The 5 Times Greg Caught Mycroft & the 1 Time Mycroft Caught Greg

by: Ismira Daugene

Chapter 1

"Tea, sir?" Lewiston asked as he pushed a tea trolley into Mycroft's home office.

The English bureaucrat barely glanced up from his writing. "Just one cup, Lewiston. No sugar."

"Yes, sir," the personal butler swiftly poured a steaming cup of tea and placed it on a saucer at Mycroft's elbow. "Can I get you anything else, sir? Something to eat perhaps?"

"No, that will be all, Lewiston. You can go for the night," Mycroft didn't pause in his writing.

"Of course, sir," Lewiston gave a small nod of his head and turned to calmly stride out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Mycroft continued writing for a few minutes before pausing to pick up the teacup. He took a small sip, set the cup down, and continued writing. The cup didn't move the rest of the night, and Mycroft went to bed long after it stopped steaming.

Early the next morning found Lewiston opening the back door on a black sedan in order for Mycroft to slide in. Anthea, his personal assistant, was already waiting for him. "Good morning, sir," she nodded toward him, taking her eyes away from her Blackberry for a moment.

"Good morning, Anthea. What do we have today?"

"Meeting with the Minister of Foreign Affairs at eight, the Iranian delegation at eleven, the Speaker of the House of Commons at three, and you were invited to a benefit this evening at seven."

"Benefit for what?"

"Saint Theresa's Orphanage. The Prime Minister is supposed to be making an appearance as well."

Mycroft nodded as he glanced through a folder containing preparatory information for his eight o'clock meeting. Anthea continued to go into detail on the various meetings and reports waiting for him. "Shall I have breakfast sent to your desk?" Anthea asked as they pulled up to the Diogenes Club where Mycroft kept his public office.

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Hollingberry," he replied gathering up his things and stepping out of the car.

All in all, the day went remarkably well. The meeting with the Minister of Foreign Affairs ended in Mycroft's favor. He was fairly confident that the upcoming vote would swing his way. The meeting with the Iranian delegation on the other hand was not quite as clear cut. Both parties had to give a little to get some of what they wanted, and Mycroft knew there would be future meetings soon to hammer out the finer details. He declined the offer of lunch from Anthea afterwards, claiming there was too much to do, and proceeded to read through reports and sip at tea that his PA continued to supply.

It was nearing half past five when Anthea set another report on his desk that his personal mobile phone rang. Only a select few had the number, and usually it wasn't good news when they called. This time was no exception. "Detective Inspector Lestrade," he greeted the man on the other end of the line. He listened for a few moments before letting out a sigh and running his hand through his sparse hair. "I'll be right there," he finally said before hanging up. "Anthea," he called his PA back in. "Cancel the benefit tonight."

"Yes, sir. Shall I call Lewiston around?"

"Do."

"Right away, sir."

Mycroft slipped on his jacket and grabbed his umbrella and briefcase before heading out the door. By the time he reached the lobby entrance, Lewiston had already pulled the black sedan around and Anthea was waiting. "You can go home for the evening, Ms. Hollingberry," he told his PA.

Anthea looked up, one eyebrow quirked upward. "Are you sure, sir?"

"Very much so. I don't need another witness to my delinquent of a brother," he gave her a tight lipped forced smile.

Anthea nodded and walked off to gather her things for the night. Mycroft entered the back of the sedan. "Scotland Yard, Lewiston," he ordered.

"Right away, sir."

Twenty minutes later found Mycroft entering the office of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. The man had been promoted only less than a year ago, but somehow in that time he'd found Sherlock Holmes… and hadn't been able to get rid of him. All the other Detectives seemed to think that Lestrade was Holmes' handler. As a result, he was now in the small group of people who had Mycroft Holmes' personal mobile phone number. "Mr. Holmes," Lestrade stood from his desk, piled high with papers.

Mycroft held up a hand and Lestrade sank back down. He eyed the silver haired detective for a moment, admiring the way his premature colored hair complimented the man's complexion. "What's he done this time?" he asked, propping himself up on his umbrella. He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded, but hell if he would let anyone else know that.

Lestrade sighed and shook his head. "That brother of yours is going to get himself killed one of these days. But I'll be damned if he ain't right nearly every time." Lestrade took a sip of the tepid tea sitting in the paper cup on his desk. He grimaced, and put the cup back down quickly before turning back to Mycroft. "He's in for breaking and entering, obstructing an investigation, and stealing a bus."

"A bus?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Yeah, one of those touristy double-deckers."

Mycroft frowned and slowly shook his head, but quickly stopped as it only increased the feeling of lightheadedness. He swayed slightly, but managed to catch himself and make it look like he was just shifting his weight. "What do I need to do to take him home tonight?" he asked quietly. His ears were suddenly ringing.

Lestrade eyed him for a moment, but didn't comment. "Fill out the paperwork and we'll call it a night. The charges will be dropped because he helped us catch the guy responsible for a double homicide. He was good, he was. But don't tell him I said that." Mycroft gave the Inspector a genuine smile, understanding exactly how much he didn't want to add to Sherlock's ego. Lestrade stood suddenly. "Right, let's get you the paperwork, and then I'll get your brother out."

He moved around the desk. Mycroft's eyes followed him, but suddenly black spots danced in front of him and everything tilted sideways. "Mr. Holmes!" was the last thing he heard.

"Mr. Holmes? Sally get an EMT up here! Mr. Holmes!"

A solid arm was supporting his shoulders and his head was cushioned on something firm, but warm. Mycroft struggled to open his eyes, but finally managed to do so only to see the ceiling of Detective Inspector Lestrade's office and a concerned pair of warm brown eyes gazing down at him. "Mr. Holmes?" he called out to him.

"Gregory? What… How?" he murmured, finally noticing that his head was cushioned on Greg's thigh.

"You fainted," Greg replied quickly. "I've called up one of the EMT's, but I think I caught you in time. Still, better safe than sorry."

Mycroft blushed furiously and pushed himself up, his head still spinning. "I don't need medical attention," he grumbled.

"We'll let the EMT decide that," Greg said firmly as he pressed Mycroft back down. "Just take it easy."

Mycroft was about to insist on being let back up when a short Indian woman appeared carrying a bag with the familiar Caduceus symbol on it. She knelt down beside them both and took out a pen light to flick into Mycroft's eyes. "What happened?" she asked.

"Thanks for coming up, Chandra. Not sure what happened. He was standing one second then the next he was falling," Greg answered.

"Did he hit his head?"

"No, I caught him."

"Mr. …?"

"Holmes," Mycroft answered, a tinge of anger in his voice. "And I'm fine."

"Mr. Holmes, does anything hurt?"

"No."

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"I told you, I'm fine! Now let me back up!"

Chandra and Greg allowed him to sit up. "Have you been eating and drinking regularly today?" the woman persisted.

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. "I just had a dizzy spell. That's all! Now if you don't mind, I'd like to collect my brother and be on my way."

"Sir, I wouldn't recommend driving…"

"I have a driver!" Mycroft snapped as he rose to his feet with Greg's support. However he quickly jerked his arm out of the Detective's grasp the moment he was upright.

Chandra rose as well and frowned. "Very well, Mr. Holmes. I recommend resting for the evening and getting some fluids and a bit of food in you before bed. If you continue to feel dizzy, please visit your doctor as soon as possible."

"Yes, yes, can we get on with it?" Mycroft snatched up his umbrella and straightened his jacket.

Chandra rolled her eyes and walked out muttering something about difficult patients. Greg rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing Mycroft with a worried expression. "You sure you're alright?"

"Fine, Gregory," Mycroft replied primly. "The paperwork?"

"Right, um. Why don't you sit down there and I'll go get it," he suggested while gesturing to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Mycroft harrumphed, but did sit down. Greg sent him a small smile and darted off to collect the paperwork.

Half an hour later, Sherlock was being led out of the station and Greg was walking beside Mycroft. "You don't have to see us out, Inspector," the elder Holmes waved him off.

"I'd feel better seeing that you made it out to your vehicle."

"I assure you that I'm feeling much better. The tea helped immensely," he replied referring to the paper cup of tea Greg had brought back in with the paperwork.

"You barely drank any of it," Greg commented.

"Still, your effort has not gone unnoticed. Now, we have made it to my vehicle, I bid you good evening," Mycroft nodded to the Detective Inspector.

"Right," Greg rubbed the back of his neck again. "Just… you know… if you ever need something… help or…"

"I'll call," Mycroft slid into the back of the sedan. "Good evening Inspector."

With that, he closed the door and the car slid into traffic. "Lestrade seems overly concerned with you," Sherlock commented.

"He needn't be," Mycroft replied.

"You did faint in the man's office."

Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. His younger brother missed very little, unfortunately. "It is none of your concern. Shall I drop you off at Montague Street?"

"Do whatever you like, Mycroft," Sherlock dismissed him.

The two brothers completed the ride back to Sherlock's flat on Montague Street in silence. A slamming car door was Sherlock's goodbye to his elder brother. Mycroft sighed as he watched his younger sibling stalk up the front stairs and into his flat. He signaled his driver to head home and put his thoughts away from Sherlock. There was little he could do for his brother at the moment. At least he'd stopped using drugs. The Detective Inspector had made it perfectly clear that Sherlock was not allowed at any crime scenes unless sober. It had been a struggle at first, and Sherlock had tried to sneak it past Lestrade, but the Inspector was particularly good at recognizing when someone was using. Mycroft would forever be in his debt for that at least. And apparently for the man catching him as he fell this evening.

Mycroft blushed at the thought of the handsome Scotland Yard Inspector's arms wrapping around him to catch him as he fell. He was not above admitting that he found the DI attractive, but the demands of his work made it impossible for him to act. He sighed and pushed the thoughts aside as they pulled up to his Victorian townhouse in Holland Park.

"Shall I prepare dinner, sir?" Lewiston asked as they walked up to the front door.

"That won't be necessary."

"Yes, sir. May I be so bold as to point out that Sir has not eaten today?"

Mycroft glanced over at his manservant and frowned. "No you may not be so bold. I'm simply not hungry, Lewiston. I'll take tea in my study though."

"Yes, sir," Lewiston nodded his head and headed off toward the kitchen.

Mycroft hadn't even noticed that he hadn't eaten all day. He simply was not hungry. Every time the thought of food came up, he stomach clenched and he felt slightly sick. Perhaps he was coming down with something?

He entered his study then and sat down at his desk. There was still a mountain of reports to go through, but he didn't particularly feel like reading them just now. Instead he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't open them again until Lewiston came in bearing a tea cart with a pot of Earl Grey and several chocolate digestives. Mycroft eyed them and his butler. The man was apparently going to press the food issue. "Will there be anything else, sir?" he asked after pouring a cup of tea and placing it along with a digestive in front of his employer.

"No, that will be all. Thank you, Lewiston. You may leave for the evening."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes, I'll be fine."

"Of course, sir. Good evening."

Mycroft nodded back and pointedly picked up one of the digestives as his butler walked out the door. Might as well eat the damn thing. No sense in letting it go to waste.

Author's Note: So I've been wanting to do a 5+1 story for a long time now. I've also been wanting to do a Mystrade story for a long time, so I married the two and here we are! Hopefully you'll see all six chapters up very shortly. I've got all of them planned, and three fully written out (including this one). Expect to see the second installment next Friday unless I finish the rest of it sooner, then you'll get closer updates!

Thanks for reading!

-Ismira