Disclaimer: I don't own own BBC Sherlock, cannon!Sherlock Holmes, Robert Downey Junior version of Sherlock Holmes, or any other thing remotely close to any of these.

Summary: Just because I think Mystrade needs more love. Lestrade is happy with his relationship with Mycroft. When he tries to call it off, he finds it impossible.

A/N: I'm American, where we are comfortable eating chicken nuggets even though we have no idea exactly what parts of the chicken are in it, yet we find some of the meats British people eat quite odd. So what I'm trying to say is, I may make a few errors in British culture or dialect as this story progresses. If so then I will be all too glad if you can point it out and I will try to fix it promptly without changing the story itself.

For DI Lestrade, being together with Mycroft has been some of the happiest months in his life. Before they became close (like, really close) Lestrade would go for days without socializing with anyone who wasn't a part of work. He didn't even own a pet. But he never thought that he was lonely. Okay well, maybe he did. But he always brushed it off with a tall glass of liquor and a large tub of ice cream while he sat on the couch watching soap operas in another language. Then one day Mycroft asked him out to dinner- just out of the blue- and Lestrade jumped at the chance to make a non-work related friend. Little did he know that Mycroft was interested in something a bit more than friendship.

Not that he was complaining. Their dates were always fun and lively. Sometimes they would go to some expensive restaurant, Mycroft would have to 'dress' Lestrade in a suitable suit that the elder Holmes insisted on purchasing for him. He bought several for him but Lestrade's favorite was the dark-blue, almost black tux with gold cufflinks. Other times they would go out for a drive in the limousine while they chatted about themselves and drank wine. Occasionally, Lestrade would get to go to Mycroft's house, or say, his mansion. There Lestrade got to plant butterfly kisses (his favorite kind of kisses) along Mycroft's jaw-line while the two sat together on a soft, feathered couch with the flat screen television on just for the sake of them having background noise. Lestrade would then travel until he was kissing at Mycroft's neck. Mycroft would never have a more blissful expression on his face than when Lestrade was showing him just how much he was adored and loved. Lestrade knew how Mycroft was usually the one who expressed love and concern for others (mainly him and Sherlock) so Mycroft rarely got to have such treatment focused in on him.

Yes, these past few months have been paradise for Lestrade. But there always comes a time when good things come to an end. It made sense. Mycroft's job was just too important (whatever the hell it was that he did. He kept it a secret from everyone) and soon Lestrade was seeing Mycroft less and less. And then on the very few occasions where Mycroft would have free time, he would be too tired to even talk to Lestrade. He'd just go on to bed and sleep soundly until work called for him again. Lestrade should have known that it just wasn't possible for Mycroft to spend as much time with him as they both wanted. Eventually things have made a turn for the worst.

After two months (which were not part of the happiest months) Lestrade didn't see Mycroft at all. He waited every single day for him to call or text or something. Then finally it hit Lestrade like a ton of bricks.

Mycroft does not have the time or energy for him. His work was just too important to him. Not that Lestrade thought Mycroft didn't care for him. No, Mycroft was too loving a person for that. But he deserved someone better. Because let's face it. What has Lestrade been given since this relationship started? Oh, just thousands of dollars worth of suits, gourmet meals and fifty year old fine wine. And what does Mycroft get out of the deal? Butterfly kisses. Yeah. That was all Lestrade could give him. And Mycroft could get that from any other future boyfriend who has lips.

So Lestrade decided that breaking up with Mycroft Holmes was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. He was going to do it for Mycroft's sake. Even though he really wanted to do it in person, Lestrade felt that if he didn't call it off soon, he would change his mind. So he sent a rather long e-mail to Mycroft, explaining that he thought it was for the best that they just remain long-distance friends. It deeply pained Lestrade to write it. He may have had a single tear in his eye (but it was a manly tear!) when he clicked on the send button. Afterwards, he just sat by his computer, continuously refreshing his page to see if Mycroft would respond quickly. He didn't even realize two hours have came and went until he glanced up at the clock. A sudden calm (or shall we say, despair) washed over him and he yawned. Well it looked like that was the end of that. But why did his heart feel like it was on fire? Not the kind of fiery passion kind of fire one felt when they were in love but a fire that was determined to leave nothing but an empty hole when it finished burning.

Lestrade felt a few more manly tears threatening to spill. And the worst part about all this was that he didn't bother to get a tub of ice cream or liquor, and he didn't want to go to the store feeling sorry for himself. There was nothing left to do but go to bed. He forced himself out of the chair even though a part of him still wanted to click the refresh button on his computer. Maybe just once more. Click. Okay still no response. Time to sleep. As he sank into his covers that night, his last thought was how in time things will get better after their break-up for the both of them.

Little did he know that Mycroft had already decided there wasn't going to be a break-up, as the elder Holmes sat next to his own computer and reread the e-mail for the tenth time with a concern frown across his lips.