The Assistant Headmaster (Mystrade Fanfic)

Five

Mycroft

I knew there was someone out there as I stepped into the cool, evening air. I could feel their gaze on me, and smelt the scent of their lingering cologne as I walked through the halls. They were alone though, something on their mind and mildly - if not totally -intoxicated. Simple deduction, really.

I tilted my head to the side, toward the benches beside the rugby field.

The boy, Gregory, sat on the stands by the gymnasium. I saw him staring at me, wide eyed, and I fought a smile. I could almost see his thoughts, and I knew he thought he'd be punished.

Instead, I cocked my head to the side and tapped my watch. He nodded back, getting the message, though he and I both knew he'd not go back to his room for some time. On the plus side, he seemed to be only mildly intoxicated and sobering up every moment of the situation.

I couldn't help the grin that crossed my face as I continued walking, my back to him. There was something undeniably adorable about him. I knew he was popular - perhaps the most popular boy in the school - but he was so innocent, so obvious. But everyone was. Just so obvious. I got in my car and drove home, the smile still lingering on my face.

*******

The next day I got to work bright and early. Anthea was ready and waiting, and I could feel the anticipation and nervousness radiating off of her. I suppressed an eye roll. I just wasn't interested.

"Can I do anything for you, Sir?" She asked, eager to please.

"Yes, you can tell me if the sports captains list has been updated."

She pulled a folder out and smiled. "Here you go, Sir. Can I do anything else for you?"

"Coffee would be nice. Black, two sugars."

I watched as she walked out of the office, and I crossed into my own private one, closing the door, with the file in my hand. I sat at my desk and opened the file. 'Oh good,' I thought to myself as I saw Gregory Lestrade's face on the front page, 'It's been updated.'

Anthea returned with the coffee and I smiled, but didn't thank her. "Do I have meetings today?"

She shook her head. "No, Sir, you don't."

"Excellent. I'll catch up with the sports captains then. Send them up when you're ready."

Anthea nodded, still eager as ever, and left without another word. She was so transparent. I sat in my seat, gazing out the window. I had a direct view of the gym and the field plus its surrounding trees. Most mornings a thick fog would settle over the trees and field, giving it an eerie feel, but those figures would still be running around and around as early morning practise for their sports, usually rugby. I knew who I was looking for. Of course I did. And it was disgusting. It was disgusting to actually want to see a person. I'd never wanted that before, not really. Usually the want I had for someone would come from my libido, but this time, I could feel it inside me, in my chest and stomach. I groaned and closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. Like I said, it was disgusting.

There was a knock at the door, and I turned around, trying not to look so pained. Looking back in hindsight I would roll my eyes at being so naive about feelings. "Come in!"

The door opened and in strode a tall brunette girl, her confidence and beauty radiating off of her. "Hello, Sir," she practically purred, helping herself to a seat opposite me.

"Ms. Adler. Thank you for coming in to see me."

"How's Sherlock?" I decided to ignore the fact that she knew about my little brother. She had clearly researched me. Boring.

"How's the coach you shagged in order to become the netball team captain?"

Irene opened and closed her mouth. Ah, the oh-so-confident girl was stunned into silence.

"Does he know you're a lesbian, then?" I continued.

"Nobody does, Sir. Also I don't think this is a very appropriate conversation."

"Oh please," I scoffed. "Your orientation is written in every little detail about you. The way you move suggests intercourse, but often not with a man or boy. Even coming in here, you smell of three... four different deodorants, all female and serving for different purposes, so obviously not yours. Besides, you clearly don't have an odour problem."

"Clearly," the girl repeated, obviously impressed. "How do you know I don't like males and just sleep with females for sport? Maybe I'm bisexual or pansexual."

"Erm, no," I promptly silenced her. "You clearly like females and females alone. It's clear in your body language, especially when you came through the door. Obviously you were talking to my assistant out there. And then there's your eyes. I've seen you around the school, Ms. Adler, I know your eyes linger on females and not at all on males.

"In fact you only sleep with males to get your own way, so again, I ask: how is the male netball coach?"

"Y-you're not going to have me expelled are you?"

I snorted and waved my hand dismissively. "Nonsense. You remind me of myself when I was younger."

After another hour of talking to Irene Adler, mostly about netball, she left and the next captain came in. One after the other they came up, football, badminton, volleyball, table tennis, even a chess captain was shown up, they came in and we discussed tactics to be the best teams that year.

Finally, towards the end of the school day, the rugby team captain, Gregory Lestrade, was shown up. His hair fell in black, unruly curls (though I put that down to the 'style,') and his skin glowed, tan and beautiful under the rare sunlight that shone through the window. His white smile was a beautiful contrast, and almost matched the whiteness of his school shirt, which clung to his muscular torso.

"Mr. Lestrade," I greeted as he came in, putting on my assistant headmaster voice. "Please, take a seat."

He sat down opposite me, and I could see he was nervous. His fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair, and his gaze was diverted from mine. Instead he looked around the room, and seemed to find great interest in the cream coloured wall behind me.

"So, you made it to the trials, congratulations."

Gregory chuckled nervously, finally looking at me. "Well actually, I didn't. But thank you, Sir."

"You didn't get to the trials and yet you're still captain?" I feigned innocence. I didn't know the boy very well but something told me he'd not appreciate knowing I had gotten him his position as captain.

He shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. "I don't even know how it happened, but I'm glad it did."

His appreciation disgustingly made me warm inside and I tried to push it away. That and the thought of ravishing him on my desk. The latter was harder to forget.

"Excellent," I said, nodding. We looked at each other for a moment before he nervously looked away. I fought a smirk. "Anyway, do you have any ideas on how to improve our rugby team even more?"

Gregory's eyes lit up, and I watched his whole demeanour change. "Oh, yeah. I have lots of ideas."

For once, listening to a person wasn't an utter bore. Gregory put forth idea after idea, and for the majority of the time I listened, the rest of the time I spent drinking in his features and mannerisms. His deep brown eyes shone with passion, and he sat forward in his seat, moving his hands about to animate his ideas. Everything he did, everything he said was utterly beautiful. And I was so caught up in him that I didn't even stop to consider how disgusting these feelings were or how sentimental I was already getting. I was just listening to a teenage boy talk about his ideas and goals, and thinking about it now, that talk was almost uplifting. Maybe the school wasn't full of goldfish after all.