Mystrade Oneshots

57) Leverage

Request - olson_k
Greg gets kidnapped and used as leverage against Mycroft.

Angst
Strong Language

Mycroft Holmes was sat, as he so often was, in the back of one of his cars. A bodyguard in the front next to the driver, and Anthea sat beside him vigorously texting on her phone.

He glanced out of the window to see a view of an alleyway where a cat was dragging about a dead rat. Charming. Though those are the kind of views one can expect in London.

The unwelcome buzzing of his phone was what torn his gaze away from that spectacular view. He grimaced and a soft sigh left his lips before he reached to answer it.

"Yes, Mycroft Holmes. What is it?" He spoke.

"We have your husband."

Those four words sent a chill down Mycroft's spine. It was enough to have his breathing quicken just slightly, but that was all, "I don't have a husband."

They couldn't have Gregory. Gregory was safe at work. They'd talked less than an hour ago. He was fine.

"So I suppose DI Lestrade wears this pretty ring for nothing then?"

Shit! But how was it possible? They couldn't have Gregory! Surely it was impossible to even get near him. He'd made it so.

His voice was strained when he next spoke, trying to eliminate all traces of emotion, "I don't know what you're talking about."

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, all that Mycroft could hear was the gentle hum of the cars engine and his own heart beat hammering in his ears.

The silence was deafening.

"So you wouldn't mind if we killed him then?"

His breath caught in his throat. So they'd called his bluff. Fuck. He hated it when they did that, not least so because now Gregory was in a whole world of danger.

He noticed Anthea giving him a concerned look and pressed the phone against his chest.

"They have Gregory. Trace the call," he said, putting the phone back to his ear.

"Well Mr Holmes? What's it to be?"

"I-"

"Three."

Shit-

"Two."

Fuck!

"One."

"No don't hurt him! My god! What is it? What do you want?" Mycroft spoke in a rushed tone, almost choking on his words. He just needed Gregory to be okay. This couldn't be happening!

He could practically hear the person grinning through the phone.

"That's better..." They purred, making Mycroft more uncomfortable than he ever thought possible. "I'm in a bit of a tricky situation Mr Holmes...I need money. Lots of money."

"How much? How much exactly do you want from me?"

There was a venomous laugh through the phone. "My, my, Mycroft...so eager to please. Don't sound so desperate, I won't kill him. Of course my boys did have a bit of fun with that Inspector of yours..."

Mycroft felt his hand clench into a tight fist, "Tell me what you fucking what from me."

A long silence ensued, followed by a long sigh, "I'm sending you a time, an amount and a location."

Of course.

Of course Mycroft would need to be the one going to a location. But there was no other way to do it. He couldn't gamble with Gregory's life. The man he loved was not just a pawn in some game. He was an actual, living, person with thoughts and feelings and he was currently waiting, beaten and bruised somewhere for Mycroft to help him.

"Oh and...Mr Holmes."

"What?"

"Don't be late."