Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)

Chapter 20: Mycroft Has A Plan

Greg got up at six Friday morning. His mum scowled at him across the table and Greg was silent, keeping his eyes on his plate as he ate. He kissed his mum on the cheek before he grabbed his helmet and left.

When Greg got to school Mycroft was already there again and Greg frowned. 'What are you doing here so early?' he asked after he'd taken his helmet off

'I thought I'd keep you company,' Mycroft smiled.

'I have detention,' Greg said. 'Not that I don't appreciate the offer,' he added when Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

The other teen chuckled and pressed a kiss to Greg's lips. 'They'll make you walk around with a rubbish bag picking up garbage. There's no rule saying I can't follow you while you do it.'

'You have odd hobbies,' Greg commented.

'It's been fairly obvious for a while now that I'm not normal,' Mycroft smiled.

Greg just shook his head and climbed off his bike. Mycroft waited in the quad while Greg went to the deputy head teacher's office. Mr Douglas berated Greg for ten minutes on smoking- while also giving him a lecture on the health issues it caused- before giving Greg a large black bin bag and sending him on his way.

Mycroft smirked when Greg came into view and Greg said, 'So, can you read minds?'

'No,' Mycroft chuckled. 'I was caught smoking last year and this is what they made me do.'

'You were caught smoking?' Greg asked as he headed to the left, figuring he'd clean the walkways and circle back around before starting on the quad and small grass-area.

'Mm,' Mycroft nodded.

'Didn't they call your parents?'

'Well, they tried to call Father,' Mycroft said, 'but he was in Singapore on business. Mother was at some spa in the next town over, and they thought calling Sherlock would be helpful. Sherlock shouted at them for twenty minutes about me being able to do whatever the hell I wanted and barely escaped a detention himself.'

Greg chuckled.

'Then they tried Mrs Lander and she promised to tell my parents.'

'And...?' Greg asked.

Mycroft smirked. 'I pay that woman fifty quid every time she covers for me.'

'So she's a rich woman, huh?' Greg said. Mycroft chuckled. Greg started picking up rubbish as Mycroft slid his BlackBerry out, tapping at the keys quickly, blue eyes locked onto the screen. 'So...' Greg began, pausing when Mycroft looked at him.

'Yes?' Mycroft queried.

'Um... how was the party?'

Mycroft lowered his phone slightly. 'It was the same as every other party; alcohol and inebriated teenagers.'

'Oh, right,' Greg nodded, grabbing an empty packet of crisps.

'Why?'

'No reason,' Greg said quickly, staring pointedly at the ground.

Mycroft's eyes roamed over him carefully. 'I got there at ten, had a few drinks, and left by eleven,' he finally said, Greg looking at him sharply. 'It wasn't any fun; what am I supposed to do with myself without the town's local boy slut to tease and touch?'

'Oh,' Greg hummed, looking pleased. 'Well, yeah, that's... good.'

'Good?'

'I mean, um... bad,' he corrected, trying not to smile. 'Sorry it sucked.'