Author's Note:

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade

Warnings: Mild homophobic language/ideas common of the era, explicit sexual content, mild language

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

Beta: beargirl1393


Sunday, June 25th, 1922

Gregory was Mr Lestrade's nephew. His mother had been unwed, Mycroft had heard, and when she finally got a job in London, she had sent Gregory to be taught a trade by his uncle. The rumours had been courtesy of the maids, all of whom Mycroft had found more than once chattering enthusiastically in the halls and kitchen weeks after Gregory had arrived.

It would die down eventually, of course; new things were only interesting for so long. Gregory had a few mishaps, misbehaving and throwing tools and crashing his uncle's bicycle into the side of Mr Lestrade's smaller work shed. But he soon learned how to master all the tools his uncle used, quickly memorised how to navigate the sprawling grounds and house that made up Holmes Manor, and was a hard worker.

Mycroft didn't interact much with Gregory Lestrade. He met the man- only three years older than himself, which made him twenty- when Gregory first arrived, and had been given a firm handshake, a charming smile, and a wink. Mycroft still didn't know what to make of that, or of all the winks that followed whenever he and Gregory crossed paths.

They never exchanged more than a few "good morning"s, some casual "hello"s, and even a "didn' see that rock, did you?" (Mycroft would gladly forget that he'd tripped over the rock, but Gregory seemed to enjoy reminding him of it every so often).

Mycroft never thought of Gregory Lestrade for any great length of time until after the whole kitchen incident. His life would change rather dramatically in a very short space of time after that.