When The British Government Met D.I Lestrade (Angels and Demons Book:2)

A Night With An Angel

“So, you're not gonna send me off to another country for lying to you, are you?” Greg asked curiously, as Mycroft closed the door to his flat.

“Of course not, my dear Gregory. It's very rare that anyone manages to deceive me, but I don't think pretending not to know me is a matter of national importance, do you?” Mycroft replied with a genuine smile, moving into Greg's kitchen.

“No, I guess not. And besides one of us would have to explain why I pretended not to know you. I don't think it's justifiable to deport someone because of a crush.” Greg grinned like a teenager, leaning against the dining room table.

“I don't think it would be enough to deport you, no. But thankfully, matters of the heart are rarely involved in my work. Unless it is because of Sherlock, that is.”

“Yeah, that's true. And even then, I bet you can't get him out of everything .”

“No, I'm afraid even my power does not extend that far.”

“So, what's your poison? I'd say … whiskey? Scotch?” Greg asked over his shoulder, looking through his drinks cabinet.

“Scotch will do nicely, thank you.”

“Why don't you go sit down and I'll bring these over.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft smiled, moving into the living room.

“Here you go.”

Mycroft took the proffered glass and sat back a little on the couch, watching the older man swig his drink back.

“Look at this, I'm sat here drinking scotch with the British government, who would have thought it?” Greg grinned after a few minutes of silence.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and drank from his own glass.

“I bet you have a real fancy place too, don't you? A mansion or an estate, I'd guess.”

“Gregory, please, you make me sound like the Queen.”

“I'd be happy to be your King.” Greg giggled drunkenly, leaning closer to Mycroft.

Mycroft spluttered and looked at Greg a little horrified.

“I'm sorry. I was joking. It's fine, honestly.” Greg backtracked, trying to reassure the younger man.

“Ask me again two days from now.” Mycroft replied, after regaining his composure.

“Ask you what?” Greg asked curiously, eyeing the younger man carefully.

“You'll understand when the time comes.” Mycroft smirked, being even more cryptic than the first time.

“Alright.” Greg nodded slowly, pouring himself some more scotch.

x..x

“So, what d'you do in your spare time?” Greg asked, his speech slurred after eight glasses of scotch and all of his previous drinks at the pub.

“I like to write, Gregory.” Mycroft replied with a smile, only slightly more sober than his companion given the sobering conversation earlier.

“Bloody 'ell, Will'am Shake'peare here.” Greg whistled, dropping his head back on the couch.

“Well, I'm not quite as eloquent with words but I believe my works are reasonably good.”

“Can I read sumthin'?”

“Maybe when you're not quite as drunk and can appreciate it better, Gregory.”

“Alright.” Greg grinned, leaning into Mycroft.