Author's Note:

Pairing: Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

'What are you doing here?' Mycroft hissed when he found out exactly who'd been throwing rocks at his windows.

Greg Lestrade grinned up at the genius, his curly brown hair flipping around in the cold wind. Mycroft swallowed thickly as he leaned against the freezing-cold balcony railing.

'Gonna let us in?' Greg asked. 'It's freezing out here.'

'Well you should have thought about that before you decided to break into my manor,' Mycroft scowled.

'Ooh, manor,' Greg teased. 'It's certaintly big enough, ain't it?'

'How did you get in here?' Mycroft demanded.

Greg grinned and kicked at the grass beneath his feet. 'Eh... well, the cops didn' arrest me for nothin'.'

Mycroft snorted. 'Breaking and entering, really?'

'Don't act like you didn' check up on me when you agreed to be me tutor,' Greg tutted.

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, it was almost midnight, and he had a test the next day. 'Lestrade, please leave immediately.'

'Aww, come on,' Greg whined, 'took me an hour to walk 'ere, ya know.'

'Well, the walk back will do you some good,' Mycroft said. 'Fresh air and whatnot.'


'I suppose it took longer because you smoke,' Mycroft interrupted.

'I didn' come 'ere to talk 'bout my smokin' habits,' Greg told him.

'I don't know why you came here,' the red-head admitted. He looked down at Greg, the other teenager seeming so small with the height difference.

'I came here to see you.'

Mycroft snorted. 'I gathered that. Unless you're looking for my brother; Sherlock's bedroom is on the other side of the manor.'

'Oh goodie,' Greg muttered.

He had his head tilted as he jumped from foot to foot. It was December and the air was thick with the scent of snow. Mycroft wouldn't be surprised if he woke up to find his world blanketed white.

'Come on, Mycroft, let us up,' Greg said.


'Come onn,' Greg whined. He looked Mycroft up and down- well, he leered at what he could see of Mycroft- and smiled when he noted the fluffy blue dressing gown the other teenager was sporting, as well as the bright red jumper. 'At least throw us down your jumper, eh?'

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. His entire body was bathed in moonlight, his pale skin seeming to glow, and Greg had to fight hard to keep his lust down; he wasn't doing very well.

'You want me to take my clothes off?' Mycroft asked.

'Uh... yeah, you can do that,' Greg grinned. 'So come on; get ya kit off.'

Mycroft snorted. 'I don't think so.'

'You're mean,' Greg pouted.

'You should have worn a thicker jumper,' Mycroft countered. 'Now go before security, or my father, finds you.'

'Nah, I got in clean,' Greg told the younger teen. 'I'm good at that.'

'What? Breaking and entering?'

Greg slapped a gloved hand against his chest and swooned dramatically. 'Oh, how you hurt me, Mycroft!'

'You'll get hurt if you don't leave,' Mycroft said. 'Honestly, Lestrade, why'd you come here?'

''Cause I fancied a chat,' Greg said.

'At midnight?'

'Yup,' the brunette nodded.

'Well we're chatting now,' Mycroft said.

Greg sighed. 'But it's cold. Come on, a face to face chat'd be better, Mycroft. Just let us up.'

'Let a strange boy into my bedroom at midnight after he broke into my house?' Mycroft asked. 'I think not.'

'Technically,' Greg said, 'I didn't break into the house...'

'You broke into the grounds; it's close enough,' Mycroft said. He was starting to shiver; the wind was bone-chillingly cold, and all he had on were his pyjamas. Not even his thick dressing gown and jumper could keep the cold out. 'Do you have any idea what my father will do if he catches you?'

'Well he better not catch me, eh?'


'Come on, Mycroft,' Greg interrupted. 'Don't you ever... live?'

'I'm living right now,' Mycroft said. 'I'm breathing, aren't I?'

Greg rolled his eyes. 'I mean live live,' he said. 'Like, go and have fun.'

'I have fun when I study; when I read a book; when I solve a complex situation.'

''Course you do,' Greg snorted.

They fell into silence; Greg staring up at Mycroft; Mycroft looking down from his balcony. When Greg licked his lips and wrapped his arms around himself, Mycroft felt a small pang of sympathy; it was really cold, and Greg lived on the other side of town. He must be freezing.

'Lestrade, I'll talk to you tomorrow,' Mycroft broke the silence.

'All you ever talk abou' is maths,' Greg whined.

'That's because I'm tutoring you in mathamatics,' Mycroft reminded him.

Greg scowled. 'Yeah, and you won't talk 'bout nothin' else. I wanna have a real conversation.'

'No, what you want to do is snog.'

Greg grinned broadly. 'Yeah, that too,' he nodded.

'Lestrade, we've talked about this,' Mycroft sighed.

'No we 'aven't,' Greg said. 'I've brought it up and you've changed the subject.'

'That's because there's nothing to talk about.'

'Bullshit,' Greg scowled. 'I fancy you, Mycroft, and I know you fancy me too.'

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. 'When have I ever given you that impression?'

'When you stare at my lips when I talk,' Greg said immediately. Mycroft felt himself blush; yes, he did do that. 'When I drop me books an' you stare at me arse when I bend over.' Damn it, he did that too. 'When you touch me while I'm tryin' to work some maths problem out.'

'Yes, I get it,' Mycroft finally said.

Greg grinned. 'See? You fancy me too.'

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his eyes. Greg waited patiently for the genius to collect himself. 'Lestrade...' he started.

'Don't say it's 'cause of your ol' man,' Greg interrupted. Mycroft stared at him. 'You do everythin' your family wants?' Greg asked.

'Of course I do,' Mycroft answered.

'Doesn't that ever get annoyin'?' Greg asked. 'Don't you ever wanna... just do somethin' you like?'

'I do a lot of thigns I like.'

'Don't say studyin' and readin',' Greg scowled.

'But I enjoy those things.'

'There's gotta be more, Mycroft,' Greg said.

Mycroft just stared at him.

Greg stared back.

'Like what?' Mycroft finally asked.

'Ya know... watchin' TV,' Greg said, 'hangin' out with mates. Just... lots of stuff.'

'I don't have any friends,' Mycroft stated.

'Ya have me,' Greg reminded him.

'I tutor you in mathamatics,' Mycroft said. 'That's not a friendship, Lestrade.'

'It could be,' Greg said. 'It could be more, Mycroft.'

'It can't.'

'Why?' Greg demanded. 'Don't want ya ol' man to find out ya gay?'

Mycroft pursed his lips. Greg knew he'd hit the nail on the head.

'I'm not sayin' we gotta shout it to the world, Mycroft,' Greg said softly. He shifted again, his toes going numb. 'I know with the job you want, the future you want, that you can't be open 'bout bein' gay.'

'I never said I was gay.'

'You don't have to,' Greg said gently.

Mycroft chewed on his bottom lip. He didn't know how Gregory Lestrade knew. The other teen just seemed to get people. A few study sessions was all it took for Greg to know absolutely everything about Mycroft.

A part of Mycroft absolutely hated it.

A bigger part was thrilled at the notion that Greg Lestrade found him interesting.

'We don't have to tell anyone,' Greg said.

'And you're okay being a secret?' Mycroft asked.

'For the right person, yeah,' Greg nodded. 'The world's changin', Mycroft. Don't need to keep it secret forever.'

Mycroft continued to gnaw on his lip. Suddenly snow flakes began to fall from the sky and both teenagers looked up. Soon there were small flakes caught in their hair, their clothes, and when Mycroft looked back down Greg stared straight into his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, his body now shaking from more than just the cold, Mycroft slowly said, 'Early today... one of our handymen was fixing a pipe around the corner.' He pointed to the right and Greg turned before raising an eyebrow.

'What, want me to be your plumber?'

A small smile curled at Mycroft's lips. 'No,' he said, 'the man left his ladder there.'

Greg's eyebrows jumped.

'Unless you were planning on scaling the wall?' Mycroft asked.

Greg grinned broadly and started jumping around, more from excitement than cold, Mycroft thought. 'Yeah, that's me, Spider-Greg,' he grinned.

Mycroft chuckled.

'But I reckon this time I'll use the ladder,' the brunette continued. 'Can't show you me super-powers too soon, can I?'

Mycroft laughed loudly. 'No, I suppose not,' he agreed.

Greg stopped jumping and looked up at Mycroft carefully. 'You sure?'

'I wouldn't have told you there was a ladder around the corner if I wasn't,' Mycroft answered.

Greg's grin was back. 'Good,' he said. ''Cause me neck's startin' to hurt.'

He disappeared into the darkness and Mycroft drew in a deep, cold breath. He couldn't believe that he was letting Gregory Lestrade- smoking, drinking, foul-mouthed Gregory Lestrade- into his room at midnight. It was insane! It was madness! It was...

... Mycroft was getting small thrills of pleasure spiking up his spine. He'd never done anything like this before. And it made him heady with a mixture of fear and excitement.

The sound of the ladder hitting the wall made Mycroft turn and he watched as Greg quickly climbed up it. He clambered over the railing and landed on the balcony before Mycroft.

'Hey there,' Greg grinned.

'Hello,' Mycroft said softly, all his earlier bravery suddenly vanishing.

Greg chuckled and closed the distance between them. Carefully he wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist, always pausing to let the red-head pull back if he wanted.

But Mycroft didn't. In fact, he gently placed his hands on Greg's chest, unsure of what to do. Greg smiled warmly as he pulled Mycroft flush against his body. There was only an inch of height difference between them and Greg had to tilt his head only slightly to look into Mycroft's bright blue eyes.

'Alright there?'

'I've... never done anything like this before,' Mycroft admitted.

'Me either,' Greg said. Mycroft raised both eyebrows in surprise and Greg laughed. 'I've snogged blokes, yeah,' he nodded. 'But... nothin' else.'


'You can tell,' Greg said. 'Deduce if I'm lyin' or not.'

Mycroft ran his eyes over Greg's face and body carefully before coming to the conclusion that Greg was telling the truth. 'Oh.'


'So... what do we do?'

Greg shrugged one shoulder. 'Whatever we want.'

Mycroft nodded slowly before tentatively closing the gap between them. Greg's lips were cold and chapped but so soft. Mycroft quickly lost himself in the sensation as Greg moved his lips steadily against the genius'.

When they broke apart Mycroft was flushed a light shade of pink and Greg was grinning.

'Alright there?' the brunette repeated.

'Y-Yes,' Mycroft stuttered.

Greg grinned. 'So, uh... you want me to leave or...?'

Mycroft thought about it carefully before stepping out of Greg's embrace. Greg's flash of disappointment disappeared when Mycroft linked their fingers together and tugged Greg into the bedroom.

Greg would never, ever regret walking across town just to talk to Mycroft.

And Mycroft would never regret letting Greg scale a ladder just to let him in.


Author's Note: So I went to Hungry Jacks to get coffee, and some music video was playing on the TV with scenes from that Romeo + Juliet movie with Leonardo DiCaprio. I've never seen it, but I suddenly imagined Mycroft standing on a balcony with Greg on the ground and... well, this was born as I walked back home.

I have absolutely no idea what my muse is on... caffeine, apparently. So, hope you enjoyed it :)