drabblinginmystrade

[drabblinginmystrade]

You're alive! (Been checking bi-monthly) Yay. Taking prompts or not, I don't care (much- after all you write amazing Mystrade) I'm just super relieved to know nothing tragic or life-alteringly bad happened to you, my dear, and that you are safe and well. <3 I am curious though as to whether that WIP you have on AO3 is going to be finished? I wish you all the luck and love in the world darling, you deserve it. xXx DeathFrisbee221 on AO3

Aw, bless you, my dear. I am indeed alive! Please excuse the late reply. I haven't been online much recently. 

I hadn't been planning to finish it, but now that you mention it, I think I have another chapter lurking unpublished on my old laptop. Might look into that, see if I can do something to round it all off. 

Much love to you too! And hugs! <3

[drabblinginmystrade]

I just checked on here again on a whim and I'm so glad to see you're back and well! Even if you're no longer writing Mystrade (although I adore all your Mystrade stuff and do still regularly dig into the archive on here), it's great to know you're okay!

Aww. Do you? I'm so pleased! It's nice to know some of my drabbles are still being read. Lots of time and love went into this blog. 

Thanks for the message. T'was super lovely of you. 

I might do a bit more writing at some point too. If I do, this will be the first place I share it. 

[drabblinginmystrade]

Hello and sorry for leaving!

Hello, everyone!

Firstly a big sorry for abandoning this blog without an explanation. For a while before I stopped writing I had been slowly losing interest. I felt like I needed to take a break, and start engaging more with other aspects of my life again.

I am however, still a fan of Mystrade (although no longer such a keen follower of the Sherlock fandom), and proud of this blog, so I will be keeping it as a kind of drabble archive!

For a while this blog was password protected for personal reasons. Whilst I will no longer be taking prompts, it is now back open in case anyone fancies browsing through old drabbles! 

p.s If you sent me a message, I'm sorry for not replying! I was grateful for it, and think you're all gorgeous.

p.p.s My personal blog is now back up and running here. 

[drabblinginmystrade]

No drabble tonight because I am working on my AO3 fic Under the Summer Sun.

I haven't updated in far too long, but the next chapter should be up tomorrow evening... if anyone is still reading it!

[drabblinginmystrade]

Fake!married might have to be next on my drabble list!

I can't believe I haven't done it yet. 

fake!married is the best trope and i never tire of it no matter how many are written and how badly they end up being. undercover!married is even better. “we have to lull our adversary into complacency by being as MARRIED AS POSSIBLE.” 

[drabblinginmystrade]

Going Smoothly

Prompt: Mycroft has to attend a conference on their anniversary so Greg decides to surprise him by secretly traveling up as well and presenting himself in a delectable way in Mycroft's suite. Which, it turns out, an evening meeting with some VIPs was going to be held in as well...

Mycroft’s evening was going well... remarkably well. Business conferences rarely went so smoothly, but he rather suspected that tonight everything was going his way. In fact, he had even ventured to invite the small group of foreign ministers up to his suite for a nightcap.

Over the years, as his political career had blossomed, he had learnt there was little like a glass of brandy and a smoke to bring a group of men together. Sometimes he truly did enjoy his job.

The hotel was luxurious beyond all measure and he could hardly wait to sink into one of the velvet settee’s which furnished his suite. They reached his corridor in high spirits and, unlocking the door, he chuckled warmly as the French minister cracked a joke.

The sight which met his eyes as they entered the room caused his laughter to die in his throat. 

Gregory Lestrade, his part time lover, was lying on the velvet settee he had been yearning for. The man was naked but for a golden cushion covering his manhood. His bare skin glowed warmly in contrast to the deep red velvet of the couch. The warmth of the room had lulled the man to sleep, and his mouth was slightly parted, lips rosy and wet.

‘Out,’ Mycroft snapped, springing into action after several seconds of stunned silence. Ushering the small party back through the door, he hurried through after them and closed it swiftly behind him. He was suddenly, inexplicably, short of breath.

‘We cannot stay?’ The French minister enquired, his voice tainted with evident disappointment.

‘No, no,’ Mycroft made a shooing motion with his hands, feeling his cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. ‘There is a drunkard on the sofa. I think I should call for security.’

‘You do not know him?’ The German foreign minister asked suspiciously.

‘No,’ Mycroft shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. Not at all. It would be best if you all returned to your rooms. I will deal with this.’

There was a murmur of assent and the group dispersed in a slightly dazed fashion.

Mycroft wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Have a lovely evening,’ he called after them in a strangled voice.

‘Ah,’ the French minister turned back to him and smiled dubiously. ‘I fear it will not be as pleasant as yours, Monsieur ‘Olmes.’

[drabblinginmystrade]

Don't be hard on yourself, RL just sometimes gets in the way! My prompt: Mycroft has to attend a conference on their anniversary so Greg decides to surprise him by secretly traveling up as well and presenting himself in a delectable way in Mycroft's suite. Which, it turns out, an evening meeting with some VIPs was going to be held in as well...

This prompt was sent to me a couple of weeks ago, but I have finally got around to filling it!

[drabblinginmystrade]

*tackles* just wanted to say, I hope everything is okay with you sweetie!

It is, thank you, my lovely.

I even have a drabble lined up for this evening (at last!). :3

[drabblinginmystrade]

It's been a while, so I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay. We all miss you and can't wait to see you back online! :)

Thank you, my dear! 

Life has just been getting in the way I suppose. I will continue to update but posts may be a little less frequent. 

It's good to be back though. I have missed my blog. ^_^

[drabblinginmystrade]

Masseur

Prompt: Greg gives Mycroft a massage and pays extra attention to his legs (and Mycroft slowly becomes a moaning mess *o*)

A naked Holmes brother, lying flat out in bed with legs spread, was a terrifying sight.

Swallowing his nerves, Greg pulled back from a heated kiss and gently gripped the man’s shoulders. He traced the pale skin with his fingers for a few indulgent moments, admiring the dusting of freckles, before flipping the man over to lie on his front.

Mycroft made a muffled giggling noise and bucked beneath him, which was enough to tell Greg that the man had drunk a little too much wine that evening. He grinned and gently pressed his date’s arse back into the sheets, ignoring the tempting way in which Mycroft was wriggling it.

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft protested. He twisted his neck in order to look back over his shoulder and pouted slightly. ‘Don’t tease me.’

Greg shushed him quietly, pressing his hands into the knotted muscles of the man’s back. The tension there was palpable; every movement of his fingers met with stolid resistance. He dug his thumbs into the hollows beneath Mycroft’s shoulder blades and the man groaned, suddenly giving way beneath his hands. His muscles loosened, and Greg began to make his way downwards, easing the tension from the man’s lower back.

‘Mm,’ Mycroft mumbled beneath him. ‘S’nice.’

‘I used to be a masseur,’ Greg told him. ‘Back when I was in Uni. Easy bit of cash... hefty tips.’

Mycroft tensed again beneath him and he turned around once more, eyeing him with jealous, narrowed eyes.

‘All very professional,’ Greg grinned. ‘Not what you’re thinking.’

Not that the thought had never crossed his mind. He smirked and bent downwards to press a kiss to Mycroft’s arse. The man’s head sank into the pillows, which muffled a quiet moan.

‘Is that good?’ Greg asked, suddenly incredibly aroused. He unbuttoned his own trousers swiftly, before turning his attention to Mycroft’s bare legs. He massaged the man’s thighs with slow, attentive movements, beginning behind his knee caps and edging higher, towards his goal.

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft hissed, clutching the pillow beneath him as Greg began to incorporate his tongue into the massage. 

‘Mm-hm?’ Greg asked lazily, swirling his tongue around the soft skin just below the man’s right cheek.

‘I said... no teasing,’ the man growled, pushing his hips downwards into the mattress.

Greg took a hold of his arse and pressed too, beginning a gentle rhythm as his tongue wound higher.

‘Oh God,’ Mycroft flung his hand back, almost hitting Greg in the face before his fingers entwined in his hair. He held him tightly in place. ‘Do you never listen?’

‘Nope,’ Greg pulled back for a moment to speak, before he was pushed forcibly back into place. He mumbled his next words against the sensitive skin he had been striving to reach. ‘Not when I know best.’ 

[drabblinginmystrade]

Greg gives Mycroft a massage and pays extra attention to his legs (and Mycroft slowly becomes a moaning mess *o*)

Here's a slightly saucy prompt, because I haven't written anything smutty in far too long.

[drabblinginmystrade]

Keeping Secret

Prompt: After the wedding, Greg shows up at Mycroft's door demanding he make it up to him for having to sit through it alone. Existing (secret) relationship.

‘I can’t believe you,’ Greg grumbled. Still trussed up in a too tight tuxedo, the sight of his lover opening the door in silk paisley-print pyjamas was incredibly irritating. ‘I thought you were going to come.’

Mycroft chuckled and gestured for him to enter the flat. His Mayfair apartment was sleek and modern, dotted with the occasional antique as a reminder of his old money status. ‘Weddings are trivial affairs, Gregory. I had more important matters with which to concern myself.’

Greg pushed passed him and into the plush living room. Grabbing an amber bottle of whiskey from the drinks cabinet, he removed the cork with his mouth and took a long desperate swig. The glass chinked against his teeth and Mycroft winced in evident disapproval.

‘When are we going to tell them?’ Greg asked, once he had given the whiskey a moment to reach his head. He was already slightly tipsy from the wedding, and willing to dive into a conversation which he might not otherwise have been ready for.

Sighing sweetly, Mycroft sank into a leather armchair and crossed his legs. He pursed his lips. ‘You know we must tell no-one, Gregory. The nature of our relationship...’ he paused to give Greg a distinctly saucy once-over, ‘...must remain a secret.’

‘So I’m just a bit of rough, who’s willing to answer your booty calls at all hours of the night?’ Greg rolled his eyes, and chugged at the whiskey bottle. He pulled away with a vulgar sucking noise and Mycroft licked his lips.

‘Not at all,’ the man murmured, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in the chair. He reached out a hand. ‘You mean a lot to me, Gregory.’

‘Yeah?’ Greg allowed himself to be pulled forwards, sinking into Mycroft’s lap with a soft noise of relief. He allowed his lover to prise the bottle from his hands and set it down out of reach.

Mycroft’s dark hair had an auburn glow in the soft light of the room. It was well past midnight and the silence was unbroken but for the occasional wail of a siren flying past beyond the windows. The man blinked softly as Greg brushed hungry lips against his jaw. His eyelashes left long shadows against his cheeks.

‘How much?’ Greg whispered in his ear. ‘How much do I mean?’

The man reached out and pulled him closer, gripping him tightly with long, pale fingers. He ran a hand through Greg’s hair, eyes roving. ‘Everything.’

Greg bit back a smile and leaned in to press a bruising kiss to Mycroft’s mouth. ‘You know,’ he murmured. ‘I can’t believe you.’ 

[drabblinginmystrade]

After the wedding, Greg shows up at Mycroft's door demanding he make it up to him for having to sit through it alone. Existing (secret) relationship.

Tonight's prompt!

Thank you, Anon.

[drabblinginmystrade]

Date Night was the most perfectly perfect drabble in existence. It shall have to go into my 'pick me up' fics folder (wasn't my prompt, but an excellent prompt, excellently executed!)

Thank you, honey bear! I am excited to be part of the special folder!

*squee*

[drabblinginmystrade]

Aha! Back to business.

Three drabbles done and dusted. I will post the first one soon!

[drabblinginmystrade]

Sorry, sorry, sorry!

I've been rubbish. I'm such a lazy bee. 

Send me all the prompts, and I will fill as many as I can tonight. That way I can queue them, and inject a bit of life back into this blog, like jam into a doughnut.

[drabblinginmystrade]

Date Night

Prompt: It's Mycroft’s first time 'sleeping round' Greg's flat and, panicked, he gets Sherlock to give him advice

Sherlock looked up from John’s laptop and frowned, his brow creasing in confusion. ‘What are you still doing here?’

‘I am waiting for you to acknowledge my presence,’ Mycroft sniffed, fingering the handle of his umbrella restlessly as his eyes roved around the cramped, cluttered flat. Sherlock had acquired a second skull he noticed, which had been nailed to the wall and adorned with a pair of headphones. He wrinkled his nose. His little brother had never had very much taste.

‘I said goodbye,’ Sherlock protested, his gaze flickering back to the laptop screen. He resumed tapping at the keys, his eyes narrowing as he returned to work.

Mycroft sighed. ‘It is conventional to start with hello.’

He leaned his head back on the chair cushions, not expecting a response. Closing his eyes, he listened to the unfamiliar noises of Doctor Watson bumbling around in the kitchen, preparing cups of tea. The domesticity of it all was frightening.

‘I cannot help you with your romantic life, Mycroft,’ Sherlock announced. His fingers hovered uncertainly over the keys and he was frowning again, having lost his concentration. ‘Nor do I want to.’

‘I did not ask you to,’ Mycroft crossed his arms, and fixed his gaze on the new skull, willing himself not to blush.

‘Then stop thinking about it,’ his brother demanded. ‘You’re distracting me.’

‘Hot date tonight, Mycroft?’ Dr Watson enquired, entering the room with a smirk on his face. He handed out cups of tea and then settled down on the coffee table. ‘What’s the worry?’

‘I am not worried,’ Mycroft protested. He got up to leave, ignoring the cup of tea. Catching sight of his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace, he paused and wondered what on Earth Detective Inspector Lestrade could see in him.

‘Please don’t start shagging my colleagues,’ Sherlock threw the laptop to one side, his lips curling with disgust.

‘What?’ Mycroft and John asked in unison.

‘You are worried because Lestrade intends to ask you back to his flat for coitus tonight, perhaps under the guise of some ridiculous social nicety, such as a post-date cup of coffee. You are not sure whether or not to accept, and as such have sought my company in an attempt to reap the secret knowledge leading to my new romantic life.’

John spluttered into his cup of tea, and then stood up mumbling something about the washing up as both brothers’ eyes fell upon him. He disappeared into the kitchen, nervously straightening his knitted cream jumper.

‘Believe me brother,’ Mycroft summoned the most unpleasant smile in his repertoire.  ‘I wouldn’t dream of turning to you for such advice.’

‘Good,’ Sherlock shooed his away, standing up to open the door. ‘Then go away.’

‘In fact,’ Mycroft continued, as he buttoned his overcoat. He raised his eyebrows and smiled smugly. ‘I fully intend to accept Lestrade’s offer.’