Drunk Habits (Mystrade)

Please, Believe Me

There, I'm giving you 2 chapters in a row as a apoligize for taking too long to finish the story. Don't worry, I won't wander off like before, I determined to finish it! Hope you guys still loyal to the story and please comments or send messages to me, either they're critiques or just grammar correction or anything you feel about the story. All of them encourage me to write faster. THANK YOU!

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"Come again?" Lestrade asked.

Mycroft let go of his hand. He sighed and looked away. He repeated it. "That wasn't me."

Lestrade stared at Mycroft for a long moment; trying his hardest to ignore the way his hand still burning from Mycroft's touch before finally scoffing. "Oh yeah, so you have twin brother now?" He lifted his hand like he always had when he has an idea but this time it was intended to mock the man in front of him. "Oh, oh! No! Even better! Maybe it was your doppelganger? No again! I guess you have multiple personality then!"

Mycroft looked him again, not for long though because the man found his shoes were more interesting before mumbling. "Actually, the last one is sort of right.."

This was the first time Lestrade saw the man acted like this; looking at anything but his opponents' eyes, mumbling, and like a boy confessing his crime to his mom. He surpressed the urge to embrace the man and telling him everything was forgiven and world was rainbow and unicorn. Instead his face fell. "Are you serious?"

"I know it sounds incredulous, insane even. But, it's true." Mycroft walked towards Lestrade, still giving him a polite distance but close enough for an embrace if the grey haired man closed their gap. "I have this.. bizarre condition if i drink too much alcohol. I'll become someone else, another personality of me."

Mycroft looked down again, both of his hands on top the handle of the black umbrella. He keep his head down but looking up to Lestrade. "It's true. Please, believe me."

That desperation again. But now it wasn't as subtle as before, plus the eyes; full of hope, asking him to trust the ridiculous reason.

"Gregory, please. I'm telling the truth."

Lestrade stood still. "I don't know now we're on first name basis."

His stomach twisted sickeningly when he saw Mycroft's eyes; hurt. He gulped the lump in his throat.

"Come, i'll show you." Mycroft turned his back on Lestrade and started walking.

"Show me what? Where to?" The question Lestrade throwing didn't budge Mycroft, the man keep walking towards his limo. Eventually, Lestrade followed his tail.

In the car they both kept their mouth shut, making it awkward. Lestrade shifted on his seat, he couldn't stand the silence no more. He cleared his throat. "Where are we going?"

Mycroft glanced at him. "My house."

"Why?"

"I believe i've told my reason earlier."

"Well, yea--not really though. I don't know what you want to show me."

"You'll understand after i show it."

Then silence again. Fortunately, the journey soon over after Mycroft's last answer. The Detective Inspector now stood in front of a huge house--a mansion, he tried to keep his cool and followed the man who owned it to the front door. The cool he tried to maintain flailing when he saw inside of the house. He only could thank the god that Mycroft didn't see any of his expression right now.

"Please, come in." Mycroft held the door open for him. "Have a sit. Make yourself comfortable."

Lestrade sat on one of the plush sofa; drowning himself on it. His exhaustion suddenly kicked in, but no he should keep his eyes open, he know better than sleep when he become a guest.

"So?" He pattered on his thigh nervously while straightening his back; deprived the sleep away. "What is it?"

"What i'm gonna show you is classified." Mycroft started. "You must tell no one."

Lestrade scoffed, "Okay."

When he saw Mycroft's eyes hardened on him as if to saying this was really important and couldn't be taken jokingly. Thus, he nodded seriously, meeting the man's gaze.

Then Mycroft strode over to the cabinet and took out two bottles of red wine and a couple of glasses. He put them on the table in front of Lestrade and took a sit on the armchair opposite him. Before he did anything else, he called his assistant; only saying "you know what to do" without any small talk. He opened the bottles and poured to his and Lestrade's glass generously.

"Before, i must say, this is actually fool of me hence the risk is too big yet i believe this is the only way for you to believe what i say. And, forgive me for whatever my other me gonna do to you." Mycroft stopped for a moment, and was his cheek reddening? "i wanted you to know, i am fond of you."

Lestrade's heart skipped a beat. This was the closest to a confession for someone like Mycroft Holmes. Deep inside his heart he know it. He just know it this was Mycroft, the man in front of him? polite, polished, elegant, shy (only to him) yet still spoke his mind, was Mycroft. Now, the other night he encountered Mycroft seemed like a fake one. He opened his mouth only to found he actually didn't know what to say. However Mycroft didn't seem to mind though, for he immediately drank his glass in one shot. And another. Another. Another. Until he was the one who drank the whole bottles. Lestrade only watched him. Watched the way his adam's apple bobbled each time he swallowed the wine, the ways his lips kissed the glass, the way his eyes savoured the wine and him. Wait, what?

He was very much sober when Mycroft suddenly stood up and sat beside him; leaving no personal space or whatsoever. Right away he got Mycroft's point. But he just couldn't resist the feeling of the man's touch after oh so long wanted it.

"Hello there, gorgeous."

The man whispered near Lestrade's ear; he shivered in delight before he realized this was gonna be hell for him. Because now he got it; know what Mycroft wanted him to understand. And he hella sure he also didn't want their first time to be a drunken fumble and being forgotten the next morning. Thus, he must endure himself.

The whole situation was exactly the epitome of hell, he must say.