Mystrade's Shorts by scw (BBC Sherlock)

[Shamaël]

Oh I love the idea of continuing the story each year for Christmas!!! It's great!

1 hour ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“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.”

Hehehe, sooooo Mycroft! Well, considering how he loves to be in his family for Christmas, if he's got a good excuse, no surprise he will use it!

1 hour ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“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.

Oh poor Mycroft! I feel so sorry for him... No, in fact, not at all. I'm not exactly sympathetic, just very happy to read how miserable he is! 

AND Lestrade's sneezes... I know I'm repeating myself but... well... you see what I mean. 

Thank you for the Christmas update!

[Hedgehog]

Thats a sweet christmas present. Thank you.

 

[Masking]

OH GOD. Kissing his chest? Sneezing into his shirt? Nom. Greg. He is so cute.

[AngelEyes]

On 12/26/2016 at 9:55 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“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.”

LOL!!!

 

On 12/26/2016 at 9:55 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“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.

Oh Mycroft.

 

On 12/26/2016 at 9:55 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

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

 

 

 

 

Indeed!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

On December 26, 2016 at 11:01 AM, cally said:

As always, this was perfect.  

Thank you.  

On December 26, 2016 at 0:21 PM, Aliena H. said:

 

Oh I love the idea of continuing the story each year for Christmas!!! It's great!

 

Thanks. I think it will be fun. I can at least get another 2-3 years out of it this way. 

On December 26, 2016 at 0:57 PM, hedgehog said:

Thats a sweet christmas present. Thank you.

 

I am glad you enjoyed it.  

On December 26, 2016 at 10:32 PM, Masking said:

OH GOD. Kissing his chest? Sneezing into his shirt? Nom. Greg. He is so cute.

Yes, Greg sneezing into his shirt is very popular with some readers. Right @cally ?  

On December 30, 2016 at 11:45 PM, AngelEyes said:

 

On December 26, 2016 at 10:55 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“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.”

LOL!!!

 

Oh you did it again. You always laugh at the bits I think are the funniest. 

 

Ok this is a real tease because I don't have a new story to post. I have been writing but mostly to defend the Mystrade ship from the assaults of Season 4. I have shared with a few of you my responses to some of the blows that have been given. I thought I'd post these two short vanilla stories here to just let anyone who reads this thread know where things are in my head canon. If you want to read and comment great; if not, no worries. I'll leave them as hidden content, because some might feel they are spoiler-ish. I promise to be back soon with more Mystrade fetish fun.  

Spoiler

The Brunette

 

 

 

            Greg hurried through the flat to the bedroom. He was hoping he left his warrant card here and Sherlock hadn’t nicked it again. Hearing water running in the en suite, he paused to glance through the open door. Mycroft stood at the sink washing his hands. Greg detoured into the bathroom.

 

 

            “Morning, love. Come back for a fresh suit?”

 

 

            “Good morning Gregory. Yes. I am sorry I’ve not been home these past few days.” Mycroft looked at his partner through the mirror.

 

            Greg grinned at the tall, lean man as he came further into the room and slipped his arms around Mycroft’s middle from behind. He nuzzled the back of his lover’s neck. “S’alright. I know you’d be home if you could.” He laid kisses on the soft skin just above the collar. “Hmm, been to see Robert.” Greg pulled back slightly and wrinkled his nose.

            “Yes, I thought a trim and a good shave would be refreshing.” Mycroft finished drying his hands.

            “Touched up the color too.” Greg said a little mournfully.

            Mycroft turned in Greg’s arms. “Gregory…”

            “Nah, it’s good. You’re still ginger in all the right places.” Greg kissed Mycroft briefly, cupping the back of the younger man’s head.

            “Your warrant card is on the dresser.” Mycroft spoke, as they broke apart.

            “Ta. Lunch later?”

            “Absolutely.” 

FIN

I Trust You

 

“Hey, you busy?” Greg stood in the doorway of Mycroft’s home study. He held two tumblers and a bottle of single malt scotch.

            Mycroft, seated behind his desk, looked up at his partner and smiled. “No, come in.”

            “I could really use a drink and I didn’t want to drink alone.”

            “Did the Culverton Smith interrogation not go well?”

            Greg entered and sat the tumblers on Mycroft’s desk. “It’s all in how you define ‘well’,” he said as he filled each glass with a finger of the scotch. He handed one to Mycroft and took his with him to the sofa.

            Mycroft raised his eyebrows questioningly, as he sipped his drink, but Greg stared into his glass unseeing. “Gregory?” he eventually prompted.

            Greg took a drink. “Sorry. He’s a real monster. Your brother should get a medal for bringing him in.”

            Mycroft snorted. “I will let her majesty know. Though he has turned down all the previous offers.”

            Greg smiled ruefully. “At least this bastard is going away. The recording is inadmissible, but the man can’t stop confessing his crimes. Or more accurately boasting of his crimes.” The silver haired DI had another gulp and rubbed his face.

            “I am sorry you’ve had a difficult day.” Mycroft rose and went to the sofa to sit next to his partner.

            “How was your day, love?” Greg was desperate for another subject.

            “Ah, well, you know.” Mycroft said noncommittally.

            Greg chuckled. “Yeah I know. You can’t say.”

            Mycroft slipped his hand in his jacket pocket and withdrew a card. “I do think I need to discuss with you something that occurred at work today.” He handed the card to Greg. “I was given this by Lady Smallwood.”

            Greg glanced at the card. “It’s Lady Smallwood’s number. You already have her number. Why would she give you her number?” He focused on Mycroft.

            “It’s her personal number.”

            “Why would you need her personal number?”

            “In case I would like to have a drink sometime.”

            “A drink of what?”

            “Apparently my choice.”

            “She hit on you.”

            “Thank you. That was my interpretation as well, but I was unsure.”

            “She fucking hit on you.”

            “So it seems.”

            “She’s your boss!”

            “Technically I…”

            “That’s sexual harassment!”

            “Gregory…”

            “What? I’m pissed!”

            “Would you look at the card again?” Mycroft requested calmly.

            Greg rolled his eyes and complied. He stared at the card as if he could make it burst into flames. Then a puzzled look crossed his face. “This says…” He turned to look at Mycroft.

            “Yes.” Mycroft held Greg’s gaze.

            “Oh God. You’re going to call her to have drinks.”

            “I believe I will have to.”

            Greg sighed. “This day gets better and better.” He knocked back the rest of his scotch.

            “I am sorry.” Mycroft sounded contrite.

            Greg shook his head and collected himself. “No, no. It’s fine.” He gave Mycroft a half-hearted smile. “I trust you, My.”

            “Thank you, my dear.”

            “Just… be careful.”

FIN

 

 

 

 

Edited January 14, 2017 by Sanguine Cheerful Worrier

[Shamaël]

Well, you already know what I think of your vanilla drabbles, but I'll comment on the second one just for fun because I almost choked with my tea (with laughter!!!) when I read it. I put my quotes and comments as "spoilers", hoping it will hide the content (I've never done that before).

Spoiler

13 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“It’s all in how you define ‘well’,” he said as he filled each glass with a finger of the scotch.

When I say The lying detective, the character I felt the most sorry for was Lestrade, not John nor Sherlock... Because I realised how horrible his job can be sometimes, for instance when he has to deal with crazy serial killers... And he tries to protect Sherlock at the same time, which is far from easy. I'm glad you mentioned the fact that it wasn't a bed of roses for him...

13 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“She hit on you.”

            “Thank you. That was my interpretation as well, but I was unsure.”

My God, how I LOVED these lines!!! I love Mycroft, he's the best. The best in the show (well, after The lying detective, I also love Mrs. Hudson) ant the best in your writings.

13 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“That’s sexual harassment!”

Mwahahahahahaha!!!!! 

13 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Would you look at the card again?” Mycroft requested calmly.

AND the name discrepancy. Great.  I start to become somewhat paranoiac with this show. I have a lot of questions and I hope I will receive an answer to ALL of them tomorrow evening...

 

Edited January 14, 2017 by Aliena H.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Ah, season 4 is over and I for one enjoyed it immensely. I won't say anything else in case some of my readers haven't seen all of it. My only comment on TFP is we can safely say Mystrade is alive and well and has been given a healthy boost by Mofftiss.  

So after T6T @Kaze wo Hiku sent me a prompt regarding Mycroft's fridge. This is what I came up with. No spoilers in it. I can't really say that it falls in my usual Mystrade time line. It turned out mostly pre-Mystrade or very early days. It could be after TFP. Or not. Whatever the case I hope you like it. I would love to hear what you think. 

Past Experience

 

                  Mycroft awoke in the early morning and squinted at the clock by his bed. He groaned softly; he had overslept. That fact coupled with the sore throat, complete inability to breathe through his nose and overall achiness confirmed his suspicion he was ill. He sat up sniffing, coughing and, eventually, hauled himself out of bed to the en suite. The hot shower eased his aches and the steam loosened his congestion. His sinuses burned, tingled and tickled, but no sneezes were forthcoming.

                  It was as he was dressing he heard the noises downstairs. Mycroft had paused by his dresser to gather the stack of handkerchiefs he figured he would need for the day, when he heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing and bags rustling. It sounded like someone was rooting through his kitchen. Sighing heavily Mycroft put his robe back on and made his way downstairs.

                  “Lestrade, what are you doing in my kitchen?” Mycroft leaned against the doorjamb and rubbed his forehead.

                  “Morning Holmes. How’d you know it was me?” Greg Lestrade looked around the refrigerator door.

                  “Your shoes, and past experience. Again what are you doing?”

                  “What does past experience tell you?”

                  “I do not need you to go grocery shopping for me. There are services for that.”

                  Greg went back to loading the fridge. “Those services only work if you put in an order.”

                  “Yes, well, I’ve not had time. Besides I’m rarely home. Why would I need food?” Mycroft sat at the kitchen table to watch Greg put the last of the groceries away.

                  Greg snorted. “We all need food. Especially you when you are working yourself to the bone.” He gave Mycroft a pointed look around the door. “I can tell. You looked peaky the last time I saw you.” Greg closed the fridge and began stocking the cabinets.

                  “We were at a funeral.” Mycroft took out a handkerchief and wiped at his nose.

                  “Please. Not that kind of peaky. This was the kind of peaky you get when you’ve been living off of fried rice and not getting enough sleep.” Greg closed the final cupboard and filled the kettle for tea. “Next thing you know you’ll be…” He turned to look at Mycroft.

                  The younger man had tilted his head back and his lips were parted. Nostrils flared and fluttered and he pitched forward into his handkerchief.

                  “Hih… hih’tSCH, hih’tSCH, hih’tSCHOO! …Hih’ZCHOO!

                  “Coming down with cold,” Greg sighed.

                  “Heh’TSHCH, heh’TSHCH, heh’TSHCH… Heh’TSHCHaah!”

                  “Bless you.”

                  “Apologies.” Mycroft blew his nose. “I am sorry to report you are too late, if you were hoping to prevent my coming down with cold.”

                  Greg studied the man sitting in front of him. “Yeah, I can see that.” He got out his phone and began to text.

                  “What are you doing?” Mycroft asked suspiciously.

                  “What does past experience tell you?” Greg replied not looking up and finishing his text. Mycroft huffed. A comfortable silence fell between them as Greg began to move about the kitchen preparing tea, setting out milk and sugar. As he sat a teacup in front of the younger man, Greg’s phone chimed.

                  “What did she say?” Mycroft added milk to his tea.

                  “You are off two days.”

                  “That cannot be right. I have an extremely important meeting tomorrow. Text her back.” Mycroft ordered imperiously. He sipped at his tea, glaring at Greg. The steam from the tea made him sniffle and cough, undermining his baleful stare.

The older man just rolled his eyes and sent the text. Bringing his tea with him, he sat down across the table from Mycroft. “You take anything yet?”

“No, your bumbling about my kitchen distracted me.”

“Did it?” Greg grinned cheekily.

Mycroft scowled at Greg briefly before turning away to blow his increasingly runny nose. “You seem inordinately pleased with yourself,” Mycroft remarked as he turned back with a shiver.

“Only happy to be of service,” Greg responded cheerfully and took a large drink of his own tea. His mobile signaled an incoming text.

“Well?” Mycroft demanded.

“The PM cancelled the meeting. To be rescheduled at a later date. Tell him to get some rest and feel better.” Greg offered his phone. “You want to see for yourself?”

“No.” Mycroft took a breath and suddenly lunged into his handkerchief. “Hah’TSCHZOO!... hih’tsch, hih’tsch, hih’tsch… Hih’tSCHOO! Hih’TSCHOO!” He blearily sat back up.

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft sounded defeated and seemed to huddle in on himself. Greg watched another shiver sweep through the ill man’s body as he reached for his teacup and took another sip.

“Are you feverish?” Greg asked gently and reached across the table to feel Mycroft’s forehead.

“Really!” Mycroft swatted Greg’s hand away. “I’m not five years old.” Greg looked hurt momentarily then smiled.

“No, of course you’re not.” He got up and took his cup to the counter. Refreshing his tea, he asked. “You need a top up?”

“No.” Mycroft regretted Greg leaving the table. “Would you get me some cold tablets? Please?”

“Still in the same spot?”

“Yes.”

Greg found the medication and brought it over to Mycroft. The younger man took the pills with a swallow of his tea. As Greg turned away, Mycroft caught the older man’s hand. “Thank you, Gregory.”

“You’re welcome, Mycroft.” Greg gave Mycroft’s hand a squeeze. “Would you like to go back to bed for a bit?” he asked.

Mycroft finished his tea. “Yes, I believe I would.” He stood and pushed in his chair. Greg collected the teacup and took it to the sink. As Mycroft reached the door he turned back. “Will you still be here when I awake?”

Greg beamed. “What does past experience tell you?”

Mycroft nodded and headed up to bed. A small smile played on his lips as he did.

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

EEEEEEEE! Ok FIRST of all that Mystrade morsel in TFP was Totally made up for that VERY OOC moment by Mycroft in TLD.

Oh this was adorable! Thank you so much for indulging my request!

[matilda3948]

Yay!!! I've been dying for some season 4 goodies (and dying for some free time to write some myself). When I watched TFP I instantly thought of the Mystrade fans here

Lovely job!

[cally]

4 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Thank you.” Mycroft sounded defeated and seemed to huddle in on himself.

No apologising?!?! He must be feeling wretched.

Lovely as always.  

[Juto]

I am BEHIND!!! And not by a small margin  *scolds self*

first of all, that little two-part with the text enchange and Greg "proposing" quite literally turned my insides to butter. I made inhuman noises during my lunch break with several co-workers staring (I hope you're satisfied  ) I love that Greg was being all subtly and jokey about it while in earnest being worried about Mycroft'a wellbeing! UGH SO CUTE!!! (However did he manage to lure the British government into his web if not by subtle jokes and less subtle caring -AND ALL THOSE ADORABLE BLESSINGS I AM DONE!!!!) 

And a christmas miracle in the shape of a continuation of Vertigo (and a straight walking Mycroft whoop whoop!!!)

If you're EVER in doubt, I love. Love love LOVE!!!!! Your Gregory. I believe him making a joke and Mycroft responding with an eye roll and a "you're incorrigible" is my new characteristic otp. It makes me smile and giggle shamelessly. 

 

[Juto]

Yes, Greg sneezing into his shirt is very popular with some readers. Right @cally ?  

*points to self with a directed whistle*

it was simply adorable (that's probably the most frequently used word when I comment on your stuff - oops. But I mean it every time  ) 

That last one though!!! *clutches heart* what a wonderful way to make Greg Mycroft's conscience In a way, taking care of him simply because he wants to and he's done it before and he KNOWS that despite Mycroft's complaints it's appreciated. 

 these two will kill me. 

[Shamaël]

16 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Mystrade is alive and well and has been given a healthy boost by Mofftiss.

   Okay, I think I could incorporate a bit of Mystrade in my headcanon...

16 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Lestrade, what are you doing in my kitchen?”

I love when Mycroft knows things before others. He hasn't seen him, but of course he knows who is there.

16 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Next thing you know you’ll be…” He turned to look at Mycroft.

                  The younger man had tilted his head back and his lips were parted. Nostrils flared and fluttered and he pitched forward into his handkerchief.

                  “Hih… hih’tSCH, hih’tSCH, hih’tSCHOO! …Hih’ZCHOO!

                  “Coming down with cold,” Greg sighed.

(Sigh.) Well, yeah, I liked that part.

16 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Really!” Mycroft swatted Greg’s hand away. “I’m not five years old.”

I'm not sure of that, but if you say so, Mycroft...

17 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Will you still be here when I awake?”

Greg beamed. “What does past experience tell you?”

Awwwww so cute. I melted here. I really enjoyed it! (Well, I always enjoy pre- or early relationships...)

[AngelEyes]

23 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Lestrade, what are you doing in my kitchen?” Mycroft leaned against the doorjamb and rubbed his forehead.

 

 

                  “Morning Holmes. How’d you know it was me?” Greg Lestrade looked around the refrigerator door.

 

 

                  “Your shoes, and past experience. Again what are you doing?”

I can just see this. A weary Mycroft and chipper cheery Greg all casual and comfortable with each other.

23 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Mycroft scowled at Greg briefly before turning away to blow his increasingly runny nose. “You seem inordinately pleased with yourself,” Mycroft remarked as he turned back with a shiver.

LOL, probably.

 

23 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Will you still be here when I awake?”

 

 

Greg beamed. “What does past experience tell you?”

 

 

Mycroft nodded and headed up to bed. A small smile played on his lips as he did.

Awwww!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

On January 23, 2017 at 10:46 PM, Kaze wo Hiku said:

Oh this was adorable! Thank you so much for indulging my request!

You are most welcome.  I am glad it suited you.

On January 23, 2017 at 11:39 PM, matilda3948 said:

Yay!!! I've been dying for some season 4 goodies (and dying for some free time to write some myself). When I watched TFP I instantly thought of the Mystrade fans here

Lovely job!

Thank you. Moftiss did give us quite the gift at the end of TFP. I am never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I've got a few more season 4 thoughts up my sleeve. 

On January 24, 2017 at 3:30 AM, cally said:

No apologising?!?! He must be feeling wretched.

Lovely as always.  

Yeah, he feels pretty crummy. He didn't even complain much about Anthea putting him off work for 2 whole days.  

On January 24, 2017 at 5:56 AM, Juto said:

That last one though!!! *clutches heart* what a wonderful way to make Greg Mycroft's conscience In a way, taking care of him simply because he wants to and he's done it before and he KNOWS that despite Mycroft's complaints it's appreciated. 

 these two will kill me. 

Aww, thank you. So happy to further the cause of death by Mystrade. 

And I am glad you have had a chance to catch up. Sorry if I've caused inhuman noises in public. Not. 

I will be sure to try to incorporate more Greg sneezing in his shirt in the future. 

On January 24, 2017 at 3:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Okay, I think I could incorporate a bit of Mystrade in my headcanon...

Muahahahahah! You know it takes very, very little to make Mystrade shippers happy. 

On January 24, 2017 at 3:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Awwwww so cute. I melted here. I really enjoyed it!

Thank you!  

On January 24, 2017 at 10:37 PM, AngelEyes said:

A weary Mycroft and chipper cheery Greg all casual and comfortable with each other.

Yup, they've traveled this road before. Glad you enjoyed it.  

Alrighty then. I am working on post season 4 things, but I had this story already written, which I would place in season 3. I am trying to clear the decks before I delve more into season 4. I thought of it as I was writing Whining and @katy693 mentioned in a comment being interested in seeing a Mycroft with big sneezes. Also @Aliena H. had mentioned she liked seeing the Holmes brothers interact. I hope all of you enjoy it. Comments = love and, who knows, what you say might end up being used in a future fic.  

There Is Always A Price

 

            “Do you mind!”, Sherlock snapped at his brother as Mycroft blew his nose loudly for what seemed to be the millionth time since his arrival at 221B Baker Street. “I have a very important experiment in progress and your incessant honking is disruptive.”

            “Yes, actually, I do mind.” Mycroft snapped back from his seat in John’s chair. “I have no desire to be more congested than the M3 on a Friday before a bank holiday.”

            “I couldn’t care less about the state of your sinuses. Just state your business and leave.” Sherlock returned his attention to his ‘experiment’.

            Mycroft rubbed his temple and sniffed. “I have told you. Our parents will be in town toni-ih-night. HahhT’SCHOO! Heh… Hehht’SCHOO!”

            Sherlock jumped dropping the beaker, spilling the contents on his notes. “Three weeks of work!”

            “Apologies,” Mycroft sniffed as he rubbed his reddened nose with his handkerchief.

            “The answer is ‘no’,” Sherlock spat out. “I can’t afford the time away from my work.”

            “Sherlock, I am no fit state…”

            “You never were,” Sherlock interrupted.

            Mycroft sighed. “Must you always harp on about…” He paused and his breath hitched, before he pitched into his handkerchief. “Heh… hihh… HehhSCHAAahh!”

            “God bless you, dear.” Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs carrying a tea tray. “You sound terrible Mycroft Holmes. You should be home, in bed nursing that cold.”

            “Yes, I was just telling him to leave.”

            “Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson admonished. She sat down the tray on the table next to the chair Mycroft was sitting in. “Here you are, tea with lemon and honey.” She handed over a cup. “And I brought some of my spicy ginger biscuits. They do a nice job opening up the sinuses, I think.”

            “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. You are a godsend,” Mycroft replied stuffily. Sherlock frowned at his brother’s overly polite reply.

            “Anytime, dear.” She patted Mycroft’s arm and he did not flinch away from the contact.

Sherlock flounced over to his chair across from his brother. Holding out his hand for his cup of tea, the younger Holmes stared at Mycroft. “Stop coddling him or he will never leave.”

“Oh Sherlock, everyone needs to be coddled a bit when they are ill.” Mrs. Holmes handed the irritated detective his tea.

“Do not fret brother-mine. I will leave as soon as you agree to take our parents to the theatre tonight.” Mycroft sipped his tea and gazed at his little brother over the edge of his cup. Sherlock scowled back.

“What a lovely thing to do with your parents, take them to a show.” Mrs. Hudson commented as she offered a ginger biscuit to first Mycroft and then Sherlock. They both waved her off as they stared at one another. “I love a good show,” she prattled on. “The dancing is my favorite. Of course, I danced in my day.” She wandered into the kitchen. “Sherlock! What is in the sink?”

“No.”

Mycroft was silent.

“Sherlock,” called Mrs. Hudson. “You know what I say about family.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Sherlock huffed. Mycroft took another sip of his tea and set his cup down.

“I would be exceedingly poor company.” He sniffed lightly.

“Can’t Gavin take them?” Sherlock whined.

“Gregory. No, he is working.” Mycroft’s breath caught and he hurriedly pressed his handkerchief to his face. “HehhhSCHUHhh! ...Hahht’SCHOO! HehhSCHHAH!”

“Bless you,” came from Sherlock’s kitchen. “Really, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson chastised her tenant. “Do I have to stop bringing your tea?” She appeared in the doorway, drying a plate.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered.

Mycroft sighed and wiped his nose. “Thank you, Sherlock. I assume the usual compensation is sufficient.”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Then I will take my leave.” Mycroft stood, pocketing his handkerchief. “Mrs. Hudson, thank you for the tea.” He nodded to the older lady.

“You’re welcome. Do take some ginger biscuits with you.”

“Oh, Mycroft you really should try one before you go.” Sherlock threw out casually as he moved back to his experiment.

Mrs. Hudson was helpfully piling biscuits on the plate she had just washed and offered it to him beaming. “They are a favorite of that nice Detective Inspector,” she added.

Mycroft hesitated, looking at Sherlock, who was trying to salvage his notes, and then at Mrs. Hudson who smiled at him. He gave the lady a tight smile and took a small biscuit. “Thank you.” The landlady took the plate off to the kitchen to wrap it. Mycroft looked at the biscuit and took a small bite.

At first he tasted only the faint sweetness of the molasses. As he finished the sweet the heat of the ginger began to build filling his throat and extending up into his sinuses. He sniffled slightly and Sherlock looked up from his work with a wicked gleam in his eye. Mycroft grabbed his teacup and quickly washed down the rest of the biscuit.

“The tickets will be at will call.” Mycroft stated as he sniffled again against the burn in his nose. “Please don’t…” he trailed off as he wrinkled his long nose. “Please don’t… Heh” he tried again as his breath hitched unexpectedly and he sniffed hard. “Please don’t… Heh… Hih…” Mycroft fumbled for his handkerchief.

“Do finish your sentence, Mycroft.”

“Heh… Heh… HehhhTSCHAHahh!” Mycroft nearly doubled over with the force of the sneeze.

“Dear me! Bless you!” Mrs. Hudson reappeared from the kitchen with the plate of ginger biscuits neatly wrapped.

Mycroft didn’t answer, already breathing heavily as another powerful sneeze worked its way forward.  “Hahh… Ahh’TZSHAH!” He managed to get his handkerchief in place as a third violent expulsion ripped through him. “HihhTSCHhhAH!”

“Bless you again,” Mrs. Hudson chirped. Mycroft blew his nose and dazedly wiped his eyes. “Here you go,” she said as she handed him the plate. Still woozy from the fit he accepted the biscuits and Mrs. Hudson gently guided him to the door. “Feel better soon.” She patted his back as he turned to head down the stairs. “Sherlock,” she prompted.

“Oh, yes, brother-mine, feel better soon.”

Mycroft nodded and made his way down the stairs. The sound of another massive sneeze echoed up the stairwell before they heard the front door open and shut. Mrs. Hudson collected the tea tray and murmured, “He really should take better care of himself.” Then she headed down to her flat.

Sherlock said nothing and, smirking to himself, he readied a new notebook for his observations.

FIN

[cally]

Poor Mycroft unwell and being subjected to Sherlock, and Sherlock being a jerk for that matter!   So rude of him!  

 

13 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Oh, yes, brother-mine, feel better soon.”

I'm sure this was said in the most sarcastic tone possible.  

[Shamaël]

On 07/02/2017 at 3:31 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Also @Aliena H. had mentioned she liked seeing the Holmes brothers interact.

YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS! Thank you!!!

On 07/02/2017 at 3:31 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

She patted Mycroft’s arm and he did not flinch away from the contact.

I don't know why, I really liked this sentence. Nothing fetishy of course, nothing really extraordinary, just... well, I don't know. Mycroft and relations with other human beings. Love it.

On 07/02/2017 at 3:31 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Sherlock! What is in the sink?”

Mwahaha, believe me, you don't want to know. I love the little 221b details.

On 07/02/2017 at 3:31 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Oh, Mycroft you really should try one before you go.” Sherlock threw out casually as he moved back to his experiment.

Why do I have the feeling that it's a kind of trick?!?

On 07/02/2017 at 3:31 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Please don’t…” he trailed off as he wrinkled his long nose. “Please don’t… Heh” he tried again as his breath hitched unexpectedly and he sniffed hard. “Please don’t… Heh… Hih…” Mycroft fumbled for his handkerchief.

“Do finish your sentence, Mycroft.”

“Heh… Heh… HehhhTSCHAHahh!” Mycroft nearly doubled over with the force of the sneeze.

That part was wonderful - well, unfinished sentences, sneezing interruption AND Sherlock's sarcasm, what else could I ask for? Oh, yes, and Mycroft's LOUD sneezing - icing on the cake.

On 07/02/2017 at 3:31 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Sherlock,” she prompted.

“Oh, yes, brother-mine, feel better soon.”

Season 4 just proved it : Mrs. Hudson is the best... And Sherlock IS a complete jerk, but we knew it, didn't we?

I really, really loved this one, thank you for the brotherly interaction!

[AngelEyes]

I love this one! Mrs Hudson is the best. You do her perfectly! And all the brotherly love/hate. LOL Totally my favorite!

On 2/6/2017 at 8:31 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Yes, actually, I do mind.” Mycroft snapped back from his seat in John’s chair. “I have no desire to be more congested than the M3 on a Friday before a bank holiday.”

LOL

 

On 2/6/2017 at 8:31 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“What a lovely thing to do with your parents, take them to a show.” Mrs. Hudson commented as she offered a ginger biscuit to first Mycroft and then Sherlock. They both waved her off as they stared at one another. “I love a good show,” she prattled on. “The dancing is my favorite. Of course, I danced in my day.” She wandered into the kitchen. “Sherlock! What is in the sink?”

 

 

 

This is SOOO Mrs Hudson, prattling on, reminiscing, being shocked by one of Sherlock's disasters. LOL

 

On 2/6/2017 at 8:31 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Mycroft sighed and wiped his nose. “Thank you, Sherlock. I assume the usual compensation is sufficient.”

 

 

“Yes,” he grumbled.

I think its funny that Mycroft has to compensate Sherlock for spending time with their parents.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you @cally, @Aliena H. and @AngelEyes ! I am glad you liked that little diversion.  

Here's a little Valentine's Day treat for you all. I hope everyone has a happy day whether or not you have a special someone. 

Valentine’s Day Redux

 

            Mycroft was pleased he had not needed to stay late this evening. These last few weeks had been very difficult for them. The recent revelations had caught Greg by surprise and the couple was still trying to regain their footing. When Greg proposed spending this Valentine’s evening at home, Mycroft thought it was a splendid idea.

            He arrived home to find Greg had already started preparing for the evening. Mycroft hung up his coat and dropped his brief case by the door. On the table in the hall a large vase held two-dozen beautiful, red tulips. Mycroft took a moment to admire them. They had spent weeks determining what flowers would be tolerated by Mycroft’s sensitive sinuses after their first Valentine’s Day. Tulips turned out to be one of the better options.

            Mycroft called out he was home and proceeded to the kitchen, thinking to find Greg there. The kitchen turned out to be empty. Mycroft stowed the champagne he had purchased in the fridge. He could smell a roast of some kind and peeked in the oven to regard Greg’s handy work.

He moved on the drawing room. The fireplace was laid but not lit. A number of scentless candles were lit and scattered about the room. In the flickering light Mycroft could see a plate of cheese and crackers. There was a note sitting by the plate.

 

My,

            Have a cracker or two, but don’t ruin your appetite. I am waiting  upstairs for you with a special treat. 

 Greg

 

Mycroft popped a cracker with Brie into his mouth and savored the creamy cheese paired with the crunchy cracker. He chose not to have a second and headed up stairs, calling out again to his partner.

“In here, love,” came the reply from the en suite. “Get undressed and join me.” There was a hitched breath and then, “HehhRRRDSCHHah”

Mycroft swiftly removed his clothing and put on his robe. He slipped into the en suite. “Bless you.”

“HuhhrrrSHCHZOO!”

“And again. Goodness, you haven’t caught cold since this morning, have you?”

“I don’t think so. I felt fine up until a few minutes ago.” Greg was sitting in the bath filled to the brim with bubbles. He sniffed and wriggled his nose.

“Hmm…” Mycroft sniffed the air as he handed his partner a flannel.

“Heh… HehddDRUHSCHCHH!” Greg pitched forward into the cloth and the water sloshed up the sides of the tub, sending a mound of bubbles over the side to run down the exterior of the tub.

“God bless you.” Mycroft spied the bubble bath bottle and picked it up.

“Ugh! Thanks. I hope this stops soon.” He rubbed at his itchy nose with the flannel.  

“Grapefruit and Bergamot?” He showed the bottle to Greg.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be allergic to those.”

“That is very thoughtful, but you forgot yourself.”

“I didn’t get lavender.”

“No, but bergamot is one of the main ingredients in Earl Grey tea.”

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Greg sighed. His expression turned hazy and he found the flannel. “HuhhddRRUHDSHCHOO!”

“Bless you. Stand up my dear.” Mycroft reached into the tub and pulled the drain. Greg stood naked with thick suds clinging to his body. Mycroft eyed him appreciatively. “I believe we will need to have a thorough wash in the shower.”

“Yeah?” Greg grinned at Mycroft.

“Most definitely.” Mycroft replied with a wicked smile.

 

FIN

[cally]

I see you've expounded on our idea.   We're going to need a spreadsheet to keep track of which ones we have tried.

 

26 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

They had spent weeks determining what flowers would be tolerated by Mycroft’s sensitive sinuses after their first Valentine’s Day.

Well, this will be a fun project too!  

24 minutes ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“I don’t think so. I felt fine up until a few minutes ago.” Greg was sitting in the bath filled to the brim with bubbles. He sniffed and wriggled his nose.

 Hmmmm I wonder what could be the problem? 

This was toooooo cute!  

[Shamaël]

8 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

They had spent weeks determining what flowers would be tolerated by Mycroft’s sensitive sinuses after their first Valentine’s Day. Tulips turned out to be one of the better options.

I picture the scene too only too well... 

8 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“I believe we will need to have a thorough wash in the shower.”

“Yeah?” Greg grinned at Mycroft.

“Most definitely.” Mycroft replied with a wicked smile.

Oh, Mycroft, really? 

This one was cute!

Edited February 14, 2017 by Aliena H.

[AngelEyes]

On 2/14/2017 at 5:57 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

They had spent weeks determining what flowers would be tolerated by Mycroft’s sensitive sinuses after their first Valentine’s Day.

That's adorable!

 

On 2/14/2017 at 5:57 AM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Greg sighed. His expression turned hazy and he found the flannel. “HuhhddRRUHDSHCHOO!”

LOL I can totally picture his expression!

Off to the shower it is. Which I'm sure they can make just as fun.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

The consensus is that Mystrade in the bath is cute   and flower experiments would be fascinating. I'll have to put that last one on my list. 

Thank you @cally, @Aliena H., @AngelEyes I am glad you liked that last story. 

On 2/14/2017 at 7:24 AM, cally said:

We're going to need a spreadsheet to keep track of which ones we have tried.

I know! 

So to continue "expounding" on the bath theme I have another story. I hope you like it.   Remember comments = . Perhaps more importantly, they give me ideas.  Thank you @cally for helping with the research.  

Desperate

 

            “My! …Mycroft?! …A little help here?!” Greg shouted from the entryway.

            The British Government appeared around the corner with his mobile to his ear. “…Well of course he said that. He is an imbecile who is being validated at every turn by his cronies. …No, I do not believe…” Mycroft saw his partner and smelled him almost simultaneously. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and looked Greg up and down. “You are a disgusting mess.”

            “No kiss hello then?” grinned the mud-streaked DI.

            “Dear Lord. Another dip in the Thames, at low tide no less. Tell me, Sherlock is unscathed?”

            “Of course, he’s fine. So am I; thanks for asking.” Greg was beginning to pull off his soggy, muddy, smelly clothing.

            “Stop. Let me get a bin bag and a towel.” Mycroft quickly returned with a large plastic bag. He opened it and held it out. “I know you are fine. I would have been contacted if otherwise.”

            Greg rolled his eyes. “Naturally.” He dropped his jacket and shirt in the bag and began working on his trousers. “You sending these to the cleaners?”

            “Naturally,” Mycroft lied. “Put everything in, shoes and belt as well.”

            “Your cleaners do shoes?”

            “They do what I tell them.”

            “You’re binning it all.” Greg dropped the last of his clothes in and stood in the foyer wearing mud and his pants. “Aren’t you?”

            Mycroft wrinkled his nose and waved a hand in front of his face. “Nothing is going to get the grime and stench out of these.”

            “So I should consider myself lucky you’re not binning me?”

            “Yes. Take off your pants.”

            “Really?” Greg leered at the elder Holmes. “If I knew you thought mud was so sexy…” The older man’s cheeky grin gleamed brightly against his begrimed skin.

            Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You are not bringing any more of this filth any farther than you already have, if we can possibly help it.”

            Greg stripped off his final article of clothing and discarded it. “Aw… these were a favorite pair. You said they made my arse look…”

            “I’ll get you ten more.” Mycroft interrupted.

            “Ugh! Mud everywhere.” Greg commented looking down.

            “Precisely.” Mycroft frowned as he looked over his filthy lover. “How on earth did you get home?” He handed Greg a towel.

            “Donovan dropped me off on the way back to the yard.” The DI began to wipe off as much of the mud as he could with the towel.

            “She deserves a commendation.”

            “She made me sit on a body bag and had he window rolled down the entire time. Bloody freezing.” He dropped the towel into the bin bag.

            “I’ll have her head if you catch cold.” Mycroft muttered, knotting the bag.

            “What?”

            “Bath and bed, before you catch cold. Off you go then. I’ll clean the rest of this mess.” The younger man nodded at the muddy puddles on the floor.

            “You know where the cleaning supplies are, love?” Greg asked semi-seriously. The scathing look Mycroft gave him sent him scurrying to the shower.

            When Greg emerged all pink and shiny, wrapped in his robe and wet hair slicked back, he found his boyfriend sitting on their bed reading. Greg plopped down next to him.

            “Now can I have my ‘welcome home kiss’?”

            Mycroft closed his book and scrutinized his partner over his reading glasses. “Hmm… you appear clean.” He leaned in and kissed the DI. As he did he sniffed Greg’s neck and pulled back making a face. “But you do not smell clean. Back you go.” He gently pushed the older man away and opened his book back up.

            “What? I was in the shower for over thirty minutes. I washed everywhere and everything at least twice.”

            “I am sorry to say you still smell of dead fish and garbage. An alley cat might find that appealing but I do not.” Mycroft didn’t look up as he made a small shooing gesture with his free hand.

            “How about I just put on some cologne?”

            “Really?” Mycroft raised eyebrows at his lover.

            “Fine.” Greg huffed and rolled off the bed.

            “Try one of the bath bombs Anthea gave us,” Mycroft called as Greg slouched back into the en suite. He heard the water start to run in the tub.

            “Which one?” Greg called out.

            Mycroft thought a moment. “Any of them, except Big Blue.”

            “Right.” Greg affirmed.

            The British Government’s mobile chirped. “Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “Dear God… No, you were correct to call.” He swung off the bed and headed to his office.

            Disaster averted (again), Mycroft returned to the bedroom and headed into the en suite. Greg was standing at the mirror finishing his toilet. The scent of the bath bomb lingered in the air. Mycroft admired his lover’s strong back as it tapered to the towel that sat low around the hips.

            “Let’s see if you smell any better,” he murmured as he moved in behind, wrapping his arms around Greg and sniffed lightly at his partner’s neck. “Mm… a definite improvement. Yes, I believe…”

            “HhuuhRRDDschshoOO!” Greg shuddered as his sneezed against the back of his wrist.

            Mycroft instinctively tightened his hold as the sneeze erupted. “God bless you.”

            Tha-hah-tha… HahhDDSZCHOO!” Greg sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Sorry.”

            “Bless you again.” Mycroft let go and moved to stand leaning against the counter so he could face his partner.

            “I must be coming down with cold. I’ve been stuffy and itchy and sneezy since the bath.” The older man sniffled and worried at his nose as if to prove his point.

            “Since the bath?”

            “Ye-heh-Yes. HehHHRDSCHZOO!”

            Mycroft plucked a few tissues from the box on the counter and handed them to Greg. He leaned in again lightly running his nose along the skin of the other man’s neck inhaling deeply.

            Greg giggled. “Hey, that ti-hih-ti-hih-tickles HhehRRDSCHSCH!”

            Mycroft moved back in time to allow Greg to turn away and smother his sneeze in the tissues. “Bless you, dear. If you don’t mind, which bath bomb did you use?”

            “One of the blue ones. You said to.” Greg blew his nose and binned the tissues before reaching for more.

            Mycroft opened the cabinet where they kept the bath treats. He took out the package they had gotten from Anthea for Valentine’s Day. “I said any of them, except Big Blue.”

            “I thought you said ‘any of the blue’. HuhRRDSHSCHH!”

            “Bless.” Sure enough ‘Big Blue’ was the only bath bomb missing. Mycroft sighed. “Big Blue has lavender oil in it.”

Greg looked at his partner wide eyed, tissues clamped to his nose. “Fuh…”

“Oh, and bless you…”

            His eyes crashed shut. “HuhrrdDZCHHOO!”

            “Gregory, I am afraid you will need to shower again to rinse the oils off of you.”

            “No.” Greg shook his head and threw away his tissues forcefully.

            “But you are sneezing and you could develop a rash.”

            “No! I ‘m tired. I’ve had a crap day at work which ended with a swim in the Thames followed by a miserable ride home.” Mycroft pulled another handful of tissues for his irate partner. Greg ignored them. “I get home to have all my clothes thrown in the trash, and my shoes!” Greg was very nearly shouting by now. Mycroft had never seen his boyfriend so frustrated and unhappy. “I’ve been bathing for over an hah-hour.” He grabbed the tissues from Mycroft. “HahDSHCHCHOO! And now this!” He wiped his nose and sniffled. “I want a beer, pizza, a cuddle and bed in that order. HuhhDSCHZSHOO! And to stop sneezing!”

            Mycroft stared at Greg for a moment then nodded. “As you wish.” He pulled out his mobile and dialed Anthea, instructing her to bring Greg’s favorite pizza and beer forthwith. As he spoke to his PA, Mycroft opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of the strongest antihistamines he had on hand. He shook out two tabs and gave them to Greg along with a glass of water to wash them down. “Go get into bed,” Mycroft instructed his partner. “I will join you once the pizza arrives.”

            “You’re going to let me eat pizza in our bed?”

            “Desperate times, Gregory.”

            An hour later, the medication, alcohol and carbs had done their work. Greg was curled up next to Mycroft with his head on the younger man’s chest. “I love you. You spoil me,” he murmured sleepily.

            Mycroft held his love close. “And I you, my dear. You deserve to be spoiled.”

 

FIN

[cally]

Oh dear me.  Mycroft must have been shocked at Greg's temper to miss blessing him.  

I really loved this, as I was wondering how it was going to go after I did the research!  

Poor Greg, what a rotten day.   At least all the clothing and shoes he will get back in return will be nicer than what was binned!  

[Shamaël]

8 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Mycroft saw his partner and smelled him almost simultaneously.

This was a great beginning!!! 

8 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

I am sorry to say you still smell of dead fish and garbage. An alley cat might find that appealing but I do not.

Sometimes Mycroft is worse than Sherlock. Poor Lestrade...

8 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

  Disaster averted (again)

My favorite words in this story. Juste en passant, comme ça. Mycroft is the best, we all know it.

8 hours ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

“You’re going to let me eat pizza in our bed?”

            “Desperate times, Gregory.”

That was a very cute (and funny) ending...

I really thought you were going to give a cold to Greg this time, but it turned out to be a different problem... Loved it! Thanks!