Mystrade's Shorts by scw (BBC Sherlock)

[cally]

Oh dear me. I'll come back when I'm coherent.

[Spoo]

See, now this particular one will always be special to me (since it was the first one I was able to read). I already let you know beforehand how I felt, but I'll reiterate by saying how hilarious their competitiveness is. I see Mycroft and Greg as having these sort of little "games" all the time; it keeps their relationship entertaining at the very least.

And this is STILL my favorite line:

"That's eight. Don't stifle. That's cheating. You know it just makes you sneeze more." Greg ticked off the count on the pad.

Mycroft knows damn well what he's doing. And Greg's not having it! Ahhhh. They're so cute~

[AngelEyes]

This. Yes. Everything. My favorite.

@AngelEyes-- I'm thrilled to have hit on so many of your favorite things. I hope you find some more in this one

"Well, somone has to keep track. I think you will be too busy." Mycroft made a noncommittal noise in response and stifled three rapid sneezes. "That's eight. Don't stifle. That's cheating. You know it just makes you sneeze more."

The only reason your allergies are as bad as they are is to show up your brother."

Mycroft sat up. "Oh for pity's sake," he muttered. He tossed the used tissues forcefully in the bin.

"Thirty-eight! I win!" crowed Greg.

Mycroft glared at Greg. "I am not done. They ah-are stuck. It's driving me ma-ah-mad."

So much Awesome.

"You think we can play again tomorrow?" He asked sleepily.

Greg kissed the top of Mycroft's head. "Yes, but I'm going to work on the rules."

LOL!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you cally, Spoo and AngelEyes for your comments. So pleased I hit so many buttons. And thanks to everyone who reads, whether or not they comment. I really enjoy seeing that view number go up and I'm not the one doing it!

I like to imagine what things are like in the beginning. There are a lot of of stories about how these two met or became a couple. I love them all. Here's another one. Please enjoy! Oh, should mention spoilers for season 2, episode 2, but really anyone reading this has surely seen all the episodes at least once.

Still own nothing.

In The Beginning

"I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet." --Kiss Me, Ed Sheeran

"Ah, Detective Inspector Lestrade, come in." Mycroft Holmes welcomed his guest. He stood as the handsome DI entered and came around his desk to greet the man.

Greg smiled disarmingly as he crossed to Mycroft's desk. He put out his hand and felt a frisson of pleasure as Mycroft took it. "I thought we had decided to leave off the titles, Mycroft." Since he first met Mycroft Holmes Greg had felt attracted to the man. Now that Greg was divorced he promised himself he would try to see where that attraction would lead.

"Of course, Gregory," Mycroft's answering smile reached all the way to his eyes. "Thank you, Anthea." Mycroft said to his PA as she shut the office door. "Please have a seat." Mycroft gestured toward the chair across from his desk. "I believe you have something for me?"

"Yeah." Greg pulled a file folder from the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. He laid it on Mycroft's desk and made himself comfortable.

"How was the trip to Baskerville?" Mycroft inquired politely.

Greg pulled a face. "It's all in there. Really no easy way to describe it. You know Sherlock was investigating reports of a giant 'hound' and there was a dog. Just not a mutant. Instead there was a murderous, rogue scientist from Baskerville poisoning people with a nasty, fear inducing gas. So, ta for that."

Mycroft looked up sharply and Greg noticed his eyes appeared irritated and red. "Are you quite recovered?" Mycroft asked.

Greg shrugged. "For the most part. Doubt I'll want a dog anytime soon."

"Indeed," Mycroft said darkly.

Greg shivered and he knew heads would roll. Mycroft was referred to as "The Iceman" in some circles and Greg was happy not to be on the receiving end of Mycroft's displeasure. Without reservation he met Mycroft's brilliant blue eyes with his own open and honest brown ones. Mycroft studied Greg closely. He was used to such scrutiny from Sherlock and, generally, it made him feel uncomfortable. However, such attention from Mycroft was, well, exciting. Greg allowed himself to bask under Mycroft's intense gaze.

Mycroft returned to the report Greg had given him quickly reading through it. "I deleted the document from my laptop." Greg offered.

"I know," murmured Mycroft absently rubbing at his nose. "We scrubbed your hard drive remotely." Mycroft looked up. "Oh, I don't suppose I should have told you that." Mycroft looked apologetic. "A bit not good, I believe Dr. Watson would say."

Greg huffed, mildly annoyed. "Yeah, I didn't really want to know you could access my laptop remotely. But if that's the case, then why did I need to bring you this report? You could've read it anytime, from my computer."

Mycroft looked back down at the report. "I prefer to read on paper" Mycroft replied.

Greg smiled inwardly. He had hoped this visit wasn't going to be all business and in fact it now seemed to be a complete contrivance. Mycroft didn't need a physical report from Greg.

While Mycroft busied himself with reading, Greg allowed himself to admire the man in front of him. Not classically handsome, but the air of power and intelligence Mycroft exuded was sexy. His nose was a little large, lips a bit thin. His hair looked soft and was a lovely deep auburn, but it was clearly receding. Oh, but, his eyes were startling. Greg had heard once you should fall in love with a person's eyes for they never changed.

"So, there's a problem with your printer?" Greg inquired casually after a few moments.

"Mmm? The printer? No," Mycroft looked up and met Greg's eyes. Greg's heart skipped a beat. He raised his eyebrows and Mycroft quickly clarified. "No, the printer is fine. I wanted you here in case there was anything unclear in your report." Mycroft looked away, and Greg felt the loss. "In case I had any questions." Greg smiled broadly. Mycroft was babbling a little. It was intriguing to see Mycroft Holmes off balance.

"So, do you have any questions?" Greg smirked.

Mycroft sniffed damply. He pulled a handkerchief from his desk drawer and briefly swiped at his nose. Greg noticed but dismissed it as nerves. "I...hih..." Mycroft turned aside pressing the handkerchief to his nose. "Hih'tish, ish, ish, hih'ish."

"Bless you?" Greg wasn't sure, but if those were sneezes they had to be the most adorable sneezes he ever heard from a man. Muffled by the handkerchief they sounded soft, almost kittenish and clearly Mycroft was holding them back. His back and shoulders tensed and shook with each sneeze. Mycroft lowered the handkerchief before turning back to Greg. He looked a bit dazed as if suppressing the force of his sneezes took effort. His eyes were moist making them look even bluer. Mycroft sniffled lightly.

"Apologies. No, I have no questions." He looked like he might say more, but his breath hitched and his eyes glazed over before closing. Mycroft turned away again, burying his face in the cloth. "Hih'tish, tish, tish, Hih'Tishoo!"

Greg bit his lip to keeping from grinning. That last one had gotten away a bit from Mycroft. "Bless you, again." Mycroft tended to his nose before turning back to Greg. "Are you okay?"

"Again, I apologize. It is an unfortunate response to the season." Mycroft was clearly embarrassed as evidenced by the stiffness in his voice and faint flush on his cheeks. He wouldn't quite look at Greg.

Greg tried to lighten the mood. "Is that Holmesian for 'I have allergies'?"

Mycroft shrugged his shoulders slightly. His eyes still avoiding Greg's, he twisted to the side as another volley of sneezes tumbled out. "Hih'tish, ish, ish, tish, hih'tish." Mycroft gave in and delicately blew his nose.

"Bless you!" Greg tried to reassure Mycroft. "My wi--I mean, ex-wife has allergies. Sneezes non stop from April to June."

Mycroft finally looked at Greg. The blush on Mycroft's cheeks was starting to fade. Greg smiled encouragingly at him and took a chance. "Well, if you don't have any questions for me, I have some questions for you."

Mycroft looked a little surprised. "What questions do you have?"

"Are you allergic to any foods?"

"No," replied Mycroft frowning slightly.

"Good. I'd hate to invite you to dinner and then take you some place you can't eat." Greg plunged ahead. "So, would you have dinner with me sometime?"

FIN

[AngelEyes]

"A bit not good, I believe Dr. Watson would say."

For some reason this is one of my favorite John lines in the show, love you used it!

Mycroft looked a little surprised. "What questions do you have?"

"Are you allergic to any foods?"

"No," replied Mycroft frowning slightly.

"Good. I'd hate to invite you to dinner and then take you some place you can't eat." Greg plunged ahead. "So, would you have dinner with me sometime?"

Oh Greg. So Crafty!

[bangbang]

Mycroft 'I Prefer to Read On Paper' Holmes, we can all see what you're doing there.

Greg is smooth, man. I hope that one day I'll have one ounce of his cheeky self-confidence and flirtatiousness.

[Juto]

Awwwww this was sooo great!! The way you write Mycroft so aristocratic and adorable at the same time... Uhh... Gets to me every time!! And Greg is just so dang lovable!!! Jeez!! I'm captivated!! Your writing is beautiful!!!!

I wouldn't mind reading a scribble from their first date... *whistles innocently and walks away*

[Spoo]

I echo bangbang on Greg's smoothness. Like WOW. Is he charming or what?? And omg, I really love how interested Greg already is in Mycroft (we all know that Mycroft is interested in Greg, too ). Their voices are spot-on, as is the dialogue itself. This was a fabulous update!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you for all the comments! I hardly believe you are still reading and it makes me very happy that you are. And a shout out to all who are still reading but are shy about commenting. No worries, I lurked forever.

@AngelEyes--Yes, Greg is crafty and smart. No other way to be if you associate with a Holmes, is there?

@Spoo and bangbang--Yes, Greg is smooth. Takes a huge amount of self confidence to hang out with the Holmes brothers, don't you think? Greg told Sherlock flat out in season 1, episode 1 he wasn't stupid. Lord knows he's beautiful to look at too. John's got confidence as well. Remember what he said to Sherlock in the first episode when Sherlock asked if he was any good as a doctor? He certainly had confidence in his own marksmanship.

@Juto07ab--Hmmm...first date. Give me a little time and I'll have something for you.

I hope you enjoy this next one. I feel a little iffy about it, so comments are totally appreciated. No spoilers and I still own nothing.

Sundays

Mycroft sat at his desk in his study reading his email. One hand on the computer mouse the other holding a handkerchief cupped loosely over his nose and mouth. He paused in his scrolling, eyes scrunched shut and sneezed. "Hih'tish, tish, Hih'Tishoo, Hih'Tishoo, Hih'TCHOO!"

"Bless you," called Greg from the hallway, as he passed carrying the week's laundry.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, but did not reply. He wiped his nose and refolded the handkerchief, returning it to its position. Mycroft refocused his attention on his email only to be interrupted again by a quartet of sneezes. "Hih'Tishoo, Tish, Tish, TISHOO!"

"Bless you again," sang out Greg from the bedroom where he was putting away the laundry.

Mycroft sighed, tended to his nose and folded his handkerchief again. He typed a quick reply to one of the emails and resumed his position. It had been like this all morning. He had gone to bed the night before feeling reasonably in control of his allergies, but something bloomed overnight. When he awoke Mycroft found himself itchy, watery, sniffly and sneezy.

Originally, he and Gregory had planned to have brunch out and do a little shopping. When his morning fit took a full thirty minutes to abate, Gregory cheerfully christened it 'Sneezy Sunday'. He reorganized the day to stay home and made his famous crepes for brunch. Mycroft was grateful they stayed in. He had to leave the table five separate times due to sneezing fits. Gregory blessed him every time.

Mycroft decided to hole up in his study after brunch. He felt so miserable he could not imagine being around anyone. He briefly contemplated going to his club, but he didn't want to risk going outside. Mycroft supposed he was marginally more comfortable having Gregory see him like this rather than anyone else, barring Anthea.

Mycroft lowered his handkerchief to reply to another email. He was partially through the missive when he was overwhelmed by by more sneezes. He tried to stifle them and tucked his nose against his shoulder keeping his hands on the keyboard. "Hnnchhx, hnnchhx, hhnnchx, hih'nnchx, hih'nnchx." He gave up. Snatching up his handkerchief, Mycroft allowed himself to sneeze wetly and loudly. "Hehhh'Etch, Hehh'Etch, Hehhh'ESCHoo, Heht'EFTSHOO!" Mycroft dabbed at his nose and found a dry corner of his handkerchief to blot his watering eyes.

"Oh, love, bless you!" Greg had come into the office during the fit. He laid a stack of freshly laundered handkerchiefs on Mycroft's desk. They were still warm from the iron.

Mycroft sniffed. "Thank you, Gregory." He lightly touched the stack of handkerchiefs. Mycroft felt his cheeks pink up and wondered why he felt embarrassed. He knew Gregory did not mind his allergies. It was not that Gregory said he didn't mind. It was his actions as well. The stack of clean handkerchiefs was just one example. Mycroft knew that not only were they clean, but they had been washed in the sensitive, scent free detergent Gregory insisted on buying. The cloths were dried without fabric softener and then ironed.

Greg tilted his head and studied Mycroft. "A penny for your thoughts?"

Mycroft gave himself a shake and faked a smile. "I am fine."

Greg raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips. "C'mon. You look grumpy. Time to leave the office. We were planning to have a fun day together."

Mycroft sighed. He supposed Gregory was right; he was irritable. "Let me finish this email and I will join you."

"Nope. I'm waiting for you right here. I don't trust you not to get distracted by some juicy bit of intel in the Syrian president." Greg folded his arms and leaned against Mycroft's desk.

Mycroft smirked a little and began typing quickly. He could feel the need to sneeze starting to build up in his sinuses. He concentrated in finishing the email and shutting down the computer. Greg was assiduously avoiding looking at Mycroft or his computer as he waited. He missed seeing Mycroft's nostrils begin to flare and twitch.

"Hehh'Etch, Heh'Etchhoo! Etch! Etch! Hehh'ETCHOO!"

Greg jumped. "Christ, Mycroft! God bless you! Oh, Jesus, you scared me!" Greg began to laugh.

Mycroft scowled at Greg over the handkerchief. He really did not find it amusing, but was mollified by Greg leaning over and kissing his forehead.

Greg smiled fondly at Mycroft's put out countenance. "Okay, My, how many of the dwarves are you trying to be today?" Greg teased.

"Well, not Happy. I only do Happy at Christmas." Mycroft sniffed damply.

"I can't imagine you will ever be Dopey," rejoined Greg keeping the joke going. He could see their silly conversation was lightening Mycroft's mood.

"Certainly not, that role is best played by Sherlock." Mycroft stood and switched off his screen. He selected a fresh handkerchief from the stack and pocketed it.

Greg shouted with laughter and Mycroft smiled at his partner's amusement. They left the study smiling and hand in hand.

FIN

So, what do you think they went to do? I have no idea. Any thoughts?

[Juto]

D'awwwwww. Greg is just the sweetest!!! I had the biggest smile on my face during this Drabble! The interaction is just so tender and loving! Poor sneezing Mycroft and adorable, supportive Gregory. *sighs*!

Gosh I don't... I only know what the BBC's updated version has told me... They could spread out on the grass somewhere, Mycroft relaxing his head on Greg's abs as the DI read murder mysteries aloud, making Mycroft geuss every one of them.

Or Mycroft could take Greg along with him on his yacht... If he has one?! Silly stuff, I know!

Btw! Thank you so much for asking me to read "Berlin". MY GOD!! I'm definitely sucking on to Bangbang, Spoo and Cally... And you, like a leech!! Mystrade is my new oxygen!!

[Spoo]

I'm definitely sucking on to Bangbang, Spoo and Cally...

I feel ANCIENT compared to these newer Mystrade contemporaries (especially since I don't really write for this pairing anymore).

Another cute, domestic drabble, scw! I love seeing these two in homey routines - like doing/folding laundry, and Mycroft answering emails and such. I laughed aloud during the Seven Dwarves reference (omg, the Dopey/Sherlock part was so funny ). It's wonderful that even though he's suffering and miserable 90% of the time, Mycroft still has Greg to keep his spirits up (even if Greg loves to tease him, haha).

Edited July 26, 2015 by Spoo

[bangbang]

What on earth couuuuuld they be doing? (I know what I would want to be doing with Mycroft after that display.)

Much as I like a concerned Greg at the start of their relationship/allergy season/cold season, I think it's more realistic for him in 'normal' (ie, not worrying) situations to make a joke out of it. So I love Sneezy Sunday. Greg's voice is very Greg here in general.

(Although I'm going to assume that Mycroft must have taught him how to iron because I cannot see canonical Greg knowing how to.)

And I love Mycroft unable to control himself and just letting these huge, boisterous sneezes out in those looooong fits. He's so crazy allergic and bothered. Stifling sneezes into a shoulder while occupied with another task (and failing miserably to contain them) is my favourite.

(Edit - and thank you, scw, for recommending Berlin - Juta07ab, I'm so glad you liked it! Like Spoo, I haven't written Mystrade in aaaages either - but we have a worthy successor in this thread!)

Edited July 26, 2015 by bangbang

[AngelEyes]

Adorable! I love how Greg blesses Mycroft overtime he walks by as he's going about his chores and such. Cute. And Mycroft just like, you really don't have to do that Every time I sneeze. LOL

Originally, he and Gregory had planned to have brunch out and do a little shopping. When his morning fit took a full thirty minutes to abate, Gregory cheerfully christened it 'Sneezy Sunday'. He reorganized the day to stay home and made his famous crepes for brunch. Mycroft was grateful they stayed in. He had to leave the table five separate times due to sneezing fits. Gregory blessed him every time.

Um, yeah. 30 minutes? Mmmmm. And having to leave the table due to such fits? Yeah. I'll just be over here........

"Nope. I'm waiting for you right here. I don't trust you not to get distracted by some juicy bit of intel in the Syrian president." Greg folded his arms and leaned against Mycroft's desk.

Greg definitely knows his man!

The dwarves, LOL! And Mycroft is at least not so miserable as to miss a getting a dig in at Sherlock! Dopey indeed. Ha.

Like Spoo, I haven't written Mystrade in aaaages either - but we have a worthy successor in this thread!

Miss you both!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you, AngelEyes, Spoo, bangbang and Juto07ab! Your comments keep me going. I am so happy people liked the dwarves joke, because I was really nervous about posting it. I am glad people like domestic Mystrade. I believe we have more license to play with them when they are at home.

I will say I hold out hope that one day Spoo, bangbang and cally will resume writing Mystrade. I think it won't happen until after more episodes are aired.*prayerful hands* In the mean time, I will keep posting what I write if people keep reading. I am extremely flattered by bangbang's comment that I am a worthy successor. All I learned was from these three. *grinning ear to ear with pink cheeks*

Thanks to everyone who reads and doesn't comment. It's nice to know you are out there.

This one features an irritated Greg and allergic Mycroft, but everything is okay in the end. I own nothing and that's good because I don't want the responsibility.

Clair de la Lune

Greg could hear music playing as he let himself into to their flat. The lights were on in the drawing room and he presumed Mycroft was there. "I'm home," he called out, unnecessarily he thought. Greg hung up his coat and dropped his keys in the dish in the hall. He slipped off his shoes and carried them down the hall. He left them at the base of the stairs.

Greg found Mycroft, as expected, in the drawing room listening to jazz and reading a book. His hair was damp and curling from his shower and he was dressed for bed. Mycroft laid aside his book as Greg walked in. "Welcome home. How was the wedding?" Mycroft greeted his partner.

"Lovely, of course." Greg loosened his tie as he seated himself next to Mycroft on the sofa. "The ceremony was beautiful and went off without a hitch."

"And the reception? Sherlock called. He seemed...less than confident." Mycroft gestured to a bottle of scotch sitting the coffee table, along with still water and two glasses, one of which already contained some liquor.

Greg nodded and Mycroft poured him a drink and added a touch of water. "Well...the speech turned out surprisingly good. There was a break in the festivities as Sherlock, John and Mary had to stop the murder of one of the guests." Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "Thank God I was able to turn that over to the local constabulary or I'd've never made it home." Greg took a large swallow of scotch. "Still it was a good party. Sherlock left after he played the waltz he had written." Mycroft hummed. Greg leaned against his partner resting his head on Mycroft's shoulder. "Wished you were there."

"It is better that I was not," responded Mycroft gently. He wrapped his arm around Greg and kissed the top of Greg's head. "John is not very fond of me and Mary..." Mycroft's voice trailed off. His nose felt vaguely itchy and he thought he might sneeze. He rubbed at it briefly.

"Well, I missed you. I kept getting asked to dance." Greg realized he was pouting just a little. He settled himself more snuggly against Mycroft and took another sip of his drink.

Mycroft didn't answer. He definitely needed to sneeze. His nose was tickling fiercely as he reached in his dressing gown pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He smothered three rapid sneezes into the cloth. "Hih'tish, tish, tish..."

Greg felt Mycroft's chest expand and contract with each expulsion. "Oi..." He sat up quickly barely avoiding spilling his drink. "Bless you, love."

"Hih'Tishoo, Tish, Tish, Hih'Tishoo! TISHOO!"

"Bless you again!" Greg sat his glass on the table.

Mycroft replayed what Greg had just been telling him. He shifted away from Greg a bit. "Tell me, Gregory, did you dance with the bride?' Mycroft could feel the tickling in his nose was unaffected by his sternutation. There would be more to come.

"Yeh, I danced with the bride," Greg groused. "Twice! She told me to cheer up. It was her wedding and no sulking was allowed." Greg looked at Mycroft and wasn't sure he'd been heard. Mycroft appeared to be gearing up for another fit. His eyes were closed and his breath was coming in short pants.

"Hihhh'TISH! Hihhh'TISH! ISH, ISH, ISH, Hih, hih'TISHOO!"

"God bless you, My! What's gotten into you?"

Mycroft wiped his nose carefully. "I believe Mary's favorite perfume. It is all over your clothes from the dance."

"So, you're saying I need to get these clothes off right away," Greg said slowly.

"That would help remedy the situation." Mycroft sniffed.

Greg pretended to consider the suggestion. He leaned in toward Mycroft and ghosted his lips across his lover's mouth. "Are you going to join me? I'm sure I left some of that perfume on your PJs." Greg's lips never left Mycroft's as he spoke.

Mycroft was mesmerized by the touch of Greg's mouth and the implied threat. "I..." The rest of his words were lost in the kiss Greg laid on him. It was urgent and tantalizing, tasting of good scotch and vanilla cake. Mycroft was distracted from the burning prickle in his sinuses until it was too late. He pulled away, abruptly sneezing onto Greg's shoulder. "Hihh'TISHOO! TISHOO!" Mycroft turned away and finished the fit in his handkerchief. "Hih'ISH! ISH! Hih, hih'TISHOO! Mycroft was blushing as he tended to his nose.

"Oh, bless you, love!" Greg's tone was one of mock surprise.

Mycroft glared at Greg. "You are a terrible, wicked man."

"Yeh. You love it and well you deserve it to leave me dateless at a wedding," Greg countered. He stood and held his hand out to Mycroft. "C'mon. We'll ditch these clothes and I'll let you make it up to me."

Mycroft took Greg's hand and allowed himself to be led up to the bedroom. Sniffling as he went, Mycroft contemplated how best to appease his irritated lover without further irritating his nose.

FIN

I'm not going to ask what they did next. But I will ask what kind of jazz do you think Mycroft likes? I'm thinking instrumental, complex stuff like Thelonius Monk or Charlie Parker. Thoughts?

[bangbang]

I know less than nothing about jazz, but I DO know that this is another lovely, domestic little drabble. Love Mycroft's concern from baby brother and Greg's grumpiness at being left dateless for the evening. And I like the picture you've painted of Mycroft in his solitude as Greg arrives, and Greg purposefully tormenting Mycroft with his proximity - it's just a really nice piece all round!

(And thank you for the continued compliments. You're really too sweet.)

Edited August 1, 2015 by bangbang

[Spoo]

I really love how this is a continuation from "The Sign of Three". I also love how cheeky Greg is. I agree with bangbang that it's nice to read about Mycroft doing his thing (you know, being ALONE) until his hubby comes home. Well done!

[Juto]

I really love how this is a continuation from "The Sign of Three".

Totally agree with Spoo! Points for weaving that in!!

In general, just a delicisiously cute snapshot of domestic Mystrade. I love how you portrait their relationship as being so tender and teasing at the same time! Again, you have me completely hooked on these two and I can so easily picture Gatiss and Graves in these characters.

I know I still have a lot of reading to do (Thanks Spoo, Cally and Bangbang for opening my eyes to Mystrade) but from what I've read so far, you've definitely earned your seat amongst the big players. Just sayin'! I enjoy every single one of your updates.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

WWMD

Eventually the sound of the alarm clock penetrated Greg’s brain. He reached blindly for the snooze button. His mouth felt dry and his head ached. His eyes were sticky and his chest rattled as he breathed. Well, crap, he thought.

Sally had badgered him into going home early yesterday. Greg figured a good night’s sleep would be all he needed to beat off the latest plague moving through the Yard. Now, if anything, he felt worse. Of course, it hadn’t really been a good night’s sleep. He reached out toward Mycroft’s side of the bed and felt the emptiness there creep up his arm and into his heart. Not home yet.

The congestion in his chest and head began competing for his attention. He sat up gasping a little. Harsh, barking coughs erupted leaving him breathless. He reached over to Mycroft’s bedside table for the ever present box of tissues. Plucking a handful he attempted to blow his nose. With no reward for his efforts other than a dry honk, he sat back feeling fuzzy headed.

“HuhhRrrushoo!” The first sneeze caught Greg off guard. He scrabbled for more tissues. “HuhRRDshoo! Heh’dzschoo!” The nose blow that followed was more satisfying. Sniffling he listened to the quiet of the flat. My would have blessed me by now, Greg thought. Hell, My would have handed me tissues and blessed me before I sneezed.

The alarm clock buzzed again interrupting Greg’s reverie. As he turned off the alarm Greg could hear Mycroft’s voice. Gregory, consider taking the day off and go back to bed.

“Fine, fine. Don’t say I never listen to you,” muttered Greg to himself. He picked up his mobile and texted Sally.

*Still feel crap. Going to have a lie in. -GL*

*Good. No one wants you here. -SD*

*Call me if anything comes up. -GL*

*Call me if you need anything. -SD*

Greg looked at the last text and thought, I need My. He sighed. “I can take care of myself.” He dragged himself out of bed and headed to the en suite. He was tempted to just use the loo and go back to bed, but again he could hear Mycroft’s smooth, cultured tones in his head. A hot shower and a cup of tea would help your congestion and sore throat. Knowing that’s what Mycroft would want gave Greg enough impetus to turn on the shower as hot as he could stand.

Greg was actually a bit grateful Mycroft wasn’t home once he got in the shower. The steam certainly loosened things up. The amount of phlegm he expelled was frankly embarrassing. “HehRrushoo!, HehRrrdsch! Heh, heh, huh’dzschoo!” The sneezes kept coming in twos and threes. Greg found it exhausting. He rarely sneezed more then once, but this cold it was a different matter.

He shut off the water and left the shower to towel off. He nudged last night’s T shirt and track bottoms in the general direction of the hamper. Tsk tsk. Greg ignored the voice. Shivering he got a clean T shirt and track bottoms. Searching his sock drawer he found his favorite woolly pair. As he reached for his bathrobe, he saw Mycroft’s dressing gown. On a whim he grabbed it instead. The sleeves were too long, the hem nearly reached the floor and the shoulders felt a tad snug. Greg found the robe comforting. He brought the fabric to his face and sniffed, but couldn’t detect any of Mycroft’s scent. Too stuffy, he thought.

Greg wandered into the kitchen. Thinking of Mycroft, he wondered why he wanted My home now so much. Greg wasn’t one to enjoy being fussed over if he was ill. Generally when he was sick he put his head down and kept going. He’d been known to snarl at anyone who hovered or offered sympathy. It had taken a few rounds of illness as partners, but Mycroft learned not to hover or fuss…too much.

When Greg was under the weather Mycroft did what needed to be done and often before Greg realized it. Tea with the right amount of honey would appear. Tissues handed over at the right moment. Mycroft always had the right medicine on hand. When all else failed, his fingers knew just how to rub Greg’s scalp to help him sleep. About the only thing Greg didn’t like was when Mycroft blessed him before he sneezed. That was creepy.

Greg switched on the kettle and rummaged in the cupboard for tea and honey. He thought about making toast. You should eat something.

“Yeah, I always try to get you to eat when you’re ill,” Greg replied to the air. He found some bread and put in the toaster, then leaned back against the counter to wait for the kettle to boil. Sniffling, Greg just stopped himself from wiping his nose on the sleeve of Mycroft’s dressing gown, instead he used a bit of kitchen roll on his nose.

Tsk, tsk. Perhaps an antihistamine, my dear. He opened the cupboard above the sink where Mycroft kept all the cold and allergy medications. Greg figured he would find something to help the congestion and sneezing. The number of pill bottles and boxes was mind boggling and Greg gawped at the selection.

“Jesus My, if I didn’t know you, I’d think you were going to start a meth lab.” He pulled out the prescription bottles and set them aside. “Okay, I know there is something in here for snee…Hehhh’DZSCHOO! Huh’RRUSHOO! Ugh!” Greg sniffed and grabbed more kitchen roll. His nose was feeling sore now.

He found the box containing the multi symptom cold medication, just as the kettle switched off. He slipped the box into one of the pockets of the dressing gown and as he did he felt something. Out came a clean handkerchief and as if on cue…”HuhhRrrushshoo! Huhhdrrsh! Heh’DZSCHOO!”

Greg snuffled into the handkerchief and caught the faint scent of cedar and citrus. Bless you, Gregory. Wiping his nose, Greg put away the handkerchief. He finished making his tea and toast and headed back to bed with a loaded tea tray. Gregory, one does not eat in bed.

Greg mentally shrugged. “Come home and tell me yourself, love.”

FIN

[Spoo]

I can't stand how perfect this drabble was. Oh my Godddd. Sick!Greg always does things to me, but I really loved the inclusion of Mycroft's voice in his head (and how he answered at times! ) The texting exchange with Sally was great ('No one wants you here', LOLOL) and so were Greg's sneezes; I liked how they came in twos and threes, because when he's sick his nose makes up for lost time.

[Juto]

I'm having a hard fime coherently explaining the absolute beautiful cuteness of this Drabble. Sick Greg is always a treat, and just hearing him knowing exactly what his lover would say.... Ahh... Warms my heart! You write with such vivid description and I love the constant undertone of cute humour, making me giggle a little at the mention of meth labs!! And that ending... Perfect!! So sweet, so funny and so adorably cute!!

That was all!!!

Edited August 10, 2015 by Juto07ab

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I apologize, but there was much weirdness when I posted this. Hence, I didn't get to send my thanks (again) to all the people who read and comment. I really can't tell y'all enough how much I appreciate it. It makes writing these that much more fun when you can share.

I'm happy my attempt at a story that integrated with the show seemed to work. You always worry that you missed a detail that makes your story fall apart. Thank you, Spoo, bangbang and Juto07ab.

The one just posted, WWMD, has a companion that I will post next week. I actually wrote this second but it came first in the timeline.

@Spoo--I figured no one would miss sick!Greg at work. Too much of a grumpy bear. Glad you thought I got Sally's text right. And more sick!Greg coming up! (BTW, dressing gown swap, 'cause I know you love it.)

@Juto07ab--In my head Mycroft hoards his meds b/c he never knows when he'll need them. He thinks he is smart enough to know what he needs. I bet Greg has to watch him very carefully to make sure he finishes his antibiotics. I didn't want this piece to come off as maudlin, so I'm thrilled the humor came through.

Thanks again for reading!

[AngelEyes]

Yay! I'm home! These are great. I love WWMD. Mycroft's voice in his head and Greg following his instructions, and talking back, too funny!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you again to all who read and comment. It keeps me posting. I am happy to hear when you enjoy my stories and again I'm not adverse to constructive criticism.

Welcome back AngelEyes! Yeah, you still like my stories!

I hope everyone enjoys the companion to WWMD. From the title you probably deduced Mycroft comes home to sick!Greg. I wrote this one first actually. Then I decided I needed to know how things were for Greg while Mycroft was gone, hence WWMD.

I own nothing.

Homecoming

Mycroft Holmes entered the flat and frowned. Things were not as he expected. It was mid morning and he had just returned from an extended “business” trip. Greg’s car was out front. That, in and of itself, was not unusual. Greg often took public transportation to work for a variety of reasons. However, in the foyer, was evidence that he was still home; his keys were still in the dish by the door. Mycroft put down his suitcase and briefcase. He opened the closet door to find Greg’s coat hanging inside. Mycroft shrugged off his topcoat and hung it up. He picked up his bags and made his way down the hall. The flat was very quiet and still. Mycroft paused by the kitchen door and glanced in. It was empty. The counter was strewn with mugs and the debris of tea making, but no takeaway containers or other signs of any significant food consumption. Mycroft’s frown deepened. He silently made his way upstairs. Stopping by his study to leave his briefcase, Mycroft approached the bedroom. The door was ajar; he pushed it open a bit further and slipped inside the room.

By this time he was prepared for the sight of Greg curled up under the duvet sound asleep. His breathing was congested and his cheeks flushed. Mycroft put down his suitcase by his closet and moved toward the bed. He laid a gentle hand on Greg’s forehead, relieved when Greg did not feel overly warm. Greg stirred a bit in his sleep but did not waken.

Mycroft look about the room taking in the untidy state of affairs. The bedside table was littered with foil packs of cold medicine, explaining Greg’s deep sleep. Used tissues spilled of the edge of the nearby bin and the tissue box appeared empty. Mugs of half drunk tea were present and T-shirts and track bottoms were scattered across the floor.

Sighing to himself, Mycroft set about straightening the room up. Trash was bagged up and clothes placed in the hamper. Mugs were returned to the kitchen and a glass of water was left on the bedside table (on a coaster, of course). A fresh box of tissues was opened. Mycroft moved quietly and Greg slept through it all.

Once that was done, Mycroft began to work on the kitchen. There weren’t many dishes but every mug in the house had been pressed into service. Mycroft washed two out by hand and loaded the rest into the dishwasher. He turned on the kettle and began to search the pantry for something to make for lunch.

Greg liked to say the only thing Mycroft could make for dinner was reservations, but that was not strictly true. He had a few dishes he could make and he made them very well. There were practically no fresh ingredients in the kitchen; a testament to how ill Greg must be feeling. Still, Mycroft was able to find what he needed to make a tortellini soup.

He had just finished assembling the soup when he heard Greg start to cough. It was a heavy, hacking sound. Mycroft knew it sounded worse than it really was due to Greg’s history of smoking, but it made Mycroft’s chest hurt just listening to it. Mycroft turned his attention to making tea.

“HuhhRRruSHOO! … HuhhRRruSHOO!” The harsh sneezes echoed through the flat. Mycroft startled and smiled at himself. Greg’s sneezes still managed to catch him off guard. Mycroft added honey to Greg’s mug and went to the kitchen doorway. Greg came down the stairs wearing a large, worn T-shirt and baggy track bottoms. For good measure he had put Mycroft’s robe on over top and woolly socks were on his feet. Mycroft leaned against the door jam and smiled at Greg. Pleasure lit up Greg’s face as he approached Mycroft.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Greg exclaimed. His voice was rough from the coughing.

“I am sorry I did not arrive home sooner.” Mycroft pulled Greg into an embrace. Greg returned the hug, but tilted his face away when Mycroft leaned in to kiss him. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

“I really don’t want to give you this,” explained Greg. Mycroft hummed and kissed Greg’s temple. He let Greg go and ushered him into the kitchen. Greg sat at the table.

“I rather doubt you will.” Mycroft brought Greg his mug of tea and returned to the stove to check on the soup. “Judging from the state of the kitchen and bedroom you have been home sick for three days. Knowing your reluctance to take time off work you probably felt ill for three days before deciding to stay home.” Mycroft turned to look at his partner and saw Greg was about to sneeze. His eyes were shut and lips parted. Greg had raised his arm to catch the sneeze in the crook of his elbow. Mycroft mused he had seen that expectant look before on Greg’s face but under much more pleasurable circumstances.

“Heh…heh…Oh, bloody hell. It’s gone.” Greg lowered his arm. “I’ve never sneezed so much in my life, My. I can’t imagine what this cold would do to you.”

Mycroft shrugged. The constant stress of his work made him prone to illness and he did his best to avoid it. However, catching cold was something that happened and he didn’t see the point of worrying about it. There were so many other more important concerns in his life. A major one was sitting in front of him looking like he might actually sneeze this time. Mycroft pulled a clean handkerchief from his trouser pocket and handed it to Greg.

Taking the cloth, Greg pressed it to his face in time to catch what turned out to be not one, but three violent sneezes. “HuhhRRUSHOO! …Huh’SHOO! …Heh …Heh …HuhdRRSH!”

“God bless you!”

“Thanks, My.” Greg blew his nose with a great honk. “It’s been like that all week. Though, to be honest, I’m feeling a bit better today. Maybe, it’s because you’re home.” Greg smiled at Mycroft.

Mycroft smiled back. “I would love to think so, but it is more likely because most colds last but a week or so. You should be starting to feel better by now.”

“Nah, it’s you.” Greg took a drink of from his mug. “It’s because you know exactly how much honey I like in my tea.”

Pleasure washed through Mycroft. No one ever said his presence made them feel better. Generally when Mycroft Holmes appeared something had gone terribly wrong or was about to go terribly wrong. He was rarely a reassuring figure in anyone’s life. Mycroft ducked the compliment. “I have made soup, if you think you are up to eating.”

“I’m starving. I don’t think I’ve eaten in days. Right now I could eat a horse,” replied Greg.

Mycroft fixed Greg with a hard look. “I know you have not eaten in days. We will see how the soup sits on your stomach before attempting anything more substantial.”

Greg just nodded in acquiescence. He looked as if he would sneeze again. His eyes fluttered shut and his nostrils flared. “Heh…heh…HuhhRRUSHOO! … HehDZSCHOO!”

“Bless you, Gregory,” Mycroft said softly. He could see Greg was going to need another handkerchief soon.

Greg wiped his nose. “I’m sorry you had to come home to this. I know you don’t want to be here making me tea and watching me sneeze.”

Mycroft shook his head in disbelief. He crossed over to where Greg was sitting, staring into his mug. Reaching out Mycroft gently lifted Greg’s chin so he was looking at Mycroft directly.

“Do not ever think there is anyplace I would rather be than with you.”

Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s waist and hugged him close. “I missed you,” he whispered.

Mycroft dropped his arms around Greg’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “I missed you too.”

FIN

[Spoo]

Voice comment!

[Sophie<3]

Voice comment!

Spoo, I just gotta say that your voice comment was really entertaining! And on top of that, I agree so much with the stuff you said!

Even though I'm not much of a Mystrade shipper, I really enjoyed this cute little drabble!

So thanks to you both, scw and Spoo!