down at said scarf.

Mycroft rolled his eyes so hard that it was nearly audible. He was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke again. “Perhaps it is because that particular scarf brings out your eyes, my dear.”  He really did like this scarf and the way it accentuated the Detective Inspector’s eyes.  It was why he purchased it in the first place.  He would rather see it on his partner than in a garment bag if he was honest about it.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Holmes,” Greg said as he leaned in for a kiss.

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

LOL! Mycroft's taking issue with Greg using his  cashmere scarf for a handkerchief is wonderful. I just want to point out that Mycroft was so put out he didn't bless Greg. This is serious, people. Do not under any circumstances abuse cashmere around Mycroft Holmes. I can't imagine what would've happened if it had been one of us mortals. 

 

[Shamaël]

16 hours ago, cally said:

“Gregory, that’s cashmere!”

 

16 hours ago, cally said:

“You do not wash cashmere, Gregory!”

LOL. Mycroft, Mr. Sensitive... It was really fun.

[AngelEyes]

On 11/16/2016 at 2:57 PM, cally said:

Mycroft’s eyebrows made another ascent towards his hairline.  “You do not wash cashmere, Gregory!”

LOL!

 

On 11/16/2016 at 2:57 PM, cally said:

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Holmes,” Greg said as he leaned in for a kiss.

Awww!

This was adorable!

[Juto]

Gosh sorry I'm horribly late at usual  

just got to read 61 - let it roll and awwww  the subtleness with which Greg manages to lure Mycroft with him...  GREGORY SINGING IS UNFAIR TO POOR HUMAN HEARTS  so sweet. 

I hope I'll find time to read more of these  

[cally]

On 17/11/2016 at 5:52 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

This is serious, people. Do not under any circumstances abuse cashmere around Mycroft Holmes.

Well, he's got a point.

On 17/11/2016 at 1:47 PM, Aliena H. said:

LOL. Mycroft, Mr. Sensitive... It was really fun.

Thanks!  I was trying to convey a sense of fun in it as it was rather absurd in all.

On 18/11/2016 at 4:24 AM, AngelEyes said:

This was adorable!

Thank you!  

On 21/11/2016 at 6:37 PM, Juto said:

GREGORY SINGING IS UNFAIR TO POOR HUMAN HEARTS  so sweet.

Awwww, I try.  

 

I've been working on this one for seemingly ages, and I keep coming back to it thinking that I will change it or add to it and I change a few words and that's it. So I need to move on to other pieces. . . . 

 

64.  Hidden in Plain Sight

 

This is the story of how Greg came to live with Mycroft. 

 

While normally, Greg was happy to stay at Mycroft’s (he had the nicer shower, bed, sheets, booze, coffee), sometimes it was just easier or more convenient for Mycroft to stay over at Greg’s smaller flat.

The first time it happened, neither Mycroft nor Greg thought anything of it.  Mycroft was at the tail end of a stubborn cold that had persisted throughout early spring.

Mycroft woke in the middle of the night, his nose itching furiously.  He rubbed at the appendage, trying to alleviate the tickle, but it was futile.  Greg was wrapped around him, and Mycroft’s face was partially buried in his shoulder.  He hastily pulled back as far as he could and stifled a flurry of sneezes, but the irritation was too great.  He forced himself out of Greg’s embrace, and quickly cupped his hands around his nose before he launched into another fit of sneezes. 

Mmmmmpfx! Mmmmpfx’gkt!  Mmmpfx’ish! Hhnnchx!

“Hmmph?” Greg mumbled sleepily.  Due to Mycroft’s movements he had woken and was bleary eyed and confused.  It took him a moment to gain awareness of his surroundings.

“Mmmm, bless,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

“Gregory,” Mycroft said congestedly.  He had yet to move his hands from where they were caged around his nose.

“Huh?” Greg blinked in the half-dark.  “Oh!” He reached for the tissues and handed a handful over, and then moved the box closer.

Mycroft tried to blow his nose, but just ended up sneezing again.  Heh’tish! Tish! Heh’TSCH! Huh’ISHOOO!

“Bless you,” Greg offered, sounding more awake.  “Alright?” He asked, even though it was clear Mycroft was not all right, but he was tired and not entirely cognizant.

“Thank you,” Mycroft finally said.  “My apologies for waking you.”

Greg shrugged.  “Are you feeling ok?”

Mycroft sniffed experimentally.  His nose was still ticklish, but he felt better than he had in weeks.  He just assumed this was due to the tail end of the head cold that had dragged on for far too long as it was. 

“Yes, I believe so.”  He thought for a moment.  “I think I will take an antihistamine just as a precaution and so I do not disturb your rest any further.”

Mycroft got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, but not before sneezing harshly again on his way.  Heh’TSCH! Heh…heh’ETCHOOO!

“Bless you!” Greg called out.  He was back to sleep before Mycroft returned.

 

 

 

The second time it happened, it was the middle of spring, and the flora and fauna were in full bloom.  It was no real surprise to either of them when Mycroft woke them both in the night with a violent fit.  

Hehhhhhhh……..hehhhhhh Tissssssssh!  INGtish!  Mmmmmmmpfx! hehNGTisssh!  Heh-heptisshhh!  Heh’IMPFTIGHisshhh! AhhhhTISH!  Mmmpfxisssshhhmpf!  

Luckily, this time Greg was spooning Mycroft from behind, and Mycroft was spared the humiliation of sneezing all over his partner.  He reached out for the tissues and blew his nose with a weary sigh.

Greg shifted under the duvet.  “G’bless,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Go back to sleep, my dear,” Mycroft said stuffily.

“Mmmm,” Greg assented.

Mycroft smiled at him in the dark before slipping carefully out of bed.  There was no need for both of them to suffer due to his hay fever.

 

 

The third time it happened, Mycroft had literally just returned from a trip.  He was exhausted but the only thing that had gotten him through the long flight was the knowledge that he soon would be slipping into bed beside his partner.  He did so, only to wake up an hour later with a ticklish nose and irritated throat.  He tried to sneeze as quietly as possible, but Greg still stirred beside him.  

Heh’mmmpfx! Mmmmmpfx! Mmmmpfx’gkt!  Mmmpfx’ish! Mmmpftish! Ahhh..,..hi’mmmmpfx’gnt!

“Bless,” Greg said quietly.  He waited for Mycroft to tend to his nose, and then he pulled the younger man toward him.  “I’m glad you’re back.  I missed you,” he whispered.  “If it weren’t so late, I’d show you how much.”

Mycroft chuckled softly.  “Gregory, you’re incorrigible,” he said, his voice wavering.  Glad that he hadn’t relinquished hold of the tissues, he sneezed again.  Hhnnchx! Heh’tish! Heh-hhhhtish! Ish! Tish! Heh’TISSSHH

“Bless you!”  Greg nuzzled up closer to Mycroft.

Mycroft swatted his arm.  “Apologies, my dear.  You might not want to get too close.  I believe I’m coming down with a cold,” Mycroft said tiredly, but he relaxed into Greg’s embrace all the same.

Greg didn’t pull away.  His last thought before falling back to sleep was that Mycroft didn’t sound like he was coming down with a cold, he sounded like he did when he was feeing particularly allergic to something.

 

 

 

It happened a fourth time two weeks later.  Mycroft had never come down with the cold he had suspected he was coming down with.  “Will wonders never cease!” Mycroft had exclaimed the week before when he was certain that he was healthy. 

Greg was also certain that Mycroft’s antihistamine regimen was solid by this time, yet he had woken them both in the night with another bout of sneezing.  By now, Greg was certain that Mycroft had to be sensitive to something in his flat.  In all the nights he had stayed at Mycroft’s townhouse, he had never been woken in the night by Mycroft’s sneezing.  The morning was another story of course, but he was long used to it by now.

When Greg got home that evening, he began a thorough cleaning of his flat starting with the bedroom.  He kept his small flat tidy and as dust free as possible for Mycroft’s sake, but he was sure there had to be something.  He cleaned the closet, under the bed, dusted all the shelves, Hoovered, and even went as far as to wipe down the baseboards.

Lastly, he moved the bureau so he could clean behind it.  He peered at the wall and was shocked by what he found.  Now, Greg had a small, modern flat, modern enough where he didn’t think something like this would happen. 

With a sigh, he pulled out his mobile and sent a text.

I’m going to take a guess and say that you’re allergic to mould? –GL

He got a reply a few moments later.

Mildly so.  Is there a reason for your inquiry? –MH

Greg took a picture of the wall behind his dresser and sent it to Mycroft.

Oh dear me. That looks rather problematic. –MH

I’ll give it a good clean and get a dehumidifier. –GL

Mycroft didn’t reply and Greg wasn’t too surprised.  He often didn’t reply to texts due to the nature of his work and his busy schedule.  In the meantime he filled a basin with hot, bleach filled water and began to clean the wall, the back of the bureau, and the floor.

An hour later, Greg was flicking through channels on the telly and drinking a beer, when there was a knock at his door.  Grinning, he rose from the couch.  It could only be one person.  He opened the door to find a rather nervous looking Mycroft.

“Hiya love,” Greg said.

“Good evening, Gregory.”  Mycroft fiddled with his ever-present umbrella and sniffed.  He could smell the bleach from the doorway.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“Oh,” Mycroft said, and crossed the threshold.

Greg sat back down, but Mycroft remained standing.  If he were anyone else Greg would have said he was fidgeting with his umbrella.

“Something wrong?” Greg asked.

“Not as such.” Mycroft looked away, down at the floor as if he were trying to memorize the patterns on the throw rug.  He sniffed again; the remnants of the bleach fumes were irritating his nose.  With an annoyed sigh, he gave into the irritation and sneezed.  Hhnnchx! Heh’tish!

“Bless you!” Greg said, looking up at Mycroft.  “Come on, sit down.”  Greg patted the sofa cushion next to him.

“Thank you.  My apologies,” Mycroft said as he sat down, but didn’t look happy about it.  They sat quietly, until Greg could take it no longer and turned off the telly. 

“What’s going on Mycroft?”  He was starting to worry and it was evident in his voice and his posture, which Mycroft noticed when he looked over at him.

Oh my dear, Mycroft thought to himself.  He took a deep breath before speaking.

“I believe I have a solution to your mould problem.”

“Yeah?  Besides a dehumidifier?”   Greg focused his attention on Mycroft.

“Yes.”

They were both quiet until Greg could no longer take the awkward silence. “What’s this solution then?”

“Perhaps instead of purchasing a dehumidifier, you might want to think about your living arrangements.” Mycroft was unable to look his lover in the face while he spoke.

Greg chuckled.  “You think I should move flats because of some mould?”

Mycroft refrained from rolling his eyes.  He wasn’t sure if Greg was teasing him or hadn’t realised what he had meant.  When he finally looked at Greg, he found that Greg had not discerned the meaning from his words.  Perhaps he needed to be more forward.  He reached into the pocket of his coat and drew out a small box.

“Perhaps this will assist in your understanding of my previous statement,” Mycroft said, handing over the parcel.

Greg eyed it curiously before opening it.  Inside was a key.

 

[Shamaël]

1 hour ago, cally said:

Mycroft had never come down with the cold he had suspected he was coming down with.  “Will wonders never cease!” Mycroft had exclaimed the week before when he was certain that he was healthy. 

I can hear Mycroft saying it and I picture him in my head. Well, considering how often you give him colds and allergic fits (for our great pleasure), it's only logical he should be astonished when he is healthy...

1 hour ago, cally said:

The morning was another story of course, but he was long used to it by now.

I liked the sentence, because morning fits are great.

1 hour ago, cally said:

If he were anyone else Greg would have said he was fidgeting with his umbrella.

From this line to the end, it was so cute and fun and so well written that I just died. Thank you for this piece, it was awsome!

[Juto]

I completely agree! It was creative and funny and really cute  another delightful piece. I think your description of a nervous Mycroft was spot on and a very entertaining read  it's not often the British Government gets nervous  

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I've told you already how much I love this. I love all the sneezy fits blamed on one thing or another. I love that Gregory figures it out. I love Mycroft's solution and he is so nervous about suggesting it. 

10 hours ago, cally said:

Due to Mycroft’s movements he had woken and was bleary eyed and confused.  It took him a moment to gain awareness of his surroundings.

“Mmmm, bless,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

I love that when you wake up with Mycroft, day or night, the first thing out of your mouth should be a blessing--not good morning, how are you, I love you, but bless you. 

10 hours ago, cally said:

His last thought before falling back to sleep was that Mycroft didn’t sound like he was coming down with a cold, he sounded like he did when he was feeing particularly allergic to something.

I love that Greg knows his boy so well, better than Mycroft knows himself sometimes. 

10 hours ago, cally said:

The morning was another story of course, but he was long used to it by now.

I agree with @Aliena H.; morning fits are great!  

10 hours ago, cally said:

I’m going to take a guess and say that you’re allergic to mould? –GL

He got a reply a few moments later.

Mildly so.  Is there a reason for your inquiry? –MH

Greg took a picture of the wall behind his dresser and sent it to Mycroft.

Oh dear me. That looks rather problematic. –MH

You think!  

10 hours ago, cally said:

He sniffed again; the remnants of the bleach fumes were irritating his nose.  With an annoyed sigh, he gave into the irritation and sneezed.  Hhnnchx! Heh’tish!

It's a can't win for losing moment. 

10 hours ago, cally said:

Mycroft refrained from rolling his eyes.  He wasn’t sure if Greg was teasing him or hadn’t realised what he had meant.  When he finally looked at Greg, he found that Greg had not discerned the meaning from his words.  Perhaps he needed to be more forward.  He reached into the pocket of his coat and drew out a small box.

This was just too adorable. This would be the moment I would call out to @Juto to come see the fluff, but she already has. 

[cally]

On 29/11/2016 at 6:57 PM, Aliena H. said:

I can hear Mycroft saying it and I picture him in my head. Well, considering how often you give him colds and allergic fits (for our great pleasure), it's only logical he should be astonished when he is healthy...

It is a rather unusual occurrence.

On 29/11/2016 at 7:13 PM, Juto said:

 

I completely agree! It was creative and funny and really cute  another delightful piece. I think your description of a nervous Mycroft was spot on and a very entertaining read  it's not often the British Government gets nervous

 

Awww thank you.

On 30/11/2016 at 3:40 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

I love that when you wake up with Mycroft, day or night, the first thing out of your mouth should be a blessing--not good morning, how are you, I love you, but bless you. 

Well, it should go without saying.  

 

On 30/11/2016 at 3:40 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

You think!  

You've seen my walls and window sills and well  . . . . .the evidence is quite horrific.  Not as bad as Greg's wall though.  His was completely minor and superficial. 

 

Wow.  It's been a long time since I've posted anything.  I've been busy with job searching and working on the changes for my thesis.  I've also not felt very inspired and have had a hard time getting back into writing for pleasure.  I have had some success lately, and the next few drabbles are for @Sanguine Cheerful Worrier's birthday, which is next week.  

This first one and the one following (which will be posted tomorrow or Sunday) ties back to number 60.   I have no opinion on Mycroft and Lady Smallwood other than it's rather laughable.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you haven't seen the most recent Sherlock.  There are no spoilers for that episode here, do not worry.

65.  Fastidious

Mycroft was very fastidious.  He went to work every day in a three-piece suit, complete with sleeve garters and pocket watch. A complementary pocket square coordinated with his tie and his socks.  And he always had a handkerchief with him, especially in the spring and most certainly when he was under the weather.  He had even gone as far as to leave extras in his desk and briefcase in addition to the office provided substandard tissues (along with his own luxury brand in his desk).

He was so wrapped up in his work, what with the American presidential inauguration only a week a way, and the NHS crisis looming.  He was so exhausted from working around the fool PM that he had to deal with on practically an hourly basis, not to mention mitigating issues regarding his tiresome brother that he had headed off to a meeting with Lady Smallwood without checking the contents of his pockets.  Once he was there, there was little he could do.  Luckily it was neither spring, nor was he unwell, so the balance of probability was on his side.  Or so he thought. 

What he had not taken into consideration was that someone in the outer offices (offices that he had to pass through in order to be admitted to Lady Smallwood’s office) had received flowers earlier in the day.  While he only had a passing glance at them, minutes later, as he sat listening to her go over the briefing he could feel his eyes becoming progressively itchier and his sinuses were burning and tingling. 

Mycroft, used to dealing with work matters while feeling the ravages of an allergic reaction or hay fever, was able to focus on the details of the next operational phase they were discussing as if he didn’t want to claw his eyes out.  He was able to respond to her inquiries with a nod or murmured assent, but he was certain that she was going to notice his non-verbal stance or his reddened eyes, as he was certain they must be with the way they were itching.  He had to actively keep from rubbing at them as it was.

After a few more moments of annoyance, Mycroft could feel his nose about to start dripping.  He knew he had no choice but to sniff, and hoped that it would not set him off.  He did so, casually, as he re-crossed his legs.  Unfortunately, the irritation grew even stronger, and he was idly aware of the look that Lady Smallwood gave him as he quickly turned away to sneeze.

Hhnnchx! Hhnnchx! Heh’tish! Tish!

He sniffled damply, embarrassed at his outburst.  “My apologies,” he murmured, with another sniff. 

Lady Smallwood opened her desk drawer, removed a gold box, and handed over a few tissues towards Mycroft with out any comment.

Mycroft nodded his thanks, and began to gently blow his nose.  As he did, he noticed something out of the ordinary.  He could smell wine and spices.  It only took another second for him to realise that the tissues she had given him were scented.  Who used scented tissues in this day and age?

The over fragrant tissues left the government official at a disadvantage and he had no choice but to sneeze once again into the now damp tissues he was still pressing to his nose.

Heh……heh…… Hhnnchx!  Mmmpfx! Heh’tish! Mmmpfx’ish!

Out of the corner of his eye, Mycroft could see that Lady Smallwood was pulling more tissues out of the box.  He held up a hand, declining.  “Again, my apologies,” he said clearing his throat.  He could feel his nostrils prickling intensely again and he hastily stifled another pair of sneezes.  He internally rolled his eyes as he began to plot a way to exit her office at once as he crumpled the now overly damp tissues into a ball.

Hhnnchx! Heh-hhhhtish!

“Bless you,” Lady Smallwood said.

“Thank you.  Please do excuse me,” he replied.  Mycroft wondered if she had waited until she was certain he had finished sneezing to offer a blessing, or if she hadn’t intended on it at all until just then.

He was about to state that he had another meeting to attend (which he didn’t, but she didn’t know that) when Lady Smallwood spoke again.  “I believe that is all for now, Mycroft.  Perhaps we could reconvene at the end of the week on this matter?”

“Yes, I believe that would allow all parties to come to an understanding,” he said, rising from his chair.

He was about to make his exit, but the older woman added one final remark.  “These tissues are abysmal. They are from Tesco, if you could believe such a thing.  I have no idea who stopped our previous delivery service, but if I do find out, I shall have them fired!”

Mycroft gave her a curt nod, and headed out of her office as quickly as he could without looking guilty. 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

7 hours ago, cally said:

he had headed off to a meeting with Lady Smallwood without checking the contents of his pockets.  Once he was there, there was little he could do.  Luckily it was neither spring, nor was he unwell, so the balance of probability was on his side. 

Ah... no. He really should know better with his nose. 

7 hours ago, cally said:

someone in the outer offices (offices that he had to pass through in order to be admitted to Lady Smallwood’s office) had received flowers earlier in the day.  While he only had a passing glance at them, minutes later, as he sat listening to her go over the briefing he could feel his eyes becoming progressively itchier and his sinuses were burning and tingling. 

See! 

 

7 hours ago, cally said:

Lady Smallwood opened her desk drawer, removed a gold box, and handed over a few tissues towards Mycroft with out any comment.

I so knew what was coming here. 

7 hours ago, cally said:

“These tissues are abysmal. They are from Tesco, if you could believe such a thing.  I have no idea who stopped our previous delivery service, but if I do find out, I shall have them fired!”

 

Mycroft gave her a curt nod, and headed out of her office as quickly as he could without looking guilty. 

 

Loved this and I can't wait for the next one.  Thank you!

[cally]

On 14/01/2017 at 5:29 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

no. He really should know better with his nose. 

I know.  He won't make that mistake again.

On 14/01/2017 at 5:29 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

so knew what was coming here. 

Yes, well, it's hysterical and just wrong at the same time.  And they smell terrible.

 

Here's the second part.  

 

66.  Mulled Spice

 

Later on that day, Mycroft was recounting this story to Greg.  Greg was laughing so hard that tears were swimming in his eyes. 

“Does she know that it was you who got rid of the delivery service?”

“I do not believe so, no.”

“Wait, I thought you were going to just change services?”  Greg had a puzzled look on his face.

“I was and I did.  However, what with the holidays, I believe that the changeover did not occur for some reason.  I have asked Anthea to follow up.”

Greg rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

“The art of leadership is delegation, my dear.”  Mycroft smiled at his partner.

Greg snorted.  “So why were there scented Tesco tissues anyways?”

“Not just scented, mulled spice scented,” Mycroft clarified, pedantic as ever before continuing on.  “From my understanding, as there had not been a delivery, someone was sent out to make a purchase for all of the offices.  As part of the cost-cutting measures, the individual purchased all of the clearance tissues and apparently kitchen roll as well.”

Mycroft sniffed.  The irritation had continued to plague him since the afternoon.   He gently rubbed at his nose.

“I do have to say,” Mycroft began, before pausing.  His breath hitched for a moment and Greg pushed the box of tissues on the table in front of him closer to Mycroft.  The younger man appeared to recover but plucked one all the same, twisting it in his fingers as he continued.  “I do have to say that those tissues were heh-, oh bugger,” he sighed before sneezing.  Heh-hhhhtish! Ish! Tish! Heh’Tisshhhooo!

“Bless you,” Greg offered.

Mycroft cringed due to the dampness of the sneezes and grabbed a few more tissues.  He didn’t get a chance to blow his nose before he launched into another fit, trying to hold them back as much as possible.

H’Mmmpfx! Mmmpfx!  Mmmmmpfch! Heh’tish!

“Bless you again,” Greg murmured, not unkindly.

Mycroft blew his nose, tossed the tissues to the side and then grabbed another handful, repeating the process.  Finally, he was able to breathe properly and he cleared his throat.  “Thank you, my dear.  Apologies.”

Greg moved closer and put his arm around Mycroft.   “So what are you going to do?”

Mycroft turned to look at Greg.  “Whatever do you mean?”

“What are you going to do about the scented tissues?”

Mycroft grinned mischievously and Greg was suddenly nervous and wished he hadn’t asked.  His expression changed as he watched Mycroft’s eyes quickly flutter shut and he pitched forward with a pair of harshly supressed sneezes.

Hng’ISSH!  Huh’mffTSChhh!

“Christ, bless you!”

Mycroft grabbed another handful of tissues and tended to his nose.  “Thank you, Gregory.  And in answer to your question, I believe that there won’t be any issues with Tesco producing such an abomination in the future.  And as far as the ones that are currently in the office, they have been carefully removed as well.”

Greg chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.  Well, if his Mycroft set his mind to something, he certainly did it with enthusiasm.

 

Edit: Happy birthday @Sanguine Cheerful Worrier!  Here's your birthday request.   

 

67.  bath bomb

 

Mycroft had had an exceedingly long day, even by his standards.  It was late, and he let himself in to the townhouse, hung up his coat and umbrella, and removed his shoes.  He poured himself two fingers of scotch for dinner, and carrying it and his shoes, headed up the stairs.  Greg had texted that he would be late, if he even made it home at all, so Mycroft knew he wouldn’t be lectured on his mealtime choice or lack thereof.

He put the glass of scotch down in the bathroom, and started to run the taps to fill the bathtub, hoping that the beverage and the hot water would ease his aching neck muscles, tense from the stresses of dealing with the PM for the entirety of his day.  He selected a bath bomb from the selection Anthea had purchased him for Christmas.  They were carefully created to be relaxing, enriched with soothing oils, whilst at the same time not setting off any allergic reaction.  He dropped it into the bathtub, and watched it bob and fizz for a moment before returning to the bedroom to undress.

He returned moments later, clad only in his robe. Mycroft picked up the scotch and took a sip, as he watched the steam rise from the water.  After another moment of watching the water slowly rise, he removed his robe, hung it up and slipped carefully into the delightfully hot, foamy water. 

Mycroft stretched his long legs out; even in the oversized bathtub his legs nearly reached the end.  He turned the taps off and leaned back so that he was fully submerged beneath the water with the exception of his head.  Picking up his scotch, he took another sip and then set the tumbler down.  He closed his eyes and allowed the heat of the water to relax and soothe his aching muscles.

He wasn’t sure how long he reclined there.  He drifted; the hot water, steam, and bubbling water contributing to the calmness that washed over him the longer he was in the bath.  He was aware that he occasionally turned the hot tap on to refresh the water, enjoying the peacefulness and how his mind had quieted the longer he remain submerged.

Mycroft must have dozed off; the effects of the alcohol and hot water lulling him to sleep.  He was suddenly aware that he was not alone; alarmed, he opened his eyes. 

“Hiya love,” Greg said with a broad grin.

“Good evening, Gregory,” Mycroft said.  He drowsily returned the smile.

Greg picked up the tumbler, and drained it in one go.  Mycroft’s eyes widened at the action, but he didn’t remark on it.  He could see that Greg had also had a long day.  Holding a hand out towards his partner, he beckoned him closer and was rewarded with a soft kiss.  “Will you join me?”

“’Course,” Greg said, and quickly shucked his clothing, tossing the garments haphazardly onto the floor.  Mycroft attempted to look affronted by the action, but he really wasn’t bothered; he was far too blissed out. Moments later, Greg was slipping into the tub behind him; pausing only to kiss his Mycroft’s neck, which was warm; a comfort to Greg after an exhausting day.

Greg took a moment to make himself comfortable, joints popping, as he settled into the bathtub.  Grinning, he kissed the freckles on the back of Mycroft’s neck, relishing the warmth of his partner’s body and the heat rising from the water.  He soon eased back, pulling Mycroft against him.

“Long day?” Greg murmured into Mycroft’s ear.

“Mmm.  For you as well,” Mycroft replied.

“Yeah,” Greg yawned, his jaw cracking slightly.  “S’better now that I’m home with you.”

Mycroft smiled and took one of Greg’s hands, brought it to his lips and kissed it.  He could feel Greg smile against his neck in response.  Lulled by the water, they were quiet again for a few moments, blissfully aware of the other’s heart beating.

Suddenly, Greg shuddered and sneezed, barely having a chance to duck down into his shoulder.  Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“Bless you,” Mycroft said, turning to check on his lover.

“Thanks,” Greg said.  “Sorry, love,” he began, but his breathing became erratic and he turned as far away from Mycroft as he could in the close quarters of the bathtub.  HRDSCHHhhhhuh!  

“And again,” Mycroft said, reaching an arm out for a flannel on the towel rack.  He handed it over to Greg, just before as he breathlessly sneezed once again, just barely able to muffle it in the cloth.  Huh . . . Heh’DSCHHHH!

“God bless you, Gregory.”  Mycroft studied his partner; Greg’s eyes were now looking slightly red rimmed and irritated.  It took him only a further second to make the correct deduction.  Anthea had made sure that these bath bombs were free from any allergen that might irritate Mycroft, but she hadn’t been instructed to keep them free from lavender.  While the scent was barely noticeable in solid form, after the bath bomb had dissolved, the bathroom was now slightly heady with the herbaceous aroma.

Greg’s fourth sneeze brought Mycroft out of his reverie.  Huh’RUHSHHOOOO!

“Good heavens, God bless you again!” Mycroft quickly pulled the plug out of the drain.  Carefully, he rose from his reclined position and then held out a hand to Greg.  Sniffling damply, it took Greg a moment to rise to his feet, even with Mycroft’s assistance.  The water swirled around their legs, quickly dissipating down towards their ankles.

“We’ll need to shower the residue off,” Mycroft said.  He frowned, pausing a moment before speaking again.  “Bless,” he continued.

Greg looked at him, teary eyed, before sneezing yet again.  Heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“You know that drives me crazy,” Greg said, but his tone was light and teasing.  “Thanks,” he added.

“You’re welcome.  Now, let’s shower this off and get into bed.”  Mycroft gave Greg a fond look and reached out his hand toward Greg again.”

Sniffling, Greg rubbed at his nose a final time with the damp flannel and then tossed it to the side.  He then pulled Mycroft to him and kissed him, with a soft, gentle nip at his lower lip.  “No hurry, is there?” Greg asked cheekily, with a wink.

Mycroft couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.  “No need to hurry,” he remarked, before gently caressing Greg’s face. “None at all.”  

 

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you! You have written three wonderful stories for me.  

The second one was sweet and I adored seeing that mischievous streak in Mycroft. We know he has one. He must being Sherlock's brother.

Oh my, the third one! Just the right side of sexy  I'll be back to read this one again and again. It is delicious. 

Thank you again! This has really helped make this birthday special. 

 

[Shamaël]

In my opinion, "Fastidious" is one of your best drabbles. I loved the (expected) comment about the "abysmal" tissues... And the continuation is great too.

On 15/01/2017 at 7:22 PM, cally said:

“Not just scented, mulled spice scented,” Mycroft clarified, pedantic as ever before continuing on.

Mwahahahaha! I love your Mycroft.

And Greg's sneezes are always gorgeous... Thank you for this last part!