Sherlock Imagines

Mystrade + Sister!Reader | Keys

Mycroft never thought he would be in such a predicament. Never in his entire life did he expect finding his goldfish. But now he was seriously regretting falling in love with said goldfish.

"How in gods name do you lose the keys to your own handcuffs?" Mycroft glared and Greg's back. He was currently searching for Mycroft's pants.

Greg had also used the pants search to stay a considerable distance away from Mycroft. Not that Mycroft can actually go anywhere.

"I don't know." Lestrade grumbles. He turns around, scratching at the back of his neck. "I thought I had the keys, I guess not."

"YOU GUESS?!"  Mycroft bellowed. "I AM HANDCUFFED TO THE BLOODY HEAD BOARD OF OUR BED. DON'T YOU THINK IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A BRILLIANT IDEA TO CHECK FOR THE KEYS FIRST?" Greg grimaced as Mycroft yelled at him.

He admits he should have checked. Now that he thinks about it, he might have left them in his desk. "Your desk? A great fucking place for them." Mycroft grumbled.

He huffed, turning his head away from Greg. Greg frowns. The office is closed. He could go get the keys but he really doesn't know what excuse to use if someone is burning the midnight oil. Even an idiot can deduce the real reason as to why he needs his handcuff keys at 2 O' Clock in the morning.

"How are we going to fix this Gregory?" Mycroft growls. Lestrade scratches at the back of his neck again. "Well... I know someone who can help, but you are not going to like it."

Mycroft whips his head towards his lover. "NO!" Greg reaches for his phone, scrolling to the only person he knows who can pick a lock at this ungodly hour. "She is the only one that can help us. Unless you want to wait until morning." Greg give Mycroft a somewhat sympathetic smile, to which Mycroft glares at.

"Fine. But I swear if Sherlock catches wind of this I will castrate you." Greg chuckles nervously. "You wouldn't do that." Mycroft shoots him a 'Try me' look. Greg, not knowing how to respond, coughs awkwardly. Then turns around to place the phone call. If looks could kill, Greg would be dead.

***

You were sleeping peacefully when your phone began buzzing. You crack one eye open and glance at the very bright screen. You grumble something incoherently. You flop your hand and grab numbly until you feel the cool rectangle in your hand.

Not even opening your eyes you answer the call, placing the phone to your ear.

"It is two in the morning, what do you want, Gavin?" You heard Lestrade huff on the other end "It's Greg."

"I know but seeing as I have to be on Mycroft's security detail in..." You open your eyes and glance at your alarm clock. "... three hours. I have the right to call you whatever I want. Now I will repeat my question. What. Do. You. Want?" You were starting to get aggravated.

"I need you to come to Mycroft's house. With your lock picks. I'll explain when you get here. I'd rather not do it over the phone." You squint at the ceiling, and sigh. "Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Thank you. Please hurry." You hang up and toss your phone onto the nightstand. You heave yourself from your bed, grabbing one of your brothers dress shirts they had left at your flat from your bottom drawer. You walk over to your work duffel, making sure your lock picks were in there as well as all of your works stuff. Then you threw on a pair of black shinny jeans, and your work boots.

You grab your keys, phone, and a jacket. Lifting the heavy duffel over your shoulder, you drag yourself out of your flat and lock the door.

***

"Well?" Mycroft huffed from his spot on the bed. "Twenty minutes." Mycroft groaned flopping his head back, banging it off the head board.

Greg decided to wander through the corridors rather than sit with Mycroft. Then he wouldn't have to deal with the searing looks the man gave him. After about ten minutes. There was a knock at the door.

You had arrived early due to there being absolutely no traffic at this hour. Your left knuckles were rubbing the sleep from your eye while your right hand dangled at your side, lazily holding the small lock pick kit.

Greg took in your appearance. You looked pretty well dressed for the time you were up. He also noticed that you were wearing one of Mycroft's old shirts. "Now what was so important that you needed me at two in the morning." Greg scratched at his neck again for the third time.

"Me and Mycroft were..." He coughs. You look him over.

His sex hair, the lack of clothing, the need for a lock pick. You smirked. "You and my brother were having sex. Seeing as you're the one calling, you are the top. Otherwise Mycroft would have remembered the handcuff keys. You wanted to try something new. Mycroft, in the moment, agreed, you forgot the key in your office. Once you 'finished' you realized your mistake. Now you couldn't call Sherlock. Even though Sherlock also knows how to pick locks, Mycroft probably threatened to castrate you. Leaving me because no locksmith would be up at this hour. Nor would my brother want to wait for an outsider to see him in such a predicament. Also, I get along with Mycroft much better than Sherlock. Surely, Mycroft reluctantly agreed to calling me."

Lestrade nodded, agreeing to everything you had deduce. His face was beat red. He coughed awkwardly again and gestures for you to walk in. You did not even stop to let him lead the way. You walk calmly to Mycroft's door and swing it open.

You giggle slightly at the sight of your brother handcuffed to the headboard. "Hello, brother mine." He looks over at you and glares. "Not a word, sister mine." He sneers. You chuckle and walk over to the large bed.

"Is it safe? I'm wearing black pants." Mycroft fixes you with a cold glare. You hold your hands up and move to kneel on the bed.

You open your kit and lay it on Mycroft's covered thigh. You make quick work of the left cuff. Mycroft's drops his arms, the cuff clinking slightly when he shakes his arms. You hold out your hand and Mycroft lets you remove the right cuff.

When you are done Mycroft rubs at his wrists. An angry look still very present on his face. You giggle at the look on his face and kiss his cheek. He turns and looks at you, his face softening as he thanks you.

"It really isn't a problem." You smile tiredly as you slide from the bed. You walk towards the door, shoving the cuffs into Lestrade's bare chest.

"Remember the keys next time, George." Greg sighs. You smile over your shoulder. "Myc, I'm staying in your guest room." Then you turn and waltz out of the room.

Greg goes to step into he room but is stopped when his trousers hit him in the face.

"Couch." Mycroft simply says before slamming the door in Greg's face. He turns to you and you shrug.

You wave your lock pick at him. "The woman with the key is Queen. And Honey, you should see me in a crown." You smirk.

Greg glares at you but all you do is walk into the guest room. He hears the door click shut. Then he realizes that room is where Mycroft keeps the spare blankets. He rushes foreword.

"Can I have a blanket?" 

"NO!" Greg hears behind both doors.