A/N: This story was written for a prompt. A prompt from IBegToDreamAndDiffer which I absolutely loved. As soon as I've read the prompt I decided that I had to write it. It was very inspiring. So, IBegToDreamAndDiffer, thank you very much for it. This was so much fun to write:)

Beta:OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles

Also this is set sometime during Autumn of 2011 in 'real world' but after The Hounds of Baskerville in "Sherlock universe".

Prompt: Mycroft hates Doctor Who and someone (Lestrade, hint hint) turns him into a Whovian. And Sherlock makes fun and John smacks Sherlock because Doctor Who is awesome! Points and my undying love if it's David Tennant Doctor Who.

Not a Fan?

When Mycroft Holmes started his affair with Gregory Lestrade he had never expected their weekly meetings to evolve into an actual relationship. Somehow the persistent DI had intruded in every sphere of Mycroft's life, save from his work but only because Gregory did not find it interesting enough. Mycroft was cautious at first, but seeing how he did not even notice the point when they crossed the border between casual love affair to genuine affection of lovers and the fact that it only felt natural to have the other man at his side at the evenings after tiring days of work, content with just being in each other's company, he did not really mind. Oddly, he found himself willing to do small things that would please the other man, make him smile happily and plant a small loving kiss on his lips. He had never expected though that being in a relationship with Gregory Lestrade would also involve sitting on an old raggedy couch in front of the TV in Lestrade's apartment, their limbs entwined comfortably, watching a new Doctor Who episode.

Mycroft was not a…fan of that show. Quite the contrary, actually. He had only seen a couple episodes, some in his youth and some in later years and even one from the renewed series, but could not grasp what other people found so fascinating about it. Now, sitting on that couch with Gregory, the other's fingers running over his thigh absent-mindedly while his eyes were glued to the screen following every movement of the strange man in a bow tie, a 'madman with a box' as he called himself, Mycroft still failed to see what was so special about Doctor Who.

He contemplated asking his lover, but did not want to ruin the other man's genuine, almost child-like happiness that came every time a new episode was aired. So he kept silent, subjecting himself to an hour of Doctor Who every week. Gregory just assumed that Mycroft liked the show. How could he not like it? Everyone did. At least that's what Anthea had told Mycroft once she noticed that he did not share her fascination with David Tennant and everything Doctor Who related.

When the episode ended, finally, and the credits rolled, Gregory let out a loud breath, like he did not even dare to breathe while watching the episode.

"I love this show." He exclaimed happily, like he did every time.

Mycroft just hummed in acknowledgement, not contradicting but not agreeing either. Gregory shifted on the couch, not getting up but turning so he could see Mycroft's face.

"I was wondering, who is your favorite companion?" He suddenly asked.

"What?" Mycroft frowned. He did understand that every second season the person running along with the Doctor changed, but he did not keep count how many of them had appeared since the start of the show and, of course, he did not remember their names.

"Well, who did you like the most?" Lestrade elaborated, rather unnecessarily, but very helpfully. When Mycroft did not reply he continued. "I know it's difficult to choose, but still…I liked Sarah Jane, and Rose is pretty nice. And, you know, her story is so tragic…"

Was this what people called 'a new step in their relationship'? They moved from watching Doctor Who together to discussing it?

"Gregory, I don't really…" Mycroft hesitated. He had heard that not lying to your partner was considered good for a relationship, but Mycroft found himself reluctant to believe that theory. He did not want to disappoint Gregory, but, on the other hand, he could not lie about it simply because he did not know enough about Doctor Who to make up a convincing lie. "I don't really like this show. I haven't actually seen much of it."

Gregory stilled, an expression of utter shock on his face. He did not look angry or disappointed though, which was a good thing. Maybe Mycroft overestimated the power Doctor Who held over poor fans' minds?

"Oh, well…" Gregory deflated, lost for words. "So you haven't seen many episodes of Doctor Who?" Odd that that was the part which caught his attention. After Mycroft's nod, Gregory's expression transformed, a large smile blooming on his face. Mycroft should have expected what came next. "Then we have to change that."

And he quickly untangled himself from the other man and left to the other room. How was Mycroft to know that his lover had a stash of Doctor Who DVDs in his bedroom? The other man was holding his burden with care as he reentered the room and put it down on the coffee table. Right at that moment Mycroft decided that he should have lied through his teeth earlier, anything not to have to watch more Doctor Who with Lestrade.

"Gregory, I don't like that show." He stated resolutely.

"That's because you haven't seen it." Gregory retorted easily, putting the first disk into his DVD-player.

"And I don't want to."

"Oh, come on." Gregory turned to him, getting comfortable on the couch once again. "What else is there to do?"

Mycroft could think of a few more entertaining things to spend his night doing. Surely, watching Doctor Who was not on the list. But as soon as Gregory sat down, his hand reached for Mycroft, winding around his shoulders in a familiarly comfortable gesture, and all the fight left him. So, maybe he could watch a couple of episodes, as long as his lover was with him.

"Just not all of it." Mycroft mumbled petulantly.

"Of course not," Gregory reassured him. "Just the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh."

When Mycroft agreed to that he still did not now that 'Just the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh' actually meant five seasons. Thankfully the sixth was not finished and he had already seen all aired episodes – not out of his free will though.

Still he leaned into the other man, allowing Gregory to pull him closer, and resigned himself for the night of Doctor Who.

/

"I still think you shouldn't have worn a suit. That's too formal." Gregory commented as they stood on the steps of 221B Baker Street, waiting for someone to open the door.

"This is how I usually dress." Mycroft retorted with dignity as he glanced at the other man. Gregory himself wore jeans and a jacket with a blue t-shirt underneath. Casual, as he called it.

"As if I don't know," Gregory snorted.

Mycroft was about to reply but in the next moment the door opened, John greeting them and leading upstairs to the kitchen. The place was clean for once; John had put a lot of effort into making it look pleasant for Mrs. Hudson's birthday.

Sherlock was in the doorway to the kitchen, almost blocking the path. He allowed his flat mate to pass, but stood straighter so that his tall figure filled the whole door frame when Gregory was about to follow John.

"Lestrade. Mycroft." He said coldly instead of a greeting.

"It's nice to see you, too, Sherlock." Gregory replied with just a tad bit of hostility in his tone.

"Boys, Mrs. Hudson will be here any minute now, so maybe you'll leave all your squabbling behind for the evening?" John suggested with exasperation.

Sherlock did not reply, just eyed Lestrade from head to toe and sneered: "This," his hand indicated to the DI's t-shirt. "Makes no sense."

"It does," Gregory retorted. "To those who understand."

"No one understands this." Sherlock exclaimed loudly.

"I surely do." Mycroft interfered. He smiled pleasantly and waited for his brother's reaction. The only response he got was a disregarding eye roll, which was kind of disappointing – he was expecting a more violent reaction.

"I do too," John's voice made Sherlock swirl on his heels, which did not look even half as impressive without the coat. "Now, can we all take our seats? I think I can hear Mrs. Hudson's footsteps nearing."

After the woman's appearance into the room, the evening went more smoothly. The small talk was meaningless but pleasant, company nice despite all their differences and grudges they held against each other. Sherlock continued sending disparaging glanced to his brother, but that was nothing new. Sometime during dinner though his eyes fixed on Mycroft' face for longer than two seconds and he scowled.

"What's with that tie, Mycroft?" He asked.

"My…tie?" Mycroft echoed. He resisted glancing down at the strip of brown and blue fabric. He knew exactly what kind of a tie he was wearing and, more importantly, why.

"A little bit too cheerful for your tastes." Sherlock commented as he leaned back in his chair and watched Mycroft. "Is there any reason for you to wear this particular garment today?"

"Apart from the lovely lady's birthday?"

"Oh, Mycroft…" Mrs. Hudson flushed and smiled at the compliment in passing.

Sherlock paid that no attention; he simply waited, not taking his eyes off his brother.

"Hang on," it was John who had intruded into their silent staring. "Is that...? Oh, yes it is. It's not just a tie. It's the tie. The Doctor Who tie!" He exclaimed with joy and leaned over the table to have a better look. "Yep, it definitely is."

"Doctor Who? Really?" Muttered Sherlock with as much disdain as he could muster.

Mycroft seemed the only one who had heard him, but the older Holmes just shrugged nonchalantly and smiled.

"So, Greg," John's gaze slid to the DI. "That explains your 'Angels Have the Phone Box' t-shirt."

Gregory laughed and nodded. "Yeah…"

"I love that show." Mrs. Hudson exclaimed happily. "And my friend once told me that I kind of look like River Song. In some way…"

"Well, I know for sure that I'd choose you over her any day, Mrs. Hudson." Gregory said with a flourish.

"Thank you, Detective Inspector." The woman smiled at him. "It's a pleasure to hear words like that from such a handsome man."

"Mrs. Hudson," Gregory said, pretending to be serious and trying to stop the smile from breaking out on his face. He took the woman's hand in his in a fit of pretend passion and proclaimed, his voice barely heard over the giggles she unsuccessfully tried to stifle. "You are one of the most amazing women I have ever met…Alas," here he sighed dramatically and withdrew his hands. "We cannot be together. I'm sorry to say this, but I am taken." His hand reached for Mycroft's; this time it was a gesture of love.

"Don't worry about that, dear," Mrs. Hudson said comfortingly through her laughing. "I have many other options."

"So you have actually watched Doctor Who. I didn't take you for the type." John asked Mycroft when the silence settled over the table.

"I made him." Gregory replied before Mycroft said anything. "We've watched all the seasons starting from 2005. I think I can persuade him to watch Torchwood and maybe even Sarah Jane Adventures, but I am not sure about K-9."

"Isn't that a show for kids?" Mycroft asked.

"Also," Gregory continued. "I think we are going to watch Blackpool next, since Mycroft has a thing for David Tennant."

"Who doesn't?" John asked wistfully. Mrs. Hudson sighed dreamily.

"You are not alone." Gregory smiled at his lover.

"I do not have a 'thing' for David Tennant," Mycroft snapped. "I do like the Tenth Doctor more though. He has…style."

He heard Sherlock snicker at those words, but paid no attention to it.

"Oh, yes. And he also has a crush on John Simm." Gregory added. "So I guess I can persuade him to see Life on Mars."

"Not a crush." Mycroft muttered with what sounded like annoyance. "I just like the dynamics of their relationship. The Tenth Doctor and the last Master. Their relationship is…very homoerotic."

The look on Mrs. Hudson's face was amusing; she frowned and said: "I've never noticed."

"It's because you were not looking close enough," Mycroft replied kindly.

"More like, it's because she is not a perverted old man." Sherlock piped up. Mycroft scowled and glared at him.

"You know what?" John suddenly perked up over the tense silence that was about to settle again. "Sherlock once had a client who looked just like Midshipman Frame."

"You mean that "allons-y Alonso" guy?" Gregory clarified.

"Yep, him." John nodded.

"I remember that young man," Mrs. Hudson confirmed. "I've only seen him briefly but I remember thinking that he reminded me of someone."

"That was-"

"Excuse me," Sherlock's sharp loud voice interfered. They all turned to look at him. The consulting detective eyed every one of them incredulously. "Am I the only one disturbed with the fact that you are discussing stupid fictional characters here?"

There was a pause as every person regarded him with their own calm irritation. Before any of them could speak up, he continued. "That show is simply ridiculous. Travel in time and space? I expected more from you, Mycroft. The British government hooked up on Doctor Who?"

Mycroft paid no mind to the insult. "Oh, Sherlock, do you absolutely have to be so incredibly dull all the time?"

"What? You telling me not to be dull?"

"You need to relax once in a while."

"I'll have you know I have my ways to…relax. I watch more intellectual TV shows."

"So that's what you call your shouting at our TV." John teased.

"I also read books. Good books."

"The ones that describe the most gruesome murders of the century?" Lestrade interjected.

"Anything is better than watching a TV show that violates history on a regular basis. Doctor Who is simply-" He was cut off suddenly. "John, did you just hit me?"

"I may have smacked you, yes."

"Why?"

"Because don't you dare insult Doctor Who." Even though John's words were harsh, his tone wasn't. He smiled at Sherlock and ran his hand through the other man's curly hair over the place he had just smacked him.

"Fine." Sherlock replied shortly. Mycroft smiled at the thought of how childish his younger brother could be. "I'll just go and check my mail then, while you…discuss this…this TV show." With those words he stalked out of the room. After a moment, some excited mumbling was heard from the other room – he probably had got a new case through the email.

"Just be back by the time we start cutting the cake." John called out.

"Sure," Sherlock's reply sounded distracted, he was entirely engrossed in the case already. The next words, probably intended to be muttered under his breath but still heard by the other occupants of the small flat, confirmed it. "Oh, this is brilliant."

Mycroft smirked. "Rude and not ginger, huh?"

A/N: I hope you understood what tie a meant. The one Tennant was wearing in his last episode and, naturally, the one Smith was wearing in the Eleventh Hour. I just really like that tie.

Also, did you catch all the Doctor Who references? I suppose they were quite obvious. I wish I could make more, but that would have been too much for such a small story.

If you liked it, please review:)