I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 68 : Pretty boy

IMPORTANT NOTE : This chapter deal with homophobia so if you are not comfortable with this subject I recommend you not to read it and to skip directly to next chapter.

Remember that the acts described in this chapter are described as abusive by the law and that if you ever are the victime of such acts or witness of it, it's your right to make an official complain to the police.

Switchboard UK : 0300 330 0630 or chris[@]switchboard.lgbt

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"Come on Myc', relax. What's wrong ?" Greg asked his partner in a smile.
"Can you explain me again what I am doing in a pub... a Friday night?" retorted the auburn, looking around him, an eyebrow raised.
"You have agreed to come here to watch tonight's Arsenal game." the yarder reminded him, chuckling.
"Me, in a pub, watching football. You are lucky I love you." finally laughed the official before seizing his glass and drinking a gulp of wine.
Despite the insistence of his boyfriend he had refused to have a pint, considering that he had already done a lot of efforts and that he, at least, deserve to choose his drink. The wine wasn't the best and if he had been at home he would never had tolerated having something like that poured to him, but in the present circumstances, it was, without any doubts, the best the place could offer and Mycroft would probably have drank any alcoholic beverage if it could make the evening pass quicker. The pub was crowded with men, mostly middle-aged, wearing red jerseys or scarves and the elder Holmes, in his usual three pieces suit, was definitely looking out of place as much as he was feeling out of place.
Seeing that his glass was empty and that Greg had nearly finished his, he stood up, delighted to have something to do to distract him from the cesspool of bawling football supporters. Careful not to step on anyone's feet he made his way tothe bar and queued behind the three customers that were already waiting to be served. While he was waiting Chelsea scored making the crowd clamour and insult the referee. "How dull and rude can really be the human kind when upset ?" thought the auburn when came histurn of ordering.
"A pint and a glass of red wine please." he asked, forced to yell to be heard by the bartender because of the surrounding noise.
"Her' you go sir' !" the man served him, placing two glasses on the counter.
The elder Holmes grab a couple of bank notes in his pocket, handling them to the bartender before making his way back to the table, trying once more not to step on anyone's feet, and attempting not to spill the content of the glasses on anyone, not helped by the fact that the referee had accorded a free kick to Chelsea, making the Arsenal supporters vociferate ferociously once again. When Mycroft finally joined the table were Greg was sat, the detective had just finished his glass.
"Thank you dear." he winked at his partner when the official placed the new pint in front of him. "If Arsenal loose, I swear I will regret greatly dragging you here ..."
Mycroft laughed at the face his husband was pulling and took a seat beside him, grabbing his dangling hand and clamping it tenderly.
"I'm going to have some air outside. I'll be back in five minutes." the elder Holmes told his lover a few minutes later.
"Having some air or having a smoke ?"chuckled the inspector while the other man was standing up.
"Oh shut up and concentrate on your damn game." retorted the auburn before trying to make his way out through the packed crowd. Leaning against the outside door of the pub, Mycroft seized his cigarettes and lighter and lighted one. The night was cold and he had forgotten his coat inside but he was still appreciating being out, the closed door mitigating the cheers and yelling of the men inside.

Greg took a look at his watch. Mycroft had said he would be back in five minutes but it was already nearly the end of the game and he had still not reappeared and the detective was finding that odd. He grabbed his phone to check if the official hadn't sent him a text to advise him that he had to go urgently for any kind of national security meeting but the only text that he had was coming from his daughter laughing about Arsenal's upcoming defeat. Finding the situation abnormal and not really passionate by the game anymore as his team wouldn't be able to made its come back in the last three minutes, the yarder grabbed his coat and his husband's one and tried to make his way out of the pub, hampered by a bunch of men who had clearly drank a few too many drinks and who were not very eager with stepping aside.
When he finally made it outside he was surprised not to see the official leaning against the pub's frontage like he had expected him to and really started to wonder where the auburn could possibly be when he heard voices in the nearby alley.
"So, what is a pretty boy like you doing in a pub ? Looking for a man ?" a beefy men jerked, his face only two inches away from the elder Holmes's one.
"I strongly recommend you not to imply what you are implying." retorted the official, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fact that the man in front of him could probably break each and every of his bones like if it was any kind of twigs.
"Oh but he nearly makes me shit myself." laughed the man. "You think a pansy like you can scare me eh ?"
"I really wouldn't try to lay a finger on him." suddenly intervene Greg who had finally found where the voices were coming from.
"And who are you ? His queen ?" continued to laugh the beefy man, projecting his alcoholic breath in the official's face once again.
"His husband." retorted the detective, stepping closer. "And you'd better step away I warn you."
"Don't worry, I can take care of you to." smiled the man that the huge amount of alcohol he had drank was making slow to think. Turning back to the auburn, he tried to place a peck on his cheek.
Loosing it completely, Greg waded into the man, throwing the hardest punch he ever had thrown right in his nose. The thuggery of the hit made the man falter, his nose now bleeding heavily, but he didn't fell and instead turned to the detective who, despite his training for infighting, was way smaller and less hefty. However, he was in such wrath that even his recent injuries couldn't have stopped him and the high level of alcohol in the man's blood was making him slow and less attentive. Throwing another punch in the man's face, he then dodged a few gawky jabs before throwing a couple of kicks in the man's abdomen that finally make him collapsed on the floor, half-knocked down and chocking in his own blood. Blinded by his rage, the yarder continued kicking the beefy man in the ribs until Mycroft, who had stood still, in shock, came back to his mind and engirdle his partner and pulled him back.
"And a fucking cop." Greg jerked out at the man lying on the floor while a few other customers of the pub, who were starting to exit the place as the game was now over, were starting to gather around the three of them.
"Gregory, calm down, please."the official whispered to his boyfriend. "Can I let you go now?"
The detective nodded, still shaking in anger. It took only a few seconds before a local police patrol arrived on the scene, one of the customers having advised them of what had just happened. One of the constable dashed to the man on the floor, checking his vital signs and calling for an ambulance through his radio when the other moved toward the auburn and his husband, the blood spilled over their shirts leaving no doubt that they had been involved in a way or another in the fight that had just happened.
"Sirs. Are you armed ?" the young policeman asked, stepping closer to them but not close enough to be touch if one of them happened to have a knife or any weapon of this kind.
"No." the DI answered, showing clearly his two hands to the officer, quickly imitated by the official.
"You're going to stretch your arms in front of you calmly and I'm going to handcuff you, alright?" continued the constable.
The two men done as they were ordered, the detective starting to be aware of the situation he had put himself in. He was really hoping that the circumstances of self-defence could be taken in account even if he doubted it as he had thrown the first punch. Once handcuffed, the two of them were summoned into one of the two cars that had come as backup and brought to the local police station while the beefy man was taken to hospital by the paramedics.
"Name, surname, address." required the desk sergeant in a bored tone.
"Richard Holmes, 15 Kensington Palace Garden". Answered the auburn, using his real first name for the first time in years. He always had got the habits of going by the name 'Mycroft' as Richard was also his father's name, but in these circumstances, he was quite relieved not having to give out who he exactly was.
"Detective-Inspector Gregory Lestrade, 15 Kensington Palace Garden." replied the second man.
"Detective-Inspector ?" repeated the sergeant, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, from the crime of Scotland Yard." nodded Greg before turning to the constable who had accompanied them. "If you care, Miss, my ID is in my wallet in the left pocket of my coat."
The woman seized the wallet and picked out the laminated card of the Yard and showed it to the desk sergeant.
"Alright. Please, PC Gardner, take back the cuffs." nodded the policeman. "Sirs, you are to let any personal belongings in those bags before being conducted to your custody cell. An officer will come to take you for an interview as soon as possible."
The men did as they were ordered and soon were locked up in a white empty cell. Mycroft sat on the floor, his back against the wall. He was used to those custody cells, having picked up Sherlock from similar places more time than he actually could recall but it was the first time he was on this side of the grids.His partner sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, silently.
Amazingly, they might have fell asleep or at least taken a sort of nap as when Greg opened his eyes, sun rays were pouring through the small window. They were still on the floor, having slightly slipped against the wall, but the detective's arm still wrapped around the auburn's body. The yarder was trying to remember what had happened the night before to figure out why neither of us had yet been taken for an interview when someone opened the cell's door.
"Hey you two, out of here." smiled Sally, stepping in the cell and offering her hand to her superior to help him standup.
Mycroft, awoken by the noise, raised to his feet, looking rather confuse about the place he was in, and followed the two others out.
"I've arranged things with the desk sergeant. Apparently a few witnesses had cleared your name, saying that it was self-defence." Donovan indicated while leading the two men to her car outside of the local police station.
"Thanks Sally." Gregory cheered her, grateful, as he was taking a seat.
"No problem. The sergeant is an old friend of mine. He rang me this morning before his shift ended that he had a certain Detective-Inpector of the crime in custody. I wouldn't have let my boss go to prison, would I ?" smiled the young woman. "I'm bringing you back home so you can have a shower and eat something. Anderson and Donougher are covering for us but I advise you not to take too much time because with those two we never know what can happen ..."