Snippets

A/N: So anyway, here I am slightly bewildered at how a story that was meant to stop at 30~50 chapters turned into 100 chapters (Yes, that did, in fact, happen. I am amazed because, 100 chapters...!) and I think it's thanks to waking up everyday, logging into my e-mail account, and seeing so much positive feedback on this story. So, thank you, everybody who read/reviewed/favorited/followed this story and thank you for your encouragement and support! Just thought I'd get that out of my system.

Anyway! Here are a few random scenes that I failed to use in the series - and maybe I will use them in the future - but in the event that I don't, here they are for your enjoyment. And if you read something that you really hope I write a separate oneshot about, don't be shy about asking me to because I'm a horrible pushover like that.

So, read and enjoy!

-Darkfangz13

38. Sarcastic - "What can I say?" Lestrade drawled, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "Mycroft's umbrella was unleashed upon the world."

"Oh, God help us all." John snarked back. The Holmeses rolled their eyes.

"Can anything stop Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson wondered rhetorically.

"A hurricane, perhaps." Lestrade remarked forlornly. "Or a zombie apocalypse, I don't know. That was one theory I haven't tried yet, Mycroft wouldn't let me." Mrs. Hudson smiled and patted Lestrade's arm encouragingly.

46 Craving - He had been waiting, longing, craving - even - for this moment and he jerked open the car door as he pulled up beside Lestrade on the street outside of a bustling crime scene.

"Inspector, if you will please accompany me on a short drive?" he said politely, resisting the urge, for propriety's sake, to rip the man's clothes off right then and there. Yes. In public. Him. Mycroft Holmes. How the mighty have fallen.

Lestrade must not have missed the perfectly predatory look he was being sent because he shifted a little nervously. "Am I going to end up dead if I say 'yes'?" he asked, perfectly serious.

Mycroft gave a wincing smile. "Unlikely, Inspector." Then he lowered his voice so only Lestrade could hear him. "But if you are not spread out, naked, on my bed in ten minutes? Not so unlikely." Lestrade's eyes widened and he quickly complied.

- Set after a story arc that had Mycroft deal with being stationed in a different country for a few months without contact with Lestrade for security reasons, ect...

59 Explosive - Sherlock and Sherrinford got on like a house on fire, spreading terror into the hearts of innocent bystanders, causing public outrage, and ultimately being a huge pain in the arse for the police. Figures.

- Set soon after the events of 'Affable' where the Baker Street Boys get to know Sherrinford a little more. I was going to write more about Sherrinford, but decided not to in order to keep the ' charming and mysterious' part of Sherrinford intact. And Sherrinford knows better than to tell a Holmes anything that he does not already know.

73 Monotonous - "I hate signing things in triplicate." Lestrade admitted morosely. "At the end of the day, I won't even be able to hear my own name without retching."

"Don't be ridiculous, Gregory." Mycroft purred sensually in response to his lover's declaration.

Silence.

"Alright," Lestrade conceded stiffly, "I can't hate when you say it."

"I always knew you were a reasonable creature." Mycroft smirked smugly. "Now get your lovely arse over here. I want to say your name some more."

- Lestrade after a trying day with paperwork - his closest friend, and worst enemy. It's an on-and-off affair. I never know what to think of the Lestrade - paperwork dynamic as, best enemies? Soothing sources of frustration? Comforting catastrophies? Go-Away-Mycroft-I'm-Not-Doing-Sherlock's-Paperwork?

"Ah, I don't think we've been introduced-...?" the man stammered, turning to Lestrade who was, by that time, thoroughly exasperated at the sheer number of times he had had to repeat his name.

"You know what? I think you're right." He smiled widely, all teeth and no warmth, as he shook his hand. "Nice to meet you." And he walked straight past him, ignoring the other detective's admiring smirk and the raised hand stifling a chuckle.

- Set during the 'Sherrinford' story arc. The 'other detective' refers to Agent Barnhart, who at that time still had no name, was not yet an Interpol agent, and was just referred to as the 'other detective'.

"Wow, this is... embarrassing." Lestrade said flatly. "Right up there with that one time that I got one Hell of a surprise, wrecked a crime scene, fell face-first into a victim's corpse, while stumbling out of my coveralls."

Silence.

"Well don't stop there!" Sherrinford wailed. "Now you have to tell us the whole story."

Lestrade just smirked and walked out of the room.

"You can't just leave now, you bloody tease!" Sherrinford called after him. "Lestrade? Greg? Gregory?" But Lestrade was gone.

- I don't really have an idea of where this little snippet comes into play, but I just thought up the scene and thought it was fun.

"I'm a DI." Lestrade said flatly. "In London. Where the city was crazy even before the invention of Sherlock Holmes." Then, turning on his heel, the Inspector stalked out.

Raffles snapped his fingers with a fake grimace, looking secretly delighted. "Oooh, burn!"

Sherlock just scowled at him.

- Set during the chapter 'Inspired' where Sherrinford poses as a police officer. I had originally thought of Sherrinford meeting Sherlock briefly as 'police sergeant J. Raffles' before meeting him officially as 'Sherrinford', but cut the scene out because it made the story more complicated than it was worth.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong..." John said, a look of profound thoughtfulness on his face. "...but I remember that you had a gun out at Dartmoor."

Lestrade coughed and looked anywhere but at John.

"And you-... you aren't..." John was looking more and more uncomfortable with the implications of the direction he was leading himself. "You aren't, like, secretly moonlighting as one of Mycroft's part-time assassins, or anything... are you?"

"No need." Lestrade said, bouncing uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. "He's got full-time ones." A long pause. Lestrade grimaced. "Alright, maybe I shouldn't have told you that."

"How much do you know about Mycroft's work, exactly?" John asked the question everybody else was wondering.

- I really don't know about this one... sorry. But the matter had to be addressed sometime!

"No." Lestrade said flatly. "Mycroft, I simply cannot allow you to take over the world."

"It's the Internet." Mycroft replied blankly. "Not world domination."

"Is there a difference?" Lestrade scoffed. "I've seen Maisie go to the dark side of being on the Internet. Some site called 'Tumblr'. Anyway, it's not pretty. She tells these horror stories about people who go in never come back out in one piece. It's not a problem the police can handle."

Mycroft just snorted and continued clicking away on his computer.

"I'm serious." Lestrade continued grimly. "They never recover." Mycroft just looked at him disdainfully. "Why don't you hack into another al-Qaeda online magazine and send them more cupcake recipes? Chocolate cake? Sodding Rainbow cake? For God's sake, Mycroft, just leave the Internet alone!"

- Tumblr... because of reasons... and because it's my muse. I visit Tumblr when I need inspiration... only I never get around to actually writing on the day I visit. *sigh* And in reference to Mycroft hacking into an al-Qaeda site and sending them cupcake recipes, it really did happen. In real life.

Google 'Operation Cupcake MI6'.

Mycroft Holmes was here. And he loves cupcakes. Terrorists, beware the Cupcake ofDooooom! Capitalization entirely necessary.

If you didn't know about it before, you're welcome. Consider yourself suitably educated. Carry on.

Mycroft glanced at his phone and sighed, standing.

"Trouble?" Lestrade asked him.

"Sometimes God isn't enough to save the Queen." Mycroft replied with a troubled look.

Lestrade looked thoughtful for a moment. "With all the times people say 'God save the Queen' you'd think she has worse troubles with Murphy's Law than I do." he remarked.

Mycroft smiled and pecked his lover's cheek. "Nobody has worse luck than you do."

"Exactly why you should stay to save me." Lestrade shot back with an impish grin.

Mycroft threaded his fingers in Lestrade's short hair and hugged the man's head to his stomach. "Don't tempt me, you sly fox."

- I just wanted to use something along the lines of 'If God can't save the Queen, Mycroft surely will.' for something, don't mind me. And this was set during one of those 'I love you Gregory, but I must cut our date short because I need to go save the world' crisises. Mycroft will never not feel guilty about it, but Lestrade will never blame him for it.

Because sometimes Lestrade is the one to run out on Mycroft because he has priorities too.

"Just, um..." Sherrinford faltered. "Find us some coffee, will you? Be a dear."

Lestrade looked from Sherrinford to Mitch, and back with a look that made it known that Sherrinford wasn't fooling anyone. "Okay then." He said slowly before turning and loping off.

"Wait, I didn't tell him where to find coffee." Mitch fretted, obviously remembering the moment Lestrade had left them. He looked as if contemplating following Lestrade to give him directions.

Sherrinford slung his arm over Mitch's shoulders. "Don't you worry about him." he said. "One foolproof way you can pick out a good copper is by his nose for decent caffeine."

"What is he, a dog?" Mitch scoffed.

"Cop humor." Sherrinford shrugged back.

"I'll betcha he'll be a hit with the IT division, they guzzle caffeine like gas." Mitch grimaced.

- Set in a story arc, that I only wrote half of before scrapping, about Lestrade getting kidnapped by some mercenaries and smuggled into the United States in order to get to Mycroft. And while Mycroft, Sherlock, and John distracted the mercenaries in the UK, they have Sherrinford sneak around behind the scenes and save Lestrade.

This is after the ruckus dies down and Lestrade is just waiting in the US for Mycroft or somebody to take him back to the UK. Mitch is a CIA agent and secretly a friend of Sherrinford. He was Sherrinford's back-up as the Holmes swooped in to save Lestrade.

The reason Sherrinford wanted Lestrade out of earshot in this scene was because he was explaining to Mitch exactly who Gregory Lestrade was to Mycroft Holmes and why it was such a security breach that the copper was kidnapped. This implies that Lestrade is much more to the British Government than just a copper and Mycroft Holmes's boyfriend, something that Mycroft and Sherrinford keep secret from Lestrade, Sherlock, and John.

Also, Lestrade actually does have a rather high-level clearance that he does not know about, which would explain why he knows certain classified details about Mycroft's work.

And the leader of the mercenaries, Mister Archer, is a boyishly charming villain who loves yogurt. Yep. Yogurt. I wrote a little of him and it was fun. In the end, Sherrinford saves Lestrade, beats Archer, but ultimately takes him in as one of his own criminal agents because he rules the criminal world like Mycroft rules the civilian world and he thinks Archer has potential.

Sebastian Moran makes a cameo as one of Sherrinford's men, revealing that he had indeed escaped from jail when he bored of it. He was one of the men who helped save Lestrade from his captors. He also implies that although he was Moriarty's right-hand-man, he is ultimately a mercenary at heart and only did the things he did because Moriarty paid him well. And he does not hate any of the Sherlock cast for pushing Moriarty to his death. He also has a gruffly polite/secretly-good-guy-deep-down, moment where he - very awkwardly - apologizes to Lestrade for all the trouble he helped cause.

And, when Mycroft anonymously receives information in text about Lestrade's whereabouts in the United States from an unidentified information source ID'd as '-IA', when he inquires as to what '-IA' stands for, the informant replies 'Intentionally Abeyant. -IA', which implies that the informant is Irene Adler and that she will not stay in hiding forever.

There is alot of torture, psychological warfare, and all over whump for everybody involved and Mycroft makes it very clear to Mister Archer that while Lestrade is very important to him, he cannot and will not betray Queen and Country even at risk of losing Gregory. Archer immediately tells Lestrade about it in an attempt to turn Lestrade against Mycroft, and is surprised when Lestrade just laughs, half bitterly, half fond, and tells him 'I already knew that'.

He also remarks that 'While Mycroft might not be able to boast of succeeding in saving me every time... I have it on good authority that he can boast that he always tries.' And when Archer incredulously asks why he tempts such horrible odds, Lestrade just shrugs and tells him simply, 'Because he's worth it'.

Mycroft stared coldly into the live video stream. "Now please, Mister Archer," he intoned "return Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade... before I charge you with the theft of government property."

"Oi!" Lestrade groaned back irately. "I changed my mind, I'm running away with Archer."

"You'd only get so far." Sherrinford remarked sympathetically.

"See, Mister Holmes, you've gone and hurt Inspector Lestrade's feelings!" Archer sighed, shaking his head sadly. "This is why people like you can never have nice things."

Mycroft sucked in a silent breath and restrained from hissing, 'Gregory. Mine. Gimme. Now.' Sometimes, he couldn't believe what sort of people he was surrounded by.

- Set in the climax of Lestrade's kidnapped arc because I really, really wanted to use that 'before I charge you with the theft of Government property' line. I missed out. Boo.

And then Archer butts in to defend Lestrade's mock hurt feelings and they turn out to be civil friends. Mycroft just rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation because of course Lestrade would become friends with his kidnapper.

Sherrinford just thinks it's all hilarious.

Mycroft walked in to find Lestrade sitting sprawled at the bottom of the staircase.

Crying. Mycroft had seen evidence of tears on Lestrade before, but he had never actually see the man in the act of crying before in his life. He was a little in shock.

A moment or two passed before Lestrade noticed him and wiped his face ruefully with the back of his hand.

"...Stairs." He said, voice rough and gravelly from exhaustion, strain, and frustration. "Goddamn-..."

"Gregory, what happened?" Mycroft asked him levelly. "Who should I kill?"

Lestrade choked out a laugh. "Stairs, Mycroft." he reminded. "Appeared out of nowhere at the least opportune moment."

Mycroft stared at Lestrade for a moment, turned, and narrowed his eyes at the top of the staircase where he presumed Lestrade had placed a personal goal. "Stairs. Right."

When he looked at those stairs, he saw a simple staircase, one step leading up to another in order to attain new heights. But he knew that at that moment, when Lestrade looked at those stairs, he saw an insurmountable mountain of enormous proportions.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head before gripping Lestrade's shoulder firmly and helping him to his feet. "Let's get you some rest, shall we?" he murmured softly.

Lestrade just whined and grumbled incoherently under his breath, asleep on his feet, head lolling into the crook of Mycroft's neck.

Mycroft just snorted fondly and somehow managed to maneuver him carefully up the stairs and into his flat.

Within minutes of breaking into Lestrade's flat (after deciding not to unintentionally molest Gregory looking for his house keys) Mycroft had Lestrade in bed and under the safety of his covers. Mycroft felt a little guilty, watching Lestrade curl up into himself, tracks left from tears still visible... vulnerable. A complete opposite of the stubbornly brave and resilient DI Lestrade who stood toe-to-toe with the scum of the earth and stared it down without a blink.

But now, in the safety and privacy of his home, Lestrade had no need to think and act like the man in charge of a crisis, the fearless leader, the servant of the Law.

He was just Gregory Lestrade. Just a man who was tired and scared and had little fight left in him.

Mycroft brushed his hand over Lestrade's cheek and reluctantly moved away.

"Mycroft." Lestrade whimpered from under his covers. "Mycroft..." Whispered like a prayer.

Mycroft turned and sat on the bed by Lestrade's side, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back like he used to do to comfort Sherlock when he was young and got into fights at school. "Very well, Gregory." he relented, understanding his lover's unvocalized plea and pressing a chaste kiss onto Lestrade's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mycroft had no idea how long he sat there, rubbing Lestrade's back. But when he next realized, he had somehow fallen asleep beside Lestrade and the sun was bleeding beautifully through the halfway closed curtains.

The sun was beginning to shine again, after a long, harrowing storm.

- Set after a truly terrifying case for Lestrade which involves the backstory of his past with DCI Meadows, a former police officer with a grudge, Donovan nearly being shot outside her home, and violent threats against Lestrade's Godson - Darren.

Lestrade, exhausted after the few-days-long case (during which Lestrade never went home and slept properly) is wrapped up, stumbles back to his flat at four in the morning, stops short at the stairs leading up to his home, is overwhelmed by everything that had happened, and just breaks down and cries from exhaustion, frustration, and relief. Mycroft walks in after Anthea informs him of Lestrade's plight and comforts him.

And fluff is had by all.

"No." Mycroft said flatly.

"Please?" Sherrinford pouted, eyes wide and liquid in a perfect puppy-dog expression.

Mycroft cringed at his elder brother. "Have a little shame, will you?"

"But, Mycroft!" Sherrinford whined.

"I said no, and I mean no!"

Lestrade walked in just at that moment. "What's going on?"

Sherrinford pounced on Lestrade, flinging his arm around Lestrade's shoulders and plastering himself to the copper's side before Mycroft could stop him. "Reason with him, will you, Darling? He's being horrible to me!"

"Not 'Darling', and why's Mycroft mistreating you?" Lestrade sighed, motionless like a coat rack, surrendering himself to Sherrinford's onslaught of physical affection. Already too used to it by now.

"Well, there's this stunning diamond-..."

Lestrade promptly clapped his hands over his ears. "Lalala, I'm a copper, and I can't hear you!" he exclaimed loudly over Sherrinford's scheming.

"I just need this one thing." Sherrinford promised. "After that, no more stealing in the UK."

Lestrade and Mycroft exchanged glances with the weight of a full eyebrow conversation.

"It's the lesser of two evils..." Lestrade groaned.

Sherrinford squeezed Lestrade in a tight hug and made this pleased squealing noise in the back of his throat which Mycroft flinched at because no man with any self worth should make such a high-pitch noise like that, especially not a Holmes.

"You should be glad I like you." Lestrade told him.

"Face it, you love me, boyfriend." Sherrinford finally pried himself off Lestrade and sauntered away in search of better prey.

"'Boyfriend'?" Mycroft asked, eyebrow raised.

"You're his brother, don't ask me." Lestrade defended himself.

"Gregory, you should know better than to think I'd actually let him plan a heist in the UK." Mycroft sighed.

"One big theft versus many big thefts." Lestrade shrugged. "Besides, I only said I'd turn a blind eye to the theft, I never said I'd let him keep what he stole." he said innocently.

"Oh... I like how you think."

- In the chapter 'Happy', Lestrade remarks to John that Mycroft convinced Sherrinford to 'stop his criminal endeavors in the UK', this is set right before the theft in question. Sum it to say that Sherrinford made it out with the goods, Mycroft stole it back, and Lestrade turned it back over to the right authorities. Sherrinford will forever maintain that the two cheated, but he never did pull off another high-risk heist in the UK, just a few whimsical pick-pockets every once in a while. Because Sherrinford is addicted to crime like Sherlock is to solving mysteries, it's a horrible itch.

"Shit, they're going to spot us." Raffles grunted under his breath as he averted his head.

And suddenly, he was pushing Lestrade up against the wall of a dark alley, shoulders, hips, and knees knocking against each other clumsily. It didn't even take Lestrade second to realize what the thief had in mind.

He clapped his hand over Raffles's mouth with a narrow-eyed look. "If you snog me, I swear to God..." Then, he shoved Raffles off him and pushed himself away from the wall. "The upside to being a cop..." he said, smoothing out his work suit. "... is that you don't have to hide when people think you're following them."

Then he turned and walked boldly up to their suspect, credentials already pulled out. "Excuse me, I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Raffles rolled his eyes beside him. "Showoff."

- And more of the 'Illustrious Adventures of Detective Lestrade and Raffles'. Set between Lestrade telling him he has a boyfriend, and Mycroft telling him exactly who his boyfriend is.

"If you don't get that infuriating smirk off your mouth right this moment, I'll wipe it off." Lestrade seethed.

"Hey, you love my mouth." Sherrinford said, still smirking.

"I like it best when it's shut." Lestrade sassed back.

Mycroft was just a little bit proud of Sherrinford's affronted expression.

- Well, since we're on the topic of Sherrinford...

"Hey, Mycroft, um..." Mycroft looked up to where his boyfriend stood idling nervously in the sitting room doorway.

"Yes, Gregory?" Mycroft put his book down.

Lestrade had to take a moment to snort at the title - '1984'. He pulled out a thin package wrapped in brown paper from behind his back. "I - uh - got this for you." He awkwardly held out the gift.

Mycroft took it slowly. "Is this for some special occasion, Gregory?" he asked curiously.

"Well, there is the matter of you saving me a few weeks ago on that one case." Lestrade grimaced. Mycroft saving Lestrade's life had resulted in the catastrophic event of his precious umbrella snapping in half. Which was astounding as the umbrella was strong as fuck. "I know you have a whole stash of umbrellas to use, but I kind of wanted to make it up to you."

Mycroft pulled apart the brown paper wrapping.

It was an umbrella, funeral black, with deep navy trimmings, and a mahogany handle. There was a blade hidden in the umbrella and Mycroft ran the pad of his thumb along the sharp edge with a pleased smile when his light pressure drew blood. The psycho.

There was only one place on earth that made umbrellas of this quality. Mycroft knew. He shopped there frequently.

There must've been a slight look of pleasant surprise on his face because Lestrade coughed. "I'm a detective, too, Mycroft."

Mycroft smiled, re-sheathing the blade. "Of that, I have never doubted." He rubbed his thumb lovingly over a personalized 'M' carved into the handle.

"You like it?" Lestrade blustered.

"'Like it'?" Mycroft echoed, leaning the umbrella carefully against his armchair and standing to kiss Lestrade.

"I love it."

- And Mycroft never lets that umbrella leave his side now.

The End!