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

[AngelEyes]

On 1/15/2017 at 0:22 PM, cally said:

“I do have to say that those tissues were heh-, oh bugger,” he sighed before sneezing.  Heh-hhhhtish! Ish! Tish! Heh’Tisshhhooo!

I love when he says bugger. Especially in the middle of a sentence interrupted by sneezing.

 

On 1/15/2017 at 0:22 PM, cally said:

Well, if his Mycroft set his mind to something, he certainly did it with enthusiasm.

Definitely true!

 

On 1/15/2017 at 0:22 PM, cally said:

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.

Oops!

 

On 1/15/2017 at 0:22 PM, cally 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.

Drives me crazy too. But in a good way!

[cally]

On 16/01/2017 at 11:53 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

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

 

Anytime.

On 17/01/2017 at 8:33 PM, Aliena H. said:

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 6:22 PM, cally said:

Thank you.  That's so kind of you to say.

On 18/01/2017 at 5:07 AM, AngelEyes said:

I love when he says bugger. Especially in the middle of a sentence interrupted by sneezing.

 

I do too.  It's too adorable.  And funny!

 

I think I got a bit carried away with myself here.  And there may be more hijinks in the future.  Perhaps.  

 

68.  Control

 

Mycroft was feeling terribly under the weather.  However, needs must.  And just because he was unwell, it did not mean the country rested on its laurels.

He had just been part of a meeting between the Metropolitan Police, himself, and other members of the security services.   To be honest, he was glad it had not gone on as long as it had been anticipated, as he was feeling increasingly symptomatic.  His temples were throbbing, and the slight ache in his throat had increased.  Utilising as much control as possible, he had managed to make it through the meeting without showing any signs of weakness other than an occasional sniffle.

Before leaving NSY, he ducked into an individual toilet, closing and locking the door behind him.  He quickly removed his handkerchief from his pocket and ducking down into it, launched into a flurry of sneezes.

H’Mmmpfx! Mmmpfch! Heh’tish!  Hng’ISSH!

With a heavy sigh he leaned against the wall, recovering and catching his breath.  He wiped his nose and tucked the cloth back into the pocket of his bespoke pinstriped trousers.  He wished he hadn’t as he immediately felt his nostrils prickle alarmingly and he sneezed again, more harshly this time, leaving him with no choice but to cup his hands around his nose.  

He sniffled damply and walked over to the sink to wash his hands.  With a further sniff, he shook his head as if to clear it, and then reached for the paper towels in the dispenser.  He dried his hands, and as he did, he glanced around the small room, still aware that his nose was buzzing in an irritating manner.

It appeared that this particular toilet was being used as storage, as there were stacks of paper products against the wall.  Stacks of Tesco paper products.  It appeared that the Met was undergoing some cost cutting measures as well, he thought, rubbing at his ticklish nose once more.  And then, in that second it clicked.  No wonder he was feeling increasingly irritated; these were all from the same product line as the tissues in Lady Smallwood’s office from a few weeks prior.  He had been unable to smell the mulled spice scent due to his cold, but it was clear that being in close proximity to boxes upon boxes of tissues and loo roll was seriously irritating his sinuses. 

He pinched his nostrils, stifling a sneeze, realizing he needed to get out of the enclosed space immediately.  He unlocked the door, and quickly stepped out into the hall.  His eyes were now damp and watering, making it difficult to see.  Hoping he could make it out of the building unscathed, he headed down the hallway and as he turned the corner, collided with one DI Greg Lestrade.

Greg chuckled. “Whoa there, Mycroft,” he exclaimed, holding the younger man by the arms.  He didn’t expect the response that he got in return.  Taking a shuddering breath, the government official launched into a vicious fit of sneezes, barely able to cover his nose with a free hand.

huh ING’SHHHHH!  Tish! Heh! --Ah-hehhhh Aah! Heh’INGHtighsh! Heh’TSSSCHH! Hng’ISSH! Ahhh-hent’ISH!   Heh’NGISH!  NGISHOOO!

“Christ, bless you!” Greg sounded worried as he fumbled about in his pocket for a moment.  He pulled out a crumpled handkerchief and pressed it upon Mycroft.  “Here, take this,” he said, looking Mycroft over to make sure he was ok. 

Mycroft was most certainly not ok.  His eyes and nose were streaming at this point and he was flushed from embarrassment.  He accepted the cloth with a nod and wiped his eyes before taking a moment to blow his nose.  He finally stood to his full height and smoothed down his tie and waistcoat.  “Thank you, Gregory.  Please do excuse me,” he finally said after clearing his throat.

Greg raised both eyebrows.  Bloody Holmeses, he thought.  “Are you ok?”  He had to ask.  He had never seen Mycroft so unhinged before.

“I am perfectly fine, thank you,” Mycroft began, but unfortunately for him, he couldn’t keep his breath from hitching as he launched into another bout of sneezing. 

Ahhhhh….. heh……..Mmmpftinghsh! INGHtighsh! MmmpfTIGisssshh!  INGISHHHHH!   Huh’Hng’ISSH!  Hng’mmpftishooo!  

“Bless you again,” Greg said.  “And if that’s perfectly fine, I don’t think I‘d like to see what miserable looks like,” he quipped in addition.  

Mycroft gave him an icy glare.  “Thank you, Detective Inspector,” he said coolly.  “I shall see that you get your handkerchief back.  Good evening,” he concluded and turned to walk away, trying to regain his composure and dignity from having lost control over his faculties. 

Mycroft had only walked a few steps, when Greg caught up to him and put his hand on his arm.  “Wait, Mycroft.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend you.”  Greg worried his lower lip, as he waited for Mycroft to respond.  He hoped he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth for good.

Mycroft studied the older man for a moment, reading him as best he could.  His head was pounding and he felt chilled, wretched.  He wanted nothing more to go home and sleep away the rest of this rotten cold.  He sighed heavily before responding.  “Apologies.  I must admit I am feeling a trifle off,” he said, his voice lower in octave due to the congestion plaguing his sinus passages.

Greg raised an eyebrow at that.  It didn’t take a Holmes to deduce that Mycroft was sick.  He was pale, the tip of his nose was rosy, and his eyes appeared damp and glassy.  “Well, we can’t have that,” Greg said.  “Let me drive you home.”

Mycroft was about to object, when he remembered that his driver wasn’t scheduled to return for some time as the meeting he had been attending had broken up early.  “Thank you, Gregory.  That’s very kind of you to offer.”

With a nod, Greg began to lead Mycroft through a door, which led to a stairwell so they could exit the building.  They were about halfway down when Mycroft abruptly stopped, sneezing violently, just barely able to grab the borrowed cloth from his pocket.

Heh’TISSSHHooo! Heh’INGTISH! Heh’TISSSHH! Ahhhhh….. heh…….. Heh’DNGISHooo!

Greg reached out and steadied Mycroft again, not wanting him to lose his balance on the stairs. “Bless you,” he said quietly.

Mycroft had his nose buried within the cloth and was partially turned away, but Greg could see that he was flushed again, and he didn’t think it was solely from illness.  Mycroft took a moment to compose himself, and then turned to Greg.  “Thank you.  My apologies.”  His voice was congested and rough, and he cleared his throat several times as they continued down the stairs and out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[AngelEyes]

9 hours ago, cally said:

It appeared that the Met was undergoing some cost cutting measures as well, he thought, rubbing at his ticklish nose once more.  And then, in that second it clicked. 

Oh no! You are cruel! (But we love it!)

 

9 hours ago, cally said:

“Bless you again,” Greg said.  “And if that’s perfectly fine, I don’t think I‘d like to see what miserable looks like,” he quipped in addition.  

 

LOL

 

9 hours ago, cally said:

“Well, we can’t have that,” Greg said.  “Let me drive you home.”

Awwww

And I'm all for more hijinks! Your hijinks are the best!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

20 hours ago, cally said:

He didn’t expect the response that he got in return.  Taking a shuddering breath, the government official launched into a vicious fit of sneezes, barely able to cover his nose with a free hand.

Mortifying!! Absolutely mortifying. 

20 hours ago, cally said:

“Bless you again,” Greg said.  “And if that’s perfectly fine, I don’t think I‘d like to see what miserable looks like,” he quipped in addition.  

 

Oh Jeez, it just gets worse and worse for Mycroft. Too bad... no not really. 

20 hours ago, cally said:

Mycroft had his nose buried within the cloth and was partially turned away, but Greg could see that he was flushed again, and he didn’t think it was solely from illness.

Nope it wasn't solely from illness. He was currently making plans for the earth to open at his feet and swallow him whole, but he's not that omnipotent.

You do such an amazing job torturing Mycroft. I vote for more hijinks. 

 

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Hhnnnnnggggg Mycroft Oh the banter with the Detective Inspector was great.  I'm always up for anyone torturing him

[Shamaël]

On 20/01/2017 at 7:09 PM, cally said:

68.  Control

The title in itself is very, very appealing.

On 20/01/2017 at 7:09 PM, cally said:

He had been unable to smell the mulled spice scent due to his cold, but it was clear that being in close proximity to boxes upon boxes of tissues and loo roll was seriously irritating his sinuses. 

You. Are. Mean. I love it.

On 20/01/2017 at 7:09 PM, cally said:

“And if that’s perfectly fine, I don’t think I‘d like to see what miserable looks like,”

One of Gregory's best lines. (I'd personally like very much to see what a miserable Mycroft looks like).

[cally]

On 21/01/2017 at 3:38 AM, AngelEyes said:

And I'm all for more hijinks! Your hijinks are the best!

I will have to see what I can come up with!

 

On 21/01/2017 at 2:34 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Nope it wasn't solely from illness. He was currently making plans for the earth to open at his feet and swallow him whole, but he's not that omnipotent.

 

Yeah, if only he could arrange that on an as needed basis.

 

23 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

One of Gregory's best lines. (I'd personally like very much to see what a miserable Mycroft looks like).

I'm rather frightened of where that might take me.

 

Ok, while this next drabble appears related, it's actually not.  It's only b/c I came across them while in M&S myself today.  I feel like they are following me around.

69.  square

Greg had popped into Marks and Spencer to grab a sandwich for lunch.   Before he checked out, he wandered around the perimeter of the store in case he spotted something to snack on later.  As he strolled, his eyes spotted a package of pocket tissues.  Mycroft had a cold, and he figured this was just the sort of thing he could slip into his briefcase or his coat as part of a care package. 

He liked to do these little things for Mycroft, so he picked up the package of tissues, noting that they were lavender scented; he made sure he kept them far away from his nose.  He was especially amused that the label said they were lotion infused.  He wondered if Mycroft would agree.  There was another type next to it, in rose scented and he definitely knew those were not for Mycroft.  He had learned this the hard way.

A week or so later, Greg and Mycroft were walking home from a late dinner.  It was a crisp evening, but clear skies prevailed and it was a nice opportunity to get some fresh air and a bit of exercise as well.  As they walked, Greg noticed his nose was dripping slightly.  As he normally did with these kids of things, he sniffed a bit and ignored it, and continued his conversation with Mycroft. 

Finally, even the dripping got too much for Greg, and he rubbed his nose on his the cuff of his coat.  Sadly, this didn’t do much for him, and he rubbed at the damp appendage with his scarf.  Mycroft watched this with what only could be construed as amused horror, his eyebrows midway to his hairline.  “For heaven’s sake,” he muttered good naturedly, and began to search the pockets of his coat.  He came across a packet of pocket tissues, quickly removed one, and handed it over to Greg. 

“Thanks,” Greg said, and swiped at his nose.  This immediately turned into a vicious sounding sneeze. Heh . . . .heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“Bless you!” Mycroft exclaimed, surprised by the outburst. 

Greg sneezed again in reply. Heh . . . . . . HRDSCHHhhhhuh!   Heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“This is lavender hehhhh scented Heh’DSCHHHH!,” he managed to gasp out in between sneezes.  He had no choice but to keep using the tissue due to the dampness of said sneezes.

“Goodness, bless you dear,” Mycroft said, stopping and searching his pockets.  He only had the lavender scented tissues and his own handkerchief, which he had already used that day. 

Greg could only sneeze in response.  Huh’RUHSHHOOOO!

“Bless you again,” Mycroft said, slightly exasperated.  He slipped his hand inside his coat and removed his pocket square.  Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Here, my dear.” Mycroft pressed the square of silk into Greg’s hand.  “I am sorry,” he added softly, although he was quite sure the sentiment was not heard over the volume of Greg’s subsequent sneezes.

Greg quickly clamped the square of silk to his nose and sneezed harshly.  HRDSCHHhhhh!  Huh’RUHSHHOOOO! Heh . . . . Heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“God bless you Gregory!” Mycroft frowned, listening for any sounds of beleaguered breathing.

Greg blew his nose, pulling a face at the sound.  “Tha-ahhh-nks,” he started to say, but ended up sneezing again.  Huh’rrdDZSCHOOOO!¹

“And again,” Mycroft said.  “Now, let’s get you home.

Greg rubbed at his nose with the now very damp silk.  “Thanks, love,” he chuckled.

“What exactly is so amusing?” Mycroft gave him an incredulous look as they resumed walking.

“I should have known better when I bought you those tissues,” Greg said, still chuckling to himself.  “They weren’t even that soft,” he added.

Mycroft huffed out a soft laugh despite himself, his breath a puff of frosty air in the night sky.  “Very true, dearest.  I daresay ‘lotion infused’ means something different to the production team than it does to you or I,” he remarked as they made their way home.

 

---

¹SCW’s spelling used w/ permission.

 

[AngelEyes]

6 hours ago, cally said:

Mycroft watched this with what only could be construed as amused horror, his eyebrows midway to his hairline. 

LOL

 

6 hours ago, cally said:

“I should have known better when I bought you those tissues,” Greg said, still chuckling to himself. 

For sure! I must say I rather enjoyed it however!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

7 hours ago, cally said:

“Bless you again,” Mycroft said, slightly exasperated.  He slipped his hand inside his coat and removed his pocket square.  Desperate times called for desperate measures.

LOL! Exasperated with whom or what? Himself, the tissues, having to sacrifice his pocket square? Well, certainly not his darling Greg. 

I just love how scented tissues are following you around. They lead to such fun stories. 

7 hours ago, cally said:

¹SCW’s spelling used w/ permission.

You are always welcome to use any of my spellings.  

[Juto]

I am still enjoying all of these masterpieces from the sidelines  

I have to say I absolutely ADORED the tender set-up of "bath bomb"!! ((I know you're all in love with Mycroft and his amazing fits of sneezes and I agree he's a  piece of delight that must be tortured, but GREGORY!!!! That man just... *fans self* I love him so much and I just can't get over the perfect combination of sass, humour and affection that both you and scw write him with. I'm in awe.)) 

So it comes as no surprise that I thoroughly enjoyed "square" too  poor mycroft sacrificing his delicate silk pocket square to help Gregory fight off the regiment of lavender infused enemies was just the sweetest. 

I will never stop swooning over this couple and the way you write them!!!  

[cally]

On 21/01/2017 at 3:23 PM, Kaze wo Hiku said:

Hhnnnnnggggg Mycroft Oh the banter with the Detective Inspector was great.  I'm always up for anyone torturing him

I don't know how I missed this comment before.  I read it, but it must not have copied over from before.  My apologies!  I do believe there will be another part to that one.

 

On 26/01/2017 at 3:53 AM, AngelEyes said:

For sure! I must say I rather enjoyed it however!

The tissues are actually kind of rubbish, if I do say so myself.

On 26/01/2017 at 4:40 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

LOL! Exasperated with whom or what? Himself, the tissues, having to sacrifice his pocket square?

I think he was exasperated at the situation.  It wasn't something he had expected to happen!

 

On 29/01/2017 at 8:01 PM, Juto said:

So it comes as no surprise that I thoroughly enjoyed "square" too  poor mycroft sacrificing his delicate silk pocket square to help Gregory fight off the regiment of lavender infused enemies was just the sweetest. 

Awww, thank you.  I'm sure he whinged about having to have it dry cleaned or something afterwards!

I really should be finishing my corrections, but I can't concentrate so. . . . .  I have lots of other ideas, some for the forum and some not, and hopefully in a few weeks I will be able to write for pleasure when I want.  

 

70. Eucalyptus

Mycroft sat at the end of the bed wrapped in his dressing gown.  His socks were the only item of clothing left to remove and he was loath to do so.  He braced himself and then carefully bent down to remove them, hissing from the pain the exertion caused.  He sat back up, nearly panting.  A sheen of sweat had appeared on his brow.  He took a deep breath in and then exhaled slowly and then repeated the action several times.  He could hear the bathtub filling in the en suite and he focused on the sound of the water, letting it calm him.  He momentarily closed his eyes.

Greg came in from the ensuite and frowned at Mycroft’s appearance.  Mycroft looked drained, tired, and unwell.  His complexion was overly pale with the exception of the dark circles under his eyes and the rosy tip of his nose.  Greg sighed at the sight before him.

Mycroft’s eyes fluttered open to see Greg’s brown ones staring down at him, filled with concern.  The younger man reached out and took Greg’s hand and squeezed it, trying to convey that he was perfectly fine.  Perfectly fine despite a lingering head cold and pulled muscle in his back, that is.  Greg squeezed his hand back.  “Alright, let’s get you into the tub,” he said.

Mycroft nodded and rose carefully to his feet.  Greg put his arm around his partner and carefully led him into the ensuite, helped him disrobe, and then got him into the bath without too much hissing or wincing.  He then removed his own robe and slipped into the bath behind Mycroft.

Mycroft cautiously leaned back into Greg’s arms.  At least in the water it was easier to move, and considerably less painful as well.  He sniffed unproductively and sighed heavily, wishing he had removed his handkerchief from the pocket of his dressing gown. 

He felt Greg laughing behind him before he was handed a soft cloth.  “Here you go, love.” 

Mycroft rubbed at his reddened nose.  “What exactly is so humorous?” He asked stuffily.

“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” Greg pulled Mycroft to him in a gentle, reassuring hug.

“No, I suppose not.”  Mycroft sighed again, and tried to relax into the embrace.  He closed his eyes and relished the warmth of the water; the only sounds their breathing and the occasional dripping of the tap.

After a few moments of relaxation, Mycroft realised his nose was tingling and irritated.  He had hoped he had taken enough antihistamines at this point to keep from sneezing.  Sniffling, he worried at his nose again with the cloth.  It was then that he noticed the container of eucalyptus-enriched bath salts on the counter.  That explained the unwelcome irritation, he thought to himself before he launched into a fit of sneezes.

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

“Bless you.”  He had braced Mycroft the best he could, but the younger man hissed in the aftermath all the same.

“Thank you.  Hehhhh-Apologies,” he quickly got out before sneezing again.

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

“Oh love, bless you!”

Mycroft nodded his thanks as he blew his nose, taking advantage of the loosened congestion that had plagued him while he could.  He rendered the cloth all but useless and tossed it to the side.

Greg pulled him back toward him, kissing his neck.  Once Mycroft was settled, Greg began to gently knead his lower back.  “Is this ok?” Greg asked.

Mycroft nodded, feeling the tension and pain begin to recede from Greg’s gentle ministrations.  Just as he felt he could relax and focus on the gentleness of Greg’s hands, his nostrils prickled and he pinched his nose, trying to keep from sneezing, without success.

Hhnnchx! Hhnnchx! Heh’tish! Tish! Heh’tish! Heh’TSSSCHH!

"Christ! God bless you, Mycroft!” Greg exclaimed.  He reached over and grabbed a flannel, and pressed it upon his lover.  “Here, love.”

Mycroft nodded and tended to his nose.  “Thank you, my dear,” he murmured.

“Well, I guess that’s eucalyptus out then,” Greg said ruefully.

For the first time in days, Mycroft laughed.

 

 

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Aww... Poor Mycroft a cold and a pulled muscle in his back. You know what? I'm going to say it's from all the sneezing from his cold.  

I don't know why Greg would say eucalyptus is out.  It's great for sore muscles and congestion. I think it's a definite keeper.  

I loved this one. Just the right amount of misery and humor. 

[Shamaël]

Eucalyptus too?!? Oh my God, poor, poor Mycroft. As if the odds were against him... 

[AngelEyes]

Poor Mycroft. Gregory takes such good care of him though. Back rubs in the tub! Awwww

[cally]

On 17/02/2017 at 2:39 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

I'm going to say it's from all the sneezing from his cold.

I knew you were going to think that when I wrote it.

On 18/02/2017 at 11:39 AM, Aliena H. said:

Eucalyptus too?!? Oh my God, poor, poor Mycroft. As if the odds were against him... 

It was bound to happen.

19 hours ago, AngelEyes said:

Poor Mycroft. Gregory takes such good care of him though

I do try.  Although, you might not think so in this next one.

 

I'm really not feeling well, so I've taken it out on Mycroft.  If only my nose worked a fraction of his. . . . and I've left it on a bit of a cliffhanger . . .  .

71.  Disbelief

 

Mycroft regarded his reflection in the mirror.   He was pale and wan and there were dark circles under his eyes, his freckles standing out more than usual.  He rubbed absently at his nose; the infernal appendage was constantly prickling and tickling as if it were the middle of spring rather than the end of February.  He sniffed, trying to keep from sneezing yet again.  Like the countless times beforehand, it did not work and he quickly cupped his hands around his nose.

Heh…… Hhnnchx!  Mmmpfx!  Mmmmmpfch!  Hng’mmpftish!

With an irritated sigh, he reached for the tissues on the counter and blew his nose before tossing them in the bin.  He washed and dried his hands, and then placed them on the counter for a moment and took a shallow breath.  He knew not to breathe too deeply right now.

Mycroft took another ragged inhale, his breath catching and he began to cough.  He reached for a hand towel, hoping to muffle the sounds of the painful expulsions of breath as he continued to cough, his eyes watering from the force.  By the time he was able to control his breathing, Greg was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, and a frown on his face.

Already reddened from the bought of coughing, it was difficult for Greg to discern whether or not Mycroft was embarrassed.  He stood there watching as Mycroft wiped his eyes and rubbed at his nose with the towel, finding no reason to not do so after coughing so violently into it.  He tossed it in the hamper and turned to leave the en suite, not making eye contact with his partner.

Greg continued to block the door.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

Mycroft gave him an impertinent look.  “Where does it look like I’m going?”  He countered testily.

Greg looked Mycroft up and down, only it was not his normal appraising or leering gaze.  Instead, he looked irritated.  After a moment, Greg sighed, shook his head, and left the doorway.

Mycroft followed Greg into the bedroom, where he sat down on the bed and began to lace up his trainers.  He could feel Greg watching his every move, but he said nothing, just carried on with his task.  He was halfway through tying his left trainer, when his breath hitched erratically.  Too far away from the box of tissues on the nightstand, he once again cupped his hands around his nose, curling in on himself as he sneezed.

Heh  . . . Mmmpfx!  Mmmmmpfch!  Hng’mmpftish! Hng’ISSH!

“Bless you,” Greg said, his voice tight.  He placed the box of tissues next to Mycroft, but didn’t make any further attempt at offering comfort.

Mycroft snatched up a handful of tissues, sneezing viciously into them.

Mmmmmpfch!  Heh’tish! Hng’ISSH! Huh’mffTSChhh! Huh’Ishooooo! Heh…heh’ETCHOO!

“Bless you again,” Greg said quietly.  He was unsure if Mycroft even heard him as the younger man had begun to cough again, over and over, as if he were gasping for air.  Greg could hear the congestion in Mycroft’s chest, and at that he gave up his resolve and sat down on the bed beside him.  He gently rubbed Mycroft’s back as he listened to the coughing become deeper and more rattling until finally, he was able to control the expulsions and was just left damp, teary-eyed, and wheezing.  

Greg pressed some tissues into Mycroft’s hand.  Mycroft nodded his thanks and wiped his eyes and nose.  “Apologies,” he murmured, as if talking hurt his throat.

Greg stood up and walked into the en suite.  Mycroft could hear water running for a moment, and then Greg was in front of him holding a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” Mycroft said softly, his voice hoarse.  He took a small sip, and then a second one.

“You can thank me by not going and getting on that bloody treadmill,” Greg remarked.

Mycroft looked up at Greg, a look of almost disbelief on his face.

 

 

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!  Such a crappy day and I come here to find this beautiful bit of Mystrade.  

I can totally picture the stand-off in the bathroom door. I love how Greg just can't keep up the disinterested façade he tried to adopt. 

And yes, cliffhanger... Does Mycroft attempt to run on the treadmill? (Frankly I'd be afraid he'd sneeze ? himself off.) Or does he listen to a Greg and take off his trainers and go back to bed. I like the latter. Maybe some mentholatum rub for that cough? Oh, wait I think would exacerbate other "issues". 

[cally]

21 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

I can totally picture the stand-off in the bathroom door. I love how Greg just can't keep up the disinterested façade he tried to adopt.

Yeah, he can't manage it.  Mycroft is just too miserable for him to remain angry.

 

So I have like 3 alternate endings for this fic, and I've written one of them.  Whether or not I actually write the other 2, I have no idea.  I hopefully will get on with it (just another week until I have to get my corrections in, so I've had a few days of break while I waited for them to be checked, I wasn't just avoiding it!)

 

72.  Consideration

 

“Please, Myc.  You sound awful,” Greg pleaded.

Mycroft opened his mouth to retort, but the irritating prickling sensation within his nostrils, which had not stopped at all throughout their altercation, reared up once again.  His breath hitched audibly and he quickly grabbed a handful of tissues and sneezed rapidly into them.

Heh-hhhhtish! Ish! Tish! Heh’TISSSHH! Heh…heh’ETCHOO! Huh’Ishoooo!  

“God bless you,” Greg said.  He had sat down next to Mycroft while he was in the midst of his fit and was handing out another handful of tissues as if they were a peace offering.

Mycroft crumpled up the damp tissues he was holding and set them to the side before accepting the ones that Greg was holding out. 

“Thank you,” Mycroft replied, before blowing his nose. 

Greg plucked another handful and held them out at the ready.  He watched his partner struggle to keep his breathing regular and considered his words carefully.

“Please, love?” Greg pleaded.  “If I were as ill as you obviously are, you’d have me drugged and tucked up in bed, my phone and keys hidden away somewhere.  All I’m asking is that you give me the same consideration.”

Mycroft accepted the second handful of tissues and looked down at them in his hands.  His shoulders slumped forward and he seemed resigned to the fact that he was indeed more unwell than he had believed.

He wanted to explain to Greg that it wasn’t just about the running.  It was about control to some degree and anxiety management to another, and that was just for starters.  He most certainly wasn’t going to get into a conversation about his other reason, at least not at this juncture in their relationship.  Perhaps at another time he might feel comfortable sharing that aspect with Greg, but not right now.

Mycroft sighed heavily.  “Very well,” he said hoarsely.  He took a breath to steady his emotions, and immediately regretted it, as he fell prey to yet another bout of coughing.  He coughed and gasped and wheezed for what seemed an eternity, but couldn’t have been longer than ninety seconds, Greg rubbing his back the entire time.

“Oh, love,” Greg murmured.  He put his arm around Mycroft and tried to draw him close, but Mycroft resisted. Greg gave him a questioning look, but Mycroft just held up a hand, his eyes glazed and hazy, before he began to sneeze again.

Heh . . . . .Heh’TSSSCHH!  Huh’mffTSChhh! Heh . . huh ING’SHHHHH! Hng’ISSH-OOO! 

“Bless you!” Greg exclaimed.  He bit down on his lower lip as he watched and waited for Mycroft to finish tending to his nose. 

Mycroft looked over at him, and could see the worry evident on Greg’s face.  He bent over and began to untie his trainers and his sinuses ached and throbbed at the movement.  He sniffled harshly and swiped at his nose in protest, making a face as he did so.

“What’s wrong?” Greg asked.

Mycroft sat back up, having untied and removed his trainers.  He rubbed at the space under his eyes, wincing.  “My sinuses did not appreciate my leaning forward.”  He sniffed again, pulling a face as he reached for the tissues again.

Greg gave him a sad smile.  “Well, let me get you something for that, ok love?”

Mycroft nodded, as Greg rose to his feet.  He was almost past Mycroft, when the younger man reached out and grabbed his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

On 2/23/2017 at 6:26 PM, cally said:

“Please, Myc.  You sound awful,” Greg pleaded.

 

 

Mycroft opened his mouth to retort, but the irritating prickling sensation within his nostrils, which had not stopped at all throughout their altercation, reared up once again.  His breath hitched audibly and he quickly grabbed a handful of tissues and sneezed rapidly into them.

 

 

Heh-hhhhtish! Ish! Tish! Heh’TISSSHH! Heh…heh’ETCHOO! Huh’Ishoooo!  

See? Can't even deny it. Transport won't let you. 

On 2/23/2017 at 6:26 PM, cally said:

“If I were as ill as you obviously are, you’d have me drugged and tucked up in bed, my phone and keys hidden away somewhere. 

Yup. What is good for the gander is good for the gander. (Can't use goose in this instance. )

Very nice.  I can't wait for the other endings to appear.  

 

[AngelEyes]

On 2/22/2017 at 5:20 PM, cally said:

Greg looked Mycroft up and down, only it was not his normal appraising or leering gaze.  Instead, he looked irritated.  After a moment, Greg sighed, shook his head, and left the doorway.

Oh dear.

 

On 2/22/2017 at 5:20 PM, cally said:

“You can thank me by not going and getting on that bloody treadmill,” Greg remarked.

Awww.

 

On 2/23/2017 at 5:26 PM, cally said:

He had sat down next to Mycroft while he was in the midst of his fit and was handing out another handful of tissues as if they were a peace offering.

This is sweet.

 

On 2/23/2017 at 5:26 PM, cally said:

“Please, love?” Greg pleaded.  “If I were as ill as you obviously are, you’d have me drugged and tucked up in bed, my phone and keys hidden away somewhere.  All I’m asking is that you give me the same consideration.”

Very true!

 

On 2/23/2017 at 5:26 PM, cally said:

Mycroft nodded, as Greg rose to his feet.  He was almost past Mycroft, when the younger man reached out and grabbed his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Yay!

[cally]

I don't have a Greg or a Mycroft to comfort me so. . . 

 

73.  Alone

 

Mycroft was reading a thick, classified file when Anthea knocked on the door and poked her head around it.  “I thought that you should know that Detective Inspector Lestrade has left his office.”

Mycroft looked up at her impatiently and rolled his eyes.  “He is allowed to come and go as he pleases, Anthea.  Now, if you do not mind,” he returned his gaze to the file in his hand.

Anthea sighed and Mycroft looked up at her again, annoyance written on his face. “Sir, he’s gone home,” she said.

Mycroft frowned at hearing the news.  It was barely mid afternoon, and there was no good reason for Greg to be heading to their residence at that time.  “Very well, thank you Anthea,” he said finally.  She nodded and closed the door behind her.

Mycroft put the file down and stole a glance at the calendar on his desk.  Bugger, he thought to himself.  He should have been more aware of time passing, but had been greatly distracted by work as of late.  He began to quickly make headway on the tasks he had set out for that day, putting some to the side for the following day and some in his briefcase to take home with him.  Despite the task not taking long, he was unable to leave the office until nearly five, what with the troublesome Americans still continuing to make his life a living hell, but that was another story for another day.

By the time he arrived home, it was very nearly dark, and there were no lights on anywhere in the house.  Mycroft put his briefcase in his office and then headed upstairs.  He first checked their bedroom, and finding it empty, he walked down the hall to Greg’s small study.  The door was ajar, so he pushed it open and headed inside.  He could see Greg was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.  As he got closer, he could see the pile of tissues on the coffee table, and the empty box beside them.  He frowned at the sight.

Greg hiccupped softly and Mycroft moved around the couch so he could sit down next to his partner.  He placed a hand on Greg’s arm and squeezed it, in an attempt at being reassuring.  This was still a relatively uncharted area for Mycroft, and he still felt like he was navigating blindly in the sea without a compass to guide him.

Greg looked up at the gentle touch and gave Mycroft a sad smile.  Mycroft could see the dried tear tracks on his face, and his eyes were red and damp with tears yet unshed.  Mycroft reached out and tenderly brushed one of them away.  The kind gesture was more than Greg could take and he began to cry again.

Mycroft fretted.  He knew that there was little he could say right now that would make Greg feel any better.  He sat quietly and waited for the tears to stop.

After another moment, Greg wiped his face with the back of his hand and sniffled damply, barely able to get a breath in through his nose.  Mycroft shifted his position, removed his handkerchief from his pocket, and offered it over wordlessly. 

Greg wiped his eyes and then attempted to blow his nose.  It took several failed attempts before he was able to make any headway.  Finally, he was successful at viciously blowing his nose, which in turn triggered a pair of violent sneezes.

Heh . . . . . . HRDSCHHhhhhuh!   Heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

“Christ,” Greg mumbled to himself.

“God bless you my dear,” Mycroft said quietly.  He wished he could offer more than platitudes.

“Thanks,” Greg murmured.  He rubbed at his nose with the cloth and sighed heavily.  He looked utterly defeated and worn out.

Mycroft sat back on the couch and then reached out for Greg.  “Come here, my dearest.”  He helped Greg lay down with his head in his lap and began to card his fingers through Greg’s silver strands.  Mycroft hoped that his offer of comfort was helping ease his partners anguish, even for just a few moments.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Mycroft may be fretting but he's doing just fine. Poor Greg.  

[cally]

1 hour ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Mycroft may be fretting but he's doing just fine. Poor Greg.  

Greg's having a rough time.  

74.  Calming

 

Mycroft felt Greg relax under his ministrations.  The trembling had ceased, as had the tears.  He actually thought Greg had fallen asleep and despite the work that Mycroft had waiting for him yet this evening, he was content to sit there carding his fingers through Greg’s hair.  It was calming for both of them, Mycroft thought to himself, as he felt the tension alleviate from his shoulders.  He was lost in thought and very nearly startled when Greg abruptly sat up.

“Sorry,” Greg said stuffily.  He attempted to sniff and failed.  Pulling a face, he picked up the handkerchief Mycroft had given him and blew his nose.  Again, this took several attempts and strangely enough he was met with the same result as he had previously.

Huh’RUHSHHOOOO!

“Dear me,” Mycroft said.  “Bless you.”  He studied Greg carefully.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Mycroft asked cautiously, not looking for a row, not tonight.

Greg swiped at his nose with the nearly useless cloth.  “I’m fine,” he said.

Mycroft gave him an incredulous look.

“Really, love.”  Greg gave him a reassuring, but wavering smile.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  “Very well.”  He paused a moment, thoughtful again.

“Is there anything I can do?”  He wasn’t talking about an imagined illness.

Greg sniffled damply and shrugged.  There wasn’t anything Mycroft or anyone could do.  Grief was a strange bedfellow, and while some days were certainly better than others, there were days that he felt like his heart was being clenched in a vice and then ripped apart.

“I am sorry I was not here earlier,” Mycroft said quietly.

Greg looked up at him in surprise. “It’s ok.  I needed to be on my own for a while.”

Mycroft nodded, not really knowing what else he could say.

Greg took a deep breath and sighed heavily.  He then began to clean up the coffee table, tossing the box and used tissues into the nearby bin.

“I need a drink.” Greg said and headed for the door.

Mycroft rose and followed him out and down the stairs to the study where Greg poured them each a measure of scotch.  Greg sat down on the sofa and stretched his legs out.

Mycroft felt that his partner was uneasy and he had no understanding as to why.  He took a sip of his drink and contemplated, sitting down beside Greg.

Greg had nearly finished his drink but made no move to get up and refill his glass.  He sniffed thickly without really being aware of doing so.  Mycroft, of course, noticed and reached over for the tissues and placed the box closer to Greg.

Greg knocked back the rest of his drink and then reached for the tissues.  He couldn’t believe how congested he was.  He blew his nose forcefully and immediately sneezed again.

Huh’rrdDZSCHOOOO!  Heh’DSCHHHH!

“God bless you,” Mycroft exclaimed, the worry evident on his face.

“Sorry, love.  I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”  Greg grabbed another handful of tissues and blew his nose again, carefully this time.  He finally felt that he could breathe properly.

Mycroft waited, but Greg seemed to be ok.  They both were quiet for a moment.

Hesitantly, Mycroft spoke.  “Again, is there anything I can do, my dear?”

Greg didn’t answer for several long moments.

“Just sit here with me, love?” He looked sad, broken.

“Of course, Gregory.”

Mycroft put his arm around Greg and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple.  He wished there was more he could do, but for now, he was willing to do whatever Greg needed.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Cuddles and hugs  that's what Greg needs. 

But no idea why he's sneezy? Really? Hmm... 

[cally]

On 13/03/2017 at 11:11 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Cuddles and hugs  that's what Greg needs. 

 

Don't we all.

I started writing this well over 2 months ago, forgot what I was writing about, and finally repurposed it.  

75.  Biscuits

 

Mycroft dabbed at his nostrils with a tissue.  It was not the first time that day he had done so.  He sniffed, finding his nose increasingly stuffed up.  “For goodness sake,” he muttered to himself, tossing the tissue in the bin.

Putting his files to the side, he rose to his feet, straightening and adjusting his waistcoat.  Perhaps it was time for a cup of tea, he thought, walking through his study and then down the hall to the kitchen.

He filled the kettle and clicked it on, and then proceeded to gather tea, teapot, cup, and saucer.  While he waited for the water to come to a boil, he thought through the many tasks that he needed to complete this afternoon.  What he hadn’t realised until the kettle had clicked off, was that he had been rubbing at his eye the entire time. 

With an irritated sigh, he filled the teapot with the hot water, watching the steam rise upwards.  This had the added annoyance of further irritating his congested nose, and he whirled away from the counter, cupping his hands around his nose and sneezing rather harshly.

Hih’TSHOOO! Heh’TSCHOOO!

“Ugh,” he muttered to himself, fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket and swiping at his nose.  He tucked it back into his pocket and then went over to the sink and washed his hands.  His shoulders slumped while he dried his hands on the towel by the sink. 

There were barely a handful of buds on the trees and he was already feeling quite miserable.  His eyes were itchy, his nose was both stuffed up and drippy, and in a number of days his throat and the roof of his mouth would be irritated as well.  Not to mention the sinus pain and congestion, which had already started up.  He had awoken with a sinus headache that made him feel like he had been punched in the face---- repeatedly.

He was still standing there, tea towel in hand when Greg came in brandishing several carrier bags.  “Hiya love,” Greg said cheerily, dumping the bags down on the counter. 

“Must you be so cheerful?” Mycroft asked, his voice faint and congested.  He cleared his throat several times, annoyed.

Greg came around the counter so he was standing next to Mycroft.  “I’m sorry you’re feeling so miserable,” he said, tenderly cupping Mycroft’s cheek, not realising he had brushed up against right where the younger man’s sinus passage was inflamed. 

Mycroft abruptly pulled away, sneezing violently, Greg’s gentle touch proving too much in his sensitive state.  HahTCH’SHOOOO!

“Bless you,” Greg said, frowning, as Mycroft continued to sneeze over and over again.

Heh . . .Heh’tish! Tisssssh! Tissssssh! Mmmmmpfch! Mmmpfch! Mmmpftish!

“God bless you again,” Greg said.  He held out a handkerchief towards Mycroft.

“Thank you,” Mycroft murmured, pressing the cloth to his nose and blowing as gently as possible.  “I am sorry.  I probably sneezed all over you.”  He looked up at his partner, damp eyed and embarrassed.

Greg shrugged.  “You didn’t, and even if you did, it’s fine.”  He began to unpack the bags, pulling out boxes of tissues, tea, and biscuits.

Mycroft looked over the items from behind the cloth.  “I’m not sure you bought enough tissues,” he said dryly. 

Greg was unsure if he was being sarcastic or not.  He had bought eight boxes.  He figured it was enough for a few days at least.  He shrugged again.

“And there was no need to buy any heh-biscuits,” Mycroft started to say, but was cut off by another fit.

Heh’Mmmmpfx! Mmmmmmpfch! Mmmphmfp! Mmmmmmpfx!

“Love, please stop stifling,” Greg pleaded.

Breath hitching again, Mycroft quickly glared at his partner, and then ducked back down into the cloth he was still holding.

Heh’Mmmpftish! INGH’ish! Heh’TISSSHH! Heh’TSCHOOO!

“Bless you again and again,” Greg said when he was fairly certain Mycroft was done.

“Thank you, Gregory.  Apologies.” Mycroft sagged against the counter, dabbing at his nostrils.   He looked over the items that Greg had purchased again and appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. 

“They are your favourite,” Greg offered, pushing the packet of Earl Grey and lemon shortbread towards Mycroft.  “I’ll even finish making the tea.”

Mycroft smiled for the first time that day.  “Thank you, my dear,” he replied, opening the biscuits.

 

[Sophie<3]

I feel like Mycroft sneezing in fits is such a widely accepted headcanon amongst our people? I really adore it too, though. And Greg being such a sweetheart, and so totally unbothered by the symptoms. These two cuties, I swear.