Author's Note:

Main Pairing: Gregory Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes

Side-Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Dimmock/Molly Hooper, Sally Donovan/Anthea, others

About: Each chapter will be an individual drabble set in the universe of "Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)", most likely before, during, and after the main story. Mystrade will be the main pairing, but other pairings and characters will feature frequently. The drabbles aren't in chronological order unless stated otherwise.

Warnings: Warnings will be posted in individual drabbles, however you can expect slash and bad language to be present in a few.

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

(01) And I Didn't Mean to Fall In Love...

Summary: Their youngest son doesn't believe that Mycroft can play guitar.

Title: A Lonely September by Plain White T's

Warnings: Mild sexual content

'Tony.' Greg knocked on his son's open door and stuck his head into the room. 'Do you know when your brother will be home? He's not answering his mobile.'

Tony looked up at him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, textbooks and notes spread over the bedspread. 'Um... I think he said six? Or maybe seven. Alice is visiting her grandparents tomorrow, so I know that Mrs Joyce is driving him home.'

'Ah,' Greg hummed. He leaned against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest. 'You know, it's about time Henry started going for a girl with brains.' He winked at his youngest son. 'Believe me, mate, it's always the smart ones you want.'

'Dad!' Tony hissed, and his eyes darted towards his desk. Greg blinked when he realised that there was someone else in the room- Juliet Harris, if he remembered correctly. Was she the girl that liked Tony? Or the girl that Tony liked?

'Oh, hey there,' he smiled at her. 'When did you get here?'

'Hi, Mr Lestrade,' Juliet said, giving him a bright smile. 'After school. Mr Holmes picked us up.'

'Papa said that she could stay for dinner,' Tony added defensively. Greg nearly snorted. He and Mycroft had a hell of a time keeping girls out of Henry's room. As long as the door was open, it was all good; Henry was only seventeen, and Greg was way too young to be a grandparent.

'Yeah, yeah, I heard you,' Greg waved a hand at Tony. 'So, what are you kids up to?'

Tony rolled his eyes- he'd started insisting at age eleven that he wasn't a kid any more- but Juliet answered easily; 'English homework.'

'Still having trouble with that?' Greg asked his son. English wasn't Tony's strongest subject; he was better at maths and science.

'Yeah,' Tony nodded. 'Juliet's real good, though.' His cheeks turned a bit pink at that and he glanced at Juliet, who smiled shyly in return. Well, well, well, Greg mused. Tony looked like Mycroft, but his personality tended to match Greg's; something he must have just picked up when he was little. Then again, Greg had never had any trouble with admitting when he liked boys... except for Mycroft, of course.

He nodded once before his attention was caught by the bags in the corner, dumped against Tony's wardrobe; Tony's school bag, a folder, some more textbooks, a guitar case...

'Is that yours?' he asked Juliet, gesturing at the bag.

Juliet smiled brightly. 'Yeah,' she said. 'I've been playing since I was five. My dad and uncle are in a band together, so I got into it pretty early.'

'Hmm.' Greg hummed before adding, 'You know, Tony, your pop plays guitar.'

Tony's eyebrows shot up. 'What? Really?' Greg nodded. 'No he doesn't, he only plays piano,' Tony frowned. 'I've never seen him play guitar.'

'They're in storage; in the attic,' Greg said. 'I don't think Mycroft's played in years.'

'I don't believe you,' Tony huffed. Greg couldn't blame him; Mycroft was a gentleman, and he tended to like the finer things in life. It was rare that he regressed to the teenager he'd once been; punk rock, make-up, and tight clothing were mostly kept in the past. Though Greg could sometimes convince him to dress up when his mum watched the kids for the weekend, and sometimes they listened to their old CDs when they were in their study together, both going over paperwork.

'You don't believe me?' Greg said, laughing at the head shake Tony gave him. 'Okay, then.' He backed out of the room and turned to shout down the hallway; 'Mycroft!'

'No shouting in the house!' Tony immediately singsonged.

'There's also a rule about no running, which you always forget,' Greg said. He pointed a finger at his son. 'Don't think that I didn't notice it this morning.'

Tony pouted, and he kept the look on his face until Mycroft appeared.

'Is there a reason you're screaming, Gregory?' he drawled.

Greg grinned. Mycroft was wearing trousers and a button-down shirt, tie askew and sleeves rolled up. He'd been working hard lately on something-or-other, Greg didn't know the details; most of Mycroft's work was top secret.

Damn sexy beast, Greg thought before saying, 'Tony doesn't believe that you play guitar.'

One of Mycroft's eyebrows climbed. 'I used to play guitar,' he corrected.

'What?' Tony spluttered.

'Like you've forgotten,' Greg rolled his eyes. 'Eidetic memory.'

Mycroft pursed his lips, and Juliet broke the silence. 'I play guitar,' she piped up, and gestured at it when Mycroft turned to her.

'I see,' Mycroft mused. 'And I suppose that Gregory wants a demonstration of my skills.'

'Yes please,' Greg beamed. Once upon a time they'd kept Mycroft's guitars, piano and keyboard in the spare room, but it'd become Tony's room when their youngest was born. Mycroft's piano was now in the family room, and he played it every weekend. His guitars, sadly, had been packed away and pretty much forgotten.

'I haven't played since Sherlock's Christmas party four years ago,' Mycroft said.

'What? I didn't see that!' Greg said as Mycroft entered the bedroom. He walked across to the guitar bag and deftly unzipped the side, pulling out a dark blue electric-acoustic guitar.

'You were...' Mycroft trailed off and glanced at Tony. 'Otherwise occupied.'

'Was Dad drunk?' Tony demanded bluntly.

'I don't get drunk!' Greg denied.

'The entirety of your teenage years say otherwise, Gregory dear,' Mycroft said with a smirk.

Greg glared at him, and Tony said, 'Does Grandma have pictures?' but his dads ignored him.

'May I?' Mycroft asked Juliet, who nodded. Mycroft sat on the bed beside Tony and plucked at the strings, only stopping to turn one of the pegs. 'The strings are new,' Mycroft commented. 'And the guitar is well-cared for.'

'I've had it for three years,' Juliet told him. 'Dad said he was going to buy my an electric guitar for my birthday next month. I'm torn between a Gibson, a Fender, and a Gretsch White Falcon.'

'What do you have, Pop?' Tony asked Mycroft, edging closer. He looked like he was starting to believe Greg, his light blue eyes on his father's left fingers, which were curling into chords over the second fret, though he hadn't started playing yet.

'I have an acoustic, a Fender, and a sunburst Gibson Les Paul Standard,' Mycroft told him. 'They'd need new strings by now, as well as a clean, though the cases should have protected them.' He strummed once, the sound filling the room.

'Play our song,' Greg demanded.

Mycroft's eyes jumped to his. 'I doubt that Anthony knows it.'

'So?' Greg huffed.

Chuckling softly, Mycroft's fingers curled into a chord that Greg couldn't name, and he strummed once. After three soft knocks on the body of the guitar, he started playing and singing softly;

'I'm sittin' here all by myself, just tryin' to think of somethin' to do...' His voice was deeper than it had once been, not as smooth, but it still brought up images of Greg and Mycroft sitting in the latter's room at Holmes Manor, Mycroft playing and staring at Greg, telling him- without really saying it- how he felt...

'I'm tryin' to think of somethin', anythin', just to keep me from thinkin' of you...' Mycroft's eyes were closed, and Tony was staring at him, mouth hanging open. 'But you know it's not workin' out 'cause you're all that's on my mind...' Mycroft sang, 'one thought of you is all it takes to leave the rest of the world behind... oh.'

He switched into the chorus, fingers flying smoothly over the strings. 'And I didn't mean for this to go-o... as far as it did... and I didn't mean to get so cloose... and share what we did... and I didn't mean to fall in loove... but I diid,' Mycroft's eyes opened, landed on Greg, and Greg grinned. Yeah, he remembered this part. 'And you didn't mean to love me back, but I know you diid...' Mycroft sang.

'I'm sittin' here tryin' to convince myself that you're not the one for mee... but the more I think, the less I believe, and the more I want you here with me... you know the holidays are coming up, I don't wanna spend them alone... memories of Christmas time with you will just kill me if I'm on my own...'

He sang the chorus again, eyes locked onto Greg, singing the song to him, just like he had years ago...

'... and I didn't mean to fall in loove... but I diid! And you didn't mean to love me back...' Mycroft was playing harder now, the chords louder and bouncing off of the walls, his thumb and index fingers strumming. 'I know it's not the smartest thing to do, we just can't seem to get it right...' Mycroft was still looking at Greg, singing their song for him.'But what I wouldn't give to have one more chance tonight..'

The song softened after a beat, Mycroft plucking instead of strumming, his eyes at half-mast but still on his husband. Greg could vaguely see Tony and Juliet staring at Mycroft, both teenagers transfixed, but he was too focused on his partner to truly take them in.

'I'm sittin' here tryin' to entertain myself with this old guitar...' Mycroft hummed, 'but with all my inspiration gone, it's not getting' me very far...' The song picked up again, Mycroft playing hard, playing for Greg- 'I look around my room and everything I see reminds me yoou... oh please, baby, won't you take my hand, we've got nothin' left to pro-oove...'

Mycroft slipped seamlessly back into the chorus, eyes never leaving Greg's, fingers sure. His voice was louder again, singing strongly;

'And I didn't mean to meet you then... when we were just kids...' Greg grinned. 'And I didn't mean to give you chills... the way that I kiissed! And I didn't mean to fall in loove, but I diid! And you didn't mean to love me back, but I know you diid...'

Hell yeah did Greg love him back. He had even when Mycroft had first played this for him, he just hadn't realised it yet... and Mycroft hadn't been able to say it.

'Don't say you didn't love me back, 'cause you know you diid... no you didn't mean to love me baack... but you diid...' With one last strum the song was over, the strings re-vibrating softly before eventually fading out. Mycroft and Greg stared at each other for a beat before the red-head finally cleared his throat and looked at Tony. 'It seems that I still remember how to play,' he commented.

Tony looked dumbfounded, blue eyes wide and jaw hanging open. Juliet started clapping and Mycroft smiled at her as he handed the guitar back.

'The song is old,' Mycroft said, 'but I found that it summarised mine and Gregory's relationship perfectly.'

'Hell yeah it did,' Greg grinned. 'Still does, actually.' He turned to glance at Tony, who'd finally managed to pry his eyes off of his papa. 'His kisses still give me chills,' he added.

'DAD!' Tony shouted, looking completely grossed out. Greg couldn't help himself; he laughed. Years and years ago his mum had told him that embarrassing your kids was just damn good fun, and something that parents couldn't help. He hadn't believed her at the time, but now... well, he was his mother's son.

'I'm sure that you have homework to do,' Mycroft said as he stood, 'and I have work to do,' he added, pointedly look at Greg.

'Hey, our son didn't believe you,' Greg said with a shrug. 'Had to set the kid right.'

'M'not a kid,' Tony grumbled.

'Homework,' Greg pointed at him and ignored the eye-roll the fourteen-year-old gave him. With a wave Greg and Mycroft left them to it, the door still open; Greg could vaguely hear Tony and Juliet talking as he and his husband walked away.

'So...' Greg hummed when they reached his and Mycroft's shared study.

'So?' Mycroft echoed.

'You've still got it,' Greg said. He stepped closer to his partner, crowded him against the half-open door.

'It appears so,' Mycroft mused.

'You'll have to get your guitars out and play for me,' Greg said. 'I miss it.'

'I thought you enjoyed my piano playing?'

'Oh, I do,' Greg nodded. 'But I miss punk-rock Mycroft.' He let his eyes skim down Mycroft's body, still trim even after all these years, maybe holding a bit more weight around the middle due to Mycroft's relatively slow-paced profession. 'We'll dig some black jeans out, maybe buy some eye-liner.' His gaze swept back up to Mycroft's. 'Get Mum to watch Henry and Tony for the weekend...'

Mycroft smirked at him, and before Greg could stop him the younger man had them turned, Greg forced against the door frame, Mycroft's fingers hooked around his wrists. Greg let Mycroft raise hiss hands and pin them to the wood above his head.

'Yeah,' Greg breathed, 'you've definitely still got it.' Mycroft swooped down to kiss him, still taller than Greg, still able to snatch Greg's breath away. The DI moaned and pushed against his husband, Mycroft one long line of heat against his body. Mycroft's tongue assaulted his mouth and Greg groaned harder, tilted his head to deepen the kiss and bite roughly at Mycroft's lips. Christ, if Tony wasn't just down the hallway Greg would-

'Hey,' he growled when Mycroft pulled back.

Licking his lips slowly, Mycroft caught Greg's eyes; his own were dark. 'As much as I would like to continue this...' Mycroft breathed, 'Anthony is-'

'Yeah,' Greg interrupted, 'no, you're right. Uh...' He flexed his wrists, but Mycroft's grip was strong. 'I could always blow you; that only takes, what, five minutes?'

Mycroft swallowed thickly and Greg gave him a cocky grin. 'When we first got together, it only took you three,' Mycroft taunted after a few seconds.

'Is that a challenge?' Greg demanded.

Mycroft's swollen lips morphed into a sharp grin. 'If you can get me off in three minutes or less, I'll top tonight when the boys are asleep.'

'Oh, I'll get you off alright,' Greg growled. He managed to steal another kiss before Mycroft was backing into the study, dragging Greg after him.

Greg slammed the door shut and locked it behind them. Three minutes? he mused as he stared at Mycroft, the politician already undoing his belt. Oh, he could definitely do it in less.

Author's Note: I CANNOT STAY AWAY! Heheh, anyway, this story will just consist of drabbles, one-shots, and anything else I can think of that fits within the "Give Me A Label" universe. I don't really have any more planned- well, one or two- but I figured it'd be easier to lump them all together in one story. Thus, if I write any more, I'll add them here.

Cheers,

Dreamer