So, I've just got back into Sherlock fics and back into Mystrade :D

I hope you enjoy this fic- it will be humour based much in the same way as 'Surviving the Storm' (one of my first Sherlock fics…I know a lot of people liked the humour and dialogue in that one, so I hope to recreate it here)

I really hope you enjoy this fic as I know I will enjoy writing it!

I'd be so grateful if you could leave a review!



It was the door closing that woke Greg Lestrade up; no matter how hard his partner, Mycroft Holmes, tried to be quiet when he came in late, he could never quite manage it.

Greg sighed contentedly and turned in their shared bed, peering to look through the darkness at the luminous bed-side clock. 3.27am.

He turned back over and closed his eyes. In the darkness the sounds in the home were magnetised; he heard Mycroft cough and yawn, trying hard to stifle it with his hand. He smiled as Mycroft went through his routine- umbrella on stand, keys on side, shoes neatly lined up behind the door. Same every night; something he loved about Mycroft.

Their bedroom door, always kept slightly ajar, slowly crept open as Mycroft padded through into the room. He kept quiet and still, adding some heavy 'sleepy breathing' for more effect. He felt the bed dip as Mycroft sat down to take off his socks and trousers.

'Morning.' He said loudly.

Mycroft gasped and coughed, jumping off the bed in shock.

'Gregory!' he scolded, hand on his heart. 'I thought you were asleep, love' he added softly.

'I was, until you came in' Gregory crossed his arms behind his head, smiling, boyish face illuminated as Mycroft turned on the bedside lamp.

'I'm sorry I woke you' Mycroft told him in an apologetic tone. He leaned forwards and kissed Lestrade on the cheek.

The Detective Inspector frowned. 'Is that all I get?' he asked sarcastically, as Mycroft moved away.

The Government Official smiled and leaned back in again, capturing his partner's lips in a soft kiss.

'Thank you' Greg grinned, stretching.

'You're most welcome' came the reply. Mycroft yawned again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and folding it up.

'Busy day, love?' Greg asked, moving over as Mycroft climbed into bed with a loud sigh.


'Up to much?'

'I was organising a meeting with United Nations dignitaries to deal with the issue faced by…' he trailed off, looking quickly at Greg. 'But you don't need to know about that.' He finished smoothly.

Greg grinned; one day he would get him to spill something big. He opened his mouth to reply when a shrill noise interrupted him.

He watched Mycroft close his eyes and hiss his breath out between his teeth.

'Answer it' Greg told him, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He felt Mycroft move off the bed and walk over to the dresser. His ringtone stopped as he answered his mobile.

'Mycroft Holmes speaking…one moment, please'

Mycroft shot an apologetic look at his partner as he quietly walked out the room, shutting the door behind him.

Greg huffed out a laugh, sniffing. He checked the clock again. 3:36am. He looked out the window on his side of the room; the world was starting to wake up.

He looked up as Mycroft walked back into the room.

'I'm sorry about that' he said, as he lay back down in the bed.

Mycroft's face was outlined against the soft orange glow; he had rings under his eyes and his face looked slightly thinner.

'You look knackered.' Greg told him, face serious. 'As my Mum used to say; your eyes look like "piss-holes in the snow"'

Mycroft blinked, head turning slowly to look at his boyfriend. 'That's an interesting turn of phrase' he mused.

'I like it' Greg shrugged, leaning over and gently clicking off the lamp. Mycroft leaned forwards and pressed a kiss into Greg's head as he passed.

Lestrade chuckled, relaxing into Mycroft's embrace, leaning his head down to rest on his shoulder, arm casually circling his body.

They lay like that for the next ten minutes in silence. The darkness was comforting, as well as the noises of inner London around them.


No answer.


Still no answer. Greg looked up, eyes concerned.

He smiled as saw his boyfriend through the darkness.

He was fast asleep.


'I told you it was the gardener'

Greg sat behind his desk and rubbed his eyes. Sherlock Holmes was bouncing on his heels in front of him with barely composed superiority, while John Watson stood slightly to his left, looking out the window.

'Yes, thank you, Sherlock' muttered the DI, standing up and stretching. Mycroft had taken another three phone calls that morning before they finally settled down to sleep; he himself was called out to a crime-scene at 6.15, unusually leaving Mycroft in bed.

'Well, it was fairly simple.' Sherlock told him, breaking into his thoughts. 'You only had to look at the dirt underneath his finger nails and the colour of rust on the soles of his shoes-'

'I think he's got the idea, Sherlock' cut in John, looking towards Greg, who was staring down at his paperwork with a glazed look in his eyes.

'My brother been tiring you out, has he?' Sherlock asked. John looked on with an open mouth and an 'I don't believe you just asked him that' look on his face.

Greg looked up sharply. 'No, he hasn't.' he said tartly.

'You seem distracted' said Sherlock flippantly, bending down to inspect a toxicology report on Lestrade's desk.

'Thank you'

Sherlock smirked and didn't look up. 'His texts seem to be getting rather abrupt, I've noticed. And you don't seem to be talking about him quite so much as you once did'

'Yeah, well.' Lestrade yawned again. 'He's busy.'

'Sat behind his desk in total silence, ordering other people do unimportant things and occasionally pouring himself a rather expensive whiskey is not what I'd call busy, Inspector.'

Greg closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. He'd become used to Sherlock's sly digs at Mycroft and he refuses to rise to them. It's not worth the argument.

'Yes, well' John coughed and broke the stalemate. 'We'd better be off; things to do'

Sherlock looked up sharply. 'What things?' he asked with his eyes narrowed.

'Thing things' John rolled his eyes, grabbing Sherlock by the arm and pulling him towards the door. Greg shot him a thankful look as John left, and sat heavily behind his desk.

He and Mycroft had been growing apart, he thought. The few hours they spent together, they spent sleeping; exhaustion was something not easily beaten on four hours of sleep a night. They needed something to push them back together, something to unite them again.

He opened a new tab on his computer and pulled up a search engine.

He smiled as he typed.


Gregory pushed open the door of their flat and was greeted by the warm smell of food. An oriental, spicy smell was permeating their home and his stomach rumbled.

'My?' he called as he toed off his shoes and put his case files on the side-board.

'In here, love.' Mycroft answered from the kitchen.

Gregory smiled as he made his way through the door to their kitchen. Black granite worktops and metallic grey walls gave the room a sophisticated vibe. In his opinion.

'You're cooking?' he asked, smiling at the unexpected sight of Mycroft at the stove.

'No, I'm writing a sonnet.' Mycroft laughed, his smile filling his face. Gregory walked forwards and put his hands around his waist, leaning on his shoulder from behind. He sniggered as Mycroft yawned again.

'Another long day?'

'Every day is long'

Gregory hummed, before moving to the fridge. He got out a 25cl bottle of red wine for Mycroft (he didn't drink the stuff) and a can of lager out for himself. He poured them into respective glasses and sat himself down at the dining table, which was in the corner of the room, next to a large window overlooking St James's Park.

'My…' he started, reaching into his pocket.


'Don't be angry'

Mycroft spun around. 'Gregory?'

'Promise me?' Greg looked up at him with wide brown eyes.

Mycroft's own eyes narrowed and he sat carefully down in the seat opposite Greg. 'I promise' he said slowly.

'I've booked us a holiday.'

Mycroft blinked.

'You've done what?'

'Booked us a holiday' repeated the Detective Inspector. 'Come on! You need a break.'

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his temples.

'Where?' he asked finally.

Greg smiled broadly. 'North Devon.'

Mycroft stared at him. 'Don't tell me…'

'Yep' Lestrade grinned at the look on Mycroft's face.

'We're going camping!'

Oh, am I going to love writing this fic! :D

Please leave me a review, let me know what you think…the actual destination is somewhere I've personally holidayed, so I'll know what I'm talking about : P

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter….

I'll update soon!