Mystrade's Shorts by scw (BBC Sherlock)

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Happy Holidays to all my readers!

So, before anyone thinks I’m a writing machine, I actually wrote this in June. I saved it for this time of year for reasons you’ll see. There is a nod to bangbang and her head cannon that Mycroft was sick often as a child as well. I hope you it enjoy it.

I own nothing. Comments are love. If you don't know what to say, leave an emoticon. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Warning: mentions of nausea and vomiting

Vertigo--part 1: Christmas Eve

Mycroft sat on the sofa covered, swaddled really, in a soft blanket with a mug of tea and a box of tissues in easy reach. He sat very still, listening to his partner talk to Mummy on the phone. Greg was explaining to Mummy Holmes why they would not be at Christmas dinner tomorrow.

At first they thought it was just the usual sniffly, sneezy post travel head cold he always got, so they made no change in their plans. But when Anthea called Greg to scrape Mycroft off the floor yesterday afternoon (literally off the floor of his office…terribly mortifying), it was clear something more was going on.

“No, M’am, he doesn’t have a fever… Well, his voice is gone for the moment.” Greg ran his hand through his hair, yet again.

Greg was being very patient, thought Mycroft.

“Yes, I did take him to the doctor. Bedrest, fluids and decongestants were prescribed… No antibiotics, M’am.”

Mycroft thought it interesting that Greg left out the medication for nausea and dizziness. He also thought Greg’s hair looked rather attractive all mussed.

“I promise we will call tomorrow…No, there is no need to come here. Really, it is just a very bad head cold.”

Greg’s voice was calm and steady, but the expression on his face made Mycroft smile a bit. His mother could be every bit as trying as Sherlock. Mycroft very carefully raised his mug of tea and slowly took a sip.

“Yes, M’am, I will call if there is anything we need…No, please, don’t send Sherlock. I don’t think that would be helpful at all.”

Mycroft froze and started at Greg with panic in his eyes. Greg shook his head at Mycroft to reassure him. The steam from the tea wafted up into Mycroft’s face. His nostrils began to quiver and twitch. The sneezy expression and soft hitching breaths caught Greg’s attention.

“Hang on Mrs. H.” Greg abruptly interjected. He quickly set down his mobile, grabbing a handful of tissues. He swapped the tissues for the tea mug. Wrapping his arms around Mycroft to brace him, “I’ve got you, love,” whispered Greg. Mycroft had pressed the tissues to his nose and mouth, but he was fighting the urge to sneeze. Never had Mycroft wanted less to sneeze. The sudden movement of his head would trigger the vertigo, which would trigger the nausea, which would trigger…

“My, I’ve got you. It’ll be worse if you keep holding back.” Greg’s soothing tone cut through the rising dread. Mycroft gave in.

“Hehh’Etschoo, Etchoo! ...hih’Tish, hih’Tshoo!”

His body jerked forward just slightly and the world began to spin. He couldn’t tell if he was upside down or lying down or sitting up. Mycroft concentrated on the feel of Greg’s strong arms holding him in place.

“Hih’tsh…ish,ish,ish…”

To spare his throat, Mycroft tried to sneeze mostly through his nose. Behind the roaring in his ears he could hear blessings being murmured.

“Heh, heht’choo…heh’Etch, heh’Etsch… heht’Eschoo!”

The sneezing stopped, but the world kept turning. Mycroft swallowed hard, pushing the accompanying nausea down.

Greg spoke softly in his ear. “Are you going to be sick?”

Mycroft opened his eyes and the world slowly rocked back into place. “No, not this time.” His voice was like gravel and barely audible.

Greg let go with one arm, but kept the other firmly in place around Mycroft’s shoulders. He gently took the used tissues from his partner and pulled another handful from the box, offering them to his ailing lover. He caught sight of his abandoned mobile and groaned. Greg picked up his phone.

“Are you still there? I’m sorry, Mrs. H.” Greg leaned back against the sofa slowly bringing Mycroft with him. “Yes, M’am, he’s okay now.” He rubbed Mycroft’s neck and shoulders. Greg’s eyes widened. “Yes, M’am…Yes, M’am…Thank you, Mrs H.”

The call ended, Greg looked over at Mycroft. “Your father will be here in a couple of hours with the ingredients and receipt for the ginger tea that always settles your stomach when you have, and I quote, ‘one of his dizzy colds’.”

“I hate that stuff,” Mycroft mumbled.

“She said you’d say that.”

“At least my father is coming and not her or, heaven forbid, Sherlock.” Mycroft rasped out.

“Now I know where the two of you get it from.” Greg murmured, mostly to himself.

“Get what?” croaked Mycroft.

“Hush.” Greg kissed Mycroft on the cheek. “Rest your voice.” He checked the time on his mobile. “It’s time for your meds. I’ll be right back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was evening and Greg was in the kitchen trying to concoct a Christmas dinner that might appeal to a tetchy stomach, when he heard the door buzz. He unlocked the main door and went to open the flat door. Mr. Holmes appeared with two large shopping bags.

“Hullo Greg. Happy Christmas,” Mr. Holmes cheerily greeted Greg.

“Happy Christmas to you, sir,” Greg replied with a smile.

He ushered Mycroft’s father in and to the kitchen. Once there they began to unpack the bags. One bag contained presents for Mycroft and Greg. The other contained the promised ingredients for the hated tea as well as a small roast, potatoes and an assortment of winter vegetable. Two pieces of a Christmas cake rounded out the delivery.

“The missus believes you will know what to do with this,” Mr. Holmes explained.

Greg smiled. “I certainly do, sir.” Mr. Holmes looked past Greg towards the drawing room.

Greg looked over his shoulder toward the drawing room and back at Mr. Holmes. “Do you want to see him?”

Mr. Holmes looked a bit wistful. “I always want to see him. The question is, does he want to see me?”

It occurred to Greg that while Mycroft was his lover and life partner, Sherlock’s brother and nemesis, the British Government’s fixer and weapon, Mycroft was also Mr. and Mrs. Holmes’s beloved son.

Greg nodded. “He’s been asleep. The medication makes him very drowsy. Go on and have a look.” Greg gestured toward the drawing room and Mr. Holmes found his way. Greg stayed back to put away the food and prepare the tea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft was caught in that hazy world between sleep and awake. His nose was buzzing and he sneezed as he crossed the threshold to awake. Familiar hands braced him and Mycroft reached for one as an anchor as his world began to tilt. His other hand cupped over his face.

“S’alright, Mikey, love. Let it go.”

“Heh’Etsch…hih’tsh, tsh…Hih’tishoo…Tishoo!”

Mycroft opened his eyes noting with relief he wasn’t nauseated and his vision only wobbled for a few seconds. His father stood over him still bracing him. Mycroft realized he was holding on to his father’s hand.

“Better?” Mr. Holmes asked.

Mycroft sniffed and moved to sit up. Mr. Holmes backed away, but watched cautiously as Mycroft slowly brought himself up right. Satisfied his boy wasn’t going to roll off the sofa, Mr. Holmes seated himself in the nearby wingback chair.

“Bless you, son. You’re in a way. I’ll buy it off you.”

Mycroft, having pulled a few tissues, snorted a laugh into them. “Gregory and I decided that with inflation colds are now worth a pound.” Mycroft replied hoarsely, as he finished tending to his nose.

Mr. Holmes fished in his pocket for the coin. “I can remember when they were only 50p.” He laid the coin on the coffee table.

Greg appeared in the doorway. “Would you like a cuppa?” he asked Mr. Holmes. “I’ve ‘bout got that ginger tea ready. You and I can have something more normal.”

Mr. Holmes looked back at Mycroft and said, “I’ll need to get back to the station to catch the last train.”

“No, do stay.” Mycroft urged. “I can have a car drive you home when you are ready.”

“Alright then, but you’ll have to drink some of that vile brew.” Mycroft pulled a face. “I’ll not lie to your mother.” Mr. Holmes raised an eyebrow at his son.

Mycroft grumbled something about mothers, tea, Siberia and poison. Greg laughed and left the two Holmes men to themselves, while he finished preparing the tea.

FIN (until next Christmas)

Edited December 26, 2016 by Sanguine Cheerful Worrier

[Juto]

OMG A MYSTRADE HOLIDAY FIC!!

Sick Mycroft, oh dear...

Greg was explaining to Mummy Holmes why they would not be at Christmas dinner tomorrow.

Hehe sorry I keep seeing mummy Cumberbatch every time I watch them... Stupid BBC, why did they have to bring in the Batch-parents??!!

Sorry, moving on

“Hang on Mrs. H.” Greg abruptly interjected. He quickly set down his mobile, grabbing a handful of tissues. He swapped the tissues for the tea mug. Wrapping his arms around Mycroft to brace him, “I’ve got you, love,” whispered Greg. Mycroft had pressed the tissues to his nose and mouth, but he was fighting the urge to sneeze. Never had Mycroft wanted less to sneeze. The sudden movement of his head would trigger the vertigo, which would trigger the nausea, which would trigger…

“My, I’ve got you. It’ll be worse if you keep holding back.” Greg’s soothing tone cut through the rising dread. Mycroft gave in.

“Hehh’Etschoo, Etchoo! ...hih’Tish, hih’Tshoo!”

His body jerked forward just slightly and the world began to spin. He couldn’t tell if he was upside down or lying down or sitting up. Mycroft concentrated on the feel of Greg’s strong arms holding him in place.

“Hih’tsh…ish,ish,ish…”

To spare his throat, Mycroft tried to sneeze mostly through his nose. Behind the roaring in his ears he could hear blessings being murmured.

“Heh, heht’choo…heh’Etch, heh’Etsch… heht’Eschoo!”

The sneezing stopped, but the world kept turning. Mycroft swallowed hard, pushing the accompanying nausea down.

Greg spoke softly in his ear. “Are you going to be sick?”

Mycroft opened his eyes and the world slowly rocked back into place. “No, not this time.” His voice was like gravel and barely audible.

God! Caregiver Greg melts my heart! He's such a sweetheart GOD WOMAN I AM GOO!!

Mycroft, having pulled a few tissues, snorted a laugh into them. “Gregory and I decided that with inflation colds are now worth a pound.” Mycroft replied hoarsely, as he finished tending to his nose.

HAHAHAHAHAHA sick business Mycroft! Just amazing!!

Is this a thing? Buying colds? I've never heard of it but it sounds like "fun".

[AngelEyes]

OMG! I love this so much!!!!!!!!!!! I can't even!

Mycroft thought it interesting that Greg left out the medication for nausea and dizziness. He also thought Greg’s hair looked rather attractive all mussed.

Sweet!Greg, trying to downplay it all. And Yes to the mussed hair!

“Yes, M’am, I will call if there is anything we need…No, please, don’t send Sherlock. I don’t think that would be helpful at all.”

Yeah, not so much!

His body jerked forward just slightly and the world began to spin. He couldn’t tell if he was upside down or lying down or sitting up. Mycroft concentrated on the feel of Greg’s strong arms holding him in place.

You described this so well I could literally feel it!

Mr. Holmes looked a bit wistful. “I always want to see him. The question is, does he want to see me?”

Awwww! Papa!Holmes. So much adorable!

Mycroft, having pulled a few tissues, snorted a laugh into them. “Gregory and I decided that with inflation colds are now worth a pound.” Mycroft replied hoarsely, as he finished tending to his nose.

Mycroft is still always Mycroft!

“Alright then, but you’ll have to drink some of that vile brew.” Mycroft pulled a face. “I’ll not lie to your mother.” Mr. Holmes raised an eyebrow at his son.

Mycroft grumbled something about mothers, tea, Siberia and poison. Greg laughed and left the two Holmes men to themselves, while he finished preparing the tea.

LOL!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

GOD WOMAN I AM GOO!!

OMG! I love this so much!!!!!!!!!!! I can't even!

Aw! Thank you! Glad y'all liked it.

Is this a thing? Buying colds? I've never heard of it but it sounds like "fun".

It is...kinda. If you read Bangbang's drabble "Capitalism", that whole exchange with his father would likely make more sense. I probably should have been more explicit in my introduction.

Seeking Clarity + Wisdom, on 20 Dec 2015 - 3:35 PM, said:

His body jerked forward just slightly and the world began to spin. He couldn’t tell if he was upside down or lying down or sitting up. Mycroft concentrated on the feel of Greg’s strong arms holding him in place.
You described this so well I could literally feel it!

Yeah, I wrote from personal experience.

[cally]

I have been very remiss in not commenting here. Completely and utterly my fault and partially due to a blonde and or senior moment.

So, before anyone thinks I’m a writing machine, I actually wrote this in June.

At least you actually posted your holiday fic, unlike myself, who hasn't gotten around to finishing hers.

He also thought Greg’s hair looked rather attractive all mussed.

That Mycroft. Always with his mind in the gutter. Oh wait, that would be me. Sorry.

Wrapping his arms around Mycroft to brace him, “I’ve got you, love,” whispered Greg.

Awwww. Poor thing. Oh Greg, always so good to him. <3

“I hate that stuff,” Mycroft mumbled.

What's wrong with ginger tea? So rude, Mycroft. (Granted, I just usually take the teabag out of the box and put it in a mug, so maybe that tastes better than whatever his mum has cooked up.)

Mr. Holmes looked a bit wistful. “I always want to see him. The question is, does he want to see me?”

Well, that's really, really sad. Really sad.

Mycroft grumbled something about mothers, tea, Siberia and poison

Again, so rude, Mycroft!

Poor Mycroft. I'm sure it must be horrible to have that kind of illness. I'd probably have shot myself had I ever had such a thing, but then again, I had one tiny bit of spice in a falafel the other day and had to take to my bed for hours with antacids, ginger tea, and ginger hard candy. I'm a terrible drama queen when it comes to stomach things.

I do have a question, and I think I already know the answer. You say that Mycroft's mum has given Greg the receipt for the tea. Now, is that a regional thing, because I've always known it as recipe. And that's not the first time I've seen it written that way, so I'm curious.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Yeah! Cally commented! Better late than never. Blonde and senior moments are freely forgiven, as I am older than you and blonde. LOL!

https://lizzyoungbookseller.wordpress.com/2014/02/28/whats-the-difference-between-a-recipe-and-a-receipt/

I do have a question, and I think I already know the answer. You say that Mycroft's mum has given Greg the receipt for the tea. Now, is that a regional thing, because I've always known it as recipe. And that's not the first time I've seen it written that way, so I'm curious.

If you check the link above they give a pretty detailed answer. Both words have the same origin and meant originally instructions and ingredients for medication and then eventually they were applied towards cooking. "Receipt" is older than "recipe" (slightly). I just like "receipt".

What's wrong with ginger tea? So rude, Mycroft

No idea, except some people think ginger tastes like soap. *looks at her husband*

Seeking Clarity + Wisdom, on 20 Dec 2015 - 3:35 PM, said:

Mr. Holmes looked a bit wistful. I always want to see him. The question is, does he want to see me?

Well, that's really, really sad. Really sad.

Yup, it is. Sometimes we take our parents for granted. I think I must have been feeling that way (taken for granted) when I wrote it.

Poor Mycroft. I'm sure it must be horrible to have that kind of illness

Right again, it really sucks. Still have vivid memories of it and that was 20 years ago.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Oh, it has been soooo long since I updated this thread it fell on the second page! Well, I can't have that! 

 

This is a story again featuring Mycroft's cats, so that means one allergic!Greg. Mycroft's cats are originally Spoo's idea. I did vet this story with Spoo. Her only request is  I warn your there is an animal death.  That and more...nope, spoilers! 

 

That said, I own nothing. I love comments. Happy Valentine's Day! 

 

 

Victoria

 

            Greg looked again at the text on his phone as he rang the buzzer to Mycroft’s flat.

 

 

            * Come at once, if convenient. If not convenient, come anyway. –MH *

 

 

            Greg had left his football mates in the middle of their Saturday match. Still dressed in his kit and sweaty from the exercise, he raced over to his boyfriend’s home. He really couldn’t imagine why Mycroft needed him so urgently.

 

 

            The buzzer sounded and Greg ran the stairs to Mycroft’s flat rather than wait for the lift. He was panting a little when he reached the flat's door. Greg started to knock when the door opened revealing a rather pensive looking Mycroft.

 

 

            “I came as quick as I could. Is it Sherlock?” Greg asked anxiously.

 

 

            Mycroft shook his head. “No, not Sherlock.” Mycroft took in Greg’s attire. “I am sorry. I interrupted your game.”

 

 

            Greg shrugged. “What’s the matter, My?”

 

 

            “I was unsure who to call. It did not seem appropriate to call one of my staff or Anthea.” Mycroft sounded hesitant and ushered Greg into the flat shutting the door. Greg dropped his duffle bag by the closet door. Mycroft didn’t even glance at it and that worried Greg. Mycroft was clearly upset.

 

 

            “What do you need, My?” Greg wasn’t sure what he had to offer that Anthea or anyone else on Mycroft’s staff couldn’t provide, other than… No, he was pretty confident this was not a booty call. Mycroft had drifted down the hall and Greg hurried after him.

 

 

            “It’s Victoria.” Mycroft said when the reached the base of the stairs. He looked up the stairs and back at Greg. Greg had never been upstairs in Mycroft’s flat. It was the domain of Mycroft’s cats and Greg was allergic.

 

 

            “Victoria is one of your cats.” Greg stated.

 

 

            Mycroft nodded. “She is rather reclusive. She stays up stairs and I generally only see her at night. She is excellent company when I am home working late.” Mycroft smiled slightly and then the smile faded. “Or was.”

 

 

            “Was?” Greg was getting a bad feeling.

 

 

            “I was up late last night, working, and she did not appear. Usually, she comes and sits on my feet under the desk.” Mycroft blushed a little. “Her lack of appearance was unusual, so this morning I went looking for her. I believe I found her, but I am unable to reach her without assistance. I am afraid she has passed away.” Mycroft’s eyes got brighter as he spoke and he blinked rapidly.

 

 

            Greg stroked Mycroft’s upper arm. “Of course, I’ll help you.” Mycroft nodded and turned heading up the stairs. Greg followed interested in seeing the flat’s second floor, but concerned about what they may find.

 

 

            At the top of the stairs, Mycroft gestured down the hall. “My study and the cats’ room are down that way.”  Really, Greg thought, an entire room for the cats? Mycroft opened the door off the landing.  “This is my bedroom.”

 

            It was a beautiful room. The furniture was a deep cherry that glowed against the pinkish beige walls. The linens and curtains pulled the room together with their complimentary shades of maroon and brown. Mycroft walked over to a particularly large bureau and stared thoughtfully at it. “Victoria is under there. It is a favorite hiding spot, when she gets into my bedroom. I do not normally allow the cats in here.”

 

 

            Greg nodded, but turned away lifting the bottom of his T-shirt over his nose and mouth. “Huuhh’RRDDSCHOO!”

 

 

            Mycroft looked over at Greg. “Bless you. Are you bothered already by the cats?”

 

 

            “No, I’m fine.” Greg lied. In truth he was feeling rather itchy, but didn’t want to leave Mycroft to deal with this alone. He could tell Mycroft was feeling more affected then he let on.

 

 

            Mycroft looked unconvinced by Greg’s mendacity, but didn’t press the issue. “We need to move the bureau. I tried to reach her, but she has tucked herself into that far corner. I could only just brush her fur. She did not respond.” Mycroft stopped and took a slow, deep breath, sighing as he exhaled.

 

 

            “Heh’DZCHOO!” Greg sneezed again into his shirt, revealing again his flat abdomen. “Sorry,” he murmured.

 

 

            “Bless you, Gregory. Can I get you an antihistamine?” Mycroft asked eyeing his boyfriend, who had now started to sniffle.

 

 

            “No, let’s get this dresser moved.” Greg dropped his shirt.

 

 

            “Of course. I believe we will need to lift it in order to clear the…Victoria.” Greg gave Mycroft a sympathetic look.

 

 

            The dresser was in the corner and Greg positioned himself at the front of the piece and Mycroft at the side. Greg attempted to lift his end to test the weight. “Jesus! This is heavy. What you got in here?” He exclaimed.

 

 

            “I keep my accessories in this bureau.”

 

 

            “That’s all? How m-heh-any belts and braces can one man ha-hah-have? HuhRRUSCH!” Greg caught his sneeze on the back of his hand.

 

 

            Mycroft stepped over towards Greg’s end of the dresser and opened the top drawer. In it was tens, if not a hundred and more, of neatly folded handkerchiefs. He selected one and handed it to Greg. “God bless you. Quite a few in my case,” Mycroft replied amused by Greg’s wonder.

 

 

            “Thanks.” Greg accepted the cloth and eyed the drawer as he wiped his nose. He was amazed anyone could own much less need so many.

 

 

            “And I will, in another month.” Mycroft answered Greg’s unspoken question. Greg raised his eyebrows and Mycroft looked away, closing the drawer. The younger man moved back to his position. “Shall we?” Greg tucked the handkerchief away and moved to his station. “On three?” Greg nodded. “One-two-three.”

 

 

            Together they lifted the large piece of furniture and shuffled it along the wall away from the corner. “Okay,” said Greg. “I see her. Put it down gently.” Having set the load down, Greg turned and blocked Mycroft’s view. “My, do you have a box?” he asked kindly. Mycroft blinked and nodded. He disappeared into his walk in closet.

 

           Greg kneeled and gently arranged Victoria’s body. He made sure her eyes and mouth were closed. Despite his watering eyes and itchy nose Greg stroked the cat’s fur. The older man felt his sinuses prickle; his eyes closed and lips parted. He pressed the back of his wrist to his nose and upper lip. His breath hitched for a few seconds and then the sensation passed. Sniffling, Greg gathered Victoria’s body and lifted it. Cradling it in his arms, Greg stood and backed out of the corner. He turned to see Mycroft standing behind him. A very sturdy shoebox sat atop the dresser with a purple silk handkerchief lining the bottom of the box.

 

 

            “Please.” Mycroft held out his arms and Greg gratefully transferred his burden.

 

 

            Greg turned away, raising his shirt. “Heh…HuhRRSCH!”

 

 

            “Bless you,” murmured Mycroft absently. He was staring down at his deceased pet resting in his arms.

 

 

            Sneezing into his shirt that last time was a mistake. He managed to find the handkerchief Mycroft had given him in time for the set of sneezes that came pulsing through his sinuses. “HuhRRRDDSHmmpff! …Heh’DZSHmmpft! …HuhRRUSSHmmpff! …Heh’DDSCHmmpff!” Greg shuddered with each sneeze; the last pitching him forward. A light touch on his back steadied him. Greg straightened, but kept the handkerchief clasped to his face. Greg could tell he was not done. He hadn’t felt this sneezy in a very long time. “HuhRRDDSCH! …Heh’TCHmmppff!” Turning he found Mycroft had placed Victoria in the box and was standing near, clearly sympathizing with him.

 

 

            “Gracious, Gregory. God bless you. Apologies for asking you to help me, I should never…”

 

 

            Greg lowered the handkerchief. “I’m fine, My. Just sneezy. It’ll stop. I think of it as pay back for Valentine’s Day.” The older man grinned at his boyfriend. “May I use the loo to wash up a bit? I’m sure is will help.”

 

 

            “Certainly,” Mycroft gestured to the other door and Greg quickly headed to the en suite.

 

 

            When he returned, Greg found Mycroft sitting on his bed holding the box with Victoria’s body. His face was shiny and Greg thought he could see a tear hanging from the end of his boyfriend’s long nose.

 

 

            “You’re crying,” Greg sat down next to Mycroft.

 

 

            “Am I?” Mycroft sniffed and shook himself. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. Greg gently brushed the tears away and rubbed Mycroft’s back.

 

 

            Meeroww. Greg and Mycroft looked down and saw Elizabeth sitting at their feet. She gathered herself and hopped up on the bed, walking over to the other side of Mycroft. She looked in the box sitting on Mycroft’s lap. Sniffing delicately she lifted a paw and gently touched the body within.

 

 

            “Ah, Elizabeth. I’m afraid our companion has passed on.” Mycroft raised his hand and scratched behind the inquisitive cat’s ears. She purred and rubbed her face against the corner of the box. Feeling done with the attention she was getting, Elizabeth leaped down gracefully and left the room.

 

 

            “Well, she seemed downright pleased.” Greg observed.

 

 

            Mycroft chuckled. “Cats are decidedly unsentimental creatures.”

 

 

            “After this I don’t think I’ll ever believe you’re an unsentimental creature.” Greg remarked.

 

 

            Mycroft sighed, “No chance you will believe I only keep you around for the amazing sex.” He turned to give Greg a rueful smile.

 

 

            “And heavy lifting? No.” Greg sniffled and rubbed his nose. “You know what you’re going to do with her?” He nodded at the box. Mycroft gazed back down at the contents of the box.

 

 

            Mycroft looked sidelong at Greg. “Yes, I know how to dispose of remains.”

 

 

             Greg shook his head. “Okay, that’s creepy.”

 

 

            “Bless you.”

 

 

            “Huh?” At first Greg looked puzzled, then he looked sneezy, with his eyes fluttering shut and his nostrils flaring. “Heh’DRRUSH!” He turned away to sneeze into his elbow. Greg pulled out the handkerchief Mycroft had given him and wiped his nose. “But that is even creepier. How do you do that?”

 

 

            Mycroft smirked. He glanced down at his lap and the smile faded as he took in the box resting on his legs. He ran a long finger through the fur of his former pet. Reaching next to him on the bed he picked up another purple silk handkerchief and laid it over the body, finally placing the top on the box.

 

 

            Greg watched quietly. When Mycroft was done, he leaned over and kissed his boyfriend’s temple. “I’m sorry, My,” he whispered. Mycroft’s soft hair tickled Greg’s nose. Greg pulled away sniffing. Using the handkerchief he worried at his nose hoping to ease the tickling. “Ugh! I really should go.” Greg wrinkled and wriggled his nose.

 

 

            “Of course. Let me walk you out.” Mycroft stood and Greg followed. Mycroft took the box to his study and then escorted Greg down the stairs to the front door.

 

 

            “Again let me express my gratitude for assisting me,” Mycroft said as they approached the door.

 

 

            “No pro-hah…heh…Heh’DZSCHmmppff!” Greg sneezed heavily in the handkerchief. He sighed, “Oh God! That felt good. I didn’t think that one was ever going to come.”

 

 

            Mycroft chuckled sympathetically. “Bless you. I am sorry…”

 

 

            Greg waved off the apology. “Really, I don’t mind. It’s temporary.” He stopped at the door.

 

 

            “I suppose for you it is.” Mycroft mused.

 

 

            Greg smiled at Mycroft, making the younger man’s heart skipped a few beats. “I’ll prove it. Come out to dinner with me tonight. We’ll toast Victoria and tell all her best stories. Well, you’ll have to tell the stories.”

 

 

            Mycroft smiled back. “I still have…” He paused, watching Greg’s tells.

 

 

            “Huh’RRRUDSCHmmppff!” Greg blew his nose.

 

 

            “God bless you.” Mycroft reached out and brushed Greg’s arm.

 

 

           “Sorry, I don’t imagine my invitation is that appealing; me standing here in my dirty kit, sniffling and sneezing.” Greg looked abashed.

 

 

            “On the contrary, all I see is a handsome, fit man with the kindest eyes and an irresistible smile.” Mycroft pulled Greg close and kissed him warmly.

 

 

            They broke away after a few minutes feeling breathless. Greg flashed his ‘irresistible smile’. “That means I can pick you up at seven?”

 

            “No. I will pick you up. You have had more than enough of my flat, it would seem.” Mycroft spoke tenderly.

 

 

            Greg laughed. “Yeh, but I can’t get enough of you.”

 

 

 

FIN

 

 

Edited February 15, 2016 by Seeking Clarity + Wisdom
formatting is weird! The spacing didn't look right and I previewed this before posting.

[cally]

Now I'm sad.   Poor Mycroft.

 

 

And don't get me started on the formatting.  All the stories look like they were typed up by one of my nieces and it's making me very twitchy to go in and spend the day fixing it all, which obviously is a huge waste of time.  But I still want to.

[Juto]

For some reason I wasn't notified about this update  and I'm SO ready to join that formatting-rant! Just ugh! 

 

Anyway, 

 

Awwww poor Mycroft  although, having the mental image of sweaty and sneezy Gregory... Yum!  

It was so sweet of him to help his partner despite his allergies,came we enjoyed it immensely  

I'm so glad to see you back with your drabbles  

[AngelEyes]

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

* Come at once, if convenient. If not convenient, come anyway. –MH *

Must be a Holmes thing, LOL!

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“Heh’DZCHOO!” Greg sneezed again into his shirt, revealing again his flat abdomen.

Umm, Sexy?!?!?!

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

In it was tens, if not a hundred and more, of neatly folded handkerchiefs. He selected one and handed it to Greg. “God bless you. Quite a few in my case,” Mycroft replied amused by Greg’s wonder.

 

 

            “Thanks.” Greg accepted the cloth and eyed the drawer as he wiped his nose. He was amazed anyone could own much less need so many.

 

 

            “And I will, in another month.” Mycroft answered Greg’s unspoken question. Greg raised his eyebrows and Mycroft looked away, closing the drawer.

Indeed!

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

Greg lowered the handkerchief. “I’m fine, My. Just sneezy. It’ll stop. I think of it as pay back for Valentine’s Day.” The older man grinned at his boyfriend.

LOL!

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“After this I don’t think I’ll ever believe you’re an unsentimental creature.” Greg remarked.

Awww!

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“Bless you.”

 

 

            “Huh?” At first Greg looked puzzled, then he looked sneezy, with his eyes fluttering shut and his nostrils flaring. “Heh’DRRUSH!” He turned away to sneeze into his elbow. Greg pulled out the handkerchief Mycroft had given him and wiped his nose. “But that is even creepier. How do you do that?”

I love when he does this!

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“On the contrary, all I see is a handsome, fit man with the kindest eyes and an irresistible smile.” Mycroft pulled Greg close and kissed him warmly.

 

On February 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

Greg laughed. “Yeh, but I can’t get enough of you.”

Awwww! So sweet!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thanks Cally, Juto and AngelEyes! I'm glad you liked it even if it was sad.

Ok, enough with the sad! This next one was inspired/prompted by DNCE's Cake By The Ocean. It is, I think, rather silly. So, it should be the perfect antidote to "Victoria". I feel like I must state that no pets were harmed in the writing of any of these stories. I still own nothing of import, except what's in my brain. I love comments and thank all my readers for paying me the slightest bit of attention.

Cake By The Ocean

 

            Mycroft moaned with pleasure. Eyes closed, he leaned back against the chaise, letting the euphoria wash through him. “Dear God,” he murmured.

 

            Greg watched completely amused. “I think I’m jealous of a piece of cake.”

 

            It took a while for Mycroft to reply as he slowly savored the bite he had just taken. Little grunts of joy occasionally emanated from him. “Do not tell me this isn’t the best cake you have ever eaten.” Mycroft had finally opened his eyes and fixed a stern look at his partner sitting at the end of the chaise.

 

            “Okay. I won’t.” Greg grinned at Mycroft’s affronted expression.

 

            “Philistine,” Mycroft muttered under his breath. He forked up another bite from the plate that sat between them. He held it up in front of Greg. “The cake itself is tender and moist, but not to the point of being sticky or gummy.” Greg took on an expression of attentiveness and suppressed his desire to laugh. Mycroft brought the morsel close to his nose and inhaled. “You can smell ever so faintly the cinnamon and coffee that enhance the chocolate flavor.” With that pronouncement Mycroft popped the bit of cake into his mouth slowly chewing.

 

            Greg took a forkful for himself from the plate they were sharing. “Yeh, it is pretty good cake.” Mycroft glared at Greg, but refrained from speaking with his mouth full. “My Gram always said salt air made everything taste better.” Greg ate his bite.

 

            Mycroft swallowed and then licked his lips. He looked out at the view from the deck they were sitting and noted the moonlit beach. “Perhaps,” he mused. “The increase in the ambient humidity could be a factor.” Waves were gently lapping the shore as the tide made its way out. A light breeze toyed with Mycroft’s ginger curls. Greg hadn’t seen his lover so physically relaxed, yet emotionally intense, outside of the bedroom, and all over cake. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face.

 

            “And the frosting,” Mycroft’s attention was back on the confection. “It is divine. It isn’t gritty from the sugar or greasy from the butter. Its piquancy perfectly counterbalances the flavor of the cake.” He dipped long finger into the icing of the remaining bite and scooped a small amount up to his mouth. The tip of his tongue darted out and tasted the sweet topping. “Mmm…lovely.” Mycroft slipped his finger in his mouth and closed his eyes again reveling in the taste and texture.

 

            Greg couldn’t help it. The sight of his boyfriend so enraptured by the desert moved the impish side of his personality. He just had to. He ate the last bite of cake.

 

            Mycroft opened his eyes and looked down at the now empty plate. His gaze shot up to Greg who was swallowing the last of the cake. Mycroft’s mouth thinned and turned down. Greg gulped at Mycroft’s enraged countenance. “It was really good cake,” he offered lamely. Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and Greg stood, taking a small step back from the younger man. A frisson of fear skittered through his chest. Mycroft stood as well; his stare never leaving Greg. “I…um…I’m just…” Greg stammered and, turning, he bolted off the deck and down onto the beach.

 

            He dared a glance back and saw Mycroft leap over the chaise and then off the deck. Greg raced toward the water stripping his T-shirt as he went. Another glance back revealed Mycroft was following but had paused to kick off his loafers. Surely, he wouldn’t follow into the ocean, thought Greg. Mycroft hadn’t swum at all this holiday. Greg kept running toward the water. He paused and pulled off his shorts and pants. He splashed into the water; his heart pounding with the exertion and excitement. The water warm and moon bright, Greg slid into a smooth crawl bringing him a few yards from shore. The tide was going out and he knew he could stand if he wished.

 

Turning back to look at the shoreline, he could see Mycroft quickly removing his clothes. Greg marveled at his lover’s skin glowing in the moonlight. Mycroft left his clothes in a pile at the waterline and moved purposefully into the water. Oh crap, thought Greg and he began to swim away from Mycroft but parallel to the shore. “It was just a bite of cake, My,” he called out.

 

“It was not just a bite of cake.” Mycroft growled as he struck out toward Greg. His long limbs propelled him faster than Greg expected. Greg could tell he wasn’t going to out swim Mycroft, but, maybe, he could outwit him?

 

“Remember you love me.” Greg offered, as Mycroft came almost in reach. Then Greg took a deep breath and slipped beneath the water. Under the water Greg swam back toward Mycroft. He grabbed Mycroft’s legs and pulled hard, dragging Mycroft down.

 

Letting go and twisting away, Greg shot up to the surface in time to witness Mycroft emerge sputtering. Greg chuckled a bit, pleased with having managed to dunk his partner. He stood just out of reach, the water lapping at his waist. Greg wasn’t’ sure if he managed to reset Mycroft’s mood or exacerbate it. Mycroft coughed and wheezed. “Serves you right for chasing me down over a bit of cake,” Greg scolded.

 

Mycroft shook his head. “Heh…heh…Heh’TSH! Hih’TSCH! TISHOO! TISHOO!” Mycroft sneezed heavily into cupped hands.

 

“Bless you. You okay?” Concerned, Greg moved closer.

 

Mycroft nodded, but continued to hold his hands over his face. “Hih’TSSHOO! TISH, TISH ...Ah…TISCHOO!”

 

“Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to get you started.” Greg wrapped an arm around Mycroft’s shoulders. He could feel the goose bumps along the younger man’s skin. Mycroft pinched his nose between his thumb and curled index finger and sniffled. He turned into Greg’s embrace after trailing his hands through the salty water.

 

“You ate the last bite,” Mycroft complained.

 

Greg threw back his head and laughed. “I had no idea you’d be so chuffed about a …Whoa!” Mycroft had hooked his leg behind Greg’s legs and swept them out from under him, pushing back at the same time. Greg tightened his hold on Mycroft, pulling his partner down into the water.

 

Splashing to the surface, they tossed their heads shaking water from their hair and eyes. “You prat!” Greg exclaimed, laughing.

 

Mycroft actually grinned, his eyes sparkling in the bright moonlight, before fluttering shut. “Hih’TSH! Ish ish, ish! Heh…Heht’CHOO!” Mycroft sneezed against the back of his wrist.

 

“Oh no! No blessing for you, tricky bastard.” Greg huffed wiping the water from his face.

 

“Come here,” Mycroft reached out and tugged Greg close. He bent his head and kissed Greg softly at first, then more insistently. Greg welcomed the kiss, allowing it to deepen and Mycroft hummed. “Oh, my dear, you taste of cake.”

 

FIN

[cally]

What a pair of dorks! Too cute and adorable.

[Juto]

I agree with Cally  simply adorkable!!  

But in all seriousness, that is the EXACT WAY a delicious piece of cake ought to be cherished. And not unlike Mycroft, I would follow the cake-culprit who dared to unemotionally swallow the final bite to the ends of the earth (and definitely into the ocean) for justice... 

...Or maybe I'd just snatch his credit card and go buy a new one, tossing his clothes behind a bush and watch him struggle to get discreetly out of the water whilst savouring every single bite of the delicious cake myself  

Regardless of plans to ensure world peace through the purchase of another piece of cake, this was such an entertaining read.  I absolutely adored it   

[AngelEyes]

I adore this!!! So cute!!! MyCake, the other OTP. This totally has me grinning. Boys just letting the stress go and playing like loons. LOL

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thanks Juto, Cally, and AngelEyes. I'm glad you enjoyed the little love triangle between Mycroft, Greg and cake. It was fun to write. I hope it made you laugh. I know I did while writing it. As an aside, I am pretty sure Greg would be Diddy and Mycroft would be Naomi. 

Ok, I have a request to make of my readers and you can spread the word to others in the forum. I am looking for blessings and the appropriate thank you/response in other languages. I have an idea for a series of drabbles (yes, actual drabble length) and I need blessings in other languages. I don't know any other language so I am reaching out. You can post them as a comment on this thread or send a PM to me. Thank you in advance! 

Now a little drabble, just to prove I can keep it short...

One Off

 

            “Heht’ESCHOO!”

 

            Greg looked out of the corner of his eye at his partner sitting at the other end of the couch. Mycroft sniffed lightly and continued typing on his laptop. Greg waited. He took a swig of beer from the bottle he held and watched the telly absently noting no change in the action of the game. He waited. Greg glanced more openly at Mycroft, then back at the television. He shifted in his seat on the couch and rubbed the back of his head. Greg huffed out a sigh.

            “Yes, my dear?” Mycroft didn’t look up from his computer as he addressed the older man. He frowned slightly as he clicked through a few screens.

            “Nothing.” Greg studied Mycroft. “Bless you, I guess.”

            “You guess?” Mycroft looked at Greg, bemused.

            “Yeh, well, you sneezed.”

            “Yes.”

            “But only once.”

            “Yes.”

            “You never sneeze only once.”

            Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “Apparently this time I did.”

            “Well, now I’m stuck waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak.” Greg complained.

            Mycroft chuckled and turned back to his work. “I am sorry, dear.”

[cally]

I love that Greg's just staring at Mycroft waiting.  And waiting.

[AngelEyes]

LOL! Too funny! 

[Juto]

Hahahahahaha

Too adorable how Mycroft is amused by Greg's reaction and actually ends up apologising for only sneezing once.

Too cute

maybe this link will help? Wiki has a list of appropriate responses to sneezes. 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Responses_to_sneezing

I can't vouch for them all, but the Danish is correct  

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

2 hours ago, Juto of Fluff said:

Hahahahahaha

Too adorable how Mycroft is amused by Greg's reaction and actually ends up apologising for only sneezing once.

Too cute

maybe this link will help? Wiki has a list of appropriate responses to sneezes. 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Responses_to_sneezing

I can't vouch for them all, but the Danish is correct  

I know, right? Mycroft is always apologizing for his sneezing. Usually because he feels he sneezes too much. Now not enough. * heavy sigh *

Thanks for the link! Good to know the Danish is correct. Hedgehog gave me a few too, so I have some material to work with. But to any of my other readers please send along any blessings/responses you think would be fun to use in a drabble. Or check the link Juto has here and tell me if you know any to be correct or incorrect. Thank you in advance! 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

This is a little something I cooked up for AngelEyes when she was having a bad week. It took me a little longer than I liked to get it done. Sorry. I think it turned out fairly humorous. I hope the rest of you think so too. 

Again I own nothing. I want every reader know I truly appreciate them. Comments = Love 

Deià

 

            “Bless you, love!” Greg called out from the kitchen, having heard Mycroft sneeze for what must have been the hundredth time that day. He sighed and started preheating the oven. The salad was made; the rice on the boil; salmon steaks seasoned. Greg figured he had a few minutes and got out his mobile.

            *We have got to do something! –GL *

            *Agreed. What do you suggest? Agent Orange? –AB *

            Greg stared at the text. Was she serious, he thought? Best not chance it.

            * No, nothing that drastic. Can I take him away for a few days, until whatever is bothering him has past? –GL*

            * You think only a few days would be needed? –AB *

            * No, I think only a few days would be allowed. –GL *

            There was no immediate reply. Greg considered opening a bottle of wine as he waited for a reply.

            * I can clear his schedule for a week. You have someplace in mind? –AB *

            * Yeah. I think I do. –GL *

            There was another lull. He decided against serving wine. Greg didn’t think wine and antihistamines would be a good mix.

            * Consider these dates free. –AB *

            * Cheers Anthea! –GL *

            Greg slid the fish into the oven, grinning to himself. He had a cunning plan.

 

            Mycroft frowned at Anthea. “What do you mean, my schedule has been cleared?”

            “What I said. Your schedule has been cleared of all meetings and appointments.” Anthea returned, as she gathered the files they had been reviewing.

            “For what purpose? I did not request this.” He started to rub at his eyes, but stopped himself.

            “You have been scheduled to attend a conference in Spain. The agenda is in the green folder on your desk.” Anthea walked out of the office carrying the files she had collected. “You had better go home and pack. Your flight leaves this evening,” she called over her shoulder.

            Mycroft sniffed and sighed. He detested traveling with his allergies in full bloom. It made his anxiety regarding flying that much worse. Mycroft opened the folder to review the agenda. Boring. At least the location would be pleasant—Mallorca. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, Mycroft dabbed at his nose. It had been dripping incessantly for the past two weeks. Irritated by the attention, Mycroft’s nose prickled and tingled.

            “Hhnnchhx…hihnnchhxx…hihnnchhmmpff.”

            Mycroft sighed again. The sneezing had been relentless as well. Sniffing he retrieved his mobile and called Greg. Mycroft was sure his partner was going to be rather unhappy about this turn of events.

 

 

            Greg woke in the wee hours of the morning in an unfamiliar bed, listening to unfamiliar sounds. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He looked over to find Mycroft sleeping peacefully. Peacefully. Greg took a closer look and smiled. It had been weeks since the younger man had a full night’s sleep. The congestion made him restless, and most nights Greg would awaken to hear his partner sneezing quietly in the en suite. Happy, Greg cozied up to Mycroft and sighed as his lover turned to drape a long arm over Greg, pulling him close.

            When Greg awoke for the day, it was to a familiar sound.

            “Hih’tschoo…tishchoo…tish, tish, tish…Heh’ETSCHOO!”

            “G’bless you and g’morning,” Greg mumbled, reaching out to stroke Mycroft’s back as his partner sat on the edge of the bed.

            “Apologies, Gregory and good morning.” It was how everyday with My began, thought Greg. Mycroft turned to gaze at his sleepy partner.

            “How are you feeling?” Greg sat up and leaned back against the headboard. The sheets slid to his waist. Mycroft shifted to sit next to the older man.

            “Rather well, considering. Tha-hah-Thank-hah-you.” Mycroft raised his handkerchief and his head snapped forward. “Hah’CHOO! …Heh’ETSCHOO! ...TISHOO!” He sniffed and wiped his nose. “Do you care to tell me where we are?”

            “Bless you, again. You don’t remember?” Greg asked a little surprised.

            “If you remember, I was heavily medicated. Between you, Anthea and myself I must have taken three times the amount of sedative I would normally for a flight.”

            Greg chuckled. “You were pretty loopy.”

            “Please tell me I did not do anything untoward.”

            “You were fine, aside from asking the flight attendant to fetch you chips and drinks every fifteen minutes so you could check out his arse as he went by.”

            Mycroft stared at Greg, turning bright pink. Greg leaned up and kissed his mortified lover. “I’m kidding,” he said, taking pity. “You only asked twice and you were very discreet. Only I noticed.”

            “Oh dear lord.” Mycroft hid his face in his hands.

            “S’alright. He had a nice bum.” Greg grinned at his blushing bedmate. “I sent him off for an extra drink myself.” Mycroft moaned behind his palms. “C’mere.” Greg pulled his partner’s hands away and kissed him again. “You’re gorgeous and your arse is still my favorite arse.”

            Mycroft relaxed into the kiss. “Mmm…” He slid down into the bed dragging his lover with him. Greg gasped as Mycroft’s wandering hands found their goal. “And your arse is mine,” Mycroft growled.

 

 

            After an invigorating round of morning sex and a refreshing shower, Mycroft dressed and joined Greg on the terrace. The view was stunning, filled with crystal blue water of the Mediterranean and rocky cliffs dotted with olive trees.

            “Are you going to tell me where we are, Gregory? I know we are on Mallorca. I vaguely remember the Palma airport.”

            “Deià. I read the mountains and the sea were the best places to vacation to avoid allergies.” Greg gestured at the vista. “You’re not mad, are you? I’ve arranged for us to be here for a week, but…”

            “No, dear, I am not mad. It is too much of a relief to be able to breathe.” Mycroft paused and swallowed hard, wincing slightly. “And I may be able to hear again before the week is out.”

            Greg sighed with relief. He had been fairly confident Mycroft would be okay with the impromptu holiday, but there was always a chance his partner would object. He could be prickly at times.

            “What do you say we grab a bite and explore the town?” Greg asked.

            “That sounds lovely and perhaps I can find a newspaper as well. I will need to keep abreast of current events.”

            Greg looked horrified. “No, no newspapers. Can’t you just call Anthea?”

            “That would not be an efficient use of her time,” Mycroft chided.

            “But newspapers make you sn-heh-Huh’RRRDSCHOO!” Greg was surprised by the sneeze and just managed to turn, exploding into his elbow.

            “Bless you, dear.” Mycroft offered his handkerchief.

            “Thanks, My. Nah, I’m good.” Greg waved off the handkerchief. Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but pocketed the cloth.

“Hahh…Hah’DRZSCHOO!”

            “Bless you, again. Now what were you saying?”

            “Let’s find a place with wifi and you can check the news on your phone.” Greg said with a sniff and led Mycroft off the terrace and to their rental car.

 

 

            A couple hours later, Mycroft had prevailed on Greg to return to their villa.

            “I am not sick, My.” Greg had given up the battle of refusing Mycroft’s handkerchief. He wiped his nose and sat at the table while Mycroft prepared tea in the kitchen. Greg watched Mycroft, bemused. My thought tea could fix anything.

            Mycroft slammed cupboard doors looking for cups and tea. He could hear Greg sniffling.

            “HuhRRDSCHH!” Greg sneezed heavily into the handkerchief and blew his nose.

            Mycroft flinched, closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “Bless you,” he muttered. He finished making tea and brought over the steaming cups to the table.

Mycroft sat and steepled his hands against pursed lips. Greg shifted in his seat, as Mycroft studied him. The younger man began cataloging his observations. Eyes were damp and a little red. Nose was pink tinged and twitching. Greg sniffed. Drainage appeared thin and clear. Greg coughed lightly. There was no congestion in the cough and it was non productive. Complexion was normal and there were no obvious signs of fever. Greg took a sip of tea. Swallowing did not seem to be painful or uncomfortable.

“No, not ill,” Mycroft murmured. He took a sip of his own tea.

“Can we get back to our holiday now?” Greg asked.

“Hmm…not yet. You are allergic to something.”

“Just give me an antihistamine then, and we can go the Robert Graves museum.” Greg suggested hopefully.

“As intrigued as I am to see the home of the author of I, Claudius, this problem is more pressing.” Mycroft continued to contemplate his partner.

Greg rolled his eyes and took another drink of his tea. The steam tickled his already sensitive nose. Hurriedly he set down his cup and snatched up the handkerchief. “HuhRRDSCHH! HehDZACHOO!”

“God bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft glanced at the tea. “It’s not Earl Grey tea or cats or horses.”

“Well, it could be cats. Remember that cat at the café.” Greg replied hopefully. He wanted that to satisfy his lover and then they could go back to having fun.

Mycroft shook his head. “You’ve lasted much longer around cats without symptoms as I recall.”

“Maybe it was an especially ‘catty’ cat.” Greg was feeling impatient.

Mycroft’s lips twitched as he fought off a smile. “No, not cats.”

“Well, it isn’t lavender toilet water either.” Greg huffed.

Mycroft froze. “What did you say?”

“Lavender toilet water. My Great Aunt Myra always wore lavender toilet water. I hated it when she came to Christmas or Easter dinner. She had these…” Greg held his hands out from his chest, cupped and stared at them. The horror of the memory flickered across his features. He shuddered. “…’Huge tracks of land’, so to speak.” Mycroft snickered. Greg dropped his arms and sat back. “She’d hug me and I'd end up sneezing the rest of the day. Mum always said I was faking.”

“Bless you, dear.” Mycroft said softly.

A sneezy look had crept onto Greg’s face. “HuhRRRUDSCHH! See, even talking about it makes me sneeze. The whole thing is probably why I am gay.” Greg wiped his reddening nose.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You are bisexual, Gregory.”

“I can tell you, it is definitely why I don’t fancy large breasts.” Greg crossed his arms over his chest.

Mycroft blinked and took a moment to process that bit of information, then shook his head. “Be that as it may, Gregory, do you know what lavender looks like?”

“It’s purple.”

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come with me.” Mycroft stood and gestured to Greg to follow. With a huff, Greg complied. Leading Greg out onto the terrace Mycroft gestured to a number of plants growing nearby and dotting the mountainside. “That is all lavender…in bloom.”

“It is? Well, it’s rather pre-heh-pretty. HehDDDRSSCHHOO!” Greg sniffed. “No wonder I was sneezing out here earlier.”

Mycroft sighed. “Bless you. Yes, no wonder.” He gazed at the offending plants.

“And you aren’t allergic to it?” Greg looked at Mycroft questioningly.

“Me?" Mycroft glanced back at his partner.  "No, I have told you before. I am not allergic to everything.”

“Right. Not allergic to cats, horses or lavender.” Greg rubbed his nose. “Can I have an antihistamine now?”

“Certainly.” Mycroft bit his lower lip. “I think though we should cut short our trip.”

“What? Why? Because I am a little sneezy and drippy?” Greg looked incredulous.

“I do not wish you to be uncomfortable.”

“My, we came here to give you a break from your allergies. I’ll be fine in a week. In all likelihood you won’t be.” Greg’s eyes were filled with sympathy and concern. “I’m not bothered, really.”

“Gregory…” Mycroft whispered

Greg stood in front of Mycroft and rested his hands on his lover’s hips. “Please.” He gazed up at his partner with wide, brown eyes, pleading. “Please.” He leaned up and kissed Mycroft softly. The kiss ended gently and they stood with foreheads touching. “Please,” Greg whispered a third time.

“You are incorrigible, Gregory Lestrade,” Mycroft breathed. “Of course, dear, we will stay.”

FIN

The view from the villa.

[Choobat]

Oh my GOD!! This has to be one of my favorites! (Though, of course, all your writings are wonderful.) Anyhow, yes, this is adorable! The fact that Greg is willing to suffer just so Mycroft can have the relief he so desperately needs (not that we want to give it to him of course )

[cally]

Oh this was terribly brilliant.   Poor Greg is taking a beating with the lavender this week between you and I.

I hope they enjoyed the rest of their holiday.  Poor Greg, always getting afflicted when they go away.

8 hours ago, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“Maybe it was an especially ‘catty’ cat.” Greg was feeling impatient.

 

 

 

[matilda3948]

I'm so obscenely behind on commenting, but I really just adore your drabbles! They're lovely and make me all warm and happy inside  

[AngelEyes]

Squeeee!!! A story for me!!! This totally makes my night! My week! I love it! Thank you!!!

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

*Agreed. What do you suggest? Agent Orange? –AB *

 

            Greg stared at the text. Was she serious, he thought? Best not chance it.

Never quite sure with threats from the British Government or his assistant!

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

When Greg awoke for the day, it was to a familiar sound.

 

            “Hih’tschoo…tishchoo…tish, tish, tish…Heh’ETSCHOO!”

 

            “G’bless you and g’morning,” Greg mumbled, reaching out to stroke Mycroft’s back as his partner sat on the edge of the bed.

 

 

I'm pretty sure I would quit hating mornings if I got to wake up to this everyday!

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

Greg sighed with relief. He had been fairly confident Mycroft would be okay with the impromptu holiday, but there was always a chance his partner would object. He could be prickly at times.

Indeed!

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“Maybe it was an especially ‘catty’ cat.” Greg was feeling impatient.

LOL!

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

He shuddered. “…’Huge tracks of land’, so to speak.” Mycroft snickered. Greg dropped his arms and sat back.

Too funny!!! Love his expression!

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

See, even talking about it makes me sneeze. The whole thing is probably why I am gay.” Greg wiped his reddening nose.

 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You are bisexual, Gregory.”

 

“I can tell you, it is definitely why I don’t fancy large breasts.” Greg crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Mycroft blinked and took a moment to process that bit of information, then shook his head.

This made me laugh so hard! Greg so offhanded about it, and Mycroft just sort of flummoxed! LOL.

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“Me?" Mycroft glanced back at his partner.  "No, I have told you before. I am not allergic to everything.”

No, only most things.

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“My, we came here to give you a break from your allergies. I’ll be fine in a week. In all likelihood you won’t be.” Greg’s eyes were filled with sympathy and concern. “I’m not bothered, really.”

Awwww. Protecting his love!

On March 4, 2016 at 9:00 PM, Seeking Clarity + Wisdom said:

“You are incorrigible, Gregory Lestrade,” Mycroft breathed. “Of course, dear, we will stay.”

Definitely incorrigible!

I love the view! Can I please just disappear there? For a week or two? Or forever. No, but really, this was Amazing and I love it. Thank you!

[Juto]

Awwwwwww  this was definitely one of the sweetest Mystrade drabbles I have ever read. I can't tell you this enough but I ADORE your Mystrade humour. Seeing these two being flirtatious, caregiving and sneezing was a wonderful combination of cute!!