Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)

Chapter 2: Tea With The Holmeses

Three-thirty came too quickly in Greg's opinion. And no matter how hard he tried, not one single teacher put him on detention, not even when he threw Dimmock's bag out a second-storey window. His mates all laughed and slapped his back as Greg climbed onto his bike, the dark-haired boy scowling as he stuck his key in the ignition.

Suddenly feeling like he was being watched, Greg twisted around on his bike. Mycroft Holmes was opening the door of his dark-green, two-door Jaguar convertable. He placed his bookbag and folder in the back before turning, eyes locking onto Greg's.

Greg frowned, but Mycroft simply smiled politely and climbed into his car. Shaking his head, Greg tugged his helmet on, made sure his phone and bag were secure, and turned his bike on.

Mycroft's expensive car was still sitting in the carpark when Greg took off, pulling out into traffic and speeding away with a loud roar.

{oOo}

Maggie was in full host mode when Greg walked through the door and made her son run to his room. He promised to be quick and purposely dragged his feet when his mum disappeared back into the kitchen. Greg didn't understand why Maggie put so much effort in when Meghan Holmes came to visit; it's not like they were best gal-pals or anything. Hell, Greg didn't think Maggie even liked Mrs Holmes.

But he supposed she wanted the company; after all, Greg'd be pretty shitty too if he only had himself to hang out with... though he had some pretty fun times with himself.

He tossed his uniform and bag aside, tugging on a tight pair of black jeans with a white and black studded belt. Three chains hung from his jeans, and weren't covered in the slightest by Greg's black, tight-fitting Green Day shirt. He bent to pull his black high-top Chucks on before brushing a hand through his hair and checking the time.

Three-fifty, so he had ten minutes for a sneaky cigarette.

Greg pushed his bedroom window open and sat on the windowsill as he grabbed the jar he used for his cigarettes butts. As long as his mum couldn't smell it she wouldn't raid his bedroom.

When when it ticked around to 3:59, Greg stubbed his ciggie out, sprayed himself with deoderant, and went to greet the Holmeses with his mum.

Meghan Holmes was a tall woman with thick ginger-brown hair that she always kept tied back in a tight bun, pale white skin, high cheek-bones, and ice-blue eyes. She wore "old people clothes", as Greg called them; usually jackets and trousers that matched, or some ridiculously puffy shirt with an equally puffy skirt.

Mycroft was standing by her side, hands clasped behind his back, wearing pressed trousers and a wrinkle-free white button-up. Added over the top was a light-blue sweater.

Brings out his eyes, Greg mused before mentally slapping himself. Hell no, he was not attracted to Mycroft Holmes!

Meghan did the "kiss on each cheek" thing with Maggie before Mycroft stepped forward to delicately shake Maggie's hand.

'Ms Lestrade, thank you for inviting me to your lovely home,' Mycroft said.

Greg rolled his eyes as his mother thanked Mycroft and shut the door. The other teen was such a fucking poofter, and not in the good way.

They trooped into the dining room and Greg sat heavily, his mum shooting him a warning look. Mycroft held his own mother's chair out for her and she thanked him in her dainty yet sharp voice before Mycroft took his own seat.

'Gregory, you're looking...' Mrs Holmes trailed off as she looked over his tight shirt.

Greg folded his arms and said, 'Yeah, you too.'