Sherlock oneshots

Mystrade~ it's a Holmes thing

Slow updates, sorry. I've been trying to broaden my writing horizon by doing different ships, but honestly all I'm capable of is fucking cute Johnlock stories, which is fine if this book is all Johnlock, but it's noooot. So excuse this shitty chapter, have some Mystrade to wash down all that Johnlock lmao

'Found a crime scene, bring backup SH'
'You found a crime scene? Alright I'm on my way GL'

Greg Lestrade parked his car along the dirt road, stepping out and looking over the bleak landscape. Why Sherlock had just happened to be in the middle of a dune mid April, he didn't know. Nor would he probably ever find out.

"Okay boys you're clear, roll in." He spoke into his walky talky, smirking as he did. He always felt so powerful when using it, which was certainly not often since that's what phones are for, but still, thrill right?

The rest of the detectives and cops pulled up on scene, hopping out of their cars and vans and rushing downhill to the suspected crime scene, where John was stood waving his arms around madly presumably to get the inspectors attention. Greg glanced around at all the cars with red and blue flashing lights and sighed. "Hope this is worth it Sherlock.." he muttered, making his way down.

"So what you found then?" Greg chirped, ducking under the yellow tape separating the crime from the road. Sherlock tucked his hands into his pockets and began describing the case, which he obviously already had a hold on. Greg however wasn't paying full attention, as he'd spotted a new face from across the scene. He murmured something to shut Sherlock up before warily waving his hand in the man's direction.

"Sherlock who's, that?" He spluttered, not sure how his tone of voice came across. Sherlock followed his gaze then grunted, promptly looking away. "My brother, he's practically the British government so, he demanded to see what we were dealing with or whatever." He quickly got back on detailing the case, but Greg's eyes were glued on the man.

As soon as the police were done spot checking the area for footprints or possible threats, the group of inspectors were allowed to look at the bodies. There were 3, 1 male and 2 females, each with a gunshot wound in various places. Greg led the team to the corpses, letting them flock around them like a pack of vultures.

"Alright, get to work you lot we've got a case to solve!" He called, the team erupting in chatter and conspiracy. Normally Sherlock would be the leader, making key deductions for the group of cops to elaborate on, only to shut them down with answers that arguably made more sense. However Sherlock had found the bodies, so he'd already had his fill.

Greg stepped back, grinning like a proud father at his children's performance. That was when he spotted that man, Sherlock's brother he said, snooping around the area and touching things. Greg groaned. For someone related to Sherlock Holmes, he sure wasn't all that smart about preserving crime scenes. He walked over, making sure his footsteps on the red dusty road were extra loud.

"Excuse me Sir." Greg said, his voice stiff and stern. The man spun around, catching the palm of his hand on a bit of broken glass sticking out of the rock. He retreated it, holding hit in his other hand and nursing it discreetly so Greg wouldn't notice. Like maybe he wasn't a crime statistics inspector, who knew what blood looked like. Maybe he could see how him and Sherlock were related after all.

"You alright? You caught your hand pretty bad, want me to take a look?" He gave a soft sympathetic look, the man chuckling slightly. "I'm no doctor but I took a first aid course a few years back!" The man looked at his feet and then back up at Greg. "That's very kind of you but I assure you I'm fine." He said, but Greg was already taking his bleeding hand into his own.

He turned it over to inspect the cut, trying hard not to hurt the man as he did so. He squinted at it, finally trying to recall anything from his first aid course he'd just bragged about. He removed his tie from around his neck and wrapped it around the gash, lulling the man as he groaned from pain. He finished the makeshift bandage with a messy knot, holding the man's hand a moment afterwards.

"There you go, good as new! Well, until we can get it done probably at least." The two chuckled and locked eyes for a split second, making Greg's face heat up. "Urmm, Greg Lestrade." He put out his unoccupied hand, which the man shook. "Mycroft Holmes. Thank you, I'm sorry if I contaminated your work space with my clumsiness." Mycroft laughed, making Greg's stomach flutter.

"No problem, did you wanna like, get a coffee or something whilst we get your hand sorted orr..." Greg rubbed the back off his neck and looked up into the sky, trying not to come off as creepy or anything. Mycroft smiled warmly. "Coffee sounds lovely." He said.

Greg led him up the site and towards the makeshift office the crew had set up, passing Sherlock on the way. "Oh dear, brother mine, distracting the inspector are we?" He spat, raising an eyebrow at Greg. The inspector rolled his eyes and put an arm over Mycroft, pushing him towards the tent. Sherlock's eyebrows rose to his hairline as his face contorted in disgust.

"Oh god." Sherlock whined, pretending to gag. Greg tutted. "I'm just bandaging his hand up, he cut it up pretty bad." He crossed his arms, Sherlock imitating him. The grey haired man turned and walked towards the tent after Mycroft, feeling Sherlock's gestures from behind him.

"I do apologise for my brother, he's always like this but I'm sure you know that." Mycroft sighed, I'm making Greg laugh. "Oh believe me, I do."

I don't hate this one, its just not as shippy as it could be. But hey hope you like it! And thanks for all the comments and views and votes, it's amazing to see people enjoying my oneshots!