Mystrade's Shorts by scw (BBC Sherlock)

[AngelEyes]

On 9/25/2016 at 8:35 AM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Greg gave a quiet chuckle. “Oh My, you are not your allergies.”

Sweetest thing ever!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you @cally, @Ju-OOooo-To, @AngelEyes ! I am glad you enjoyed that last post. It was rather sweet. ("Well, I for one, need an insulin injection.")  

So this next one is out of order for my usual time line for my Mystrade head cannon. But the conceit was too amusing to ignore. I hope people like it. Comments = 

The Butterfly Effect

 

The Butterfly Effect—the concept that small causes can have large effects

            The first sneeze Mycroft Holmes did not see, but rather heard. It was quite loud, in fact loud enough to be heard over the running water of the shower and through the closed door of the en suite. It was loud enough to startle him as he was putting on his cufflinks causing him to drop one.

            He was still bent over looking for the lost bit of jewelry when Greg emerged from the bathroom wearing only his towel. Greg took a playful swat at Mycroft’s backside, which earned him a retaliatory scowl. A conciliatory kiss was offered, which led to… the cufflink not being found for another week. But everyone made it to work in a much better mood.

            The second sneeze of the day was seen but not heard. His tiresome brother had slipped his lead and the British Government found himself scanning CCTV footage. He caught DI Lestrade at a crime scene turning away from his sergeant, hastily covering his mouth and nose. The force of the sneeze made him bend forward at the waist. It was noted that the sergeant did not bless the detective inspector. This caused the sergeant’s credit to drop considerably in the British Government’s estimation.

            Her commute home that day was rather trying. She experienced a number of unexpected and unusual delays causing her to miss her planned assignation. This did have the fortunate consequence of the sergeant not being caught out by her lover’s wife, who had arrived home early from her business trip.

            The third sneeze was both heard and seen. They had met for dinner after work the same evening at one of their favorite restaurants. Greg was regaling Mycroft with an amusing story from the day. As the laughter died, Mycroft noted Greg had angled slightly away from the table with his napkin pressed to his face. His breath hitched once then twice before his eyes squeezed shut. “Heh… hih… Heh’DRRSCHTCHOO!” His head and shoulders bobbed as the harsh sneeze erupted.

            “Bless you, dear.” Mycroft was a trifle concerned.

            “Thanks, love. Must be the pepper on the salad.” Greg sniffed.

            The waiter was immediately summoned and the salad replaced with a soothing cup of soup. Greg refrained from protesting too heavily having seen a determined gleam in Mycroft’s eye.

The sous chef was distraught at having the salad sent back and decided he would from now on focus only on pastries. He subsequently opened a bakery in Islington that became known world wide for its cupcakes.

The fourth sneeze was heard, seen and felt. Curled around his partner with his arm draped over Greg’s torso, Mycroft was nearly asleep. Greg’s breath hitched and Mycroft’s eyes popped open as he felt the sharp intake of breath.

“HuhrrdDZSCHOO!” Greg rocked back against his bedmate and a light spray landed on Mycroft’s arm.

“God bless you.”

“Ugh.” Greg sniffled. “Sorry, My.” Mycroft rolled away to collect the tissue box. He offered it to his snuffling boyfriend. Greg took a few wiping first Mycroft’s arm and then his own nose.

            “Are you feeling unwell?” Mycroft was suspicious.

            “Nah.” Greg murmured.

            Mycroft kissed Greg’s shoulder and listened to the older man fall asleep. Once he was sure Greg was no longer awake, he texted Anthea advising her the need to reschedule the trip to India he had planned later that week.

            The next morning Anthea checked her messages and sighed. She began the process of rearranging her boss’s schedule and postponed travel for the next two weeks. The delay in the British Government’s visit made the Indian Government anxious and when the visit did finally happen they were much more amenable to the proposed changes in the negotiations.

 

One week later…

 

            By his fifth sneeze of the morning Mycroft had to admit he had caught his partner’s cold. These weren’t his usual morning sneezes. There was a dampness present, his head felt fuzzy and his throat was dry. He was trying to put on his cufflinks when six, seven and eight hit. “Hihnnchx, hihnnchx, hihnnchoo.” Mycroft stifled, as his hands were busy. He dropped a cufflink. “Bugger all,” he muttered and sniffled.

            “Bless you,” Greg offered as he exited the en suite mostly dressed in his undershirt and pants. “You’re pretty sneezy this morning,” he commented.

            “Quite,” Mycroft agreed distractedly as he studied the floor around his feet.

            “You drop something?”

            “Another cufflink.”

Greg could hear the congestion and irritation in his boyfriend’s voice. “I gave you my cold,” he surmised.

“Likely,” sighed Mycroft.

“Let me look then.” Greg bent over to look under the dresser. “Ah!” He dropped to his knees and reached under; his arse rose up in the air. “Is this it?”

“Hmm?” Mycroft was looking elsewhere than at Greg’s up held hand. The older man cleared his throat. “No, that is from last week. Thank you, though.” Mycroft took the bit of jewelry.

“Oh, I see another.” Greg stretched a little further.

As far as Mycroft was concerned the ninth and tenth sneezes came out of nowhere with no warning. “Huh’TSCHHOOO! Huh’TSCHOOO!” They were vocal and violent and completely uncharacteristic for the younger man.

This led to his partner startling abruptly at the noise and caused him to strike his head hard on the furniture he was searching under.

“Ow!” Greg fell to his side holding his head.

“Gracious, Gregory! Are you alright?” Mycroft dropped to his knees.

Gregory Lestrade was rather woozy from the knock on the head and Mycroft Holmes was convinced a mild concussion had been sustained.  With significant badgering and fussing and perhaps a well timed sniffle and show of watery eyes, the DI was persuaded to stay home under his lover’s watchful care. They spent the day together tending to the other’s woes.

Banned from all electronic devices DI Lestrade was unaware of the panicked texts and calls from DI Dimmock and Sherlock Holmes. The two had been thrown together for what turned out to be a rather thrilling case with a locked room murder, Chinese acrobat gangsters and ancient treasures. No matter, he'd read all about it later on Dr. Watson’s blog.

[cally]

8 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

No matter, he'd read all about it later on Dr. Watson’s blog.

 

I'm surprised that Mycroft didn't chastise Greg for the lack of blessing.  I do suppose a knock on the head would probably be one of the few things that would get him out of it, though.

This was terribly adorable and entirely plausible in my book!  

[Juto]

Wow scw. Just wonderful.

Witty, clever, detail oriented and creative as always

I loved how the story followed Greg's (and later Mycroft's) sneezing. 

On 18/10/2016 at 5:24 AM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

A conciliatory kiss was offered, which led to… the cufflink not being found for another week. But everyone made it to work in a much better mood.

I adored this bit *whistles and sneaks to a specific thread in the adult section*

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

4 hours ago, Ju-OOooo-To said:

*whistles and sneaks to a specific thread in the adult section*

Oh did you now? Well do let @cally and I know if you would like an update. We were debating whether to do one.  

[AngelEyes]

Adorable! I love the timing and sequencing here, it makes the story light and bouncy. I don't know if that makes any sense, but it's what came out of my brain.

On 10/17/2016 at 10:24 PM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

A conciliatory kiss was offered, which led to… the cufflink not being found for another week.

This line cracked me up! I love it!

On 10/20/2016 at 9:34 PM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

 

On 10/20/2016 at 4:47 PM, Ju-OOooo-To said:

*whistles and sneaks to a specific thread in the adult section*

Oh did you now? Well do let @cally and I know if you would like an update. We were debating whether to do one.  

 

I for one would not be opposed! LOL

On 10/17/2016 at 10:24 PM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Once he was sure Greg was no longer awake, he texted Anthea advising her the need to reschedule the trip to India he had planned later that week.

I love Mycroft's premonition. Perfect.

 

On 10/17/2016 at 10:24 PM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Banned from all electronic devices DI Lestrade was unaware of the panicked texts and calls from DI Dimmock and Sherlock Holmes. The two had been thrown together for what turned out to be a rather thrilling case with a locked room murder, Chinese acrobat gangsters and ancient treasures. No matter, he'd read all about it later on Dr. Watson’s blog.

And I love this tie together with Canon. Awesomeness!

[Shamaël]

Wow, that was great! I came for the french and foreign blessing, but I've been reading the whole thread... Thanks so much for sharing!!! (The blessing in french was perfect, but I have a preference for russian - I don't know why, it's a language which fits Mycroft perfectly...)

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thanks @Ju-OOooo-To, @cally, @AngelEyes! Your comments are the ones that keep me going. I really liked this one too and I'm glad I wasn't alone.  

@Aliena H. Welcome! I am so glad you are enjoying my thread.  Thank you for the compliment on the French blessing and the Russian blessing. I agree Russian is a language that suits Mycroft. I think my favorite is the Spanish one, because it's a little naughty.  

Anyone else want to chime in with their favorite blessing? Also I'm still taking suggestions for other languages for a blessing drabble. 

I'm not posting anything new here for a bit as I am posting a longer story in the fan fiction section, Whining. Join me there if you like.  

[matilda3948]

Sorry I haven't commented in ages. These are fabulous! I particularly love how you write sick!Lestrade.  

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

@matilda3948 Aww... Thank you. Guess what! Sick!Lestrade is up next. I hope you enjoy.  @Aliena H. there is even a little brotherly interaction in this one. 

So it is the beginning of flu season and I am going to make the recommendation that everyone get a flu shot/vaccine/jab. This is likely to become a yearly ritual. To make my plea more memorable, I have written a Mystrade story to go along with it. (What else would I have done?  )

As always thank you to everyone who reads and/or comments.  I haven't said this in a while, but I really don't own anything. 

It’s not 100%

 

 

 

            “Oh God, someone shoot me.” Greg muttered as he came out to the waiting room escorted by a medical assistant. Mycroft stood and closed his notebook, slipping it into his pocket. As Greg approached the younger man, Mycroft reached out and took the Detective Inspector’s arm.

            The medical assistant smiled at the British Government. “Dr. Watson says most definitely flu. He sent prescriptions to your pharmacy for both of you.”

            Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “I feel fine.”

            “Just a precaution he said. Something about not wanting civil unrest to break out.” She tittered.

            “Are there any other instructions?” Mycroft asked coolly.

            “Fluids, rest, paracetamol or ibuprofen for the fever. The prescription should help him feel better faster. Oh, and he can’t return to work until he is fever free for twenty-four hours.”

            Mycroft felt Greg shiver and slid his arm around his partner’s waist and the older man leaned against Mycroft, coughing softly into the facemask he was wearing. “Feel better soon.” The medical assistant dimpled at the two men and cheerfully went back to her other duties.

            Mycroft stared at her retreating back. “Now, now she’s alright.” Greg placated. “She let me take the mask off when we got back to the room and blessed me when I sneezed. Can we go home now? Please?”

            Returning his attention back to the man resting against him, Mycroft replied, “Of course dear. The car is right outside.” He kept a steady hand at Greg’s back as they left the surgery and climbed into the back of the waiting car. Mycroft gave instructions to the driver and rolled up the privacy window.

            “You can take off the mask, Gregory.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yes,” Mycroft said tersely as he got out his mobile and called his PA. Greg made no effort to remove the covering. He coughed harshly and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window.

            “Anthea, you will need to cancel the rest of my meetings for the week… Yes… Flu… No, he does not… Yes, send someone to the pharmacy for the prescriptions… No, I am fine…” The British Government sighed. “Alright, activate ‘Ruby Slippers’.” There was a snort from the other side of the car. Mycroft said goodbye and hung up the phone. “Yes?” He looked at his partner.

            “’Ruby Slippers’? As in ‘there’s no place like home’?” Greg giggled.

            “It’s the plan for my working at home, which is what I will be doing until you are well. Now take off that ridiculous mask.”

            Greg gave a shout of laughter, which quickly devolved into a coughing fit. The coughs sent vibrations through his sensitive sinuses, triggering a vicious sneeze. “HunhrrdDZSCHOO!” Greg pitched forward and groaned. “Oh, my head.”

            “Bless you, dear. Now you have to take that off.” Mycroft handed over tissues from the box that stayed in the car. He gently unhooked the loops from his boyfriend’s ears and stripped off the mask. Greg turned away and cleaned up a bit. Mycroft dropped the mask in the trash receptacle and used some of the hand sanitizer he kept in the car.

            Greg threw away his used tissues. “I’m sorry,” he said miserably.

            “For what?” Mycroft pretended he didn’t know what his partner was talking about and scrolled through the messages on his mobile.

            “For getting sick, for bringing it home to you, for making you reschedule your week…”

            “Gregory,” Mycroft interrupted. “None of this is under your control. I do not blame you.” Mycroft didn’t look up as he spoke. He heard a soft, choked sob and glanced over at his partner. Greg had buried his face in his hands. Mycroft rolled his eyes and murmured to himself, “Good Lord.” He put his mobile away, unbuckled and slid over towards his distressed lover. Gently placing an arm around Greg, Mycroft pulled the older man against him.

            “Sorry, sorry.” Greg mumbled, snuffling against Mycroft’s chest.

            “Do stop apologizing, Gregory,” Mycroft said softly. “I believe your fever is making you emotionally labile.”

            “Huh?” Greg sniffled.

            “The fever. It is causing you to be… never mind.” Mycroft plucked a few tissues from the box. “Here, dry your eyes and blow your nose.”

            “Okay,” Greg sat up and did as instructed. “I don’t understand why I got the flu. I had the jab,” he grumbled, tossing the tissues in the trash container.

            Mycroft had dug his mobile back out and was tapping an email in. “It’s not 100%,” he replied, frowning at the screen. “Bugger.”

            “What?”

            Mycroft looked over at Greg. The Detective Inspector was pale and sweat was glistening on his skin. There were dark circles under his eyes and his nose tinged slightly pink. “Apologies.” He turned off his mobile and put it away. Some things were more important. “I should be attending to you.” Greg gazed dazedly at Mycroft. “Ah.” Mycroft handed over more tissues. “Bless you, dear.”

            Greg managed to crush the tissues to his face as the sneezes hit. “HehhDRRSCHSH! HehhddrRRSCHOO!”

            Gracious, Gregory.” Greg blew his nose loudly and then leaned his head on Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft took the used tissues and threw them away. Again he applied a liberal amount of hand sanitizer.

Greg watched and remarked, “You know that doesn’t help against viruses.”

Mycroft frowned and looked carefully at the bottle. Rolling his eyes, he tossed it to the side. “No matter then.”

“There’s no way you are going to escape this,” Greg said mournfully.

“Gregory, your concern is touching, but at this moment we need to focus on getting you home and into bed.” Mycroft’s tone was firm, but not unkind. Greg nodded and smothered a cough with his forearm. Resting against the younger man, he dozed off for the rest of the drive.

When Mycroft and Greg exited the car in front of their home, the sight of Sherlock standing on the stoop, holding a chemist’s bag, greeted them. “John told me to pick up your prescriptions and bring them here.” He answered Mycroft’s unspoken question.

“I am surprised you waited for us to return home,” Mycroft remarked. “I would have expected you to break in and leave the bag.” He turned toward Greg and supported the ill man by the elbow as they climbed the few steps to the door.

“I am not entering your house of pestilence. You’re lucky John convinced me to come within ten feet of you.” Greg gave a chesty cough and Sherlock shrank back. “Here take it.” He held out the bag and shook it. Mycroft rolled his eyes and took the bag. “Right, that done, I’ll be off.”

“Perhaps one more favor, brother-mine.”

Sherlock paused his retreat. “What now?” he asked irritably.

“Would you be so kind as to open the door, now that my hands are full?” Sherlock looked at his brother with the Boots bag in one hand and his arm now around a visibly exhausted Lestrade.

Sherlock groaned, “Fine.” He unlocked the door with a key he had ‘obtained’ from Mycroft months ago.

“Ah, I knew delaying changing the locks was the right course of action.”

Greg coughed out a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You were sure you’d lost the key in your rooms at the Diogenes.” Mycroft scowled at Greg.

Sherlock pushed the door open. “He did. That’s where I ‘found’ it.” Sherlock smirked as the couple walked by. Greg swiftly plucked the key from Sherlock’s hand as he went by.

“Ta, mate.”

“Ugh! Now I will need to bathe in bleach.” Sherlock wiped his hand on his coat. “If you won’t be needing anything else.”

“No, Sherlock. Thank you.” Mycroft graced his brother with a small smile. Sherlock huffed and swept off. Mycroft closed the door, turning to look at Greg who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.  A chill hit Greg and Mycroft frowned slightly. He sighed, “To bed with you I think.”

Greg nodded without opening his eyes. “Ple-heh-hehhddZSHCHOO!” He had twisted to the side sneezing into his elbow.

Mycroft laid a steadying hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Bless you. Take off your coat, dear.”

Greg sniffed and shrugged off his coat. Mycroft hung Greg’s and his coats in the hall closet. Greg located the hall tissue box and blew his nose. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank goodness for your allergies. It means there’re tissues in every room.”

“Now there is a silver lining I had not foreseen.” Mycroft remarked dryly.

Greg snickered then started to cough. The fit took over a minute and Greg was wheezing by the end. Mycroft bit his lip hating the helpless feeling he had. Greg caught his breath and gestured for the bag sitting by the closet. “I’ll take that up.”

“I’ll carry it, dear.” Mycroft picked up the bag.

“My, you don’t need to see me to bed.” Greg shivered and his teeth chattered slightly.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

 “You are short of breath and feverish. What kind of partner would I be if I did not accompany you up the stairs?”

“I can make it up the stairs and put myself to bed.” Greg reached for the bag and Mycroft switched it to his other hand and held it out of reach.

“Humor me.”

Greg sighed. “C’mon My. I don’t need you.” Mycroft made a calculated decision, and pouted. “You prat. I didn’t mean it that way.” He started to cough again. Mycroft tensed, but the coughing didn’t turn into another breath stealing episode.

“Gregory, I understand you are worried about me catching this.”

“Worried?” Greg shuddered slightly as another wave of chills came over him.

“I had the vaccine, dear.”

“I had the vaccine and I still caught it. Your immune system is crap. I know you’re doomed.”

“Be that as it may, Gregory, I have no intention of leaving your side.”

Greg took a breath as if to continue his protestations, instead his eyes unfocused. His face crumpled as he ducked into his elbow. “HuhhrrdSCHZOoo!”

“Bless you.” Mycroft pulled a few tissues from the nearby box and offered them to his ill partner. “Save your strength and breath; I will not be moved.”

“Yer a stubborn git.” Greg mumbled as he wiped his nose. “Just like your brother.”

“No need to be insulting, Gregory.” Mycroft replied mildly as he gently guided the older man toward the stairs.

Once Gregory was tucked into bed with a hot water bottle and Mycroft was down to his shirtsleeves and braces, the younger man opened the chemist’s bag and dumped the contents on the bed. He was surprised by what he found, for not only were there prescriptions, but Sherlock had also picked up paracetamol, ibuprofen and cough syrup.

“Aw, you might think he actually likes me,” Greg remarked.

“Indeed. I doubt he would have gone to so much trouble for me,” Mycroft said wryly.

“You know he would have,” Greg returned as another coughing fit hit him. The older man turned away, trying to cough with his mouth closed as he reached for the tissues.

“Just cough, Gregory. You do not need to make it worse by trying to hold it in,” Mycroft chided. He handed over the tissue box as Greg hacked and gasped into his arm.

The coughing petered out and Greg wiped his eyes. His breath wheezed slightly, as he rubbed his chest. “God, that hurts.”

“I am sorry.” Mycroft looked over the medications. He selected ibuprofen and cough syrup. As he did, he spied an inhaler and sighed with relief. “Here, I believe this will help.” Mycroft handed the device over. “For some reason there is medication here for you and for me.”

Greg took a couple hits from the inhaler. Mycroft waited until his partner was done. “Did Dr. Watson say why?”

Greg let out the breath he was holding. “I honestly don’t remember, My.” He sniffled, rubbed his nose and then pitched forward with a harsh sneeze. “HuhhrRDZSHUH!

“Bless you.”

“HuhddSCHZOO!”

“God bless you.”

“Heh…HehDTCHZCHOO!”

“Gracious, Gregory. Bless you again.” Mycroft patted Greg’s knee.

Greg took a few tissues and blew his nose. “Thanks, My.”

Mycroft handed over a dose of ibuprofen and a dose of the prescribed medication. While Greg took those with the water Mycroft had gotten him earlier, the younger man measured out a dose of cough syrup. Greg swallowed that down as well.

Mycroft set about tidying up the bed, straightening covers, plumping pillows, placing tissues in easy reach, refreshing the glass of water. Greg smiled wanly at his partner as the hot water bottle was checked for the third time. “My, stop fussing.”

Mycroft lined up the medicine bottles by size. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“My.”

“Hmm?” Mycroft was weighing the tissue box in his hand.

“You should go. I’m sure you have some secret squirrel duties waiting for you.” A chill came over Greg and he shivered.

“You are cold.” Mycroft left the room and returned with a wool blanket and his laptop. He spread the blanket over Greg and then climbed onto the bed next to his partner. “Better?”

“You aren’t going to leave me, are you?” Greg curled up against his boyfriend’s body.

“No, I told you.”

Greg sighed in resignation. “Okay.” He was too ill to continue protesting. He pulled the blanket over his mouth and coughed. “I give up.”

Mycroft smiled softly at the man cuddled against him. “Yes, I think that is the best course of action.” Mycroft stroked Greg’s silvery hair as the older man fell into a restless sleep.

Greg snored at his side and Mycroft picked up the pill bottle meant for him. He frowned and opened his laptop, going directly to his search engine. He typed in the name of the medication¹. As he read over the information on the chemical, he felt an odd sense of gratitude toward Dr. Watson. The British Government was reaching for his mobile when it rang.

“Hello, Dr. Watson.”

“How’s our favorite patient?”

“Sleeping.”

“Well that’s good. I bet he didn’t remember what I told him about the scripts.”

“No, he did not. I have been doing some research.”

“Oh, well then. Any questions?”

“No.”

“It’s not 100%.”

“Few things rarely are, but it does tip the odds more in our favor.”

“I admit somewhat selfish reasons. If you came down with it, Sherlock and I would be taking care of the both of you.”

“Good Lord. That would be a horror for all parties.”

John chuckled. “I’ve another patient. Call if you need anything.”

“Certainly, and, John, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mycroft.”

 

 

 

FIN

 

 

 

¹Oseltamivir (Tamiflu) is available for treatment and prevention of influenza. It will reduce the symptoms of influenza and the length of illness by 1-2 days if started within the first 48 hours of symptom onset. It is generally prescribed to patients with underlying illness that makes them more at risk for complications from influenza. In my head canon Greg Lestrade has lung disease related to his smoking and this makes him a high-risk patient.

The influenza vaccine is still the best way to prevent influenza. Oseltamivir is generally used as a preventative agent in patients who have not yet had or cannot have a flu vaccine, and have been exposed to influenza, usually through a household contact. In my head canon Mycroft Holmes has a propensity to become extremely ill (not at all helped by his occasional smoking), and the good doctor decided to deviate from medical science and prescribe the medication as a preventative measure. Medicine is an art after all. 

 

 

 

Reference:  http://www.cdc.gov/flu/professionals/antivirals/antiviral-use-influenza.htm#Box

 

 

 

So concludes my seasonal post on influenza.  

Edited November 13, 2016 by Sinister Cries + Wails

[cally]

Oh poor Greg.   He sounds absolutely miserable.  And I'm sure Mycroft will be fine.  He can't get every illness.  That would just be unfair.

7 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“Ugh! Now I will need to bathe in bleach.” Sherlock wiped his hand on his coat. “If you won’t be needing anything else.”

 

 

 

In which Sherlock is me.  

[Shamaël]

Oooohhhh I love Gregory's sneezes (great, great spelling in my opinion - didn't I mention it before?). And, of course, I love Sherlock's reaction, totally in character.

18 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“Aw, you might think he actually likes me,” Greg remarked.

“Indeed. I doubt he would have gone to so much trouble for me,” Mycroft said wryly.

That was great. Thanks for the Holmes brothers' lovely interaction.

[AngelEyes]

On 11/12/2016 at 10:03 PM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“I never thought I’d say this, but thank goodness for your allergies. It means there’re tissues in every room.”

“Now there is a silver lining I had not foreseen.” Mycroft remarked dryly.

LOL

 

On 11/12/2016 at 10:03 PM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“Yer a stubborn git.” Greg mumbled as he wiped his nose. “Just like your brother.”

“No need to be insulting, Gregory.”

Indeed

 

On 11/12/2016 at 10:03 PM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“Aw, you might think he actually likes me,” Greg remarked.

Awwww

[Hedgehog]

Poor Greg. Good thing Mycroft is there to take care of him. And Watson to take care of both of them.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you everyone. I hope you got your flu shots. It's not too late.  

On November 13, 2016 at 7:01 AM, cally said:

And I'm sure Mycroft will be fine.  He can't get every illness.  That would just be unfair.

No, that would not be fair. We may like to torture Mycroft more than we should but we aren't unfair.  

On November 13, 2016 at 5:20 PM, Aliena H. said:

Oooohhhh I love Gregory's sneezes (great, great spelling in my opinion - didn't I mention it before?)

Thank you!!  

On November 13, 2016 at 5:20 PM, Aliena H. said:

Thanks for the Holmes brothers' lovely interaction.

You are most welcome. There is a little brotherly interaction in this next one as well. 

@AngelEyes Once again you choose some of my favorite parts to quote.  

@hedgehog I'm glad you enjoyed it. I know sick!Greg is a favorite. I'll be sure to let you know when he makes an appearance.  

 

This brief story is pre Mystrade. I think of them here as being more than acquaintances and moving toward a more personal relationship, but not yet a couple. I hope you enjoy it. I own nothing and I love comments and suggestions. 

 

Till Thursday part 1

 

 

 

“What do you mean, ‘can’t’ tell me? You mean ‘won’t’ tell me.” Detective Inspector Lestrade fumed at the consulting detective.

            “No, I mean ‘can’t’ tell you.” Sherlock replied calmly as he rose from examining the body.

            “What? You don’t know then?” Greg huffed.

            “Oh, I know, but it isn’t my place to say.” Sherlock began to stroll around the room casually examining the items sitting about.

            “John, do you know what he is on about?” The frustrated DI appealed to Sherlock’s partner.

            “No idea, mate.” John replied. Lestrade growled and gripped his hair. “C’mon Sherlock. Give him a break.” John thought the cop was on the verge of a stroke.

            Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Look, you are correct; the cases are connected.”

            “But…”

            “But, in about three minutes, my brother will tromping through the door relieving you and Scotland Yard of all responsibility.”

            “Oh, really!” The DI was incensed.

            “Yes, really. Now John and I will be leaving, as I do not wish to be here…” Sherlock trailed off as he turned and saw his brother, Mycroft Holmes, standing in the doorway.

            “Hello, brother-mine.”

            “Ugh! You cheated.”

            “What can I say? The lights were with me.”

            Sherlock rolled his eyes. “John and I were just leaving. So sorry we can’t stay.” He paused briefly. “No. Hold on. I’m not sorry at all.” He strode to the door and stood toe to toe with his brother staring balefully.

            “One hour.”

            “Three.”

            “Two.”

            “Fine. Come along John.” Sherlock said irritably. Mycroft stepped aside allowing the consulting detective and his friend to leave. That left him alone with in the room with one rather put out Detective Inspector Lestrade.

            “Mr. Holmes.” The DI said stonily.

            “Detective Inspector Lestrade,” acknowledged the British Government.

            “What brings you here?” Lestrade asked warily.

            “Oh, I believe Sherlock has likely given you some idea.” Mr. Holmes sniffed. He began to circle the room, much as his brother had been doing just a few minutes prior.

“Not really. Just said he couldn’t say what he had deduced and you were coming to take the case from us.” The elder Holmes hummed in agreement and absently touched his nose. “I don’t know why you think you have the authority to interfere.” Mycroft Holmes had walked past the angry DI to gaze down at the body. He pulled a handkerchief out, pressed it to his face and turned away from Lestrade.

Lestrade was puzzled. Neither of the Holmes brothers was squeamish and the body did not smell over much. Shrugging off the thought, he addressed his rant to the other man’s back. “My team has made good progress and …”

            “Hihhnnchx…”

            Lestrade barely paused. “Bless you. We don’t appreciate…”

            “Hihnnchix, hihhnnchix… Hihnngchoo.”

            The DI watched the other man’s shoulders shudder with each suppressed sneeze. “Bless you, again. The high-handness of you government types…”

            “Hihnngtsxch, hihnngchx, hih’tschoo.”

            “Christ! Bless you. Are you okay?”

            “Yes, apologies,” Mr. Holmes replied stuffily. He faced DI Lestrade and the DI noted for the first time that the man’s eyes were red rimmed. His nose was pink at the edges and his lips parted slightly to facilitate breathing. The handkerchief stayed handy.

            Lestrade gazed skeptically at Sherlock’s brother. “Look, I’m not going to just turn this case over without any…” The DI saw Mr. Holmes’s eyes start to close and his mouth open further as he turned away raising his handkerchief.

            “Heh…heh’tschnngx, tsch, tsch, tsch… Heh’TSCHOO!”

            “Bless you.” Lestrade had no more gotten the blessing out when the elder Holmes’s breath hitched again. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. 

            “Heh’tshch, heh’tshch, heh’TSCHzoo.” Mr. Holmes sighed, as he wiped his nose. “Again, my apologies.”

            “Bless. Again. Are you allergic to something here?” The DI was beginning to be concerned. The other man appeared rather spent after that last sneezing fit.

            “I assure you. I am fine,” responded Mycroft Holmes, who then proceeded to blow his nose.

            “You don’t seem fine, Mycroft.” Lestrade challenged, folding his arms.

            “Would you care to finish your thoughts, Gregory?” Mycroft Holmes ignored Greg’s observation.

            “Uh… yeah…” Greg Lestrade took a moment to remember what he had been talking about. “You’re going to have to give me…”

            “Hihhnngchx, hihnntchx, hihnngchx.” Mycroft twisted away, pinching his nose through his handkerchief.

            “Oh bloody hell, Mycroft.” Greg threw his hands up in the air. “Bless you. Go get some Lemsip and go home. I’ll get the files ready.”

            “Thank you, Gregory. I will.” Mycroft sniffled. “Anthea will come by the Yard this afternoon.”

            “Whatever, Mycroft.” Greg shook his head and paged his sergeant. “You can explain yourself at dinner on Thursday. Provided you don’t have pneumonia by then.”

            “Certainly, Gregory.” Mycroft gave Greg a small smile and left the police officer rolling his eyes and muttering instructions into his radio.

 

 

 

FIN

Edited December 4, 2016 by Sanguine Cheerful Worrier
edited title

[cally]

Hmmmm.  Normally I'm quite good at discerning whether or not Mycroft is unwell or allergic, but even despite Greg's demand to go and fetch some Lemsip, I can't be certain that he's actually ill.   He sounds pretty allergic to me, but perhaps there's a reason he's being so restrained?  Will there be a second part?  Inquiring minds want to know!

 

19 minutes ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“Yes, apologies,” Mr. Holmes replied stuffily. He faced DI Lestrade and the DI noted for the first time that the man’s eyes were red rimmed. His nose was pink at the edges and his lips parted slightly to facilitate breathing. The handkerchief stayed handy.

See, it could go either way here . . . . .

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

9 minutes ago, cally said:

 Will there be a second part?  Inquiring minds want to know!

 

Well, gee. I hadn't really considered a second part, but they are supposed to have dinner on Thursday... Hmm...

[Shamaël]

7 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “John and I were just leaving. So sorry we can’t stay.” He paused briefly. “No. Hold on. I’m not sorry at all.”

Yes!!! Sherlock's back! I always love when he's being polite and nice and thoughtful with his brother.

 

7 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Lestrade gazed skeptically at Sherlock’s brother. “Look, I’m not going to just turn this case over without any…” The DI saw Mr. Holmes’s eyes start to close and his mouth open further as he turned away raising his handkerchief.

            “Heh…heh’tschnngx, tsch, tsch, tsch… Heh’TSCHOO!”

            “Bless you.” Lestrade had no more gotten the blessing out when the elder Holmes’s breath hitched again. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. 

I loves this part. The idea of Lestrade trying to speak and being cut by Mycroft's constant sneezing is just great.

6 hours ago, cally said:

He sounds pretty allergic to me, but perhaps there's a reason he's being so restrained?  Will there be a second part?  Inquiring minds want to know!

I totally second that! I must admit I love the "pre-Mystrade-relationship" and I'm always eager to read more!

[AngelEyes]

11 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “John and I were just leaving. So sorry we can’t stay.” He paused briefly. “No. Hold on. I’m not sorry at all.” He strode to the door and stood toe to toe with his brother staring balefully.

This is so exactly Sherlock! Spot on. I can totally see it.

 

11 hours ago, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“You don’t seem fine, Mycroft.” Lestrade challenged, folding his arms.

I love how this escalates from annoyance, to concern, to worry, and then he slips from Mr Holmes to Mycroft.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

On November 26, 2016 at 11:20 AM, cally said:

Will there be a second part?  Inquiring minds want to know!

 

Yes there will be a second part.   And we will answer the burning question of allergic vs ill. 

On November 26, 2016 at 6:18 PM, Aliena H. said:

On November 26, 2016 at 11:00 AM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “John and I were just leaving. So sorry we can’t stay.” He paused briefly. “No. Hold on. I’m not sorry at all.”

Yes!!! Sherlock's back! I always love when he's being polite and nice and thoughtful with his brother.

I so co-opted this line from TAB. 

On November 26, 2016 at 6:18 PM, Aliena H. said:

The idea of Lestrade trying to speak and being cut by Mycroft's constant sneezing is just great

That's what started the story for me was this image of Greg trying to have a serious discussion with Mycroft and he keeps being interrupted.  

On November 26, 2016 at 10:50 PM, AngelEyes said:

On November 26, 2016 at 11:00 AM, Sinister Cries + Wails said:

“You don’t seem fine, Mycroft.” Lestrade challenged, folding his arms.

I love how this escalates from annoyance, to concern, to worry, and then he slips from Mr Holmes to Mycroft.

You are incredible @AngelEyes! Do you have access to my brain? I really wonder the way you seem to pick up on the subtle things I try. 

Here's part 2. There's flirting.  It got a little, I don't know, semi-serious at the end, but not too bad. I hope everyone enjoys it. I own nothing and comments are love. 

I will be working on my SS gift for the next few weeks and it's NOT Mystrade. (  I know, right?) But I'll try to post something seasonal here at some point. 

Till Thursday part 2

 

Sunday…

 

* Did you get your files? –GL *

* Yes, thank you. –MH *

* Did you get your Lemsip? –GL *

* Yes, thank you again. –MH *

* Bless you. –GL *

* I am sorry? –MH *

* Well, by this point in our conversation yesterday you’d sneezed about a dozen times. –GL *

* I see. –MH *

* Was I right? –GL *

* Perhaps –MH *

* LOL! –GL *

 

Monday…

 

* Wishing you were dead yet? –GL *

* How did you know? –MH *

* Third day is usually the worst with a cold. –GL *

* It hasn’t helped that S has refused to answer my calls. –MH *

* About the case? –GL *

* What case? –MH *

* Not funny, Mr. Holmes. –GL *

 

Tuesday…

 

* Thank you for the gift. That was very thoughtful. –MH *

* Which, the soup or S returning your call? –GL *

* I had meant the soup. I did not realize you were also responsible for S returning my call. How did you manage it? –MH *

* I have to explain to you how soup is delivered? –GL *

* Do you enjoy being obtuse? –MH *

* Yes, actually. Though it’s better in person because I can see your impressive eye rolling skills in action, rather than rely on my faulty memory. –GL *

* My question still stands. –MH *

* A magician never reveals his secrets. –GL *

 

Wednesday…

 

*How’s our favorite minor government official with the power to snatch cases from Scotland Yard? –GL *

* Still smarting about that? –MH *

*Yes. You still stuffed up and sneezing? –GL *

* Yes –MH *

* Then we’re even. –GL *

 

Thursday…

 

* Are we on for dinner? I believe I am still owed an explanation. –GL *

* Yes to dinner; and what explanation? –MH *

* Now who’s being obtuse? –GL *

* Are you referring to the case from Saturday? –MH *

* I didn’t mean the germ theory. –GL *

* I am not sure the explanation I have will satisfy you. –MH *

* Figures. You better find some way of satisfying me tonight. –GL *

* Pardon? –MH *

* Dinner. You better take me somewhere good if you aren’t going to tell me about the case. –GL *

* Of course –MH *

* Why? What did you think I meant? –GL *

* I really can’t say. –MH *

* You have a dirty mind Mr. Holmes. –GL *

* Diogenes, 7 pm. –MH *

* Bet I missed a beauty of an eye roll. –GL *

 

Thursday evening…

 

“Bless you.”

“Hehnngchx… hihnnchOO!”

“Bless you. Again.”

“Apologies.” Mycroft tended his nose with his handkerchief and turned back to the table.

Greg shrugged and took a drink from his wine glass. “It’s no big deal. You have a cold. How about you tell me about the case?”

Mycroft grimaced. “There isn’t anything to tell. The victims worked for a certain branch of the government. However, the cause of their demise had little to do with their profession but more a mundane domestic issue—a love triangle, one might say.”

“So really no reason to have taken it from me in the first place.” Greg took a bite of his excellent steak.

“No, but that was not immediately apparent.” Mycroft took out his handkerchief again and pinched it tight over his nose. Taking a sharp breath, his eyes squeezed shut. “Hihhnnngchx, hihnnchxx, hihnnchoo.”

“Bless you.”

“I am terribly sorry. I thought this was under better control.” He wiped his reddened nose.

Greg waved off the apology. “When did you last take any cold medication?”

Mycroft checked his pocket watch. “I am overdue,” he sighed.

            “You need a husband.”

“Like my brother, I choose to eschew such relationships. There are no advantages to caring, our recent case in point.” There was a touch of melancholy in the British Government’s tone.

            “Oh, I don’t know. You would’ve been reminded to take your medication on time.” Greg took another bite of his meal as Mycroft stirred his soup and hummed noncommittally.  Greg watched his dinner partner and contemplated the closed expression on his face. “Tell you what. I’ll fill in until you are better.” Mycroft choked on his soup.

            Greg stood, moved to Mycroft’s side and pounded on his back. As the coughing tapered off the sneezing started up. “Hih’zSCHOO! Hih’tCHOO! …Haht’SHSCHOO!”

            “God bless you, Mycroft.” The older man gave Mycroft’s shoulder a light squeeze.

            “Again, apologies.” Mycroft sniffed softly and wiped his eyes.

            “Well, where is it?” Greg hadn’t retaken his seat.

            “Where is what?” The poor man was still trying to recover from the coughing/sneezing fit and the proposal (really?) he just received.

            “Your cold medication. I know as your husband I should know where it is, but I only just started the job.”

            “What makes you think I hah-have accepted your proposal?”

            “You going to turn me down?” Greg raised his eyebrows.

            “I do not need a… hah… Heh’SCHZOO, Heh’TSCHSHOO!”

            “Bless you, love.” Mycroft looked askance, but Greg just grinned. “Endearments, just one of the benefits of having a husband.”

            “Incorrigible,” Mycroft muttered. He gestured toward his desk on the other side of the room. “They are in my briefcase.” Greg easily found the tabs and brought them over along with the fresh handkerchief that was also in the case.

            “Here you are,” handing over the package and cloth to Mycroft. He seated himself and took out his phone.

            Mycroft took the tabs with some water and glared at Greg. “What are you doing,” he asked suspiciously.

            “Setting a reminder to remind you to take your medicine.”

Mycroft huffed. “Are there other benefits to which I will be subjected?”

“Well, besides medication reminders, endearments and fetching, there is the provision of food and drink and checking on your general wellbeing.”

“Of course. The texts and the soup.” Greg looked a little embarrassed and focused on his food. Mycroft was taken with the desire to reassure the DI his attentions were appreciated. “I suppose I could use a little assistance,” he acquiesced.

Greg looked up. “I was a good husband when I was married.” The elder Holmes saw concern for himself flicker across the other man’s face and there was a hint of pain in his eyes.

“I am sure you were,” Mycroft agreed.

Cutting the tension, Greg joked, “You can always ‘divorce’ me when you are well.” He raised his wine glass in a mocking toast.

Mycroft raised his own glass of water. “Careful, Gregory. Not many people have offered to care for me.” He clinked his glass with Greg’s. “You do too good a job and I may find I want to keep you.”

 

FIN

[cally]

 

14 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Figures. You better find some way of satisfying me tonight. –GL *

Ahem.  Well, let's hope someone's satisfied at the end of the night.  

 

17 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Are there other benefits to which I will be subjected?”

Oh I bet there are, Mycroft.

I'm so glad you wrote this second part (even if I did need to beg)!   I loved it!  

 

[Red]

I haven't watched Sherlock by now but it's on my To-Do-List for my holidays and I read a few of your drabbles - they are wonderful! I guess I'll like them even more after I saw the series, but already like them! Very well written and great ideas! Sadly I had no time to read all of them. But I'll have the time for sure  

[Shamaël]

On 04/12/2016 at 8:47 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

* Bless you. –GL *

* I am sorry? –MH *

* Well, by this point in our conversation yesterday you’d sneezed about a dozen times. –GL *

At this point I started grinning and didn't stop until the end...

In fact, I should quite the entiere text conversation, because I so love text fics and this one is absolutely perfect. "Then we're even"... You areVERY good at this, SCW.

On 04/12/2016 at 8:47 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

I know as your husband I should know where it is, but I only just started the job.

This sentence, specifically, made me happy, I don't know why.

On 04/12/2016 at 8:47 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Careful, Gregory. Not many people have offered to care for me.” He clinked his glass with Greg’s. “You do too good a job and I may find I want to keep you.”

That was... cute, and a bit sad also, I guess.

Love it! Thanks for this second part!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Here is a little Christmas Mystrade, for my friends, followers and readers.  I hope everyone had a lovely day yesterday, whether you celebrated a holiday or not. 

Special thanks to @cally, @Red, and @Aliena H. for your comments on the last story. 

This is a continuation of Vertigo which I posted last year for Christmas. I hope you like it.  You don't need to read Vertigo to enjoy it, but you can find that story here.

Vertigo—part 2: Christmas Day

 

 

 

            When Greg awoke, he was alone in the bed. He could hear the water running and figured Mycroft was in the bathroom. Greg sat up, gave a little cough and looked at his phone. He smiled when he saw how late it was. A Christmas Day lie in was certainly in order given his boyfriend’s horrendous cold.

            Mycroft emerged from the en suite in his bathrobe, loosely belted at the waist. He was running a towel through his soft ginger hair. His nose was as bright as Rudolph’s nose, but there was a more natural color to his cheeks. “Looky at you! Walkin’ straight. It’s a Christmas miracle.” Greg beamed at his partner. Mycroft, for his part, rolled his eyes. Greg grinned even more broadly at the gesture. “Oh, I’ve missed that. It’s been two days since I had gotten a good eye roll.”

            Mycroft cracked a smile. “Incorrigible,” he said fondly. He tossed his towel across the end of the footboard and climbed back into bed to sit next to his partner.

            “Merry Christmas, My.” Greg leaned over and gave his boyfriend a brief kiss. “I’m so glad you are feeling better.”

            “Merry Christmas, Gregory. I am glad as well.” His smooth tone was still rough at the edges.

            “You think we should call your mum and tell her we can make it to Christmas dinner after all?”

            “Oh dear. I think I am having a relapse.” Mycroft closed his eyes and sank back against the pillows. “The room. It spins.” He moaned in a quivering voice.

            Greg threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You’re a prat,” he responded mildly.

            Mycroft had opened his eyes to watch Greg laugh; it was a sight he truly loved to behold. He smirked at his lover, who returned a similar smile briefly before turning away to bury his face in his elbow.

            “HuhhRRDZSHCHOO! ...HuhrRRDSHTSCH!”  He sniffed lightly. Mycroft’s smile faded and he moved the tissue box from his side of the bed to the bit of space on the bed between them.

            “Bless you. I am sorry that I gave you my cold for Christmas.”

            Greg turned back and took a few tissues to blow his nose, eliciting a productive gurgle. “S’fine,” he mumbled behind the tissues as he wiped up his nose. He expertly tossed the used paper in the nearby bin.  “It’s only a few sniffles and sneezes.” Mycroft didn’t look convinced. “I’m not having any of the ear pain, ringing or dizziness you were having.” He tried to reassure his partner.

            “Nevertheless it is not how I would have wished our holiday to have been spent.”

            “Oh hush. You’re such a drama queen sometimes.” Greg said playfully as he wriggled closer.

            “A drama queen?” Mycroft’s voice squeaked a bit in his indignation and he pulled away slightly.

            “Yes. First, a cold that literally knocks you off your feet and now it’s the end of the world that we're sick together on a holiday weekend.”

            “I am well aware it’s not… “ Greg watched Mycroft’s eyes get that hazy look. Mycroft paused and grabbed a few tissues as his long, red nose wrinkled up. “Heh’ETSCHOO! …ETSCHOO! Etsch, etsch, etsch… Hih…heh’SCHOO!”

            “Bless you. It’s rather late for round one or is this round two?”

            Mycroft held up 2 fingers with his free hand. “Heh’ETSH, heh’ETSCH, heh’ETSCH!” He took more tissues and blew his nose. “I had round one in the shower,” he answered. He tossed the tissues toward the bin and just missed. Greg chuckled at the frown that crossed Mycroft’s face.

            “Bless you, bless you, bless you, then. C’mon,” Greg shifted closer to Mycroft, crushing the tissue box slightly. He began to kiss down his lover’s neck. “There is definitely an up side to this.”

            “Oh, pray tell, what?” Mycroft rejoined coyly as Greg straddled his body, looming over him on all fours.

            “Mmm…” Greg lipped along his lover’s collarbone and dipped down into the vee left by the bathrobe. He nuzzled Mycroft’s chest leaving small kisses. The chest hair tickled his face and nose. Greg sat up on Mycroft’s legs and rubbed at his irritated nose. The itch bloomed, despite his efforts and he raised his shirt collar. “HuhrrDSCZTCHOO!” The bed shook slightly. Greg pulled off his shirt, swiped at his nose with the cloth and tossed it off to the side.

            Mycroft’s eyes darkened at the sight of his lover’s lightly muscled chest and abdomen. “Bless you. You were saying, an up side?” Mycroft prompted.

            Greg grinned down at the man under him, noting the blown pupils, disheveled hair and wicked smile.  He reached for the sash tying Mycroft’s robe together and gave it a firm tug. “Well, for one, there’s the unwrapping of the Christmas presents… in private.”

 

 

 

FIN… (until next Christmas)

Edited January 6, 2017 by Sanguine Cheerful Worrier

[cally]

3 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

  Mycroft had opened his eyes to watch Greg laugh; it was a sight he truly loved to behold. He smirked at his lover, who returned a similar smile briefly before turning away to bury his face in his elbow.

He does have a lovely laugh, doesn't he?  

5 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“I had round one in the shower,” he answered.

Oh dear.  I'm glad that he's ok, despite this. You know me and my shower worries. 

4 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

he tissues toward the bin and just missed. Greg chuckled at the frown that crossed Mycroft’s face.

 Oh poor Mycroft, not perfect at everything.

4 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Well, for one, there’s the unwrapping of the Christmas presents… in private.”

Oh yes!  

As always, this was perfect.