Mystrade Oneshots

50) Seven Minutes In Heaven

"He won't do it. There's no way!"

The party was going great. Everyone had had far too much to drink and were in no fit state to be trusted with not getting up to mischief, so mischief they made.

"Oh he'll do it, he has to."

"Ten quid says he gets a phone call from the queen and has to leave."

The whole group had collectively decided that seven minutes in heaven was a good idea. Molly had suggested it and had paid particularly close attention to watch Sherlock put in, even if she claimed she wasn't looking.

"And what if he does do it?"

"I owe you much more than ten pounds, that's for sure."

It was currently Mycrofts turn to pick something out of the bag. Everyone was gazing at him expectantly while he gave the bag a look of utter disdain. He was lucky that John had already picked Sherlocks item out, that could have been very awkward.

"This is ridiculous." Mycroft said simply, moving to get up from the arm chair in the corner, where for the majority of the evening he'd been happily nursing a glass of scotch.

"Be that as it may brother, I had to do it and now so do you." Sherlock returned, thrusting the bag under Mycrofts nose.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Yes but you and John have been pining after each other for years. Surprising as it may be, there's no one in this room whom I'd wish to be locked in a wardrobe with for seven minutes."

"Come on Mycroft, I've got a lot riding on this." John interrupted, shooting Lestrade a look, he had a bet to win.

"Hey, leave him alone, he doesn't have to do it." Lestrade quickly interjected, seeing how genuinely uncomfortable the man looked.

Mycroft, however grateful he may have been for the one voice of support in the room, decided that the rest of the room wouldn't let him leave until he'd done as they asked. He sighed and placed his hand in the bag, being met with cheers around the room, apart from Greg who realised that he'd just lost a bet to John Watson.

Mycrofts hand touched something cold and metal, he knew from the shape that it must be a badge of some sort. Intriguing, he hadn't noticed anyone put a badge into the bag. He pulled it out, out of sheer curiosity and the first thing he noticed was not the actual item itself but the panic that filled Greg Lestrades eyes.

"Hey, Sherlock that's my badge!" Lestrade exclaimed, getting up to take it from Mycroft.

Sherlock audibly sighed. "Yes, well done. I noticed you hadn't put anything into the bag so I decided to do it for you."

"I told you I wasn't playing!"

"Nonsense. It's been long enough since your divorce, it's fine."

"Sherlock, that's not why- Hey!" Greg had been grabbed from behind by a grinning John Watson. "John I-"

"Yeah, you lost. I know. Now you have to accept the consequences, consider this 'a lot more than ten pounds.'" John replied whilst dragging Greg over to the wardrobe.

"Wait- I can't-" Lestrade was at a loss for what to do. Everyone was drunk, they thought he just didn't like Mycroft, but the truth was far from it.

Sherlock brought a struggling Mycroft into the room as well and before he knew it, Greg had been shoved into the wardrobe and the elder Holmes had been shoved in on top of him. The door had been promptly shut and locked.

Greg immediately backed into the corner as much as he could, trying to make himself look smaller. His breaths were getting more erratic by the second as his heart race quickened.