Mystrade: Face to Face with the Government

A Normal Family

FIVE MONTHS EARLIER

Mycroft Holmes stared up at the ceiling from their hotel bed.

"Gregory"

"Mmm?" Greg rolled over, wrapping his arms around Mycroft and looking up at him with those deep brown eyes.

"How do you feel about children?"

"Well..." Honestly Greg never thought he'd be having this conversation.

"Well?"

"I wouldn't mind having any...are you thinking of adoption?"

"Sherlock was going on about something earlier today..."

Greg quickly sat up and looked over at Mycroft with concern.

"Are you sure it's a good idea listening to your brother's crazy plots?"

"He went over it with me, it seemed perfectly plausible..."

"Myc, there's a difference between plausible and moral!"

"I do know that Gregory!"

"And anyway, what the hell was he on about!?!"

"He had a theory that, in practice, could allow either of us to bear our own child"

"See? Absolutely crazy!"

"I know, it's ridiculous! But Greg, if it works..."

"Are you really willing to risk it?"

The elder Holmes rolled over to face his husband.

"I would do anything for you Greg"

"But I won't let you Myc. If it's a risk to your health then I won't allow it."

"Right you are dear..."

"Now come here and let me do all the dirty things we certainly can't do with children in the house..." He smirked and pulled Mycroft into an embrace.

Mycroft blushed, but he still couldn't hold back the thought of a mini-Greg running round the house. It quickly passed as the original Greg absolutely and utterly swept him off his feet. He didn't know what he would do if anyone ever hurt his husband. The anger built in him just thinking about it. At that moment, he swore to keep Greg as safe as he possibly could...

PRESENT DAY

Earl Grey and Herbal Soothers couldn't block out the racket from upstairs. "Oh dear" Mrs Hudson said, sighing and sipping from her fine china. That Sherlock Holmes always did bring noisy people into his flat. She heard a smash of, what seemed to be, pottery and decided to investigate.

The voices... As she walked up the stairs she realised she recognised them, they were no criminals or thugs either.

"It would be just like a normal family!"

"A normal family!?!"

No, at least one of them had been brought up in a posh society. Mrs Hudson was good at telling these things through tones of voice and clarity. There it was again, more pottery. She opened the door slowly waiting for the "NOT NOW MRS HUDSON" that she didn't get.

There in the room was Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, collapsed on the sofa with his head in his hands, and his husband Mycroft, standing close by and staring down at him. It was obvious from his expression that he didn't know what to say or do.

"What's going on in here? You're making an awful lot of noise, I don't know what the neighbours will say!"

"Don't sorry Mrs Hudson, Mycroft was just leaving" These words stung Mycroft like a blow direct to the heart, his breath hitched and he looked away from the keen eye of Mrs Hudson. She sighed and the sight of both of them.