First Impressions

eventhorizon451:

First impressions can be all you need, sometimes… little thing for Silver fox Saturday…

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      “What is he doing here?”

      “Who?”

      “Mycroft.”

      “What’s a Mycroft?”

      “None of your concern.”

      “It is if he’s at my crime scene.”

      “I would wager you now would find it his crime scene, not that he will lift a finger to assist with your case.”

      “What in the hell are you talking about?”

      “Nothing of consequence.  Wait here.”

Sherlock stalked towards the tall, extremely well-dressed man and Lestrade watched the two exchange words, heated in Sherlock’s case, indifferent in… what was his name again… oh yeah, Mycroft…. Mycroft’s case.  Good to see someone who wasn’t at all affected by Sherlock’s dramatics.  Handsome looking chap.  Probably had money, if his suit was any indication.  Moved nicely, too.  Precise, yet fluid… sort of graceful, really.  And stood there looking around as if he owned the deed to the ground they were standing on and every person on it.  But not in a bad way, just… regal.  Very nice packaging on someone who was immune to Sherlock’s ridiculous posturing.  Might be someone Lestrade should meet…

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Chilly, grey, grisly, anonymous persons milling about and one slash of darkness nestled in the heart of them all.  Of course Sherlock found this sort of thing enjoyable.  But, perhaps not all of the scurrying functionaries were entirely anonymous.  The one to whom Sherlock was speaking certainly stood out from the masses.  What a striking man.  Serious, mature, carried himself with an authoritative bearing, dressed as would be appropriate for his choice of career.  A man of limited means who did not allow that to impact his sense of command, which apparently extended to some degree to Sherlock who was prancing about much as a show horse, as per usual, which phased the man not in the least.  And Sherlock… well, his body language was nothing if not telling.  This was not someone whose opinion he, as with others, cared nothing for.  Such as Mycroft’s own, which would be made clear once again in one second…

      “Why are you here?”

      “Simply running my eye over your hobby, Sherlock.  Is it so wrong that I would want to observe you in your new environment?”

      “Leave.  Your presence is unnecessary and distracting.”

      “One man amongst a multitude.  I would hardly consider myself distracting.  And the necessity of my presence is not relevant in the least to the conduction of your investigation.  Carry on.”

      “Do not pretend you have any interest in my activities.  You are here for a reason and that reason will undoubtedly work to bury the truth.  Leave or I shall have you escorted away.”

      “Oh?  Commanding the troops now, are we?  I am quite sure the upper echelon in our valiant police force would like to make comment on that.”

      “Make yourself absent!”

      “Make yourself an adult.”

      “Sounds like you two know each other pretty well.”

Two heads whipped around to find a very amused Lestrade standing a few steps away enjoying their performance.

      “Go away.  If you approach more closely, you might become tainted by his villainous exudate and lapse into a meddlesome and useless existence reminiscent of his own.”

      “Now I’m guessing you’re related.  This your kid brother, Sherlock?”

      “Oh very good.  I have not seen him rendered speechless since our cook’s young daughter gave him a kiss.  I believe they were five at the time and he required a full day to recover from the shock.  It remains in memory as the most restful day of my life.  Mycroft Holmes, at your service.  And I do have the misfortune of being the elder sibling.”

      “Really, you’re his older brother?  Huh… well, that explains a lot.”

      “Oh?  Do clarify.”

      “Well, the little bastard obviously suffers from a massive inferiority complex and now I understand why.”

Mycroft prided himself on never being caught off guard, but nothing was stopping the bark of laughter that escaped his lips and the one that followed upon seeing Sherlock’s vermillion and very indignant expression.

      “I am gladdened that you so clearly see the foundation of our relationship… oh, I do apologize, I do not know your name.”

      “Detective Inspector Soon to Be Sacked!”

      “Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.  It is my dishonor and burden to keep an eye on this one, though he is probably the reason we’ll get this case closed before the day’s over.”

      “Then he does contribute positively to your investigations.”

      “Stop talking about me as if I were not here!”

      “He does a great job.  It’s supernatural, really, but I’m not complaining.  Whether it’s some psychic power or, like he says, his enormous brain that does his magic for him, he’s an amazing lad.  Really, he’s been a lot of help and I’m happy to have him here.”

Speechless and blushing in a single day… Mycroft made note to somehow document this momentous occasion in his brother’s life.  Perhaps a new national holiday.  Or a cryptic mark on the next round of coinage…

      “That is most kind, Detective Inspector.  Most kind, indeed.  It is a rare person who finds good in Sherlock’s company, though he does have a wealth of talents he could choose to showcase, were he so inclined.”

      “Oh?  Care to share?”

      “Absolutely not!  I will not stand here and…”

      “Then go stand somewhere else, Sherlock; you’ve got a lot of room to choose from.  Like near the dead body you’re supposed to be checking over.  Go on… get to work.   Tell me who the murderer is by lunchtime and I’ll buy the tea.”

And Sherlock accepted the dismissal… grudgingly, but without a typhoon-caliber tantrum.  Mycroft’s interest in the Detective Inspector rose just a little bit higher…

      “He listens to you.”

      “When he wants to.  Actually, he just wanted an excuse to leave without it appearing like he was running away from the possibility of any story-sharing we might start up about him.”

And a little higher…

      “Very intuitive.  He is still very much the child in some ways.”

      “No argument here.  So… Sherlock said this was probably your crime scene now?  You… you in law enforcement, somehow?”

      “Heavens, no.   I leave that to skilled professionals such as yourself.  My responsibilities lie in minor aspects of government.  Very dull, but the bureaucracy must stand lest England fall.”

A government man… Lestrade could see that.  But he doubted very much this Mycroft’s role was in any way minor.  Men who carried themselves like that didn’t do anything minor.  And he was Sherlock’s brother, for christ’s sake.  No… he might be a government man, but Lestrade had a suspicion that if he did want this crime scene for some reason, it would be handed over no questions asked.

      “Yeah, well, I think you’re not giving me the full story, but that’s ok.  It’s only our first meeting after all.”

      “And if we have a second?”

      “Well then… may have to apply some of my own deductive powers and dig a little deeper.”

      “Is that a challenge, Detective Inspector Lestrade?”

      “Why do I get the feeling you really like a good challenge?”

      “Oh, you are  intuitive, aren’t you.  Very well, I shall toss down the gauntlet when next we meet and we shall see how successful you are at navigating my labyrinth of lies and subterfuge.”

      “I’ll bring my compass and torch, then.”

      “Excellent.  Shall we say tonight?”

      “Sounds great, I…”

Both men stared at each other with wide eyes and tried to put together the pieces of how they suddenly agreed to a night out after knowing each other for five minutes.  it was only Mycroft’s quick and slightly bewildered cough that broke the silence.

      “Well then… I… I shall call for you this evening.”

      “Oh… yeah, ok.  I’ll give you my number and… here, take my card.  Mobile’s at the bottom.”

      “How convenient.  I cannot offer one in return, unfortunately, but Sherlock can provide you with any information you might require.”

      “Minor officials carry wallet’s full of cards.”

Mycroft had to wonder if the smile he felt on his lips looked as wicked as it felt.

      “You do have your ways, Detective Inspector.”

      “Gotta stay on my toes with Sherlock around.”

      “Admirable.  Few can and fewer do.  Until this evening?”

      “Yeah… looking, um… yeah, looking forward to it.”

And Lestrade watched the elder Holmes give a slight nod and turn towards the large, black sedan that the Detective Inspector only now noticed stood idling on the street.  Minor official… man couldn’t lie to save his life.

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      “Are you finally finished with wasting time with my nosy brother?”

      “No, don’t think I am.  I sort of…”

      “What?”

      “I sort of have a date with him tonight.”

Lestrade wondered if he could script some bombshells ahead of time to hold in his pocket when he needed Sherlock struck dumb and silent.

      “I forbid it.”

      “Not your call.”

      “He is poisonous!”

      “Didn’t look like a snake to me.”

      “He has already struck you blind, obviously.”

      “It’s just a date.”

      “Mycroft does not date.”

      “Oh, so I’m special, then?”

      “You shall plunge into a pit of despair and disillusionment by night’s end.  Mark my words.”

      “Ok.  And if not, you have to pay for the tea tomorrow.”

      “It is a wager.  One I shall win.”

Not if Lestrade in any way read the look in Mycroft Holmes’s eyes correctly.  And he was never wrong about eyes.  Never, ever, ever…

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      “You must cancel my appointments for the evening… No, I do not care if the Ambassador does have to return in the morning… You will tell him to wait and that will be that… No, that is also not important… It is highly unlikely that they will carry out their threat to execute the prince; they threaten this every other week.  It is simply too hot in their country and they are lacking for sources of entertainment… Hang the PM!  I’ve no time for a discussion about that particular initiative until such time as certain heads are pulled from certain arses and they let me handle matters in the correct fashion!… I am not ruffled… You would be incorrect, again… If you must know, I have an assignation this evening that arose suddenly… I refuse to use that term… It is a fruit, for heaven’s sake… No, you do not know the individual… No, security will not be required… No, I am not anticipating the need for a ‘sympathetic ear’…

Not if Mycroft in any way read the look in Gregory Lestrade’s eyes correctly.  And he was never wrong about eyes.  Never, ever, ever…