Mystrade's Shorts by scw (BBC Sherlock)

[AngelEyes]

Brothers! Yay! This is excellent!

On 11/11/2017 at 10:26 PM, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

“And goldfish crackers?”

Of course!

 

On 11/11/2017 at 10:26 PM, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

“Apologies, I… Hih’SCHOO! Should ha…hahh… HahTSCHOO! Tsch, tisch, tisch… b-huh-ugger! Huhsh’CHOO!”

 

Yes. Mmmmm.

 

On 11/11/2017 at 10:26 PM, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

“You’ve not blessed me yet so why bother at all,” came Mycroft’s touchy reply. He coughed dryly.

LOL

 

On 11/11/2017 at 10:26 PM, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

Mycroft shifted around to his head on Sherlock’s lap. The bundle was laid carefully on his brow and cold began to seep through, dulling the ache. Long, gentle fingers slowly massaged Mycroft’s temples. Mycroft let out a soft moan and began to relax in his brother’s care.

Awwwww!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you all! I'm glad you have enjoyed Mycroft and Sherlock together. Here's another part of the flu story that just won't end.  (I really should have posted this in the fan fiction section.  )

All In The Family--Part 4

Mycroft awoke some time later. His headache had receded, and he was still resting on his brother’s lap. The ice pack was on the coffee table. Leaving water stains, Mycroft feared. Sherlock gave a muffled cough. The telly was on with the sound turned way down.

 

He hadn’t put in his contacts and wasn’t wearing his glasses, so the image was blurry. Sherlock mumbled a soft complaint. Mycroft squinted; he still couldn’t make out what Sherlock was watching.

 

“What are you watching?” He felt Sherlock jump and the TV was turned off.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Mycroft sat up. His vision swam a little as he adjusted to being vertical. He found his glasses in his robe pocket and put them on. His nose started to run, so he reached for the tissues only to find the box was empty. Used tissues were strewn across the coffee table. Mycroft sighed with frustration.

 

“Sherlock?”

 

His brother had picked up a book. “Hm?”

 

“Would you…” Mycroft sniffled, “get some tissues?”

 

Sherlock didn’t look up. “You know where they are.”

 

Mycroft snuffled, pressing his fingers against his damp nostrils. He sighed again and stood. The room tilted as he started to move toward the kitchen. He attempted to correct and found himself suddenly grabbed at the shoulders. Sherlock gently guided him back to the sofa.

 

“You should have said you had vertigo.” His brother scolded.

 

“I didn’t know until I stood.” Mycroft sniffed hard, but felt he was losing the battle with his nose.

 

“Don’t move off that sofa.”

 

“Sherlock…” Mycroft grimaced as he swallowed.

 

“If you fall Lestrade will blame me…”

 

“Sherlock…”

 

“…banned from the Yard for at least a month.”

 

“For God’s sake!” Mycroft snapped.

 

“What?” Sherlock huffed.

 

Mycroft growled behind his hand. “Tissues, now!”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You only had to say. No need to shout,” he muttered as he left the room. Mycroft sat sniffling pitifully.

 

Sherlock returned carrying a fresh box of tissues and dropped them on the table in front of his brother. He flung himself down on the sofa, coughing harshly. Mycroft fell on the tissues like a starving man on a roast chicken.

 

“That’s disgusting,” he remarked as Mycroft emptied his sinuses a third time.

 

His brother glared at him over the tissues. “Need I remind you that it is precisely your fault I am in thi-hih… Hih’TSCHOO!” Mycroft braced himself with one hand on the coffee table with the other holding soggy tissues to his troublesome nose. “tishoo, tishoo, tishoo… Hih’TSCHOO! TSHCHOO!” Taking a shaky breath he finished his statement. “This condition.” The sting of the retort was muted as Mycroft geared up for another fit.

 

“Not again,” Sherlock groaned. “You’re very tiresome, Mycroft.”

 

“Hehhh…TschhOO! Hihh’zchOO! ... Hih’zschh, hih’zschah, hih’zschh.” The sneezes were tumbling one after the other through his sinuses. “… Hih’zchsh, hih’zchah, hih’zchsh…” Mycroft was feeling woozy and breathless, but the itchy, tickling burn in his nose persisted. “…Hehh’sch, hehh’sch, tsch, tsch, tsch…”

 

Sherlock could see Mycroft catching only a shallow gasp here and there between the sneezes. He sighed, rolling his eyes. There seemed to be no end in sight. Reaching out, he took his brother’s ear lobe between his thumb and forefinger. Giving Mycroft’s ear a slight pinch and gentle tug, Sherlock was pleased to see the sneezing pause.

 

“Stop that!” Mycroft hissed.

 

“Blow your nose, now!”

 

Mycroft didn’t argue. A long productive blow was followed by two violent expulsions that seemed to come up from his toes. At last the irritation seemed to be gone. Pale and trembling, Mycroft took a relieved breath and leaned back again the cushions, closing his eyes. He could hear Sherlock’s phone clicking as a text was sent.

 

“Now what are you doing?” Mycroft asked, exhausted.

 

“I’m texting Lestrade to get the ingredients for the ginger tea Mummy makes you when you’re like this.”

 

“No!” Mycroft sat bolt upright and lunged for his brother’s phone.

 

Sherlock held his brother back against the couch pillows. “Don’t move. You’ll trigger your vertigo.” He handily sent the text with one hand.

 

“This is intolerable!” Mycroft fumed. “You know I detest that swill.”

 

“Do you?” There was an evil gleam in Sherlock’s eyes. “Oh yes, I think I do recall you saying something to that effect.” His mobile chimed. “Ah!” He glanced at his phone screen and then gave Mycroft a triumphant look.

 

“What?”

 

A wide grin had spread over Sherlock’s face. “Lestrade says all the ingredients are in the house.”

 

Mycroft groaned. 

TBC...

[cally]

Oh poor Mycroft. He sounds so wretched and has to deal with Sherlock being such a prat. Although they are both being a bit childish. I hope Greg gets home soon, preferably before Sherlock burns the flat down. 

[AngelEyes]

This is brilliant! I love the way you write them together!

3 hours ago, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

Sherlock returned carrying a fresh box of tissues and dropped them on the table in front of his brother. He flung himself down on the sofa, coughing harshly. Mycroft fell on the tissues like a starving man on a roast chicken.

LOL!!!

 

3 hours ago, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

“Do you?” There was an evil gleam in Sherlock’s eyes. “Oh yes, I think I do recall you saying something to that effect.” His mobile chimed. “Ah!” He glanced at his phone screen and then gave Mycroft a triumphant look.

Evil!

[frolicking periwinkle]

8 hours ago, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

This is intolerable!” Mycroft fumed. “You know I detest that swill.”

Do we know why Mycrift doesnt like the tea? I know that ginger has the opposite effect on me, it gives me vertigo and makes me nauseous. I think it would be interesting if it exasperates his condition rather than helps but nobody believes him.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Okay I am finally done with this. Gee whiz 4K words in total. I'm hopeless.  

@frenchposie You know, I've not come up with a story as to why Mycroft hates the ginger tea. I just figured he didn't like the way it tasted and when you're feeling dizzy and nauseated drinking it just made him feel a bit worse, before he would start to feel better. 

Thank you @cally and @DevilsGaze for your comments. I'm glad you are enjoying it. Yes, Greg comes home...

 

All In The Family--Part 5

Greg opened the door to the house calling out he had arrived. “Mycroft? Sherlock?” The home was eerily quiet. Greg detoured through the kitchen to drop off his packages. It was empty. Exploring further, Greg entered the drawing room.

 

“Oh there you are. I was…” He trailed off as Mycroft held up a silencing hand.

 

The Holmes brothers were facing each other across the coffee table. Mycroft on the sofa and Sherlock in a wing chair he’d drawn up to the table. A mug of tea sat between them. Greg could make out the scent of ginger in the air.

 

“Oh for the love of God. You aren’t having a staring match over a cup of tea are you?”

 

There was no reply. Sherlock coughed lightly his eyes never leaving his brother’s. Mycroft sniffled and his eyes narrowed. Greg watched them and shook his head. “You are both barmy.” Silence was the only response. Greg considered the two men. “Right. I’ll leave you to it then. I brought lunch and I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” His gaze lingered on Mycroft and hesitated on making his exit. He noted the flaring nostrils and the slight tension in Mycroft’s brow. “Bless you, love.”

 

As if on cue Mycroft’s eyes crashed shut. He pitched forward into a handful of crumpled tissues sneezing vigorously.  “Hehhh’TSCZHOO!”

 

“I win!” Sherlock crowed. “You have to drink it. Or I’ll call Mummy.”

 

“Heh’ETschoo, Eht’schOO!”

 

Greg moved to sit next to Mycroft who was still sneezing. He put a steadying arm around his partner. “Bless” he interjected between sneezes.

 

“Etschh, etschh, etschh, etschh… Hehh”TSCHOO!”

 

“Again.” Greg offered worriedly. Mycroft blew his nose. “You alright?”

 

Mycroft nodded and leaned against Greg. “Apologies. Just a bit dizzy.”

 

“A bit?” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You’d broken that giant nose of yours if I’d not been here.”

 

Mycroft glared at Sherlock and sat up. Greg shifted his hand down to the small of Mycroft’s back. “Mycroft, drink your tea,” he instructed gently, rubbing soothing circles on his partner’s back.

 

Mycroft tucked his chin down and folded his arms across his chest. His glare had switched to the mug on the coffee table in front of him. It was a wonder the cup didn’t shatter given the force of hatred being directed at it. Greg bit his cheek not to smile.

 

Sherlock wasn’t as amused. “Stop sulking, brother-mine. You lost and a bet is a bet.”

 

“Fine,” Mycroft snapped and drank the now cool tea in several quick gulps. “Ugh!” He pulled a face and snatched a tissue to wipe his mouth. Greg pressed a kiss on Mycroft’s temple.

 

“Now that is done and you are home, Lestrade, I can get a na-hah- hahh…. Haihh’Kihhschoo, hihk’SCHOO!”

 

Greg winced as Sherlock only turned to the side and sneezed openly. “Bless you, Sherlock,” he offered nonetheless.

 

Sherlock sniffed loudly and liquidly. Mycroft wordlessly offered the tissue box, but his brother waved him off. “A nap and antihistamines,” he finished.

 

“You want any of the soup I brought home?” Greg asked as Mycroft rested his head on his partner’s shoulder. Greg rubbed his hand up and down Mycroft’s arm.

 

“No, just my bed.” Sherlock gave Greg and Mycroft repulsed look. “Your overly affectionate displays are making my stomach turn.” Mycroft smirked and cuddled up closer to Greg. Sherlock made a disgusted noise as he swept out of the room.

 

“Please tell me you aren’t leaving me alone with him again?” Mycroft whined. “I don’t think I could stand it in my weakened condition.”

 

Greg snorted. “Oh, it can’t have been that bad.”

 

“He brunt my toast and wouldn’t get me tissues. Then he made me drink that awful tea. You saw it.”

 

“I also know you had a horrid headache and he gave you an ice pack and you fell asleep in his lap.” Greg brought his hand up to stroke Mycroft’s hair.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“He took a picture of you sleeping and sent it to John. John then sent it to me.” Mycroft looked at Greg, appalled. “And I believe he mentioned you would have fallen on your face if he hadn’t been around.” Greg added.

 

“Perhaps, that is true.” Mycroft grumbled before breaking into a coughing fit.

 

“You know it is.”

 

“Still, I’d rather you be here.” Mycroft insinuated himself even closer to his partner.

 

Greg chuckled. “It’s okay, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

FIN

Edited December 10, 2017 by Subtly Clashing Wishes
Punctuation (in the style of The Electric Company)

[cally]

Perhaps he doesn’t like it as it’s never properly sweetened or the ginger is too bitter. 🤔

 

Poor Mycroft having to deal with Sherlock in his unwell and weakened state. Good thing Greg is back home and he can be taken care of properly. 

I can’t believe Sherlock made him have that bet when he was so unwell, as opposed to just being allergic. How rude of him.  I hope Mycroft gets payback somehow. 

[frolicking periwinkle]

Gah, this was delightful. I could almost hear John telling them "boys behave," because for all of their animosity they really do act like they're 12 all the time.

[Shamaël]

Brothers war! Absolutely wonderful. I don't know how I missed the previous part but those 2 updates are both great. I love the interaction between Sherlock and Mycroft, and I'm so glad you wrote about them! (Of course Lestrade is great too but you know how I love the brothers.)

On 26/11/2017 at 8:56 PM, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

“Your overly affectionate displays are making my stomach turn.”

... And I just adore Sherlock.

Thanks for sharing!

[AngelEyes]

On 11/26/2017 at 1:56 PM, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

“Oh for the love of God. You aren’t having a staring match over a cup of tea are you?”

But of course! LOL

 

On 11/26/2017 at 1:56 PM, Slithery Creepy Wyrm said:

“Your overly affectionate displays are making my stomach turn.” Mycroft smirked and cuddled up closer to Greg. Sherlock made a disgusted noise as he swept out of the room.

LOL

[frolicking periwinkle]

On 5/1/2016 at 7:58 AM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Mycroft turned back to his partner with a stern, but fond look. “Not now. We will speak of it later. I a-hah…  Hah’SHOO! … Heh’TSCHOO!” Wearily, Greg handed Mycroft some tissues. “I assure you.”

I know it has been a long time, but this is a conversation that i would love to see.  Poor Greg

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

3 hours ago, frenchposie said:

I know it has been a long time, but this is a conversation that i would love to see.  Poor Greg

You know I had to go back and find the fic the quote you posted came from. It made me feel a little sad, since I wrote the story before I came to realize Mummy was not as kind or caring towards Mycroft as I would have hoped. 

Still it is an interesting thought as to how that conversation about Greg's inhaler would go. 

 

[frolicking periwinkle]

9 minutes ago, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

You know I had to go back and find the fic the quote you posted came from. It made me feel a little sad, since I wrote the story before I came to realize Mummy was not as kind or caring towards Mycroft as I would have hoped. 

Still it is an interesting thought as to how that conversation about Greg's inhaler would go. 

 

I know... I like the fantasy that she would come and help him. Because I think Mycroft deserves that sort of support from his family.  Although oddly enough, she was just short enough with him, that I believed that she really wasn't there to help him at all, she was there because she likes Greg.  

 

But as somebody who is always shading how he feels to Greg, I think it's an interesting emotional dynamic to make him go through it because Greg has been withholding an inhaler

[Juto]

Awwww the sick brothers!!! Yayyayyay!!!!  

... and Greg trying to smooth the situation while being a good partner (and ends up disgusting Sherlock  )

wonderful  

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Oh Lordy! I has been a very, very long time since I posted here.  Thank you for all the lovely comments on my last story. I truly appreciate them. Comments =  

I hope you can forgive my absence. I bring a peace offering... This is for Cally. When she reads it, she'll know why.  (And my apologies to The Bard.)

Desperation

 

Mycroft studied the papers in front of him, sniffling and rubbing his forehead. All day the pressure in his sinuses had been building. Despite copious cups of tea and ibuprofen he now had a sinus headache that would have felled an elephant, unfortunately not the elephant that was now resident in his sinuses.

 

He sighed, closing his eyes and pressing his fingertips to his cheeks. He really needed a decongestant, that and the barometric pressure to quit dropping. Regrettably he was trying to avoid decongestants and the horrid things they did to his blood pressure. Feeling his nose start to drip, Mycroft reached for his handkerchief. The gentle blow did nothing to alleviate the sensation of an inflating balloon in his face. If anything, it made it worse.

 

A buzzing sensation started in the back of his nose and began to migrate forward. Mycroft held his handkerchief loosely in front of his face. He closed his eyes and his chest expanded with a large breath, his nose wrinkling up.

 

“Ahhhhh…. Haht’schOO! Hah…Tsch, Tsch, Tsch… haht’SCHOO!”

 

Mycroft groaned, wiping his nose. Enough, he couldn’t stand this any longer. He opened his desk drawer and sorted through the medicine packets. “Bugger.” The blister pack he’d found was empty.

 

Mycroft pick up his desk telephone, clearing his throat. “Anthea, have you any decongestants? I find my supply is gone.”

 

“One moment, sir.”

 

Mycroft waited, sniffling as he glanced through the report in front of him.

 

“I’m sorry Mr. Holmes. I do not. Shall I send one of the interns to Boots?”

 

“Nev-heh… Heh’tsch, hehht’schah, hehh’tschOO! Never mind.” Was his congested response.

 

“Bless you. If you don’t mind me saying, you sound terrible.”

 

“Why would I mind you saying that?” He replied dryly.

 

“I’m sorry. Would you like to go home? I can call the car.”

 

“No, thank you. I need to finish the evaluation. Please bring me the budget report for the Eastern Europe division and more tea.” Mycroft hung up. He touched the areas under his eyes. Even the feather light brush of his fingers caused him to wince. It felt bruised. The pain radiated up into his eyes and down into his teeth. God he hoped this wasn’t the beginning of a sinus infection. He gave a useless sniff and went back to work.

 

He’d managed to get through another page of the document when a sharp pain shot through his right sinus. His vision blurred and he gasped. He blinked away the tears. Perhaps a cold flannel would help, he thought. As he returned from his wash room holding the cold cloth to the right side of his face he caught sight of his jacket hung carefully on the back of his chair.

 

His emergency kit was in the breast pocket. This was definitely an emergency. He pulled the kit out and sat down. There were no oral decongestants, but there was an inhaler. Mycroft pondered the inhaler. The relief from the nasal inhaler was rapid, but not without it’s own effects. The throbbing in his sinus flared and burst through to his right ear. That decided it. Mycroft got out the box of tissues.

 

Uncapping the stick he took a sharp sniff of it with first the left nostril and then the right. The relief on the left was nearly instantaneous. The right side was a bit more stubborn. Mycroft took a second sniff.

 

He could feel the swollen tissue peel itself apart bit by bit. The membranes tingled and burned. Mycroft sat waiting, holding a handful of paper tissues. The pressure dissipated and the ache receded. There was a moment of pure bliss as air moved through his nasal passages unimpeded. Mycroft took a deep breath through his nose, smiling. Then he sneezed. With no build up or warning, he barely got his tissues up in time. He sneezed again, then again and yet again. The sneezes came quickly with no time for a breath in between. His head bobbed in and out of the cluster of tissues he clutched. There was little volume to them. He sounded like he was repeatedly shushing a noisy child.

 

“Tsh, tsh, tsh, tsh, tsh…”

 

He probably sneezed a dozen or more times before the fit ground to a halt. Mycroft sat back in his chair. He felt woozy and short of breath. He dabbed at his nose and cracked open his eyes to see Anthea hovering nearby. She set the tea down and the report. Mycroft looked away, tossing the used tissues and pulling another handful.

 

“Will that be all?” She eyed the kit on his desk.

 

“Yes.” Mycroft was terse and did not meet her eye as he gathered up the kit, tucking it away.

 

“Bless you then.” She remarked as she left the room.

 

Mycroft had a productive two hours, but the throbbing pressure too soon returned. He contemplated the inhaler again. He knew it wouldn’t nearly be as effective the second time around. Instead he decided to call it a day. He was sure to have some proper decongestants at home.

 

“Dear God. How is this happening?” Mycroft muttered. As soon as he returned Mycroft went straight to the medicine cupboard in the kitchen, then to the one in the en suite, next to the drawer in his home office and the one in his nightstand, and finally the cabinet in the guest bath. Not a single decongestant to be found.

 

Head pounding and sniffing fruitlessly Mycroft went back to the kitchen for an ice pack. He tried a nasal saline rinse and took more ibuprofen, for what it was worth. He retired to the bedroom to await the end of time. Mycroft prayed it would be soon, very soon.

 

It was there that Greg found his partner. Mycroft was stretched out on their bed, ice pack over his eyes and grumbling to himself.

 

“Long acting antihistamines, short acting antihistamines, cough suppressant, mucolyitcs, nasal saline, menthol rubs, ibuprofen, paracetamol, codamol even. No decongestants. My kingdom for a decongestant.”

 

Greg smiled.

 

“You can stop smirking,” Mycroft snapped. He hadn’t moved or opened his eyes in the time Greg appeared in the doorway. Greg didn’t bother to wonder how Mycroft knew he was there.

 

“Withdraw, my lord; I will help you to a decongestant.” Greg held up a package of the precious tablets.

 

Mycroft scrambled to sit up. The ice pack slid off his face and onto the floor. “Oh thank… Heh’tSHAAH! Heh’tSSHOO! Heh’tSCHOO!”

 

“Bless you.” Greg moved to sit next to Mycroft on the bed.

 

Mycroft pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “Thank heaven, Gregory,” he finally said after trying to without success to blow his nose. “How ever did you know?”

 

“What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t know when you needed decongestants?” Greg kissed Mycroft’s forehead and went to the en suite. He returned with a glass of water. “Here.” He handed the glass to Mycroft and opened the packet getting out the medication.

 

Mycroft swallowed the pill eagerly. He sighed. “I know it’s not possible but I feel it working already.” Greg laughed and stroked the back of Mycroft’s head. The affection he felt for this man welled up in his heart. “Anthea told you, didn’t she?”

 

“No, love.”

 

“No?”

 

“I figured this out all on my own.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows, then whimpered, pressing his fingertips to the area above his right eye. “Yeah, this wasn’t easy to miss. The right side of your face was puffy when you got up this morning. You winced when I kissed your cheek good bye as well. That coupled with the weather report I deduced you were going to need decongestants before the day was through, blood pressure issues or no.”

 

“You’re a marvel.”

 

Grinning, Greg helped Mycroft up off the bed. “C’mon. We’ll heat up some soup and watch a boring documentary on drilling oil in the North Sea. That’ll keep your blood pressure down.”

 

Mycroft huffed. “I fear we’ve turned into one of those dreadful, dull old couples,” he said ruefully.

 

“Do you mind?” Greg asked.

 

“Not in the slightest,” came Mycroft’s firm reply.

 

FIN

Edited March 4, 2018 by Subtly Clashing Wishes

[cally]

10 hours ago, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

he now had a sinus headache that would have felled an elephant, unfortunately not the elephant that was now resident in his sinuses.

My life, in a nutshell.

10 hours ago, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

He retired to the bedroom to await the end of time.

Yup.  Still me.

Now, if only I could sneeze like Mycroft then I might not need the bloody things in the first place!  (Ok, probably not, but I can dream.)

Thank you for writing this for me.  It always means the world when you do.  

 

[Shamaël]

Awww Greg is the best. It had been a long time and I'm pleased to read some sick Mycroft again! You always write with this mix of humour and "cuteness" (does that word exist, really?) I really appreciate.

On 04/03/2018 at 0:16 AM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

We’ll heat up some soup and watch a boring documentary on drilling oil in the North Sea. That’ll keep your blood pressure down.

[AngelEyes]

Awww! I've missed your writing! Yay for some Mystrade! 

On 3/3/2018 at 5:16 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

“Why would I mind you saying that?” He replied dryly.

LOL

 

On 3/3/2018 at 5:16 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Mycroft pondered the inhaler. The relief from the nasal inhaler was rapid, but not without it’s own effects.

Indeed. My fav.

 

On 3/3/2018 at 5:16 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

“Long acting antihistamines, short acting antihistamines, cough suppressant, mucolyitcs, nasal saline, menthol rubs, ibuprofen, paracetamol, codamol even. No decongestants. My kingdom for a decongestant.”

Drama queen.

 

On 3/3/2018 at 5:16 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

“What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t know when you needed decongestants?” Greg kissed Mycroft’s forehead and went to the en suite.

Awwww!

 

On 3/3/2018 at 5:16 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Mycroft huffed. “I fear we’ve turned into one of those dreadful, dull old couples,” he said ruefully.

LOL!

[castiel_angel]

On 3/3/2018 at 6:16 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Anthea told you, didn’t she?”

 

“No, love.”

 

“No?”

 

“I figured this out all on my own.”

This just made me smile Brilliant job as always. 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you @cally, @Aliena H., @AngelEyes, and @castiel_angel for your lovely comments!  

 

Three months later and I'm back.   But I am bearing gifts. Specifically a gift for @Kaze wo Hiku as it was her birthday this past week. She had asked me to write a Mystrade attends the royal wedding fic, based on the observations and experiences of James Corden at the royal wedding. Well Kaze here you go. Happy Birthday!  I hope you like it.  

 

White Roses and Peonies

 

Greg stepped out of the car and gazed around him, trying not to gawk. Mycroft exited and stood next to him. Straightening his cuffs, Mycroft murmured, “Yes, that is David Beckham.”

“Think I could get his autograph?”

“I think we could have him and Victoria over for tea, if you like.”

“What? You know David Beckham?” Greg watched as Mycroft returned the couple’s polite wave and smile. “Why don’t you tell me these things?”

Mycroft smirked. “This is how I keep our relationship fresh. I plan to be very old before you learn all my secrets.”

“Prat.”

“Mm… shall we?” Mycroft gestured toward the steps leading to the entrance of St. George’s Chapel.

As they moved through the crowd of celebrities, dignitaries, and minor royals, Greg tried to take it all in. He worked hard not to gawp too much as they stopped to chat with George and Amal.

“Help me keep track of the designer dresses? I promised Aiden a full report.” Greg spoke softly to Mycroft.

“You wouldn’t know a designer dress if it bit you.”

“I would too. Amal was wearing a designer dress.”

“Yes, whose?”

“Ah… Vera Wang?” Greg hazarded a guess.

“No, Stella McCartney.”

“Huh. Any relation to Paul?” Mycroft gave him an incredulous look. Greg shrugged and looked around at the other guests. “Alright. That’s a Vera Wang Pippa is wearing.” Greg spoke with confidence.

“It is not. That’s Fold London.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a Vera Wang. I’m sure.” Greg indicated a rather floral frock.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Dolce & Gabbana.”

“Right. How about I point out the dress and you tell me the designer?”

“I’m fairly certain that was your plan all along.”

“You got me there.” Greg flashed his partner a bright smile, leading Mycroft to immediately forgive him.

As they mounted the steps Greg caught the scent of roses on the air. He took a deep breath. “It smells heavenly…” He trailed off and looked around. Walls of white roses and peonies lined either side of the steps and formed an arbor over the entrance. He shot a sidelong glance at his partner as he placed a hand at the small of Mycroft’s back. “Tell me you took your antihistamines.”

“Double dose. It’s spring.” Mycroft eyed the floral decorations. “I only hope it will be enough,” Mycroft replied grimly.

“Christ it’s like one of those giant shrubberies the people crash through in the allergy medication commercials we saw in the States. Maybe it will be clear on the other side.”

Mycroft swiped a finger across his nose, already feeling itchy. “Somehow I doubt it.”

“And you would be right,” Greg murmured as they found their seats. The entire front of the chapel had been decorated floor to ceiling with hedgerows of white flowers. The air was redolent with the heady scent of peonies and roses.

Mycroft was quiet as they settled in their row. He sniffed delicately and got out his handkerchief to blot his eyes.

“You going to be okay? Sorry, that’s probably a stupid question.”

“I’ll be fine.” Mycroft didn’t sound very confident.

They hadn’t been inside for more than a few minutes. Greg could hear the congestion building in Mycroft’s voice already.

“I could fake a call from the yard and we could leave.” The chapel was filling steadily. Greg eyed the other people now sitting in their row, figuring the fastest exit.

“Thank you, but no.” Mycroft sniffed again and began perusing the program.

“It’s no trouble. I can text Sal—“

“Gregory. I am fiii-hih… Hih’TSCHOO!” The sneeze had come over him suddenly. Mycroft snatched up his handkerchief to muffle the rest of the fit.

Choruses of blessings from the other guests were aimed at the poor man as he attempted to get himself under control.

“Hihhnnchxx, hihnnchxx, hhnnchxx…”

“Allergies,” Greg responded to a kindly query if Mycroft was all right. He patted his partner’s knee.

“Hihhnnnchxx, hihnnn’choo, hihnn’choo.”

Mycroft blew his nose firmly, forestalling any further outbursts. His cheeks and nose were quite pink. He mumbled his thanks to Greg for the final blessing, avoiding making eye contact. The processional music started for which Mycroft was exceedingly grateful.

The ceremony was simultaneously beautiful and brutal in Mycroft’s opinion. The bride was lovely and everyone could see the prince was completely smitten. The music was exquisite. The sermon was not tedious and interestingly pointed in some parts.

However the assault on his sinuses was relentless. There was a constant itch in Mycroft’s throat and nose. No longer able to get a whisper of air through his nostrils, he had started to breathe through his mouth. The desire to sneeze and rid himself of the congestion was painful. He was having a difficult time focusing on anything else.

Greg wasn’t sure which spectacle was more fascinating. The royal wedding was gorgeous and nothing like he had ever seen. However, watching his partner fight off his allergic reaction was amazing. Fluttering eyelids and soft hitches would interrupt Mycroft’s stern expression. His eyes would roll up, he’d wriggle his nose, and then he’d give a tight sniffle. Greg was really impressed that Mycroft was able to hold back the sneezes that were certainly piling up.

As the vows began and a hush settled over the sanctuary Mycroft felt every sniffle and every clearing of the throat echoed. Of course, his nose chose that moment to redouble its efforts to rid itself of the irritants floating in the air.

Greg heard a soft gasp come from Mycroft. He snuck a glance to see the man close his eyes and bend his head. Mycroft’s nostrils flared and fluttered. He took several sharp, quick sniffs. His hands clenched and crumpled the program. Greg heard a soft squeak as Mycroft’s shoulders shuddered.

Greg bit his lip and felt in his pocket for a handkerchief. He was so intent on his partner the recessional music startled him. They quickly stood with the rest of the crowd. “How are you?” Greg whispered under cover of the applause and music.

“Midderable,” Mycroft murmured. He brushed at his eyes.

“Let’s get you out of here.” They moved out their row and into the throng heading out of the chapel.

There was a bottleneck at the exit, of course. The guests having arrived at slightly different times now all wanted to leave at once. Greg looked ahead trying to find a break in the crowd. He saw something else. Taking Mycroft’s hand Greg lead them to the side.

“Where are we go’ig?” Mycroft asked. He held his wrist pressed beneath his nose.

“I saw a doorway.” A few nudges and tugs to move the crowd and Mycroft along brought them to a chantry off to the side of the main chapel near the exit. “In here.” Greg pulled Mycroft inside.

“Thank God.” Mycroft breathed. Greg gave him an amused looked.

Mycroft pulled out his well-used handkerchief and blew his nose. He rubbed at his nostrils hoping to relieve himself of the fierce itching and burning. His breath began to hitch and… nothing.

Greg glanced over from the entrance where he’d been watching the crowd thin out. Mycroft stood eyes closed, gasping and sighing. His nose was quite pink and kept wrinkling up and relaxing. The handkerchief was held loosely in front of his face. Greg waited for the explosion of sneezes but nothing happened.

“Having trouble?”

Mycroft could only nod. “Heh…Hiiihhh…Haahh…Aahhh…Hehehhh…”

“Want some help?” Greg moved closer.

“Hehh… Huhhh…Hahhh…Hiihhh…Uhhh… Ehhh…”

Greg took that for a yes and stood in front of his struggling partner. Tears leaked from the corners of Mycroft’s eyes. “I’m just going to tickle your nose, love.” Greg gently ran a finger down the bridge of the long nose and carefully traced the twitching, damp nostrils. Finally he tapped briskly on the side of Mycroft’s nose. Mycroft took a deep, stuttering breath and Greg stepped to the side.

“Hahh’TSCHOO!” A violent sneeze burst out.

“There you go.” Greg encouraged, thinking he might feel almost as relieved as Mycroft.

“Heh’tSHOO! TSCHOO!”

“Bless you.”

Mycroft managed to catch a quick breath. “Ehh… TISH! TISH! …Hih’TSHCHOO!”

“That’s right.”

“Huh’SHOO! TSH, TSH, TSH… Hahh’TSHOO! TSH! TSHOO!” Mycroft wobbled feeling a bit dizzy from the force of the sneezing.

“Aw, bless.”

“Eh’SCH! Eh’TSCHOO! Eh’TSHOO!

“Whoa!” Greg caught Mycroft as he pitched forward. “You’re going to hit your head.”

“Hih’TSCHOO! Tisch, tisch, tisch…Hiht’CHOO!” Mycroft tried to pull away.

“It’s alright. Bless you.” Greg kept his arm around Mycroft’s waist. “Just let me hold you up.”

Mycroft turned his head to sneeze a few more times, their force and rapidity dissipating. He sniffled and wiped his nose, then leaned against Greg, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder.

“All done?”

“I think… Heh’schoo, Eh’TSHoo!” He sneezed into his soaked handkerchief.

“Bless, love. Here.” Greg offered his own clean handkerchief.

“Thank you.” Mycroft pulled away and pocketed his useless handkerchief to take Greg’s clean one. “I must look a fright,” he muttered after drying his nose.

“You’d probably like your emergency kit.”

“Yes, I would.” Mycroft said ruefully. “Unfortunately this suit doesn’t have the correct cut for me to carry it, so…” Mycroft’s eyes widened as Greg held up the small case.

“I noticed you hadn’t picked up.” Greg grinned.

“I love you, Gregory Lestrade.” Mycroft returned Greg’s smile. 

[frolicking periwinkle]

Omg. Amazing. 

[castiel_angel]

Oh my god! This was fantastic! Such a good plot idea too

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

AHHHHHH I'M SO EXCITED!!! Seriously the first thing I thought of when I saw the James Corden was Fessor Myrcoft since we all know he and Greg got invited.  I mean the scenario is perrrrrrfect and I adore miserable!Mycroft

First I looooooove how fanstruck Greg is at seeing David Beckham and Mycroft is so nonchalant over it.

12 hours ago, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

“Help me keep track of the designer dresses? I promised Aiden a full report.” Greg spoke softly to Mycroft.

THIS THIS WONDERFUL LINE!   You KNOW the diva was up watching the live stream of the wedding (probably with Star) and the both of them just gushing over what everyone was wearing.  I squeaked so hard at this <3 <3

 

12 hours ago, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Greg wasn’t sure which spectacle was more fascinating. The royal wedding was gorgeous and nothing like he had ever seen. However, watching his partner fight off his allergic reaction was amazing. Fluttering eyelids and soft hitches would interrupt Mycroft’s stern expression. His eyes would roll up, he’d wriggle his nose, and then he’d give a tight sniffle. Greg was really impressed that Mycroft was able to hold back the sneezes that were certainly piling up.

Mmmmm Greg I feel you here. The descriptions of Mycroft's misery are on point. And that fit at the end....gah so lovely, so miserable. 

Thank you thank you thank you!!!!!

 

[AngelEyes]

Oh wow. Brilliant. Perfection. And I agree that the situation just begged to be written. And you did so beautifully!!!!

On 6/2/2018 at 8:45 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Mycroft smirked. “This is how I keep our relationship fresh. I plan to be very old before you learn all my secrets.”

“Prat.”

LOL

 

On 6/2/2018 at 8:45 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

“Right. How about I point out the dress and you tell me the designer?”

“I’m fairly certain that was your plan all along.”

“You got me there.” Greg flashed his partner a bright smile, leading Mycroft to immediately forgive him.

I love that Mycroft has this knowledge!

 

On 6/2/2018 at 8:45 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

“Christ it’s like one of those giant shrubberies the people crash through in the allergy medication commercials we saw in the States.

LOL. Love this image!

 

On 6/2/2018 at 8:45 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Greg wasn’t sure which spectacle was more fascinating. The royal wedding was gorgeous and nothing like he had ever seen. However, watching his partner fight off his allergic reaction was amazing. Fluttering eyelids and soft hitches would interrupt Mycroft’s stern expression. His eyes would roll up, he’d wriggle his nose, and then he’d give a tight sniffle. Greg was really impressed that Mycroft was able to hold back the sneezes that were certainly piling up.

Oh yes.

The amazing desperate fit. And Greg having his emergency kit. Just Perfection.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you! @frenchposie and @castiel_angel I’m glad you enjoyed it.  

@Kaze wo Hiku Aw, you flatter me.  Thank you for in trusting the prompt to me. I’m glad you liked my nod to your OC Aiden. Of course he watched! It was fun researching the guests and what they wore, as well as looking at pictures and floor plans of St George’s chapel. 

@AngelEyes Thank you! I’m thrilled to know you felt I did justice to the story. All I could think about when I saw all those flowers were those hedges in the commercials. ( @cally informed me they didn’t have those commercials in the UK.) 

I’m happy everyone liked the fit at the end. It had been a while since I’d written one. I was a bit nervous if I could still do it. I guess it’s like riding a bicycle.