Drunk Habits (Mystrade)

The Talk

"How's the honeymoon?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock and John arrived at the crime scene to be greeted by the question and decaying bodies around the D.I in charge.

"Great," John replied the man. He emitted the aura of happiness; the face was glowing, and the smile was sincere unlike Greg's that similar with a grimace.

"He wasn't whining about not having murders to solve?" Lestrade asked again while Sherlock already made his way to the decaying bodies.

"Nah, he's good enough with chasing the international baddies that failed the president's assailant," John said casually. "Attempted murder is enough for him abroad."

Lestrade laughed sarcastically.

"Geoff, where's the axe?" Sherlock suddenly voiced his thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" the D.I asked back. He walked to the crouched man.

"There must have an axe. Where is it?" Sherlock eyeing the decaying bodies again before he looked the D.I properly for the first time since he walked in the room.

"There isn't an axe anywhere, Sherl--"

"That idiot.." muttered Sherlock suddenly after giving Lestrade a thorough look.

"Anderson hasn't touch anything," Lestrade automatically response.

"No, not that idiot." Sherlock said with a sigh. He pulled out his phone and typing a text very fast.

Are you a coward now? It's been a week and you haven't talk to Gerard yet? - SH

Lestrade gave a deep frown at Sherlock's attitude.

First, his name is Gregory not Gerard, Sherlock. Second, I must look presentable if I want to make him fall over me again, no?  - MH

Oh, for god's sake. He doesn't love you for your physique, Mycroft. Get your ass here, if you still want a relationship with him. - SH

You are the one who kindly remind me that I looked like a "pig". Surely enough I have to make myself irresistable before I woo him properly - MH

Are you fucking serious? He'll get over you before you can make yourself "irresistible" - SH

..I'll try my best to get fit in no time - MH

Geoff looked pretty fucked up as well. I don't think your looks will ever bother him - SH

Sherlock snorted when his brother didn't reply. He quickly typed again.

You're an idiot. Get your ass here right now. You better be here before anything get worse - SH

I'm the smart one, Sherlock. - MH

was the last message Mycroft texted him.

Sherlock put his phone back to the coat pocket and turned to the curiously D.I.

"I don't know there's something that can advert your attention from a murder case," said the D.I curiously; eager to know the reason behind all of those fast texts.

Sherlock ignored him and swirled his coat to the back of the room; trying to find more clues and in the same time buying time for his idiot brother.

●▲●▲●▲●▲●

"Sherlock?" Lestrade walked towards the man who wear a ridiculously long coat. "I think we should move on from the room. It've been 2 hours long.."

Sherlock glanced at his phone that happened to be on his grasp right now. Fine.

"Idiot.." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Then he turned to the D.I with a forced smile. "Yep," he said, popping the "p", " you're right. We need to go to Molly."

Right after they--Sherlock, John, and Greg--walked out of the building, they met a tall man with his black umbrella rested in his hand. Sherlock and John could sense the tension that suddenly filled up the air. They stole a glance at each other and made a decision to leave both men for their unfinished business.

John cleared his throat. "Um, Greg. I think, me and Sherlock will go to Molly first while you and Mycroft uh--talking..?"

Lestrade who finally could advert his eyes from the tall man almost choked on his own saliva. "No, no. I don't have anything to talk about with Mr. Holmes."

"D.I. Lestrade, please." the tall man began, "I have lots to talk about."

"But, I don't." Lestrade started walking away, "come on Sherlock, John. You said you need to see Molly."

"D.I. Lestrade."

Sherlock and John just stood still.

Lestrade glanced at his back; realizing those two didn't follow him. "Come on!"

"Gregory, please." The tall man started. "Can you spare me 10 minutes of your time?"

Lestrade's stomach dropped when he heard desperation dripping on Mycroft's voice underneath all the polite sentences. He wanted to be mean as well, but he just couldn't. He never had a heart to hurt this man eventhough the man wounded him. Therefore, he turned on his heel slowly and gave him curt awkward nod. He glanced again towards where John and Sherlock should be, not too surprised when he didn't see both of them.

"Let's sit on that bench, shall we?" said Mycroft, pointing to the only bench near the park.

Lestrade could feel Mycroft disappointment when he chose to sit on the end of the bench; purposefully keep a distance from the tall man.

"First, I want to make an apology."

Lestrade sighed loudly. "Again? What for?"

"For a week ago, in the café. I didn't realize by doing so, I humiliated you. I thought it was only appropriate if I apoligize for doing what I shouldn't have done."

The grey haired man stood up all of a sudden. "Okay, that's it."

Mycroft tried to mask his dismay but Lestrade wouldn't be soft on him. "No, please. Listen, I have an explanation--"

"Then give me a fucking one already!"

The tall man opened his mouth yet he closed it again soon without words. His face look troubled; like, right in this moment, he had an inner war. After a while, when Lestrade made a clicking sound and started walking away; the man grabbed his hand. The touch burned Lestrade through his suit, stopped him effectively.

"That wasn't me." The three pieces suit man finally said; softly, barely heard, merely a whisper. "The flirtatious talk, the peck, that night? That wasn't me."