#basiliskwrites

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE ICEMAN

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Written for prompt FFF288 Loud Lie, Quiet Truth of Flash Fiction Friday by @flashfictionfridayofficial

If asked, almost all of the people acquainted with him would agree with the fact that Mycroft Holmes is very aptly named The Iceman. The name would make sense even with just one cursory glance.

Sherlock calls him the British Government. The most dangerous man you will ever meet.

That comes with his position and the power attached to it.

The power that rests in his hands is something he has earned, something he is trusted with by his employers because he is very, very good at his job. When your job involves making decisions that no one else can, human emotions hardly belong there. That is what makes him so good at it.

His career is his life and he runs his life with numbers and logic.

Cold and ruthless.

Detached.

A machine.

That’s what they know of him.

But most of what they know is not true.

There is only one man who knows the truth in its entirety. That man is Greg Lestrade.

The truth, as Greg knows it, was something he’d had to dig out by himself. It was something even Mycroft had not been aware of at the time.

No one ever noticed the sheer panic that drove him whenever Sherlock did something ruthless. No one ever saw his frustrated despair the time statistics piled staggeringly high along with dead bodies when a high-stakes mission had gone wrong the last minute. No one ever witnessed his genuine gratefulness for the fact that he had someone to come home to.

No one else but Greg.

As sweat cools on their naked bodies, Greg curls an arm around his lover, pulling him close. He smiles, content, at the feeling of Mycroft’s long fingers combing through his chest hair, straying away later to rest on his heart. Here, in the afterglow, Greg would place a gentle kiss on his lover’s forehead. He’d come to realise that it pleases Mycroft to no end. Mycroft would hide a delighted smile in the crook of his neck, reminding Greg that the truth is this. Something no one else knows.

No one else but him.

And that is enough.

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

A QUIET UNDERSTANDING

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes

Written for prompt FFF298 Hidden Chemistry of Flash Fiction Friday by @flashfictionfridayofficial

The reception was still in full swing, —judging by the onslaught of noise when the call connected. Despite the chaos, the voice he’d been desperate to hear all day was still tender—albeit tinged with the tiredness of an eventful day.

“Hey darlin’.”

“Greg, is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s alright, love. Donovan’s handling the case. I’m still here.”

Mycroft let out a breath. “Good. Um… is he-?”

“He’s here. It’s good if you pick him up, Myc. He- he’d probably need someone with him tonight.”

It was just as he had feared then.

“I’ll have to take him home with me, Greg. At least just-.”

“I know, love,” Mycroft’s heart ached as he heard the smile in his lover’s voice. “I’ll drop by and see him when he’s back at his flat.”

“Would it be alright with you? Truly?”

“’Course, I’ll be alright, Myc.” Bless this man. Despite the loud music, Greg’s voice was soft in his ear. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. It’s-”

“Don’t worry about me, alright? Look after him. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, but will you be able to handle him yourself?”

“Yes… yes, I’ll manage. But- I feel like I’m kicking you out.”

Greg laughed, warm, light and… generous. “I’ll be alright. Promise. Sherlock comes first. For the both of us. How long d’you think you’d be able to make him stay there?”

“I’d be shocked if he stays the entire night, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh, don’t be-” he cut off, abruptly, tone shifting to urgent. “Mycroft, he’s leaving.”

“It’s alright. I’m just outside.”

“Oh, okay. Alright. Call me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will, Greg. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, darlin’,” Greg said, the warmth in his voice still overwhelming even through the phone. ”Love you.”

“I love you too.”

As the call disconnected, Mycroft subconsciously pressed his phone to his lips, as  it would help him be just a little closer to Greg, draw what strength he can that he’d definitely need for the long night ahead.

When Sherlock unceremoniously plopped himself on the backseat beside him, Mycroft could just feel his brother’s exhaustion. Neither of them uttered a word for a while, not that they had to.

“Where are we going?” Sherlock muttered, his eyes still closed, head laid back against the headrest, having realized they were not heading to the Baker Street flat.

“My place,” Mycroft said. Looking over at his brother, he sighed. “Have you eaten?”

The question was unnecessary, he’d known even before Sherlock made a low noise of dissent. But it served as a statement.

“Not hungry,” Sherlock said, as a protest, as Mycroft fished out his phone from his jacket.

Yet, Mycroft dialed for takeaway. “You will be.”

Sherlock merely sighed.

In times like these, Mycroft wished they were still children, living out the last of their ‘normal’ life in Musgrave, when Sherlock would come running to him for everything, because Mycroft to Sherlock, was this all-knowing being who had the power to fix just about anything. He’d trusted his brother to dry his tears, take his hand make all his worries go away.

More than everything, Mycroft just wished he was that powerful now as he was thirty years ago.

The call made and food ordered, Mycroft expected the rest of the way home to be silent as well. But just as he turned to the tinted windows, he heard Sherlock shift beside him.

“Are you kicking him out for the night just so I’d feel less miserable?”

Well, there goes his plan to let him in on the revelation gently.

“No,” Mycroft said carefully, “he offered to let me pay my full attention to you until this mess is sorted out.”

“There is no mess to sort out, Mycroft.”

Well, he hated that, mostly because it was true. Mostly true.

Sherlock laid his head back again. “Everything’s as it should be.”

Mycroft didn’t like how resigned Sherlock sounded. A part of him—the twelve-year-old, overprotective brother—wanted to blame John Watson, call him cruel for asking Sherlock to be his best man, knowing Sherlock would go above and beyond to fulfill his duties, regardless of the toll it would take on him, while the rational part of him, which was not as blind, knew that was how John could let him know Sherlock was still just as important to him as he was before.

Simply, there was no mess.

“I’m only tired, Mycroft,” Sherlock said, with a sigh. “You can stop worrying.”

He’ll stop worrying when one or both of them are dead, thank you very much.  

“Don’t fall asleep now,” Mycroft said instead, as the car slowed to a stop and Jeremy got out to collect their dinner. “I won’t be carrying you to the house.”

Sherlock scoffed, but a tiny smile lingered.

Sherlock was not five anymore. Maybe that meant he could wipe his own tears now.

But that didn’t mean he was alone.

As he checked the soft buzz of his phone, Mycroft saw that it was a text from Greg telling him that he’d arrived at the hotel, asking him to call when he could.

Mycroft smiled.

He wasn’t alone either.

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

COMFORT

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Written for prompt FFF279: Warm Hands of Flash Fiction Friday by @flashfictionfridayofficial

Greg had always loved holding his lover’s hands. It’s something he’d established that night he’d finally convinced Mycroft to take a stroll with him. Mycroft had conceded despite the cold and the sight of that pink-cheeked, thoroughly amused Mycroft trying his best to flirt back, will always and forever be one of Greg’s fondest memories. That night, for the first time he had had Mycroft shyly brush his knuckles against his, asking for permission, asking for more.

Greg had taken his hand then, tangling his fingers with Mycroft’s longer, elegant ones that he was sure had awakened something in him, and had realized he really really didn’t want to let go.

Mycroft’s hand was cool against his own. It somehow didn’t feel like the freezing cold of the night, but more like a comforting reassurance, just like the man. That was when Greg had given in to the urge and softly kissed the back of his lover’s hand.

Today though, just weeks into their engagement, in what was supposed to be the beginning of the happiest days of their life, the hands that cradle him are warm and steady. As he breaks down, he realizes he’d somehow gotten home, and he’s in their living room, kneeling on the carpet. He’s aware of the soothing hand on the back of his neck. He feels it as if through a second skin. But he feels it. And it grounds him.

The hand around his waist draws tight. He feels its warmth through the fabric, bringing back feeling in spite of the hot and cold pin pricks all over his body. The shock leaves his body at the same time awareness hits him square in the gut, ugly and wrenching at his insides. He curls himself into the warm body against him with a whimper and Mycroft’s arms, so incredibly tender, pull him close.

“Myc-” he gasps.

“I know,” Mycroft whispers, his long fingers on his fiancé’s neck moving up to pet his hair. “I know.”

“What are we- oh god-”

“We will get through this. Whatever happens next, my darling, I’m here. With you.”

Greg can feel himself falling apart, trembling helplessly in Mycroft’s hold. He burrows in, closer, into his lover’s neck. He almost doesn’t notice being coaxed into releasing his death grip on Mycroft’s shirt. But he does notice the soft fingers holding his hand. They’re warm, reassuring and everything Greg had needed.

Greg feels a kiss being placed on his knuckles.

“You’re not alone,” Mycroft says.

Greg believes him. And holds on.    

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

NOT WANTED, BUT NEEDED

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Written for prompt FFF295: Help Not Wanted of Flash Fiction Friday by @flashfictionfridayofficial

It had simply been an awful day. Technically, it had been an awful couple of weeks, but one should take one day at a time at the risk of being overwhelmed by the sheer amount of awfulness the world had to offer. Technically, Mycroft knew it was more or less his own fault but that thought only made his headache worsen.

Which was why he now lay on his bed, clutching his pillow, still in his shirt, trousers, and socks—wrinkles be damned. His headache did not seem to be going away anytime soon.

He’d almost pushed himself off the bed in frustration when he heard the front door open and close gently, then footsteps making their way up the stairs. His entire soul seemed to heave a breath of relief at the sound.

The tension in his body eased away with the almost soundless swish of the bedroom door opening, the moment of quiet assessment and the gentle dip in the mattress which followed. That was when he’d finally felt like he’d be able to fall asleep.

He heard a deep sigh. “He’s worried about you.”

“Did he ask you to come here?”

“I was on my way, anyway.” The voice he’d loved sounded resigned, tired. ”You know that baby.”

A gentle hand combed through his hair. Mycroft could feel the worry underneath the gesture.

“Mm. But you didn’t have to-”

“As I said, I was on my way. So, I thought I’d drop by.”

This was his downfall; Mycroft couldn’t help but think as he fought a smile and listened to his lover.  

“I don’t know if this is some sort of… much overdue sense of obligation, but I feel like Sherlock’s genuinely trying to make sure you’re okay.”

Mycroft smiled into his pillow and let go of it before rolling over to his back. The concern in the brown eyes watching him slowly turned in to a smile at the sight of him.

“And he sent you over?”

Greg chuckled. “If he’s trying to help us get together, I have to admit he’s not wasting any chances.”

Mycroft couldn’t help a huff of amusement. He could see a pattern building. After the whole Sherrinford fiasco, Sherlock had sent Greg ‘to look after him’ and now after what unfortunately seems to be the first of many visits to that hellhole with the entire family, there was this.

“He seems to forget that I never required his assistance in my romantic pursuits in the past.”

Greg scoffed, a hint of smirk still on his lips. “He’s trying, okay? Give him some credit.”

Mycroft hated to see the worry return to his lover’s eyes, despite his smile.

“Get some rest, baby. If you feel like talking, we’ll talk. If you don’t, we’ll order something in for dinner, watch a movie and go to bed early.”

“Greg-”

“I’ll wake you up in an hour for lunch, okay?”

“You don’t have to-”

Greg silenced him with a mere raised eyebrow. “Okay?”

There’s undoubtedly a sense of pride mixed in with the glee that lightened Mycroft up from the inside. “Okay.”

Greg had stood and almost made it to the door when Mycroft called him back.

“Greg.”

“Yeah?”

“I might need some time if I’m to untangle this mess and I know you will stay with me as you’ve done before, even when I’m being difficult, needlessly. I need you to know, that is all I need.” He watched Greg smile from the doorway. ”Thank you.”

Greg let go of the door and climbed on to the bed in his socks, straddling his lover before Mycroft could even wrap his head around what was happening. “You may be a mess but you’re my mess, Mycroft Holmes,” he said, taking Mycroft’s face in his hands. His eyes seemed to shine as he gazed down. ”And I love you.”

Mycroft had to pull him down and kiss him. He savored the urgent press of his lover’s lips, the solid weight of his body and his warmth as he leaned into it.  

It was Greg who pulled away with a sigh. "Get some sleep," he said, finally pushing himself off the bed with a smirk. "You're delirious."

Mycroft couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped him. He had managed very well on his own his entire life, but when life offered support, who was he to refuse?

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

NO MORE NIGHTMARES

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Additional Tags: Aug-Kissed 2024, Romance, Fluff, Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Forehead Kisses, Kissing, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings

Written for the Week 4 prompt "Kiss Goodnight" of the Aug-Kissed event hosted by @aug-kissed.

“I’m so sorry Greg. He didn’t make it.”

Greg wakes up startled. Anthea’s voice still rings in his ears, the dread in her face haunts him, seeming so real he has to sit up as reality settles around him. He’s on the bed, under the covers. It’s dark. The clock reads 2.05 AM. And he’s not alone.

Mycroft’s beside him, asleep, his body rises and falls as he breaths. Greg spends some time watching him, making sure that Mycroft’s actually alive and well, that the memory of him stepping through the door and collapsing in Greg’s arms last night was real.

He takes a deep breath, hoping it would slow down his racing heart. He doesn’t want to wake Mycroft; however unlikely it is that he does.

The past few days had been hell. Mycroft had been called out to a conference out of the country. It had been a Saturday, and they’ve had plans for the weekend. Mycroft had apologized for it being a last-minute announcement and for not being able to give more details. Greg had kissed him and had told him more light-heartedly than he’d actually felt, that he’d be forgiven when he came back home to him.

And a week ago, Greg had lost all communication with him. Attempts to reach Anthea were in vain. Alicia had absolutely nothing to give him.  And Mycroft had just disappeared off the face of Earth, just like that.

Greg had been on the brink of falling apart and losing it entirely. He’d been advised to wait, that everything that can possibly be done to locate them was being done. Sherlock, he suspected, had done some digging on his own and also had come to the conclusion that all they could do now was wait.

“He’d turn up in a couple of days,” he’d said. “Save the panicking for a later date, Lestrade. He’s had much worse.”

That was it.

Today, out of nowhere, he had gotten a phone call and no more than an hour later, an armful of an exhausted Mycroft.

Mycroft had had promised they’d talk tomorrow- which is basically today, it seems and Greg doesn’t even know what to think. What happened out there? He shudders as a thought he’d desperately tried not to think, briefly crosses his mind. How close was he to losing Mycroft entirely?

Glancing at the sleeping man beside him, Greg is suddenly overwhelmed by the need to touch him, gather him into his arms for the rest of the night because right now, what Greg needs is reassurance. He needs to believe that Mycroft’s safe and home, and that it’s all real.

Just as he decides to lie back down, Mycroft rolls over to face him, just barely awake. His voice is hoarse with sleep when he speaks.

“Nightmare?”

Greg smiles. “I’m alright now, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Instead of replying he beckons Greg to him. Greg lets himself be pulled in under the covers and into Mycroft’s arms. He feels better instantly. The feel of his lover’s warm skin against his lips, the familiar warmth and his very scent is enough comfort to Greg.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Mycroft murmurs, gently running fingers through Greg’s hair. “That was not meant to happen.”

Greg has to push himself away for a while to look into Mycroft’s eyes properly. “Don’t apologize, love. I’m just glad you’re home.” He smiles, more to the benefit of Mycroft’s than his. “Besides, I know what I signed up for.”

Mycroft visibly takes a deep breath. “Greg, you didn’t sign up for that,” he says, sounding a bit more awake now. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Well, I did,” Mycroft murmurs. His hand trail down towards Greg’s chest. “More than twenty years ago. But my priorities are different now, you understand. And you are one of them. I will not put my life in danger when I know you’re waiting for me, Greg. I can’t. You are too precious to me.”

Greg stares at him, dumbfounded. “What do you mean- did you-” 

Mycroft smiles. It’s that little shy smile that Greg loves. “I stepped down… to a certain extent. My duties are mostly desk work now. The past few days were a mistake. A bad case of poor management.”

“You stepped down? For me?”

“For us,” Mycroft says. He looks proud. “For the very same reason you accepted the position as D.C.I., when you so clearly disliked it.”

Greg hauls himself forward and kisses him. He has to. It’s an urgent press of his lips against Mycroft’s, overwhelmed with love and a need to be as close as they physically can.

“I love you,” Greg breathes against his lover’s lips. “I love you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And he means it. Every single word of it.

“Mm I know,” Mycroft says, softly. Greg can hear the sleep creeping in to his voice. “I love you too.”

Greg can’t help but smile. He curls an arm around Mycroft’s shoulder allowing Mycroft to nuzzle into his neck.

“Sleep now, darlin’,” Greg says. “I’m gonna call in sick tomorrow. We’ll stay in bed till late, hmm?”

Mycroft burrows in closer. “Mm. You’ve read my mind.”

Greg chuckles and kisses his lover’s forehead. “Good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Greg,” Mycroft whispers, almost asleep. “No more nightmares.”

“No more nightmares.”

It’ll all be better tomorrow.

***

AO3

[Week1] | [Week 2] | [Week 3]

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

DIFFICULT DAYS

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Warnings: Mild language, Mentions of child death

Written for prompt FFF270: Lights And Sirens of Flash Fiction Friday by @flashfictionfridayofficial

One would think having spent more than a half of their life in the police force, a person would be desensitized to most of the life’s horrors by now. But for Greg, when some cases tend to hit a little too close to home, things start getting personal.

He’s been standing in the drizzling rain for hours now. SOCO are at work in the scene and if he’s very lucky, he’d be able to wrap everything up in a couple of hours, but he has a sinking feeling it’s not one of those days. Running on a dangerous combination of coffee, adrenaline and pure willpower of which the former two are rapidly waning, the lights are actually getting a little too bright and the sirens are getting a little too loud.

He can feel himself starting to lose focus, when out of nowhere he senses a presence behind him. A tight grip on his arm steadies him, subtly guiding him to lean back.

Greg sighs. He knows who it is. He’d always know who it is. This is all he needs right now too; the quiet support of the man who had vowed to love him no matter what.

“Will you please allow yourself to sit down for a moment?” A soft voice whispers in his ear.

Greg doesn’t turn back. He’s been at this for almost two weeks, trying to find a loose end, because if he has to tell one more parent that their child has been found dead, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

It’s over now, though. They’ve found the bastard holed up in one of his ex’s shoe-box flat. The anger that had kept Greg going until the arrest was made is slowly turning into nausea, becoming stronger every second. 

Still, he has to make it to the end of this.

“You know I can’t,” Greg says. The hand on his arm slowly moves to his back, rubbing gentle circles. Greg can almost feel the warmth through the layers of fabric.

“Hm,” comes the reply. It sounds final enough for Greg to turn around.

Mycroft looks impeccable, despite the late hour but his worried gaze seems to show how exhausted he really is. He’s been following this case very closely on top of his busy schedule and Greg can’t believe he’d forgotten that.

“Go home, love,” Greg says. “It won’t take long.”

Mycroft gives him that very specific, very familiar look that says, I won’t stop you from doing your job, but you can’t stop me from worrying about you. And Greg is overwhelmed with love and relief that he can’t bring himself to say anything else.

“Go,” Mycroft says. “Finish what you have to do. I’ll wait here.”  

And just like that, he’s gone.

Greg closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. He feels stronger somehow. When he opens his eyes, everything’s clearer.

Just a few more things to wrap up, he tells himself as he calls his team to finish off.

Whatever happens afterwards, there’s someone he can rely on.  

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

THE SCARE

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Written for prompt FFF273: Invisible Guest of Flash Fiction Friday by @flashfictionfridayofficial

Mycroft fights to hide a smile when he feels a familiar weight slowly settling on top of him as he lay on the sofa. He feels immediately at ease, the eerie feeling of being watched dissipating at once at the faint scent of cigarettes and London. He knows that they are still being watched. But it will not be for much longer.

“Hey,” a low voice greets him. A kiss is placed on his cheek.

“Hello,” he replies, keeping his eyes shut. It’s not often that he feels safe to be like this, a little mischievous, a little playful, but with his lover, he has never not felt safe.

He hears a fond chuckle and feels another kiss, this time on his lips. His heart seems to do a flip at the mere sensation. He almost forgets that they are not alone.

“How can I get you to open your eyes, hmm?”

Mycroft feels his lips curling into a smile despite the act he tries to put on. “I don’t know,” he drawls. “I don’t feel like it.”

“No?”

“No. But I won’t stop you from trying.”

“Oh, trust me sweetheart. I will try.”

Before he can even process what he heard, the weight on his chest is gone and he feels deft fingers set to work at the buttons of his shirt. Mycroft sighs, happily giving in.

A second passes. Then another. As expected, heavy footsteps upstairs make their way towards a window. There’s a crash, which was actually unexpected but Mycroft assumes to be one of his antique vases.

And then, the house is still.

Greg scoffs. “That would teach him a lesson.”

Mycroft lets out a breath, rubbing his face. “Darling, be serious. This is Sherlock we’re talking about. It would be a miracle if he learned.”

“Listen, if he breaks in again-”

“I’ll take care of it.” Mycroft says, smiling. The warmth Greg’s protectiveness causes in him will never cease.

“Mycroft.”

“I will. I promise.”

Greg is still skeptical, Mycroft knows that.

“He must have found out about us,” Mycroft says as he sits up and cups Greg’s face with his hands. “You know how he is.”

“Well, he definitely knows about us now.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No. But I’m worried about you.”

Mycroft kisses him. It feels good to know that someone cares. Greg is still in his work clothes, exhausted after a long day. But Mycroft knows he would have never said no to his plan to scare off his unruly brother.

"Don't be,” Mycroft says “Until he finds the courage to act on his feelings for John, I'll always have the upper hand."

Greg laughs, tackling Mycroft back on to the sofa and kisses him until they both run out of breath.

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

How It Begins

YOTP 2025: January

Prompts: first kiss | "may I have this dance?" | sharing clothes | BDSM AU | stockholm syndrome | 'Strong' by One Direction 

Rating: General Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Caring Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, First Kiss, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Year of the OTP Prompt Event 2025

Greg watches Mycroft stand, slowly and steadily putting on his coat trying to make himself look presentable to whoever has been sent to retrieve him. The man looks a decade older, exhaustion seems to weigh him down, slowing down his characteristic elegance. 

He doesn’t notice who’s actually there until Greg unlocks the glass door to the cell and walks in. Mycroft’s face opens in shock and relief all at once.

“Greg,” he gasps, in disbelief.

Greg had been warned of this day; the day Mycroft’s deepest secrets tear his world down as they come to light. He had told Greg that the distance they put between themselves was what was going to protect him from the chaos.

“Who’s gonna protect you then?” he’d asked. Mycroft had only smiled.

Now, standing just a couple of feet apart, he wonders if the distance really matters anymore.

He decides that it doesn’t.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says trying a soft smile.

That does it. Mycroft’s face crumples as Greg catches him in his arms and hugs him tight. There’s a feeling of defeat in the way Mycroft presses his face into his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Greg holds him close still.

He’d expected a breakdown to follow. But this safe contact seems to help immensely. The trembling dies out and Mycroft starts to breath normally again.

“Thank you,” he says softly after a while. He has let go of the vice-like grip. “Thank you- for coming… for everything.”

Gerg smiles. “I’ll always be here, whenever you need me. You know that.”

Mycroft shifts in his arms, as if he’s trying to pull away. Greg almost lets him, until he feels Mycroft’s cheek brush against his, hesitantly seeking something.

He almost stops breathing when he realizes that he’s been asked for permission.

Greg had imagined this moment differently. He’d imagined somewhere safe, and warm and cozy, not this cold concrete cell. But given everything that has happened, Greg knows better than to ask for luxuries.

He will take what he’s offered.

Greg lets his eyes close as his lips meet Mycroft’s. It’s a soft, nervous touch at first. As he feels Mycroft's fingers ease through his hair, Greg’s heart blooms with joy.

Mycroft will not be carrying his burden alone again. Greg will make sure of it.

He cradles Mycroft’s face and presses on a bit more urgently.

Mycroft makes a broken sound against his lips.

And to think they’d almost lost this.

When they part to catch their breath, resting their foreheads together, Greg strokes the short hair on the back of Mycroft’s neck.

“Come home with me,” he murmurs. “I'll keep you safe.”

Mycroft sighs, relieved. “Thank you.”

Greg smiles.

This is how it begins, he tells himself as he helps Mycroft out of the wretched building. Anthea has probably already arranged with the personnel that Mycroft is not be disturbed because none do. In the helicopter, on their way out of the island, Mycroft rests a hand on his own.

There’s nothing that can be done about the beginning except to accept it. But for the rest of the story, they have hope.

****

AO3

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

CHOCOLATE MOUSSE

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Additional Tags: Aug-Kissed 2024, Romance, Flirting, Fluff

Written for the Week 1 prompt "Indirect Kiss" of the Aug-Kissed event hosted by @aug-kissed.

Mycroft was able to reserve the two of them a private booth at this nice restaurant for their anniversary dinner and it had been so wonderful. All throughout dinner, Greg couldn’t help but gaze longingly at his husband of five years, wondering how he had been so lucky.

Mycroft seemed to glow tonight; part from delight and part from watching Greg. And for dessert, Mycroft had ordered something small with nuts and berries that Greg didn’t even catch the name of. He had ordered himself a chocolate mousse and had earned himself a fond eye roll from his husband.     

The first spoonful blew him away. It may have been the best thing Greg had put in his mouth. Well… maybe not the best but it’s definitely up there. It was this incredibly rich and chocolatey but also soft, melt-in-your mouth kind that makes you feel like you’re biting into a cloud. Greg judged it would be something Mycroft would consider worthy of cheating on his diet.

Greg held up a spoonful of the mousse to his husband. It earned him a fond smile.

“Gregory,” Mycroft said, clearly hesitant.

“It’s just me offering,” he said, smiling. “It can’t do any harm, could it?”

Mycroft looked at the offered spoonful. “Well… I suppose that’s true.”

Greg watched as Mycroft savoured it. It has been a while since he had helped himself to a treat and it showed.

“Besides,” Greg said, watching Mycroft enjoy the chocolatey treat, “we could always burn those few extra calories off… pretty easily.”

That got him a playful smirk. “Pretty easily you say?”

“Yeah. We’ll think of something.”

Mycroft’s eyes glittered. “Mm?”

Greg just couldn’t resist. “I can be creative when I have to, sweetheart.”

It was quite beginning to feel like when they first began. Six years ago, in the privacy of Mycroft’s office in the Diogenes Club, flirting so hard that when they found themselves lip-locked and grappling at each other on the sofa, none of them remembered who initiated the kiss.

But now they’re out in the public, and even in the privacy of their booth, there’s not much that Greg can give in to. Then again, seeing that mischievous gleam in his Mycroft’s eyes, Greg knew tonight how tonight was going to go. And if he didn’t indulge himself in it now, when could he?

Smiling, he gathered the last spoonful of the rich, decadent chocolate mousse and held it across the table for his husband.  

****

AO3

[Week 2] | [Week 3] | [Week 4]

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

NEVER AN OBSTACLE

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Written for prompt FFF261: Maybe One More of Flash Fiction Friday by @flashfictionfridayofficial

On a normal day, it would have been too early for them to be out of bed at this hour. But Myc has a plane to catch, and Greg won’t be seeing him for three weeks. Just the thought of it makes Greg feel like a part of him is being physically torn apart. He clings to the hope that he’ll get used to it.

Greg knows Mycroft feels the same. It’s all there in the way he keeps Greg pressed against the kitchen counter, kissing him as if the world’s ending. It was all there in the way he told him last night that he would cancel the whole thing if Greg wanted him to. But that’s the last thing Greg wants; to be an obstacle.

Mycroft’s phone buzzes with a notification, startling the both of them. James is outside, waiting. Mycroft leans close, his forehead against Greg’s as he pants into his mouth. The bone-deep longing is still there; it clings to him, weighing Greg down like stone.

Greg sighs. Even opening his eyes seem to take a lot of effort. “Hey,” he murmurs, rubbing circles on Mycroft’s back. “You’ll be late.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go, Greg.”

This is not the first time Greg had felt like a usurper, like he was rearranging his lover’s priorities and turning Mycroft into something he would later regret being. Their relationship was built on the understanding that Mycroft and his career was a package deal and Greg respected it. If he were to disrupt the way things worked, accidentally or not, he would never forgive himself.

Mycroft pulls back slowly, takes a good look at Greg and smiles. Greg knows that Mycroft just read him like a book.

“You were never an obstacle,” Mycroft says, cupping Greg’s cheek with a warm hand. “And you never will be. But you will always be my anchor. Know that you are the reason I will always come back home.”

Greg kisses him then. Love and relief burn through his veins.

“Promise?” Greg asks, his arms around his lover, holding him close one more time before he leaves.

Mycroft kisses his lips. “Promise.”

“Maybe one more? For good measure?”

Mycroft places another gentle kiss on his forehead. Greg knows he’s smiling.

“I promise,” he says.

*****

Two and a half weeks later, when Greg gets a text from Mycroft saying he’s coming home early, Greg knows it’s because Mycroft wants to be with him; because he missed him.

And Greg knows that it’s nothing to be guilty about.

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

LOVE TO HATE YOU [DRABBLE]

Prompt: Love to hate you

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Ship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Warning: Use of strong language

Mycroft’s iron will and years of practiced discretion that was part of his job had gone out the window the moment he set eyes on the promising young Detective Seargent Greg Lestrade. The man was Mycroft’s type; checked all the boxes, added some more to the list and checked them too. There had been one moment of weakness, a second of panicked silence on Mycroft’s part on their first meeting which Greg had picked up on immediately.

To this day, Greg remains a smug bastard about it. Mycroft hates him for it.

Hopefully, a ring will shut him up nicely.

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

Why Were You Digging? What Did You Bury?

YOTP 2025: February

Prompts: valentine’s day / “it made me think of you” / bed sharing / multiple penetration / mind control/mind break / Like Real People Do – Hozier

Rating: General Audiences

Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Additional Tags: Angst, Comes Back Wrong But Not Really, Grieving Character, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Title from a Hozier Song, Song: Like Real People Do (Hozier), Year of the OTP Prompt Event 2025

Mycroft had briefly wondered whether his work-appointed therapist might have any advice regarding the kind of nightmares he’s been having recently. Especially because this was not his imagination conjuring illusions trying to tell him something, but a memory. A dreaded horrible one but a memory nonetheless. These days he’d been dreaming of clawing himself out of the dirt, not knowing if he was digging up or further down. He’d dreamt of the panic-stricken Greg, the man of his dreams, now frequenting his nightmares too. Greg’s beautiful brown eyes that he had loved so much, wide with terror, the dirt on Greg’s hands as he dug, his panicked voice calling Mycroft’s name. He also remembered the fragrance of the hyacinths that surrounded them as he sat in the now-ruined flowerbed that Greg had tended to so lovingly, covered in mud, gasping in the cold night air as his husband clutched him tight.  

No. Mycroft had to admit that he was a bit beyond help at this point.

Yet, he did wish things would have gone differently. The man he’d loved enough to come back was no more. Mycroft can’t help feeling he’s somehow losing Greg, that the night he’d pulled Mycroft back to life from beneath the hyacinths, he’d lost a part of himself that was strong enough to hope, to believe. It’s there in his gaze, the pain Mycroft had wanted to wipe away from his eyes, even when he’d once watched him, helpless, wishing there was someone to hold his beloved as he grieved.

Still, there was no empty grave Greg could visit to tell himself that Mycroft ever died in the first place. Mycroft knows Greg will never be able to bring himself to rewatch those grainy CCTV footages. He, himself wouldn’t. Not when he knows that they’d been in love more deeply than ever. Nearly eight years of marriage and both of their worlds had revolved around each other. It had been perfect. Painfully perfect.

These days though, all that’s left for him is the empty shell of a man that was once the light in his once miserable life. At night, when he wakes up screaming for help, to be let out, he has to ignore how the arms that hold him after, tremble with the weight of the memory.

It’s been a week now. Mycroft had watched Greg’s silver hair turn almost completely white over those few days. The light that once twinkled in his eyes has dulled down. His smile seems to have no life in it anymore.

Greg had lost him once. It’s tragic, Mycroft thinks, that he had come back just to lose Greg in return.

They cannot risk words- it’d push Greg into a reality he wouldn’t be ready to believe,  remind him of the night he’d crawled out of Greg’s hyacinth flower bed, where Greg had sprinkled his husband’s ashes per his last wish. It would remind him that his greatest fear did come true. So, when Greg comes home exhausted, looking like the ghost of the man that Mycroft had sworn his life to what seems like a lifetime ago, Mycroft makes sure to hold him tight. He holds his beloved in his arms and hopes he understands that Mycroft can never truly leave him. He’d always belong here, with his love. How can he ever rest when half of his soul is grieving his loss?  

He also hopes that one day soon, Greg understands that this is real. That Mycroft really would follow him to the ends of the earth if need be.

And when they kiss, he’d feel Greg’s blunt fingers digging into his back, trying to keep him close, struggling to believe it all.

Mycroft’s nightmares may have been vivid.

But this, this feels real.

****

AO3

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

THE BEST-KEPT SECRET

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Victor Trevor (mentioned), Eurus Holmes (mentioned)

Additional Tags: #ficwip Hey Sweetheart Challenge, mystrade, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), Child death (mentioned), Drowning (Mentioned), Angst, Secret Relationship

Language: English

Summary: Mycroft Holmes has a secret that he is very careful about. But keeping it is going to break a couple of hearts.

Written for "Hey, Sweetheart 2024" event hosted by @ficwip

Mycroft knows Greg has been awake for a while. He knows that Greg knew he knew. Yet, his lover remains in bed, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge him. And Mycroft also knows that Greg is right. He is lucky that Greg still opens the door for him at night when he comes in search of solace. Greg has every right to be disappointed.

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[bakerstreetbasilisk]

MARKED AND LOVED

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Additional Tags: Aug-Kissed 2024, Romance, Fluff, Morning After, Holidays, Love Bites

Written for the Week 3 prompt "Hickeys" of the Aug-Kissed event hosted by @aug-kissed.

He almost didn’t notice it in his sleepy haze. But passing the bathroom mirror, he stopped in his tracks when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a large purple bruise where his neck met his shoulder.

Greg Lestrade had a lot to answer for.

He was asleep just as Mycroft had left him, his gorgeously tanned body sprawled across the bed under the disarrayed sheets, silver hair tousled against the white pillows, snoring gently without a care in the world. He was beautiful.

Mycroft climbed back into bed.  Mornings like this were hard to come by. Especially when they were in London. But they were on holiday and that meant Mycroft could indulge in luxuries he hadn’t even dreamt of.

His husband was such a luxury.

He nuzzled against Greg’s neck, wrapping an arm around the sleeping man, taking in his scent, relishing the warmth.

At the beginning of their relationship, Mycroft had been terrified of how much he’d craved touch, how the barest caress would leave his skin burning. It took him a long while to get used to the feeling, or even to the mere idea of it. And all throughout those years, Greg had been with him, steady as ever, offering him closeness whenever he needed, eventually accepting Mycroft hesitant, awkward hugs with pride. Years into their marriage, Mycroft, while it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, still craves that gentle intimacy as if he’s parched.

Now, they were here.

Mycroft draped a leg over his husband’s thigh, cold feet be damned. 

Greg jolted awake. “Wha-”

“Hello, my love,” Mycroft said, feigning innocence and reaching up to kiss him. “Did I wake you?”

Greg smiled as sleep faded away with the realization. “You and your cold feet,” he murmured, smiling into the kiss. As he coaxed Mycroft to lie down again on his back and straddled him, Mycroft could see the exact moment when Greg noticed the bruise. Greg’s sleepy smile visibly turned into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s a nasty mosquito bite you’ve got there,” Greg said, touching the bruise gently with his fingertips. 

“It is, isn’t it? Do you think I should do something about it?”

Greg shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe you can let me take care of it?”

“Oh?”

In response, Greg pushed the sheets away. The unrestrained hunger in his eyes as he gazed at his husband’s naked body sent Mycroft’s pulse skittering. 

“I’ve always wondered,” Greg said and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Looks like I was right. You do bruise so nicely.”

“And what do you plan on doing with this knowledge?”

He watched Greg glide down towards his feet. Brown eyes twinkled with promise as he gently lifted Mycroft’s leg.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time," Greg said and placed a soft kiss on the inside of his husband's thigh. "Relax darling, I’ll take care of you.”

****

AO3

[Week1] | [Week 2] | [Week 4]

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

IN THE END

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Additional Tags: Aug-Kissed 2024, Angst, Breakup, Implied Terminal Illness, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Written for the Week 2 prompt "Gentle Peck" of the Aug-Kissed event hosted by @aug-kissed.

The past few months had been the happiest in Mycroft’s life. He had been granted the love of the most wonderful man he had ever met and along with it, what seemed like a second chance at life.

And like all things do, it had come to an end.

He had seen it coming, he had seen the signs. He had noticed Greg losing his spark. That fire that once burned bright in Greg at the sight of his lover has slowly faded.  

Still, Mycroft had been hopeful. The moment he tried fixing it like he believed he could, things had started getting ugly pretty fast. Part of him can’t help but think Greg had been waiting for that moment. A fight to end it all because it’s easier. And Mycroft loved him too much to force Greg into anything he wasn’t willing. But he couldn’t help but wonder.

“Is there anyone else?” he had asked, the echoes of their screaming match still ringing in his ears. “It’s alright if there is, just tell me.”

Greg couldn’t face him. Mycroft didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one. “There is no one else.”

“What is it then? I thought you loved me.”

Mycroft would have understood if Greg had told him that he did indeed love him once.

Greg still didn’t look up at him when he answered. “So did I.”

That was two days ago and Mycroft had been staying in a hotel room since. When he checked out to come home, he still had hope. A mistake, he told himself. It’s a mistake. He’d have changed his mind.

The thought lasted until he got to his flat. The sight of Greg was waiting outside, dressed and ready to leave pulled him back to reality so violently it was dizzying.

Greg seemed to have gotten frail. He hasn’t slept. And the fragile little smile that welcomed him home today was going to be the last goodbye he was going to get from this man.

Greg watched him as he still struggled to accept the fact this was ending. Eventually, Greg closed the distance between them and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Look after yourself, Mycroft,” he said.

And then he was gone.      

The flat was tidied up. It was left as it was before, only without everything that had made it home. It was as if Greg had never been here.

Mycroft made it to the sofa. They used to have movie nights on Fridays, he remembered. They used to cuddle here, on the sofa, Greg petting his hair and chuckling as Mycroft rambled on about how unrealistic the plot was.

That was gone now. Greg was not coming back. And he was right back where he started.

The realisation seemed to punch the air out his lungs. It also broke whatever was holding back his grief.

And Mycroft Holmes, for the first time in decades, began to weep.

****

It should have killed him, he knew. Breaking his heart like that. Leaving him like that. And all those horrible, horrible days leading up to this moment should have killed him.

It didn’t, though. He was still alive, wretchedly alive. He kept seeing Mycroft’s haunted look when he last saw him. He caused it. He hurt the man who dared to love him and the guilt made him want to throw up.

But he kept driving.

Greg could only hope Mycroft would in time realise he had been wasting his life over someone like him.

He could only hope Mycroft would, in time, hate him for what he did. Sherlock would.

Hatred would make it easier, eventually.

Would it though, he wondered. Would it really?

The diagnosis in the glove-box answered for him.

Yes, it would.

****

AO3

[Week 1] | [Week 3] | [Week 4]

[bakerstreetbasilisk]

A NEW TASTE OF LIFE

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Additional Tags: Dark & Cozy 2024, Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, Romance, Alternate Universe, Supernatural Elements, Married Life, Mild Blood

Language: English

Summary: Greg is happily married to the love of his life… and there's nothing he wouldn't do for him.

Written for the "Dark & Cozy" event hosted by @ficwip.

It was these kinds of days that Greg loved; quiet, peaceful Friday evenings with his head on his husband’s lap, long cool fingers gently running through his greying hair while some old spy movie played in the background. He couldn’t remember a time he was happier to be alive.  

Since Mycroft, it was as if his entire life had flipped a switch. It was nice to finally feel alive again, especially after the bloodbath of a divorce he had gone through. He slept better, ate better and took time to take care of himself. He had to do it. For Mycroft. He now had someone to live for and for Mycroft, he had come to realise with fond amusement, he would do anything.

Anything.

Continue on AO3.