Sherlock Oneshots (Mystrade/Johnlock/Mormor)

21 Guns - Mystrade

So Green Day is my favourite band, and I honestly forgot about this song for a while. I found it again the other day and can't stop listening to it. I just had to write it into a story. 

3rd Person P.O.V

Mycroft didn't know where he was, or how he got there, or even how long he'd been there for. He knew he was drunk, and that a series of bands and solo artists had passed over the stage whilst he was sitting at the bar. He had skipped his last class, not that anyone noticed. He was a senior, and been at the same school for seven years. Still, no one ever took any notice of him.

He looked up at the small wooden stage for the first time that night. Or morning. He didn't know. There was a young man sitting on a stool, tuning a gorgeous electric guitar and adjusting the microphone stand. He had bright red hair that hung in front of his eyes. His eyes were a deep, butterscotch brown, and they twinkled under the stage lights. He was wearing a black Metallica t-shirt and grey, torn up jeans. He had worn out, black Converse with Kandi beads on the top of the laces. They were pink, purple and blue. He had tanned skin and Kandi bracelets covering his wrists.

Mycroft thought he was beautiful.

He had to do a double take, but he did indeed recognise him from school.

He was Greg Lestrade, a boy in Mycroft's year. He was in nearly all of the creative classes that their school offered; drama, art, photography and, of course, music. He was smart, but didn't like to show it. He was pretty quiet, and used to be sporty in primary school. But, after he broke his foot in a football game, he stayed as far away from sports as possible. He and Mycroft were friends, but hadn't spoken in a while. He had also dyed his hair, which was naturally brown, and changed his look quite a bit. So, at first, Mycroft didn't recognise him. But, after he looked closer at his face, he knew exactly who was up there, strumming his guitar and reading over his setlist.

"Hey. I'm Greg. Um, I can't really play the guitar. Or sing. So, apologies." Mycroft laughed at Greg's self-deprication; he knew that Greg was lying. He was extremely talented, and the guitar in his hands was one Mycroft had bought him for his birthday years ago.

He kept it. And in perfect condition, too. Mycroft thought, and he couldn't help but smile. He and Greg locked eyes at that moment, but the smile never left his drunken face. Greg smiled back, and Mycroft was certain he had winked at him.

After about 15 minutes of punk rock classics and a few miscellaneous songs, Greg decided to wrap up his set with the first song he ever learned. A song he knew Mycroft loved.

Mycroft was drunk out of his mind, but he loved ever second of Greg's set. He had never thought of Greg as attractive before, but now, that was all he was thinking about. Greg had grown up a lot since Mycroft had last spoken to him, and long, red bangs were a really good look on him.

"Last one, I promise. But, this is the very first song I ever learned, and I wanted to sorta dedicate to my mate, Myc. He bought me this guitar and is sitting 5 metres away from me right now. And, even though we haven't spoken in years, I want you to know that I still really care about you and haven't forgotten how awesome you are. So, this one's for you."

Do you know what's worth fighting for
When it's not worth dying for?
Does it take your breath away
And you feel yourself suffocating?
Does the pain weigh out the pride?
And you look for a place to hide?
Did someone break your heart inside?
You're in ruins

Greg tapped his foot and guitar in place of drums. Mycroft thought it was adorable, and couldn't believe that this gorgeous boy had dedicated this incredible song to him.

One, twenty one guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One, twenty one guns
Throw up your arms into the sky,
You and I