The Assistant Headmaster (Mystrade Fanfic)

Twenty

A/N - Ah! I absolutely love your comments! They're all so lovely and supportive, so thanks so much! You honestly have no idea how much those comments mean to me, and they really brighten my days. I hope this chapter's alright. I had to split it into two because as it is the word counts over 2,700 which is far more than usual for a chapter. So yeah, sexy stuff is happening next chapter, but until then, I hope this is alright. Thanks for commenting, voting, and generally reading. You guys mean the world to me!

-CH

Mycroft

It was a big deal, me asking Greg to come back to my place. Asking him was either going to go well or awfully, and I just prayed that the question wouldn't scare him away. I was thinking I would make him a nice meal with some nice romantic classical music playing gently in the background.

I sat at my desk at work, googling nice meals to make. They all seemed simple enough; there was nothing too intricate. Not that it would be a problem if there was something intricate. I mean, I could have anything else needed flown into the United Kingdom, including the best chefs in the world, if I wanted. Gordon Ramsay or Jamie Oliver? Those were really the only two chefs I knew personally. Maybe I could even get an orchestra in, would Greg like that? 

"I'm going out of my mind!" I growled to myself, dropping my head between my hands. 

The door opened, and Anthea came in. "Sir? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Anthea," I responded, waving my hand at her dismissively. She nodded and turned to leave again. "Hang on. Send Gregory Lestrade up for me, please. There's a game tonight and I need to make sure he knows what he's doing."

"Isn't that what the coach is for?" Anthea flinched as she saw the expression on my face. 

I sighed impatiently. "Must I do absolutely everything for myself? Anthea, that man is a moron. Get Gregory Lestrade."

She nodded. "Yes, Sir."

I sighed again as she left the room, closing the door behind herself. This is it, Mycroft. You're going to ask him to come back to your house. I hope the cleaners have been in. I will honestly kill somebody if they've not. I swear I- 

"Mr. Holmes?"

I looked up from my annoyed thoughts to see Greg walking in, a questioning grin on his face as he closed the door. "Mr. Lestrade," I replied, smirking as he sat down opposite me. He'd obviously been pulled out of P.E. He was in his too-irresistibly-tight P.E shirt which hugged his muscles. His shorts came to half way down his muscular thighs, and I kept my mouth clamped shut in case I said something weird about the beauty of his body. Dragging my eyes up, I saw Greg smirking at me for what was perhaps the first time I'd ever seen. 

"Alright, Sir?"  He purred. 

"I dragged you out of P.E," I frowned. 

Greg stood up and walked over to me, massaging my shoulders. Leaning down, he whispered in my ear: "It's fine. I'd much rather be here with you. What's up?"

"Dinner tonight. My house. After the game," I managed. 

Greg squeezed my shoulders and leaned down, kissing my neck softly. "I'd love to come," he whispered as he moved away to sit on the edge of my desk. 

I smiled up at him drowsily. "Really?"

"Definitely." 

"Great!" I said a bit too (uncharacteristically) enthusiastically. I cleared my throat. "I mean, cool."

Greg raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Will you be coming to the game then?"

"Of course. I'd not miss it for the world. I'll leave earlier so no one sees us leaving together."