I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 76 : I love your smile.

"Good evening sir, how can I help you ?" enquired a young man wearing  a t-shirt with the shop logo apparently spray painted on it.
"Good evening. Well, I'm looking for a guitar but I don't know many things about all that." smiled politely the elder Holmes.
"Alright." nodded the man. "Is it for a beginner or for someone with n advanced level ?"
"Mm ... I would say intermediate, I think ..." replied the official, looking rather unsure.
"Ok.  Electric guitar ? Acoustic guitar ? Something in the middle ?"  questioned the seller, writing something down on a little notebook.
"Acoustic.  Not anything to loud please. I have very good relationship with my  neighbours ..." retorted the auburn following the salesman through the  store to another room where the wall were covered with guitar that,  apart from their colour, were all looking absolutely identical to him.
"Have you got an idea of the budget you are willing to spend on the guitar sir ?" asked the young man.
"No. But it's not a question, I just want the best you can offer." smiled Mycroft, looking curiously around him.
"Well.  Then if you want the best, I would advise you to have a look at those."  nodded the salesman, gesturing toward a few instruments hanged on the  opposite wall. "Those are Martin & Co guitars, American made with  the finest wood and an exceptional acoustic. The best you could find in  this range. Easy to master and to sustain, usual scale. Some of the brand's classical really."
The  official approached from the instruments, taking a good look at what  was indeed looking like a very fine piece of crafting. He ran a finger  across the strings, delighted by the clear sound he heard.
"Martin & Co guitars are well known  for having to be re-tuned only very rarely, a good point if you are  only playing now and then and don't want to spend half an hour every  time to tune your guitar before being able to play a single note." the  young man informed him.
"Good, very good indeed ..." agreed the elder Holmes. "And what is the difference between those three models exactly ?"
"Mostly  the type of wood used. This one is in Indian rosewood, this one in  Sitka spruce and this last one in sycamore. I won't say it doesn't have  influence on the sound or the lasting of the guitar, but for an  intermediate player, it's mostly esthetical." the sales man answered, gesturing toward the guitar he was talking of.
"All right ... If you had to choose one, which one would it be ?" wondered Mycroft.
"Well,  the three of them are really similar, as I said, it's just the type of  wood that is changing, so maybe you should take the one that coordinate  the best with your furnitures ?" chuckled the young man. "But if it was  for me I'd have this one. A DC-28E, without any doubt one of the best  guitar out there."
"I'll take this one then. Can you gather me a pack  of all what is needed for the care of the guitar and all that please ?"  nodded the auburn with a smile.
"Of course sir. It will only take a  few minutes, if you want to take a seat, we have couches and a coffee  machine in the entrance." agreed the young man before disappearing in  the back shop.

Half an hour later the official pushed the Holmes  Mansion's door, the guitar in one hand, his umbrella hooked on his other  arm, a little satisfied smile plastered on his face. Greg's BMW was in  the alley which means that the inspector was already back home. While  taking his coat off, Mycroft could hear his son's giggles coming from  the bathroom upstairs and deduced that is partner was most probably with  him.
The official made his way to the living room and placed the  guitar against the armrest of one of the couches before making his way  up the stairs to his dressing room and taking off his suit for beige  trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Feeling  comfortable in the fresh clothes, he joined Alden and his husband in the  bathroom just when the detective was lifting his son out of the bath,  wrapping him in a large blue towel.
Mycroft placed a soft kiss on the  child's forehead before running his fingers against the DI's left cheek  and kissing him tenderly on the other one. Gregory put the toddler back  on the floor and handled him his pyjama's bottom, letting him dress up  alone, a task he succeeded perfectly well despite his young age.
"I thought you said you were going to be home late ?" remarked the policeman while his son was putting up his T-shirt.
"I  thought to but my last task went quicker than I thought ..." smiled the  auburn, placing his hand on his boyfriend back and bringing him close  to his side. "So how was your day ?"
"Dreadful. Family drama. Triple  murder and a suicide. Nothing to enquire on but an awful lot of  paperwork and blood everywhere. Two children. I nearly pucked, as everyone else actually ..." retorted the yarder, shivering as he remembered the scene.
"Oh  dear ... Why is that coming to your office, shouldn't it be the local  police officer who should take charge of this ?" replied the elder  Holmes.
"It should, but Croydon's police department is overflowed  with enquire and apparently they consider we aren't occupied enough ... I  already told them it wasn't my division !"
"Poor you ..." agreed Mycroft, pecking softly his lover's cheek. "I may have something to cheer you up ..."
"Really ? What is it ?" wondered the detective, curious.
"It's  waiting for you in the living room." winked the official, unwrapping  his arm from around his partner's waist to let him rush downstairs like a  child on Christmas morning. He lifted Alden from the floor and placed him against his chest. "Let's go see Papa's surprise alright ?"
The  auburn entered the living room to find his husband looking lovingly at  the guitar, gently running his finger on the fine wood and across the  strings. He laced the little boy on the floor and approached Gregory, a  beaming smile on his face.
"Oh Myc' ... This is beautiful ... Why such a present ? It's not even my birthday ..." muttered the DI, his eyes still fixed on the instrument.
"You like it ?" the official wondered.
"Of  course darling, I love it !" nodded the detective, wrapping his arms  around his lover's waist and kissing him fiercely. "But why such a  present really ?"
"Because I love your smile." moaned the elder Holmes against his husband lips. "Now you'd better play for me."
The  detective chuckled lightly, biting his lower lips, his eyes glowing of  happiness, making Mycroft's heart melt instantly. He grabbed the guitar  and looked at it for a few seconds.
"It's been years since I've last  really played ... I don't even know if I remember anything ..." remarked  the policeman, placing his fingers on the frets.
He sat down on the  nearby couch and, slowly, he started to move his fingers on the strings,  playing a song unknown to the auburn but that the inspector apparently  mastered as well now than he used before despite the time passing.
"In  Europe and America there's a growing feeling of hysteria. /Conditioned  to respond to all the threats / In the rhetorical speeches of the  Soviets." he started to sang softly, his deep and rough voice according  perfectly with the music. "Mister Khrushchev said, "We will bury you."  /I don't subscribe to this point of view. / It'd be such an ignorant  thing to do / If the Russians love their children too. / How can I save  my little boy from Oppenheimer's deadly toy? / There is no monopoly on  common sense / On either side of the political fence. / We share the  same biology, regardless of ideology. / Believe me when I say to you, / I  hope the Russians love their children too / There is no historical  precedent / To put the words in the mouth of the president? / There's no  such thing as a winnable war, / It's a lie we don't believe anymore. / Mister Reagan says, "We will protect you."  / I don't subscribe to this point of view. / Believe me when I say to  you, / I hope the Russians love their children too / We share the same  biology, regardless of ideology. / But what might save us, me and you, /  Is if the Russians love their children too / Believe me when I say to  you, / I hope the Russians love their children too / We share the same  biology, regardless of ideology. / But what might save us, me and you, /  Is if the Russians love their children too"
Suddenly the silence  that had last for a few seconds after Greg had finished his song was  broken by Alden's clapping. The two adults laughed at the little boy's  reaction before the detective opened him his arms and allowed him to  climb on his laps, safely holding the guitar away to make sure it  wouldn't be damage.
"What was this song ?" wondered the auburn, sitting beside his partner on the couch.
"Russians by Sting, the guys from The Police. You know The Police don't you ?" answered the yarder, absentmindly running a hand in his son's hair.
"I know the Met and Scotland Yard but I ignored they had made any kind  of records." chuckled the official. "Of course I know The Police. I may  not be that good with pop music but still, I do not live in a cave you  know ..."
"No, but you work in one." retorted the policeman, winking.
"Touché." laughed the elder Holmes. "Still, for someone who remember nothing, you are such a talented man ..."
"That's only because I've got a good instrument and a half-deaf husband who didn't heard all my mistakes ..." smiled Gregory
"Usually we say that love is blind, not that love is deaf ..." remarked Mycroft.
"Don't try to be clever and just kiss me." the detective tutted him.
"If you ask for it ..." chuckled the official before placing a couple of soft and chast kiss on his partner's lips, letting the man frustrated and pouty. "Shush, the rest later if you play me something else but for now, time to eat !"