Mystrade Oneshots

56) A Car And A Date

I know I haven't posted in forever but I had these stories completed for a while and it would be a shame if I never posted them.

Angst

Greg stood about in the elevator as he watched the numbers continue to light up in an excruciatingly slow manner. He bit his lip and suddenly wished he'd taken the stairs up to the office he was meant to have been in twenty minutes ago.

He glanced at his watch again and felt sick to his stomach. Mycroft Holmes was not a man who liked to be kept waiting and here was Greg, making him wait.

It was then he noticed his breathing was just slightly too fast and closed his eyes, counting to ten in his head. It was just an elevator. Nothing was going to happen. The doors would open soon and he would be let out, unharmed.

Finally, Greg opened his eyes to find that the elevator had stopped moving and the doors were already open. How long was he just stood there panicking? Oh well, it didn't matter now as he stepped outside and headed in the direction of where he thought he was meant to be.

When he eventually made it to the right room he stepped inside, observing almost immediately that the walls were made entirely of glass and the drop to the streets below were entirely visible. He felt his stomach flip and swallowed the wave of nausea it brought on. He'd never been very good with heights.

He was stood just inside the doors, with a large gap between him and a tremendous wooden desk, and then a sleek, black leather chair that held the body of the last person Greg wanted to talk to right now.

"You know, Inspector, I have a terribly packed schedule," An all too familiar voice called, "You've set me back by quite a lot."

Greg opened his mouth to apologise but found that nothing really came out. His mind was a mess. It had been a long day.

"If it weren't for the fact you're the only person capable of babysitting my brother, I would have disposed of you a long time ago. Do I make myself clear?"

Greg nodded. Usually he wouldn't put up with someone talking to him like that, Mycroft bloody Holmes or not. But right now he just wanted to go home.

Mycroft gave a thin, poisonous, smile, "And what, pray tell, did you think was so important you could keep me waiting for thirty minutes?" He could easily see the Inspector had been out in the rain, he was wet, and looked rather pale, but that was none of his concern.

Mycroft watched for any sort of reaction. But all he saw was the other man's cheeks grow paler still, "Well? Say something!"

Greg felt his stomach heave once more, "I think I'm going to be sick-"

Neither man had time to register what was happening before Greg doubled over a waste paper basket on the floor and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. He spent a while on his knees, clutching his stomach, eyes clenched shut as his whole body strained to throw up food that just wasn't there anymore.

"I...I'm sorry," He huffed. His stomach finally settled down and he collapsed onto the floor in a tired heap, back against the desk.

That's when he broke. He couldn't handle it anymore, the anxiety, the depression, the stress, the loneliness. It was all too much and it all came out right then and there on the floor of Mycroft Holmes' office. He brought his knees up to chest, hugged them like a safety blanket and sobbed into his hands.

Mycroft however disgusted he might have been, felt a tinge of compassion for the man in front of him. Why he wasn't sure, but it was there, "Are you...um...are you alright?"

"No I'm not alright!" Greg exploded, his head beginning to pound, "My wife just told me she wants a divorce after having an affair for god knows how long! I just got a big case taken away from me and given to Tobias bloody Gregson because of your sodding brother! My car broke down and I had to walk here in the rain! And then you insist on meeting in this windowed fucking death trap of an office!"

When he was done with that outburst, Greg put his head back in the hands and sobbed even harder, leaving a very awkward Mycroft next to him.

Mycroft hadn't realised that the man had to actually walk here, and he cursed himself for not deducing it earlier. He also wasn't sure how he'd managed to miss the Inspector's fear of heights. Maybe he was slipping.

"I apologise."

"Don't. Pity makes it worse."

Well that was fair enough, but rather frustrating for Mycroft. He had no idea how to help the man in front of him, and no idea why he wanted to help the man in front of him, "Was the car of sentimental value?" He asked, hoping to perhaps comfort the man over the loss of said car.

"No, it was a fucking piece of junk. I never should have bought it. Why?"

Mycroft looked away, frowning, "I was just asking."

They were silent for a long time. Greg had stopped violently shaking, but he still let out quiet sobs every so often.

Mycroft cursed himself, smartest man in England and he couldn't even figure out how to help someone who was crying, "Perhaps we should, um, reschedule this meeting," He mumbled, awkwardly.

Greg nodded stiffly, sniffling softly as he slowly stood up, "Yeah...probably best."

"I'll call a car for you."

"Thanks..."

The detective went to leave and it broke Mycroft that he couldn't do anything to help him. He suddenly caught Greg by the arm and waited until the man turned around to pull him into a tight hug.

What? It was the only thing he could think of. Sherlock would be pissing himself laughing if he could see this, but somehow...Mycroft didn't mind.

Greg stood stiff for a second, like a deer in headlights, before practically melting and wrapping his arms back around the other man's neck. He buried his face in the soft fabric of Mycroft's suit and bit back another sob.

God this was just what he needed. Just a hug. That was all.

It felt like forever until Greg pulled away. He didn't want it to end but he knew it had to. This was Mycroft Holmes after all.

"You didn't have to do that..." He mumbled, suddenly taking to inspecting something on the floor.

Mycroft just shook his head, "No, I did. Please accept my apologies Inspector...for the way I spoke to you earlier."

Somehow, in all of this, Greg found an amused sort of smile tuck at his lips. He never thought he'd hear Mycroft Holmes apologising, yet here he was.

"Please, call me Greg."

"...Alright. Please accept my apologies, Greg, for-"

Mycroft was interpreted by the man in front of him suddenly giggling. Ah, well he wasn't exactly sure what was amusing, but he was glad to see Greg looking slightly happier. Besides, that laugh was...incredible, to say the least.

Greg was just left smiling, "You're alright, Mycroft," he said, a warm look in his eye, "...I should get going. I'll see you some other time then, yeah...?"

"Of course."

"Good. Well, good night."

With that, Greg backed out of the room and started off down the hall. By the time he reached the lobby there was a car waiting for him outside, which he used gratefully.

The next morning he went outside, preparing himself for the long walk to work when he noticed a car outside.

Not the kind of car that Mycroft rode in, with a driver in the front, oh no. It was just a full on new car. Silver and stream lined and shiny as hell.

He carefully approached the car, and noticed it had an envelope tucked into the windscreen, with a pair of keys and a note inside.

'Good morning, Gregory.

You said the car you had was of no sentimental value, so I went ahead and acquired a new one for you. I hope that's alright.

Perhaps now you can manage to make it to our meetings on time?

Speaking of which, our next meeting is today at 1pm. If you'd like to join me for lunch that is?

- MH'