The Assistant Headmaster (Mystrade Fanfic)

Sixteen

A/N- I've been reading comments on this story (I'll reply to them soon, hopefully), and especially on the last chapter, you lovelies never cease to make me blush. I love you all. x

-CH

Greg

"I don't know what I'm doing," I sighed, tossing down my pencil in defeat. Maths really wasn't my forte.

Mike laughed beside me. "Me either. Ask old man Wilson for help."

Old man Wilson was what I could only describe as a psychopath. He chose to shout at Mike and I any chance he got. He'd yell at you if you weren't doing work, he'd tell if you were, and he'd throw a fit if you chose to ask for help.

I looked at Mike, raising an eyebrow. "Is it worth it?"

"I don't know. I suppose we'll find out."

Before I could ask what Mike was doing, his hand was up and he was calling out to Mr. Wilson. Wilson looked up at us, a reptilian smile upon his face. "We're in for it now, Michael," I murmured accusingly, running a hand through my curls.

"Mr. Stamford," old man Wilson began slowly and deliberately, "Whatever seems to be so imperative that you catch my attention in such an impolite way?"

Mike looked at him for a moment and I let out a huff of laughter. 'We're really in for it now,' I thought to myself as Mike continued to blink.

"What?" Mike eventually let out.

The class laughed, their attention suddenly entirely on the three of us. The teacher looked impatient. "What do you want, Mr. Stamford?"

"Greg and I can't work out the standard dev-"

"Is that because you're not listening?" The teacher interrupted.

Mike sighed and I could see he was already getting annoyed. "No, Sir, we just don't know how to do it."

The man loomed over us angrily. "Have you referee to the graph? Or how about the question?"

"Of course, Sir, we're not stupid!"

"Then why don't you understand?!" The teacher shouted.

Mike looked about ready to chin the man, so I spoke up. "Look, Sir. Perhaps if you just run over how to do it one more time then maybe we can understand."

"Why? So that you'll do no more work?" The cold reptile-like smile spread over his face once more, igniting the anger inside me.

*******

Once Anthea had knocked on the door, it opened, and Mr. Holmes appeared. He wore a white shirt and green tie, looking incredible as ever. His hair fell forward into his face, and he brushed it out of the way with his long, slender fingers. "Yes, Anthea? What is it?"

"Gregory Lestrade, Sir. He's been sent out of his maths class."

Mr. Holmes' eyes flickered over to the waiting area where I sat abashed on a chair. He sighed. "Thank you, Anthea, I'll see to it that he is properly punished." My spine tingled with delight at his words and the glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes. He indicated for me to go with him, and I smiled sheepishly at Anthea as I went.

Mr. Holmes closed the door behind us, silently locking it. I stood watching as he did so, unable to work out what he was thinking. Suddenly, he turned around to face me, and promptly pinned me against the door, his lips at my neck. My fingers tangled in his hair, sighing as he nipped and sucked at my sensitive flesh. Mr. Holmes hands clutched my waist, pulling my hips in closer.

Mr. Holmes pulled his lips away, but his body remained in the same position. "Have you been misbehaving, Mr. Lestrade?" He whispered hoarsely in my ear.

I buried my face in his neck to stop myself from moaning. I shook my head, and I heard him chuckle as he ground his hips against mine.

"Really? You haven't?" Holmes didn't believe me for one minute.

"N-ah," I moaned before swallowing it back. "No, Sir."

"Pity, Mr. Lestrade," Mr. Holmes said, directing me backwards until I was seated on the edge of his desk, my legs tucked in between his deliciously muscular thighs. "I think you misbehaving is undeniably hot."

Mr. Holmes' lips met mine once more and I pulled him in closer by his hair, wanting to feel more of him. He was hot against my body, and I could feel it almost as though he was; it was like his warmth pulsed through my veins.

My lips were hungry against Mr. Holmes', kissing him as though my life depending on it. Holmes' lips tasted like iced tea and cake, and it was the best thing I had ever tried. Those lips alone were unraveling me, making me crumble down to my core from the pleasure I felt just by him alone. I was already in deep, I knew that, but I didn't care. I wanted him so bad. I wanted him the way I had wanted him when all I had to go by were lip-bites and close-proximity. Tasting his lips, feeling his heat and his erection against me, it was something else altogether.

The bell rang outside, and Mr. Holmes pulled away, readjusting his trousers. His hair was a mess and his lips were swollen and bruised. The man looked unbelievably sexy, and I would've done anything to push it further. I imagined he'd look even better with his shirt falling off his shoulders and his trousers undone, pants revealing everything they contained.

Mr. Holmes cleared his throat. "Daydreaming, Mr. Lestrade?" He purred, grabbing my waist once more, long slender fingers rubbing gentle circles into my hips.

"Sorry, Sir," I breathed.

Mr. Holmes sucked on my neck for a moment before pulling away. "You aren't sorry at all, are you, Mr. Lestrade?"

I shook my head and laughed before biting my lip, noticing the way the assistant headmaster's gaze lowered to my lips before back into my eyes. "No, Sir," I admitted. "Not at all."

"Good," he smiled, "I'd hoped you weren't."

My breathing hitched as I looked at the assistant headmaster. I was beginning to think that maybe this was like A Beautiful Mind, like I was imagining everything that was happening. Because there was no way such an incredible, wonderful person could exist. And there was no way such an incredible, wonderful person could be interested in me. 

"You're thinking again, Mr. Lestrade," Mr. Holmes stated with a smirk. He moved closer once more, his lips inches from mine. "Let me see if I can take your mind off of whatever it is that is troubling you."

His lips met mine once again, and of course, he did take my mind off of whatever it was I had been thinking about. I couldn't even remember what it had been. 

We kissed for a while longer, before he pulled away altogether. His eyes gazed fondly into mine, and I couldn't help but grin at him. "What now?" I asked him, my voice embarrassingly hoarse. 

"Well, you need to go to class. But, I do want to take you out. For dinner, I mean. I mean, if that's alright with you. I mean -"

"Yes. I'll come out for dinner with you," I laughed, before adding: "I don't think I've ever heard 'I mean,' repeated so many times in a sentence. 

And then, without a word of a lie, a slight blush spread across Mr. Holmes' beautiful face, like rose petals had melted their colour against his cheeks. "Shut up," he murmured, but a small smile had crossed his lips. 

I chuckled quietly and kissed him one more time. "I best be going to my next class. Can you write me a note?"

Mr. Holmes nodded before walking over to his desk, pulling out a slip of paper. He quickly scrawled something down, before holding it out to me, his actions as elegant as ever. 

"Thanks," I smiled. "I guess I'll see you later then?"

"Yep, see you."

"Bye, Mr. Holmes."

I had gotten to the door, my hand on the handle, when he called out to me. "Gregory?"

I smiled and turned around. "Yeah?"

A smirk played at his lips. "I think you can call me Mycroft now. When no one's around, I mean."