A mystrade story.

A very happy Birthday indeed. A mystrade story.

Author's note/Crazed ramblings/Stuff that you can choose to ignore unless you are NerdythorToast.

Okay, firstly: Happy Birthday Chloe! This is for you, since I couldn't think of anything better than a dedicated story! Secondly, you are Mycroft, so I thought you'd appreciate it! Thirdly, there really isn't enough Mystrade on Wattpad.

I own Nothing, but the idea for this, the characters are not mine, and neither is birthday cake, though I wish it was.

Now: without further ado, on with the show!

A very happy birthday, indeed.

Gregory Lestrade heaved a deep sigh as he walked through his front door. He'd had a really tough day, but that was normal. No, the thing was; it was his Birthday, and not one of his team had said a word! Not Sherlock, obviously, but he'd kind of expected John at least to say 'Happy Birthday'.

But no! Even that seemed to be too much for everyone! He worked for all of the year except Christmas, and had even come off of his holidays for a stupid case! All he really wanted was one card, at least! Sure; his mum sent him one, but that didn't really count! Of course, to say that he wasn't hoping for at least a text from a certain politician would be a lie, but everyone had their guilty pleasures, didn't they?

Greg sighed again, he was making himself feel worse. Only he would have the sheer audacity to fall for the one man he couldn't have! I mean, Mycroft Holmes practically ran the British Government! He probably did, now that Greg thought about it.

"Ha! Minor position in the British Government, my arse!" He muttered to himself.

He walked further into his small, yet comfortable flat, flicked on the sitting room light and received the biggest shock of his life. Mycroft Holmes, controller of the entire British Isles, secret crush of Gregory's since he first met the man, was sitting, fast asleep on Greg's favourite armchair!

Well, shit. How the hell am I supposed to wake him up? How the hell did he get in? Greg walked silently around the chair to face Mycroft. He reached out to shake him awake... But stopped. He looks adorable in his sleep, I don't want to wake him up!

No! Spat his inner monologue. You can't just leave him there, what if he woke up, and realized you'd left him? He'd know you fancied him for sure! Sighing again (he really needed to break the habit) he steeled himself and, as gently as possible, shook the elder Holmes brother's shoulder.

He leapt back as Mycroft jumped slightly, and inwardly melted as the younger man blinked up sleepily at him once he'd deduced that there was no threat. Mycroft then seemed to remember just where he was, and instantly sat up, straightening his rumpled clothes.

"Ah, Detective Inspector! I beg your pardon, I seem to have drifted off to sleep! You must forgive my intrusion, I was simply waiting for your return." Mycroft said apologetically, and for a second, Greg could've sworn he saw a small flash of emotion flash across his usually guarded eyes - what it what though, he could not tell.

"It's alright! I really don't mind, in your line of work, I imagine that you don't get the chance to get a lot of sleep. I don't blame you, to be honest. Now, may I inquire as to why you were in my armchair in the first place? I'm guessing it was something more than 'oh, I'm tired, there's Lestrade's house, I think I'll sleep there'." Lestrade chuckled softly.

Mycroft gave a laugh then, a genuine laugh, then looked slightly disbelieving at the fact that Greg had surprised him, before his mask was slipped back into place.

"Oh, ahem, no, it wasn't quite that, I'm afraid," They both laughed. "I actually came for a sort of, social visit is the correct term, I believe. Yes, I came to wish you a happy birthday, Detective Inspector." Mycroft said, a tiny tinge of red gracing his cheeks as he talked. Once again Greg melted.