For Only You (Teenlock!/Johnlock)

Chapter 12: Home

Lestrade's P.O.V

"Damn it, Mycroft! Just send a car!" I shouted, exasperated with the same fight.

Mycroft sighed deeply and let go of my hand to run fingers through his own fine, slowly decreasing amount of hair. His lips parted slightly, as he thought carefully about what words to use, knowing I was fully on Sherlock's side with the situation at hand.

"Gregory, you know I would, but we need this information."

My face flooded with undiluted anger at his thirst for information, for both myself, and Sherlock and John. I stood up, pacing his bedroom, unable to keep still with being so on edge and cranky. Mycroft was was being absolutely unbelievable, again.

"John doesn't need to stay there! You've got men up there already, Myc. He's only a boy, for God's sake! Your brother has all but gone to find him himself, and you know that would have bad consequences. Send a bloody car, now!" I looked deep into his eyes, trying my best to take complete control of the situation.

He sighed, his shoulders slumped over in realisation of the fact I was right, whether he liked it or not, he'd been defeated. Bloody Holmes brothers.

He walked swiftly out of the huge room, presumably on the phone to one of his government colleges in high places, meanwhile, I reflected upon how Sherlock had been. It's not like he had just been mopey; he was so lost, even I could see it. Like I felt if Mycroft strayed too far. Without John by his side, Sherlock didn't really smile, not properly, it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes looked more sunken in, the usual flicker of light and love muted, and he seemed a little... reserved; like he was trying to curl in on himself and hide from the world when John wasn't there with him, to help fight the dragons of London.

When Myc returned to the room, I flashed a large, toothy smile at him, showing him how proud I was of him actually thinking about how his brother feels, for once, as oppose to if he was safe or not. Although, Sherlock was perfectly reckless, and could cause trouble without Mycroft's protection or not; forever the rebellious teen.

"A car is on it's way to pick Mr. Watson up. He should be here in forty minutes, Sherlock has been made aware of this." His tone was forced, clearly trying to show care towards his brother; something Mycroft Holmes was not accustomed to presenting in a 'normal' way.

I glanced across to him and opened my arms, inviting him to come to me. With a wide smile, he accepted, allowing me to bury my head on his shoulder. I took a deep sniff, and my nose was filling with something I could only describe as Mycroft; old spice aftershave, freshly applied, mixed in with the clean smell of his pressed suit and the coffee he so often drinks. There was the faint smell of sweat on him too, after all, he had been to his personal gym to help with his rather unnecessary diet.

Mycroft rested his head on my chin and wrapped his arms tight around my waist, pulling our bodies flush together. We were both so close to being where we wanted to be in life, and despite all of the flaws and imperfections, when we were together, we felt like everything was perfect. To be honest, he was perfect; the epitome of perfection, even with his flaws and faults.

"I'm proud of you." I mumbled into his neck, planting small kisses to show how great I thought he was for such a simple action. My lips slightly wetting the soft skin, my touch no heavier than the flutter of a butterfly's wings.

He let out a small groan and arched his slender neck back for me to kiss, with an open mouth, I did just that, but harder than before. When I found his pulse point I kissed it extremely hard; hard enough to leave a mark. With another erotic moan, he ground his hips into mine, the contact making us both very, very excited.