Sherlock 1. Chapter 1

The first proper conversation that Mycroft ever really had with Lestrade was outside Sherlock's hospital room. The only time the two had ever talked in the past was through phoned requests, that were more like orders and general inquires. These would not be about how Lestrade's day went , or if Mycroft knew a good bakery or two. Instead these would be about Sherlock. They had always been about him and they will always would be about Sherlock. Occasionally Lestrade would get phone calls from the British Government ordering him to do another drug bust in Baker Street when Sherlock had been alone in the flat for more than two days. And if it was not an order about a drugs bust, it would be constant questions about Sherlock. Lestrade never knew why Mycroft would ask him these questions, as John lived with Sherlock and not him, but according to John, Mycroft would ask him this question at least ten times a day and would expect a report about Sherlock's week every Sunday evening. After hearing that story, Lestrade considered himself lucky and was rather glad that he didn't live with Sherlock, mostly as he had better things to do that write an essay on Sherlock's behavior and other pointless information about him. Other than Sherlock, the two men had no business with another. They weren't friends and they were certainly never going to be friends. Maybe it was for the better, as Sherlock would have a tantrum over his work being mixed in with family.

Sherlock was the reason that they were even in the same place together. Sherlock had forced to the hospital after a rather unpleasant fall out of a window. Normally Sherlock was as graceful as a ballet dancer, and was normally rather aware of his surroundings. This time he wasn't, as he was insulting Anderson on being an idiot again he was walking backwards into a rather large open window. And there is not much of the story to be told after that, as it was rather obvious what happened as Sherlock was in hospital.

Lestrade was rather shocked about finding Mycroft at a hospital sitting on the floor outside Sherlock's hospital room. Mostly as Mycroft was sitting on the floor and he wasn't worried about getting his suit wrinkled. He didn't even think about Mycroft ever leaving his office. He thought that Mycroft was a robot and would work all through the night, or he just put himself into the cupboard in his office at the end of the day and he would come out in the morning to work again.

"Lestrade, your pacing is driving me up the wall." Mycroft scolded. "Stop it this instant or I will hire someone to murder you."

Lestrade stopped pacing after Mycroft scolded him as if he was his father. Instead of arguing with the British Government, Lestrade sat on the floor next to Mycroft, but was at a respectable distance away, as he was terrified that Mycroft would send him to a country with a death penalty if he wrinkled up his suit.

Mycroft sighed and took out his phone and started to text someone. Lestrade sat there and waited for someone to say something. After five minutes of painful silence and counting the holes in the ceiling -435. It was clear to Lestrade that Mycroft wasn't going to start a conversation.

"Horrible weather isn't it?" Lestrade asked in hopes of starting a conversation with the British Government.

Mycroft looked up from his phone. "I suppose it is." After that the conversation was over and Mycroft went back to his phone. Lestrade counted the amount of cases that he actually solved himself without Sherlock's help in the past five years – Less than twenty.

The shouts of Sherlock shouting and John yelling back equally loud was the only sounds that could be heard in the hospital.

"This is what happens when you don't pay attention and walk backwards."

"John, it is not my fault that Anderson is an idiot!"

"If you were going to fall out of the window, why couldn't it have been on the bags of rubbish instead of the ground. I'm surprised that you haven't broken your kneecap before, with all of the things that you have broken."

"I don't break things that often."

"Tibia and fibula. Clavicle. Mandible. Metacarpals. Radius. And several ribs and most of your toes. Do I need to go on?" John asked, Lestrade also mentally added the amount of concussions and broken toes that Sherlock had acquired over the years of cases before John had come onto the scene.

Lestrade placed his ear against the door to hear more of the conversation as they had stopped arguing and the conversation was at a normal level.

"Stop rubbing in, John, it is not my fault. If you are going to blame someone, it's Anderson."

"It is your fault. You don't drink enough milk, your bones are probably brittle from the lack of milk that you never buy. And did I mention, you falling out of the window?"

After that, the only conversation that filled the silence had stopped, Sherlock must have been in a sulk again, Lestrade thought. He tried to look at Mycroft's phone in hopes that he would be doing something interesting. Instead of actually doing something interesting on his phone, Mycroft was only pretending to text, just so he wouldn't have to talk to him. Greg usually thought that Mycroft was an alright sort of bloke, but right now, Lestrade had decided that Mycroft was his archenemies.

Mycroft looked up from his phone and sighed. "Can you stop looking at my phone; I'm trying to do some work."

"Your phone screen is not on."

"It's a special screen." Mycroft sighed at Lestrade after he smirked at Mycroft's excuse. "Fine, my phone is off. I am saving you the effort of trying to have a conversation with me. You don't need to talk to me, I'm just here to check up on my brother and then I am leaving."

"You look lonely." Lestrade commented as he lent back against the door and folded his arms. "You know that we haven't spoken about anything other than Sherlock?"

"You asked me about the weather, isn't that enough?" Mycroft sighed as if he was being severely punished. "Our paths rarely cross and when they do it involves my brother. We have nothing in common and there is nothing for us to talk about. And if you are wanting to be my friend there is no point in trying, as I don't have time for friends."

"High functioning sociopath too then?" Greg joked while hysterically laughing in hopes that Mycroft would at least crack a smile. Instead Mycroft glared at him. Mycroft wished that Lestrade would die. Lestrade wished that he was dead. Greg considered not asking Mycroft to drinks at the local pub. Mycroft considered getting Lestrade arrested for treason.

"There is no such thing as a 'high functioning sociopath', Sherlock created the term to scare people away from him. Mummy has had him tested for everything that could be possibly wrong with Sherlock, and being a sociopath hasn't come up. I even took it up on myself to research the possibility of Sherlock being a sociopath, he is not. And if you are insistent about talking to me, change the subject as the one about my brother is rather tedious."

Greg flashed a grin at the chance of properly having a conversation with the British Government, it felt like a great honor like winning a large trophy or the lottery. Greg went through his head for all the possible conversation starters he could use.

"Sports?"

"No interest. Why would I want to see men running around in a field in shorts?"

"Because football is quality entertainment." Lestrade sat himself straight against the wall and prepared to defend his favorite thing in the world.

"You only like football as you used to play it at school and you wanted to be a football player, however you got a knee injury that now prevents you from playing it. You were a center midfielder and you were the star player." Mycroft deduced with a raised eyebrow. "I am correct?" He asked even though he had knew the answer.

"That it is bloody amazing!" Greg exclaimed. "I thought that Sherlock was the only one who could do that deduction. How do know so much about football?"

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock went through a football phase when he was younger, he played it , watched it and he would read about it. Since I was older, I had to stay for his games. It was absolutely evil. And before you ask, Sherlock was an average player and he will refuse to go for 'kick about' with you and your friends."

"Between Sherlock and I, I'm the more intelligent between the two of us. And before you ask, I won't help with your crime scenes, I have more important things to do than look at corpses, and I dislike legwork."

"I wasn't planning on asking you. You are the British Government and you have to save London from terrorist attacks every week. The fate of London rests on your hands." Lestrade wondered if Mycroft had his own Batcave and if he wore a cape. Mycroft was like Bruce Wayne, both were rich and they could afford a Batmobile. And they had butlers –well Anthea was more of an assistant than a butler, but it was the same. What would Mycroft's alter ego be? Brainman? Umbrella Boy? Super Government? The British Government, was probably Mycroft's alter ego that he used to fight crime with. And The more important problem, what would Mycroft's powers be? Cake eating skills? Being able to fly thanks to his umbrella? Would Mycroft be called Mycroft Poppins, if he had that power?

Mycroft coughed loudly to bring the attention back to him. "My job is not that exciting as you may think. Terrorist attacks only happen a handful of times during the year. I had a meeting discussing the pros and cons of having plastic forks over metal ones in schools. We can discuss that if you want."

"Sherlock always make your job to be more interesting that it is then. I expected you to be chasing the terrorists yourself in a big Batcave of some sort."

Mycroft sent a confused look at the mention of a 'Batcave' , it would have to be something that he would research later, when he had the time. "As I told you before, I dislike the legwork and I would have one of my many contacts to do it for me. I have meetings, do paper work and more things, but that it confidential. Mostly I sit in silence with fifty other men in the Diogenes club. It is not exciting apart from one of them decide to have a heart attack."

"My work is not that amazing either." Lestrade commented with a sigh. "The best bit is the serial killers. as Sherlock gets things done quickly, but it's mostly paper work. I would rather chop off my arm than fill in another form."

"You should consider yourself lucky that my brother goes and saves the day and your career for you. He also tells me that you just eat doughnuts and claim things are not in your division. You do seem to be very productive."

"I do not do that!" Lestrade exclaimed with his ears turning a lovely shade of red. "You're right about Sherlock saving the day with his cheekbones and all that, but the doughnut thing is not true."

"Sherlock has told me that you have an emergency supply of doughnuts in your office, and Sherlock has made an video of all the times you have said things are not in your division, I will need to show it to you. Also you have the nicknames of 'Fatty Lestradey' and 'Doughnut Inspector.' Do I need to carry on?"

"Do you know who started these names, by a chance, as you are the 'British Government'?" Lestrade asked as he pulled out a pen and prepared to write down the culprits names, as he was planning to have a bit of a chat with them.

"That Anderson fellow, the one who Sherlock dislikes and is obsessed with dinosaurs. Also there is Miss Donovan, who I believe is the one who supplies the Yard's doughnuts."

"Thank you for that information, Mycroft." Lestrade commented as he wrote down the two names on his hand. "I could get you charged for breaching into the Yard's computer system, you know?"

"Of course I know, I am the British Government." Mycroft scolded. "And you should know that I can put some incriminating file on your computer hard drive and it will led to immediate incarnation."

"I know that." Lestrade rolled his eyes. "You don't scare me, if I can put up with one Holmes, I can put up with the other one. I'll take all of your threatening behavior is because you are worried about your brother."

Mycroft snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. "Why would I be worried about my idiot of a brother? He was the one who fell out of a window. I would be concerned about him, if someone pushed him out of the window."

"You must be so popular at your club." Lestrade muttered. "Everybody must love Mr Holmes."

"Well Mr Holmes has prevented Britain from being destroyed by rather large bombs on multiple occasions. I think that everyone must Mr Holmes."

"Does Mr Holmes get called something other than Mr Holmes at work?"

"Mr Holmes gets called Mycroft only when he is not in work or on informal Fridays."

"I thought that Mr Holmes would be called something on the lines of 'Your majesty' or 'Master'."

"Mr Holmes is only called that in informal affairs, and that is in the bedroom, but you won't be wanting to go in there."

The rest of the hospital went silent, all activity stopped. Lestrade didn't say anything and just started at Mycroft, who was just smirking, It had been two minutes and Lestrade hadn't said anything, mostly as his mind had crashed like a virus filled Microsoft product. Lestrade's mind had to still reboot, but the only thought that was going through his head was the questions of was Mycroft making a joke? Or was he in fact making a move on him? Mycroft must have joked, but then again he said it with his normal tone of voice. Did Mycroft like people that way? Mycroft was sniggering quietly to himself, Lestrade would have yelled at him, except his brain had to reboot. From the amount of time it was taking, his brain was running windows vista.

John walked out of the room and stopped, when he saw Lestrade sitting on the floor with his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, and Mycroft was sitting on the floor smirking and chuckling to himself. Lestrade looked as if he was going to need therapy, from what ever Mycroft had ever done to him, John picked up a pen from his pocket and scribbled his therapist's number on Lestrade's hand, and ordered him to call her.

Lestrade nodded and stood up and poked his head into Sherlock's room for a few seconds and muttered something about Mycroft and Sherlock replied with something about goldfish, after this conversation with Sherlock, Lestrade walked out of the hospital calling the number that John had written on his hand.

Once Lestrade was out of sight, John stood in front of Mycroft and folded his arms and gave him his best intimidating look that he used on Sherlock when he was having a tantrum over not being able to keep a dead sheep in his bed. "What did you say to Lestrade?" John questioned with his best tone of authority. "I have never seen him like that before. You have broken Lestrade!"

"I haven't said anything to him." Mycroft replied with false innocence. "We only discussed the weather and work."

John sighed and crossed his arms, and muttered something about the Holmes brothers being idiots, mostly as one fell out of a window and the other had destroyed Lestrade by talking about a rather mundane topic.

Mycroft stood up and brushed the imaginary dust off his suit and shoved past John as he made his way into his brother's room. Sherlock was shouting a nurse who was crying her eyes out. Mycroft shook his head, why did his parents decide to give him a little brother instead of the Dalmatian that he wanted? He quickly ordered the nurse out of the room after giving her a twenty pound note to apologize on Sherlock's behalf. Sherlock then ordered John out of the room with the demand of coffee.

Exactly two minutes after John had left, Sherlock started to smirk at his brother. "The hospital walls are surprisingly thin; you had a rather interesting conversation with Gavin Lestrade."

"I don't see what is interesting about the weather. It's not like we exchanged government secrets or anything of great importance."

"You do the claim that you are the smarter one between the two of us, but you do lack social intelligence. It's your own fault that you are lonely."

"I'm not lonely, Sherlock." Mycroft chuckled as he rolled his brother's stupidity.

"Sure you're not." Sherlock smirked. "You had a conversation with Graham, and then you ruined it on purpose, so you could push him away from you. And you pretended to text someone, so you didn't have to talk to him. I thought that you would be better than that, and not use childish methods to stop making friends."

"I don't want Lestrade to be my friend. Every single person in this planet, is a goldfish to me, and they are ever so predictable."

"If one of us can make a friend, so can you. One of us is a high functioning sociopath."

"That term doesn't even exist, Sherlock." Mycroft scolded as if Sherlock was a small child. "As I have told you before; I. Am. Not. Lonely. Do I need to tell you that in different languages? French; Je ne suis pas solitaire. Italian; Non sto solo. Do I even need to tell you in Binary? Zero, one, zero-"

Sherlock cut Mycroft by shoving his pillow into his face. "You can stop acting clever. I am not an idiot. "

Mycroft removed the pillow from his face and shot Sherlock a deathly glare. "You are saying that you are not an idiot?" Mycroft asked. "Do I need to remind you who fell out of a window while insulting someone?"

"Anderson distracted me and you know it!" Sherlock exclaimed with a hiss like an angry cat. Why did everyone have to keep reminding him about him falling out of the window? Come to think of it, people only remember all the idiotic things that he had done, John only remembers when he got covered in all substances in the kitchen when he actually did make breakfast, but he didn't remember the success Sherlock experienced when he didn't set the kitchen in flames.

Sherlock decided to ignore his brother's comments about how much of an idiot he was. Deciding that his brother was probably lonely and was taking out his frustrations of being alone on him, he would let his brother have this insults just for today. "But you are." He pointed out even though that his brother was rather instant that he was lonely, but then again Mycroft was always rather insistent about things when he was lying, maybe this is how Mycroft did so well in his political career. "I wouldn't object to you making friends. George is a suitable match and he can give me more cases if you create a bond together. You can be friends with benefits."

Mycroft started to make a gurgling noise at the back of his throat at the shock of Sherlock using a term, that common people used. "Sherlock…Do you even know what that means?" He spluttered. When Sherlock shook his head, Mycroft sighed loudly and considered getting Sherlock a slang dictionary. "What do you think it means?"

Sherlock stayed silent for a moment as he went through his Mind Palace to try and find the definition of 'Friends with benefits.' He had no idea about what the definition of the term was, he heard it from the telly when he was watching the programs where you find out who is the father of their child. Mycroft swore that he would hear the gears in Sherlock's head turning. After a few moments, Sherlock thought that he knew the answer to Mycroft's question. "It is when you are friends with someone and they give you something that you want or need, like car insurance."

"I think that you need to ask Mrs Hudson for the answer. I'm sure that she will be delighted to answer it for you. Also I recommend that you go outside more and then you can learn more street slang."

Sherlock shrugged at his brother's suggestion and for a few moments the room fell silent. Mycroft had taken to staring out of the window and Sherlock started to deduce the people from the small glass panel on the door. After a few minutes, Sherlock spoke. "Maybe if Lestrade is a goldfish, he can forget that conversation that you messed up. Goldfish have short attention spans, and Lestrade's attention span is only three minutes long. So he will forget it ever happened. Like how you deliberately forget your diet, when there is a cake in the room."

Mycroft gently slapped the back of Sherlock's head with his hand at the mention of his many diets. He wasn't that bad with his diets, but Sherlock kept ruining them by buying muffin baskets for him and leaving him at his office and the club. "The diet is going fine, I've lost seven and a half pounds." He stated to show that despite Sherlock's efforts to ruin his diets, he was still going strong.

"I don't think that you need a goldfish." Sherlock commented as he ruffled his hair back into perfection.

"I'm glad that I managed to knock some sense into you, or was that the fall from the window?" Mycroft asked with a smirk, he wasn't going to let Sherlock live that down and it was perfect blackmail material, he could use it to get Sherlock to visit Mummy when she wanted.

"Maybe, you just need to find a dolphin instead. Dolphins are much better than goldfish and they are much more intelligent." Sherlock suggested. "Or, you can stop being such a shark and eating all the little fish who approach you." Sherlock commented with a smirk.

"Stop being so ridiculous." Mycroft sighed as he picked up his umbrella and slid his coat on.

"Maybe while you are here you can learn not to be such a nuisance. I need to save Britain now, so I must leave, don't upset anymore nurses."

"I can't promise you anything." Sherlock smirked. "But for you, I will try."

"You must be on good medicine, as this is the longest conversation that we have had with no one crying from it. Why are you so concerned about my social well being? You have never cared about it before, so why now?" Mycroft asked, as this was the nicest his brother had ever been to him, in all their years of knowing one another. Even when they were children, they didn't get on well and their dislike for one another carried on for a while. Sherlock always took pleasure when they were younger, that Mycroft had no friends, but then again neither did he and he only had Redbeard to talk to.

"Well," Sherlock said after a moment, for he didn't have an idea about why he was being nice to his brother and started to hope that it was the medicine that was doing it to him and not him becoming soft. John's kindness was starting to rub off on him and he didn't like it. "I think everyone needs to find their goldfish, and that even includes you. I found a goldfish and I think that you could get yourself one."

"I don't have the time to find a 'goldfish', and I don't intend to get one. And for the last time Sherlock, I am not lonely. The greatest heroes on the planet do not have one and they do perfectly fine without someone to annoy them."

"Even if heroes did exist, they'd be lost without their sidekicks. Even the most powerful heroes, need someone to be there for them. Everyone needs a Watson."

After Sherlock's comment, John walked back into the room as if he had been waiting for Sherlock to say his name, just so he could enter the room. John looked rather angry and started at Sherlock with a severe look that could resemble a rather angry mother. "Sherlock, is there any reason that you have made thirteen nurses cry?" He asked. "They're considering getting you in trouble for harassment. Mrs Hudson is not going to be happy with you, she is already upset about the dead owl in her flat."

"Maybe Lestrade might come over and give me a warning for it, Mycroft you should stay a bit longer, so you can talk to him." Sherlock suggested with a smirk that was directed to Mycroft.

"I am leaving now. Good evening, Dr Watson" Mycroft said as he tilted his umbrella in John's direction. As he left the room, he could swear that he heard Sherlock talking about goldfish. Rolling his eyes at his brother's obsession with the fish he left the hospital thinking of boring things, to prevent himself thinking too much about what Sherlock had told him.

Later that evening, despite all of his efforts to push the thoughts about his head about if he was lonely. He couldn't be lonely, he had Anthea, but then again, he paid her and according to all the books he had read about the topic, you didn't pay friends. The closet thing that Mycroft had to a friend was Sherlock, and he could only tolerate him in small amounts. Maybe Sherlock was right, he was lonely.


	2. Operation Goldfish

"I don't think that you should get involved in your brother's personal life, Sherlock." John groaned for the fifteenth time in the last ten minutes since Mycroft had left the hospital. Sherlock had been going on about finding his brother a 'goldfish' whatever that had meant. John found it rather concerning that Sherlock was taking a great deal of interest in his brother, as normally he ignored him, unless he wanted something. Maybe this was a good thing; maybe it was a sign that Sherlock was becoming more of a 'human' instead of just being a machine. But then again, Sherlock did prove he had a heart at least once a day to John, from the sleepy morning declarations of love in the morning when John would leave for work, to the time when Sherlock even bought the milk or even that he 'died' for John, showed that despite everything, Sherlock was human. John didn't know what sprung Sherlock onto his new obsession of Mycroft's personal life, something must have happened when he was apologizing to the nurse for on Sherlock's behalf. "If your brother wants to get a goldfish, I think that he can buy one himself. He is the British Government, he can do anything that he wants to do."

"Mycroft says that he doesn't want something, but he does, he just doesn't know it yet." Sherlock replied. "Everyone needs a goldfish. Even the most high functioning sociopath needs his goldfish."

"I am hoping that is a complement." John commented. "I don't know if I should either be thankful or offended by that."

"You are more than a goldfish to me, John, you are even better than a dolphin." Sherlock reached over and grabbed John's hand from the other side of the bed. "You're my John, and nothing else can be better to me."

"I don't know if that is you talking or the medication, but that is the nicest thing that you have ever said to me. You're still not doing the experiment with the owl though, nice try." Sherlock sighed loudly and wondered when John decided to become rather boring and sensible, that was a lie, John was the world's most amazing person in the world and he made tea –thank you very much. Usually when Sherlock decided to say something like that it was so he could butter John up and get what he wanted. He did mean those things that he would say to John, but he would show it rather than tell it, they do say that actions speak louder than words, one action from Sherlock was about a million words to John and they said the sweetest things, that anyone could possibly imagine. These actions express everything, that Sherlock couldn't express.

"That is so dull, John." Sherlock complained like a child who was refused sweets by his parents. "Can we still do Operation Goldfish? It has a really cool name."

John rolled his eyes and took note that it was definitely the medicine that was talking, as Sherlock never used such informal language normally, and last time he used the word 'cool' was after a trip to the dentist to get wisdom teeth taken out. Also on that dentist trip, John ended up getting bitten from Sherlock, who was rather convinced that he was a vampire and John was his 'maiden.' "What exactly is 'operation Goldfish'?" John asked, even though he had to admit that it was a rather cool name.

"We find Mycroft his goldfish." Sherlock explained with a sigh. "Mycroft is lonely and needs to get a goldfish, so he isn't as lonely as he is now." "A pet fish, isn't going to stop him from being lonely. Goldfish don't do much, Mycroft would be better off with a dog or a cat."

"You think that I am talking about getting Mycroft a pet?" Sherlock asked with a hint of humor in his voice. John nodded his head and ignored Sherlock's laughter at him. "I am not talking about getting my brother a pet, John. I am talking about getting Mycroft someone like you. I want to get Mycroft a friend or more than that."

"You want to get your brother a boyfriend?" John spluttered. "Is that is what a goldfish is? A boyfriend?"

"Of course John." Sherlock smirked. "Mycroft is rather lonely and it's about time he gets someone. It could stop him from being such an annoyance."

"So if you are getting Mycroft a boyfriend, who is it going to be? You must have someone in mind."

"Gaston Lestrade."

"What?" John spluttered like a fish that had been taken out of the water. "Lestrade and Mycroft would never work. Mycroft broke Greg, just by talking about the weather."

"Mycroft wasn't talking about the weather, John. I thought that you would be able to hear the conversation, the walls are rather thin. Mycroft being the person he is, brought up sex into the conversation and ruined it. It's a shame; Lestrade and Mycroft were getting along swimmingly."

John opened his mouth again and started to resemble Lestrade when he had found him. The Microsoft product in his head had just entered the blue screen of death and was needing to reboot. John started to wonder if Mycroft was even human went through his head, and if Mycroft actually had a sex drive let alone a mini umbrella down below. Mycroft had to be human as he wouldn't be alive. Not unless Mycroft was like Pinocchio and he would learn to become a 'real boy.' Sherlock sighed and wondered why his brother talking about sex had this effect on people. Maybe if his brother was more normal, people wouldn't react like that when he brought up some taboo topic.

"John, I am going to call a nurse if you don't talk in the next two seconds. I am not one to normally say this, but you are scaring me. Please tell me that your brain cells are not dying or Anderson will end up getting murdered the next time that I see him for passing on his lack of intelligence onto you." Sherlock threatened as he glared down at his leg that was now almost covered by a bright orange cast. It was a well-known fact that Sherlock disliked the fruit so much, that he even disliked the color because of it. But since Sherlock was on some lovely painkillers, he had decided that he wanted the cast to be orange, much to his dislike later on when he had come to his senses.

"I thought that you would want to murder Anderson for making you fall out of the window." John smirked.

Sherlock sighed loudly and took the mental note of how many times that him falling out of the window had been mentioned in the past two hours –forty two times. Deciding that it was probably best not to tell John off for bringing up the window again, as John seemed to take delight at his embarrassment, he had decided to ignore John's comment. "So are you going to help me with Operation Goldfish then?" Sherlock asked in the hopes that John would stop talking about the window.

"I don't think that I have a choice about it, do I?" John asked with a groan when Sherlock shook his head.

"I doubt that you are going to let me go around chasing criminals for a while." Sherlock said as he gestured to the orange monstrosity that was on his leg. "I am going to need something to do, while Lestrade does my work for me. I think that Operation Goldfish will be a social experiment for everyone involved. I have already started phase one of the plan, and we just need to wait for the results."

* * *

Gregory Lestrade was used to the unusual, but then again he has put up with Sherlock Holmes for over five years, and there is not much that you can say about that. Greg was a man who could cope with the strange and unusual things in life and as a reward for that, he was given the title of detective inspector of the homicide department at Scotland Yard. But he couldn't explain why Mycroft Holmes had made him go to therapy for the first time in his life. John had recommended his therapist as apparently she was meant to be one of the best in London, and after visiting Sherlock in his hospital room, he found himself in an arm chair opposite a woman with a clip board.

He didn't even know why he was there, he had no reason to be getting asked question by a woman. He had just gone to the therapist, because John had ordered him to go in his voice that he used when Sherlock was being a bit of a child. "So, Greg," Ella asked as she moved forward in her chair. "Is there a reason that you are paying me a visit today?"

Greg sighed. "I don't think there is. I don't exactly want to be here, but I was forced to come here by John."

"If you don't want to be here, why haven't you left yet?" Ella asked as she reached over for her clipboard. "You could have left at anytime, but you are still here. Clearly you need to talk about something."

"We can talk about something if you want. How about the weather?" Greg asked in hopes that it would make Ella just send him home.

"The weather is fine." Ella stated with a slight edge to her voice. "Gregory, why are you here?"

Greg sighed as he realized that he wouldn't be going out of the therapists office without telling Ella what had been going on and the hospital incident. "Let's say that you know someone for a while and you think that you know them quite well." Ella nodded and started to write down some notes. "But then they do or say something that you wouldn't expect them to say, what would you say to that?"

"I would be wondering if I knew the person as well as I thought." Ella said thoughtfully. "But it depends what they said to me that would change my perception of them."

"How about if you were friends with a nun for example, and then they brought up the issue of sex, what would you think?" Greg asked.

"I would think that they weren't dedicated to their career path." Ella said with a smirk. "I think that you just need to forget about what happened, and don't let this ruin your friendship. It is not worth it."

"We are not exactly friends. I don't know what is the correct term for us. He phones me to check his brother' flat for drugs, I don't think that is really friendship."

"Is his brother Sherlock Holmes?" Ella asked with a raised eyebrow.

"How did you know?" Greg asked. "Don't tell me that he goes to you for therapy as well. He is a self-proclaimed 'high functioning sociopath,' but he would be needing a better therapist. No offence."

"John complains about the drug busts sometimes. I'm a therapist, people tell me everything, even the most pointless things. I think that you should go home and try and get things sorted with this person."

"I thought that you were going to tell me to start a blog or something."

"The blog doesn't really work. John ends up writing more about Sherlock than himself. But if you want you can write one."

Greg picked up his jacket and stood up, after deciding that he would rather not start a blog as it would be the most boring thing on the internet. There would be nothing on it apart from posts about doughnuts and ones on how to work with a high functioning sociopath. After making his excuse to leave by saying there was another murder, Greg left the therapist.

As he made his way to his flat, he noticed his neighbor standing by the door and locking it. "Oh, hello dear." She greeted as she placed the spare keys back under the mat. "I don't think that you would mind me putting your delivery in the flat, the man said that it needed to be put in the flat as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Mrs Miggins." Greg said as he tried to think about when he last ordered something online. He didn't remember even looking at the Amazon website. Maybe it was his wife sending pictures of the PE teacher again. "I need to get ready for work now, go and give your cat a pat on head for me." Greg lied as he went into the flat. He didn't dislike Mrs Miggins, in fact she was the only one allowed in his flat when he wasn't there. The problem was that she tended to drone about her cat for a long time, and it was rather boring to listen to, besides Greg was more of a dog person anyway. Mrs Miggins patted his shoulder before going to next door to complain about the cat with them instead.

Greg sighed in relief as he walked inside and dumped his keys on the table. He started to rummage around his fridge for a bottle of beer, to recover from the slightly traumatic day that he had experienced. The only cure for the day he had was alcohol and the football, and nothing was going to disturb his plans.

Realizing that he still had a package, Greg made his way into the living room, where he found a large box wrapped like a Christmas present with a ribbon top of the box. Going closer to the box, he had noticed that the paper was decorated with little brightly colored umbrellas.

Before he could actually get to opening it, the phone started to be obnoxious as it started to ring loudly. Greg sighed and wondered who on earth would be phoning him at that time of night, as he didn't have many contacts on his phone book. Looking at the caller ID on the screen, he saw an name that was rarely on his phone; Mycroft's.

* * *

Mycroft had found himself questioning the conversation that he had with Sherlock about him needing a 'goldfish.' He didn't know why he was thinking about it even though it was hours ago, but when you are spending another night alone, you tend to think about all the social interaction that day, even if it was a pointless conversation with your little brother. It was obvious that Mycroft had little friends throughout his life. You could see it as he found it difficult to make conversation with others and he didn't know what to say most of the time and he didn't know any topics that would apply to the common man. If he was with one of the members of his club, he could have a conversation with them swimmingly, as all they talked about was politics and world affairs. It was always so much easier to talk about something that you were an expert on. Normally Mycroft would be happy that he had at least on conversation with someone that day. Mummy would be so proud of him, making friends. But then he had decided to ruin it, in case he got too fond of Lestrade. It always happened, he would talk to someone and almost instantly he would get rather attached to him, and bad things always seemed to happen rather quickly. The only person other than his brother whom he was fond of was Anthea. She seemed to tolerate him and put up with his oddities, but then again, she did have a rather generous pay package.

Throughout the evening, he had revived several messages from his brother. They had all said the same thing; 'Go and talk to your goldfish' or they would contain good cake shops, in case things got that bad. Mycroft was never one to follow his brother's advice, mostly as he was too stubborn to take it and his brother was an idiot. But he found himself in his office with a glass of brandy and a phone in his hand. He thought that he would apologize to Lestrade for his inappropriate conversation, in the hopes that it would clear his mind and allow him to stop thinking about how lonely he was. Anthea had even taken the liberty of writing a script for him, as he found it difficult to form a conversation around the topic of inappropriate conversations.

Deciding that it was now or never, Mycroft took a quick sip of brandy for courage, and started to slowly dial Lestrade's number. For some reason he felt nervous and he didn't know why. The Iceman was never nervous in the high risk situations where Britain was at risk of being in another war, and yet, there he was acting if he was being sent to his death by a phone call. The other line rang two times. Mycroft felt his fear grow. Mycroft felt as if he was going to die that moment, and wondered if it was possible to die from a phone call. It would be a horrible thing to have on his gravestone. Maybe he could pretend that he accidentally pressed Lestrade's name on his phone, when in fact he was trying to phone the Prime Minister or someone who is not as important as him.

The phone clicked, and Lestrade's voice filled the silent room. "Hello?" Greg asked, after a few moments as Mycroft had not spoken since the click of the phone. "Mycroft is everything okay?"

Mycroft looked down at his script in hopes that it would have the answer to the most basic question that he had ever encountered. Mycroft would happily compare his brain to being superior to a supercomputer, but at that moment Mycroft could swear that his brain had melted and was surprised that it hadn't started to leak out of his ear.

"Everything is going swimmingly, Gregory."Mycroft said after a few moments, in a voice that resembled a robots. "I was wanting to apologize for our conversation, at the hospital."

"Mycroft, it is fine. You were worried about your brother and you were probably not thinking right." Mycroft looked back at his script, Anthea had written the almost expected reactions from Lestrade. It wasn't written on the script for Lestrade saying that Mycroft was worried about his brother. The truth be told, Mycroft knew what he was saying and he was only slightly concerned about his brother. He didn't know what to say now, and Lestrade had gone off the script that he didn't have and because of him not having a script, he had ruined Mycroft's script.

"Is there anything else, Mycroft? As I really need to go."

Mycroft looked at his script again and skipped over four lines, until he got to the line of; 'Would you care to converse over a beverage.' "Do you want to-." Mycroft said in one breath and paused before he could finish off his sentence. He started to think, this was not how you made friends. Through all the books that he had read on the topic, they had all said the same thing; friendships just happened, and they weren't scripted.

"Never mind Lestrade, just go and check up on Sherlock and have a drug bust on Sunday. Sorry for wasting your time."

After that he quickly hung up the phone and switched it off. He didn't notice that Anthea had walked in to the room, and what was unusual was that she wasn't glued to her phone and she looked almost sad for him. "You have a package in your office, sir. It is not a bomb or it doesn't contain anything dangerous. And after that the Prime minister is having a crisis again, and you need to help." Mycroft sighed and wondered what the idiot had gotten himself into this time. He quietly thanked Anthea as he picked up his umbrella.

"Anthea, I think that we have known each other, to be on first name terms, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'll go and get the car ready then, Mycroft." She said with a slight smile on her face,even though her eyes were glued back to her phone screen. Maybe he didn't need friends. He and Anthea were on first name terms now and that was all he could have needed. He didn't want friends to come between his work, Britain was his friend, he spent enough time protecting her. The moment that Mycroft had gone back to his home, he found the package sitting on top of his fire place, wrapped up in paper that somewhat resembled the British flag from a distance. As he walked closer he noticed that the paper had pictures of goldfish on it. Knowing that this present was from his brother, Mycroft sighed loudly as he started to carefully remove the wrapping paper.

Underneath the paper there was a fish tank. With a goldfish who was swimming about the tank by itself. Mycroft groaned loudly as he saw the fish and sent a rather angry worded message to his brother, threatening to make him fall out of another window 'accidentally.' The message that he got back from Sherlock was unusual for Sherlock. But then again, what was normality for Sherlock? All it said was;

_I hope that you like your goldfish. I couldn't find a big enough tank to keep a dolphin in. I've named him Graham for you. I hope that a goldfish will keep you occupied, until you can get your dolphin. -SH_

Mycroft groaned loudly and decided that he would murder his brother and he started to pray that Sherlock would stop his silly obsession with goldfish.

* * *

Greg quickly tore off the paper of the gift, in the hopes that it would be a new television or something else that would cost lots of money. Instead he found a goldfish. He started to question why on earth would someone get him a goldfish. There wasn't even an occasion for him to be getting a gift, it wasn't his birthday as that was five months ago, and it was still too early for any other holidays. Maybe the gift was from a secret admirer who stalked him, as they knew his address. Before he could question it any further, he noticed a little skull shaped sticky note lying on the top of the fish tank.

_Gavin, I bought you a goldfish, as I thought that you could use someone else in your life. I've named him Mycroft for you. Mycroft is a lovely name for a goldfish, don't you think. It might even make you think of someone. –SH_

_P.S Lestrade, I am sorry for Sherlock getting your name wrong again. I will make sure he will learn, even if that means shoving him out of a window. –John_

Lestrade looked at the note and reread it several times to try and understand what it meant. He would be able to understand it, if Sherlock was there to deduce everything for him. Why on earth would he need a goldfish? Lestrade thought as he switched on the television. The fish tank was right next to the sofa, and when the images of men running after a ball appeared on the screen, Mycroft the fish seemed to be paying attention to the TV. Deciding that he could do with some company, he started to explain the offside rule to the fish. After going through the rule two more times, just so Mycroft the fish could understand it, Greg considered getting a social life, as it wasn't normal for a grown man to talk to a fish about football. Someone had just scored a goal, and Lestade decided that he would take people's attitude to diets to his social life –It would start tomorrow.


	3. A Dead Owl

Either the goldfish was staring at him, or Mycroft was positive that he was going insane ; let that be from the large stack of paperwork that was on his desk that he hadn't been able to start due to his mind being all filled up with rather pointless and useless thoughts or his madness was due to his brother.

Actually Mycroft was rather positive that his brother had driven him to madness years ago, when he could utter his first word of 'Fat,' that he would exclaim every time that Mycroft walked into the room while Sherlock was in the arms of his nanny, but he is even more positive that his apparent madness had reached the boiling point now if he was convinced that a fish was staring at him. For a moment, Mycroft is slightly grateful that he only got a goldfish as he is positive that a dolphin would be even more of a distraction as it could make noises and jump though a hoop if it wanted to and do other fancy tricks such as balancing a ball on its nose.

Mycroft shook his head in the attempt to get the idiotic thought out of his mind, as his increasingly growing pile of paperwork wasn't going to be written by itself. It was moments where Mycroft realised that sometimes, he didn't like being the British Government despite the perks of the job, such as high pay, a country home, power with every word that he says, and the discounts that he gets in a Swedish spa when he goes on holiday, not that Mycroft took holidays. Mycroft counts to ten and he divides the number, five thousand twenty five hundred and six hundred by two hundred and forty seven in his head in the attempt to bring back his mind into focus. It is a relatively easy calculation, but when Mycroft is attempting to round the numbers up to one decimal place, the goldfish looks at him again, and puts him off this rounding. He lets out a sigh as he looks at the fish once more, the goldish that is stupidly named Graham, (as who gives a fish a human name?) just swims about in the tank in a rather mocking manner. Mycroft isn't too sure if a goldfish can mock someone, but he is positive that even if they didn't, the one in his office would be the first fish to mock someone.

"Why are you looking at me?" Mycroft asked in the direction of the fish tank as he put his pen down from another failed attempt of trying to get some paperwork done. It wasn't completely in vain as he managed to scribble his signature down on a piece of paper that was about plastic spoons in schools, but just after that, Mycroft had lost his focus once more as he heard the goldfish put his head against the wall of the tank. "I am positive that you have more interesting things to look at than me, you have a diver in your tank, go and annoy him. "Mycroft shook his head at how stupid he was being, he was sure that this was the first sign of insanity, as who talks to a fish? They don't talk back, or make a noise in response. He felt like his brother, who spent most of his childhood talking to a skull, as he had no one else to talk to, but Mycroft knew that the reason that his brother talked to a skull was his own fault, as he went off to university and he was his brother's only friend. But the whole goldfish incident was his own fault to begin with, as he was the one who engaged in conversation with Lestrade, if he had just kept his mouth shut and done the polite thing and shut down any conversation attempts with Lestrade none of this would have happened. Actually none of this would have happened, if Sherlock didn't fall out of that window, or had even been born. Mycroft knew that he was being a bit over dramatic, but it was true. If his parents didn't have the conversation with the school therapist about him not making friends in primary school and how a sibling would be beneficial for his 'social development,' none of this would have happened.

The goldfish didn't say anything to him, and only blinked in confusion. "You know that you wouldn't be here if I could just keep my mouth shut and I had just ignored that John had sent me." Mycroft said with a sigh, knowing that none of the events that had taken place in the last few days wouldn't have happened if Mycroft hadn't decided to be a good brother and check up on his brother when he had gotten the phone call from John that his brother had gone out of the window.

The goldfish didn't say anything to him, but then again, fish didn't really speak.

Maybe his brother was right for the first time in his life, maybe he was lonely if he was speaking to a fish. Before he would know it, he would be asking to borrow his brother's skull and he would having full conversations with it about Oscar Wilde's poetry. That would be the day that Mycroft is positive that the world would end.

Mycroft checked his watch for the seventh time in the past twenty minutes, hoping that if he looked at it enough with his best commanding look that could usually seal the deal with government leaders who were being a bit stubborn when Mycroft passed them several bits of rather important paperwork, that it would change the time to two o'clock when he could go to the Diogenes club and he could have a rather quick seven minute lunch break before his next meeting , just so he could avoid doing his paperwork and he could be left alone from the goldfish and hopefully he would be free from being tormented by a creature that had a free second memory.

Anthea walked into his office, actually looking up from her mobile phone (something that was incredibly rare these day,) with a file of paperwork in one hand and her phone in the other. She flung the file of paperwork onto the desk with a loud bang, sending some bits of paper flying onto the ground. Mycroft was positive that he could see a smirk forming on her lips once he had let out a rather loud sigh, at the aspect of having more paperwork to do. Sometimes the urge of resigning from his post and getting a normal nine to five job went through Mycroft's mind, but it was soon pushed to the side once he realised that he would probably murder someone due to their stupidity, also there was a good chance that his brother would end up solving the murder with Lestrade and to be honest, it wouldn't be a good story to tell his mother, and there was also the very good chance that his mother would confiscate his umbrella collection and make him use her pink one with kittens on it as a punishment.

"Your brother's drugs bust starts in three minutes." Anthea said as she started to pick up the paper from the floor. "Are you going to visit Baker Street to make sure that Lestrade has done what is asked of him to your level of perfection?"

"What is on the agenda after the two o'clock meeting?" Mycroft asked with a sigh.

"Meeting with the Prime Minister at half past four." Anthea replied, reading off her phone. "He has the issue with those documents that you gave him."

"He probably doesn't understand what the big words mean." Mycroft sighed. "That man couldn't even tie his own shoes without me explaining to him how to do it. It is probably rather concerning that a man like that is running the country. Well he is only there for show really. My own little puppet."

"Should I cancel the meeting with him then?" Anthea asked holding up her phone. "I don't want you to risk getting bored with him."

"There is no risk about it, you know that I will. Cancel it." Mycroft curtly replied as he put on his suit jacket. "And you know that he is going to drive me crazy with his mouth breathing. He is a horrid man, a really horrid one. I don't know why people actually voted for him."

"He made you stay for dinner one night with his family." Anthea replied rolling her eyes. "How terrible of him."

"You are right. I had to be nice to him for several more hours than what I intended to, as he decided to sign the papers once he had his trifle." Mycroft sighed as he tried to supress the memory of having to sit around the dining table being force to take interest in the children and how one of them passed their piano test while the other was wondering why little Sally Johnson in their class was being mean to them, and being forced to endure getting called 'Uncle Mikey,' by the little brats as well. "It was probably the most difficult thing that I have ever done, and I have had to cope with my brother. Well then, we should go into the car shouldn't we?"

"Perhaps," Anthea said thoughtfully.

And as Mycroft had left the door and clipped on his seatbelt in the car, Anthea turned around to him and with a serious expression on her face, with a bit of a smirk forming at the corner of her lips. "Before your meeting there is something that I thought that I should let you know." Anthea said looking up from her phone.

"What is it?" Mycroft asked, not looking up from his phone either, debating if he should answer the text from his brother, with Sherlock demanding a visit from him today for some strange reason, as Sherlock detested his company on a rather good day, maybe he was up to something again. Actually there was no maybe about it, it was Sherlock, of course he would be up to something.

"I saw you talking to a fish." Anthea replied, smirking. "Was it an interesting conversation? I never thought that goldfish would be good conversationalists."

"They are not." Mycroft curtly replied a he looked out of the window, just so that Anthea couldn't see the look of embarrassment that would surely creep on his face. He did like Anthea, even more than his nanny when he was younger, but he didn't enjoy the fact that she seemed to take a rather great joy in embarrassing him. He would fire Anthea for that and probably for the constant mobile phone usage, but Mycroft is positive that his life would be in ruins without her and England would probably fall. "Remind me why I keep you around again?" He asked.

"Because Mr Holmes, you love me really." Anthea smirked.

* * *

"I'm sure that John will be back soon and you won't get bored, dear." Mrs Hudson said as she patted Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock sighed and he checked the clock for fifth time in the past minute. John had to do the silly thing and he had decided to go to work, while he was lying on his death bed, with only Mrs Hudson for company.

The question had been bothering him ever since Mycroft had left the hospital. He had to know what friends with benefits was. Sherlock was insistent that it was like car insurance, or you gave a friend something and they would give you something in return. Was Lestrade and him friends with benefits? It seemed logical, Lestrade gave him cases, and Sherlock would solve them and in return Lestrade hasn't been fired from his work. He had tried to ask John the question, but John had laughed and told him to go and ask Mrs Hudson, and now that Mrs Hudson was in room with him, it would be rather idiotic to waste the opportunity.

Coughing loudly to drag Mrs Hudson's attention from the soap opera that she was watching, Sherlock started to ask the question on his mind. "Mrs Hudson, may I ask you a question?"

"What is it dear?" She said with a warm smile on her face. "You can ask me anything, is relationship advice?" She asked with a small squeal in her voice that she failed to keep under control. Sherlock rolled his eyes, why was Mrs Hudson obsessed with his relationship with John? She wasn't annoying about it, but she liked to know about what 'her boys' were up to, if they did something pleasant such as going to dinner together, Mrs Hudson would have to know everything about it. She would have to know where they went, what they wore, what they ate and everything apart from the intimacy. Sherlock would never tell Mrs Hudson that, as England would fall, if she knew about what her boys were doing. Mrs Hudson was worse than a teenage girl.

"Well I was wondering if you knew what friends with benefits are. I have tried asking John, but he keeps laughing at me." Sherlock asked with a look of complete and utter confusion on his face.

Mrs Hudson opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish several times, before saying. "'I think that it is something that you should know when you are older, and I am not telling one of my boys, what it means."

There was several loud knocks on the door, and Mrs Hudson practically ran to it, even though she had a bad hip. Sherlock was rather surprised about how fast Mrs Hudson could run, she had really no excuse to take her time with his tea now, since he now knew how fast as she could be when she wanted to.

"Sherlock, what have you done this time?" Mrs Hudson shouted from downstairs with a notable sigh. "The police man is wanting to see you. I don't know what you have done this time, you've only been out of the hospital for a day, and the police are wanting you. Is this from when you had to go to the hospital after fighting those terrorists?"

Sherlock checked his watch with a knowing smirk on his face, he had been predicting that Mycroft would be sending the Goldfish around to visit him. It would be only a matter of time before his brother would be visiting him and then he could get the whole of Operation Goldfish on the run.

"Mrs Hudson, just let the nice man in and go and have one of your herbal soothers." Sherlock shouted. He could hear Mrs Hudson grumbling about how she was getting too old to deal with Sherlock. Sherlock couldn't blame her, even he had to admit that he wasn't the easiest tenant in the world, and John wasn't the easiest tenant either, as John had the tendency to go to work and leave him to deal with his boredom with a gun and the smiley face on the wall.

After hearing the seventeenth stair creak, Lesteade popped his head through the door, with a smirk on his face. "You were in the hospital after getting into a fight with a terrorist? If you are going to lie to an old woman, at least tell a more believable lie."

"I couldn't exactly tell her that I fell out of a window, Mrs Hudson would brick up all the windows in the flat, just in case I decide to fall out of one again. Is Anderson out of the job yet?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"Why would Anderson be fired?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock sighed loudly as if he was being forced to participate in some horrible task. "In case you weren't there, Anderson made me fall out of the window."

"Did Anderson push you out of the window?"

Sherlock sighed. "No,"

"Then I cannot do anything to help you then. You should have been paying more attention though, so, how are things going?" Lestrade asked, as he sat down in John's armchair.

"Nothing exciting has happened, ever since this," Sherlock said as he gestured to the bright orange cast on his leg. "How is Mycroft by the way?"

"What? I haven't seen him. Why are you bringing in your brother into this. Sex crazed maniac." Lestrade spluttered.

"I was asking about your goldfish, there is more than one thing or person in the world that is called Mycroft." Sherlock said with a smirk as he saw Lestrade's ears turn pink, especially after the 'Sex crazed maniac comment.'

"The fish is fine, I guess. He knows the offside rule now." Greg said as he tried to think of something to change the subject, as he didn't exactly want to talk about Mycroft Holmes, especially after that disastrous phone call. "So I heard that you played football, do you fancy having a kick about sometime?"

"Will Mycroft be there?" Sherlock asked with a smirk. "I guess that you would need someone to be referee."

"Your brother wants to be there, he can be there." Greg said with a sigh. "I don't know why you are obsessed about talking about your brother. I came here to visit you, and you can use this as a great opportunity to know each other better."

Sherlock sighed. "Alright Gavin, why don't I ask you some questions are we can get to know each other better then."

Greg sighed in relie f,as hopefully Sherlock would drop the topic of his brother. He didn't even care that Sherlock had gotten his name wrong again, he had accepted that Sherlock wouldn't get his name right, he had known Sherlock for over five years, and Sherlock still thought that his name started with the letter 'G' and that was it, and at least Sherlock wasn't calling him girls names, as the three months ago Sherlock called him 'Georgina,' was painful enough. "Is there anything that you want to know in particular?" Greg asked as he took a sip of tea.

"This question has been bothering me for a while," Sherlock said. "Are we friends with benefits?"

Lestrade spat out his tea. "What?" He coughed, as he put down his cup before he got the urge to throw it at the other man, he knew that it would be morally wrong to throw a cup at someone who was injured, but it was Sherlock Holmes and that must have been an exception to his morality. "What makes you think that?"

"I do consider you somewhat a friend, even though you are an idiot. We give each other things in return. You give me cases, and in return I solve them for you and you benefit from my help. You did seem to like that pay check bonus that I helped you to get. I don't get bored, and you get rewards in work. They for, we are friends with benefits, aren't we?"

"That isn't what friends with benefits means," Lestrade sputtered as he started to get his coat on. "I think that is my phone ringing, I should be going away know." Lestrade considered that this would be the last time he would ever see one of the Holmes brothers, who knew that both of them were a bit obsessed with sex? Lestrade wondered if John was a lucky man being with Sherlock or not. He had always thought that if John wanted to have sex with Sherlock, he would have to lie on the ground absolutely still with tomato sauce on him, and pretend to be a dead body.

"Lestrade sit down," Sherlock commanded as he held up Lestrade's phone in-between his fingers before he put it in his dressing gown. "Your phone doesn't even have a charge in it, and you have the day off, so you have no excuse to not help me with the friends with benefits question that I am trying to figure out. What exactly does friends with benefits mean?"

"Sex without commitment." Lestrade exclaimed.

The only response that he got from Sherlock was a confused glare. Lestrade could basically see the doors open and close in Sherlock's mind palace. And he felt rather proud that he had made the great Sherlock Holmes go speechless and that was just being right about something that Sherlock didn't know. It was a rare thing when Gregory Lestrade out smarted Sherlock Holmes, and he certainly enjoyed the feeling. He got to the point where he considered getting 'I'm smarter than Mr Cheekbones,' on a shirt and on the back, it would have a little cartoon of Sherlock wearing a dunce cap.

"You call yourself a genius, I thought that you would have at least the slightest bit of intelligence in you. But then again, you did fall out of a window." Lestrade smirked.

"It was Anderson's fault, and you know it!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Don't lie brother dear, you know that Mummy disapproves of it." Mycroft's voice echoed through the flat. Mycroft tapped the door frame with the handle of his umbrella as a greeting before walking into the sitting room. Mycroft's face dropped when he saw the salt and pepper hair of Lestrade. "I think that I should be leaving now, government business and all that."

Sherlock smirked at his brother's obvious discomfort. "Don't be so pedestrian, Mycroft. You have just arrived and now you are wanting to leave us. Isn't that a bit rude, as I already have Graham to visit and we could use more company. Please take a seat."

Lestrade wondered what he had done so wrong in a past life, to be put in this form of hell, as he was in the room with the Holmes brothers. Mycroft also wondered about that as well.

"I have not come here to visit you, I am here to return the goldfish that you gave me." Mycroft sighed as he gave Lestrade a rather apologetic look, as if he could apologise for the phone call and their encounter at the hospital. "I don't want a goldfish, Sherlock, I don't even need one. Some people are fine being in this planet alone without having a goldfish to keep them company, and I am one of those people."

"If it makes you feel better Mycroft, I have a goldfish and I could still use more company." Lestrade said sheepishly."

"Lestrade are you implying that you want another goldfish?" Sherlock asked smugly. "Or there might be something else that could give you more company than a goldfish or if I may be so bold, someone who can give you more company?"

"Two goldfishes?" Lestrade asked. "I don't think that another goldfish is going to make me less lonely. I've tried talking to the Mycroft the Goldfish, but he doesn't answer back, but he is a really good listener."

Mycroft shot a look towards his brother, that only said one thing-I'm going to murder you in your sleep, by making you fall out of a window and I will make it look like an accident. He had known that Sherlock was the reason why he had a goldfish, but he had never thought that he would buy Lestrade a goldfish. Mycroft had just assumed that his brother would constantly torcher Lestrade mentally about the whole thing, until Lestrade decided to go insane and become a supervillian and then Lestrade would target him and murderer Sherlock in a 'accident.' Mycroft knew that he was probably thinking too far into this, but they again, at the moment, he wouldn't fully object to his brother being murdered by the DI.

"Are you sure that you don't want another goldfish, Lestrade?" Mycroft asked with a sigh as he pulled out his mobile phone and started to text Anthea, who was waiting outside 221B with the goldfish and the tank. "As I have another one that my brother gave me, and I am not rather keen on the prospect of having a pet. Anthea will be up with the fish shortly."

"The only reason that you are not happy with the goldfish, is because you want a dolphin instead." Sherlock said in a sing-song voice.

"Sherlock, if you keep annoying me, I will force mummy open you, and you know how terrible she would be, as you haven't paid her a visit in several months. She might even want to stay for tea and biscuits."

Just after Mycroft finished off his sentence, Anthea came into the room, heavily panting as she brought up the large glass fish tank, that still had all the water in it and the goldfish. Lestrade briefly wondered how much Mycroft was paying that woman. Sherlock briefly wondered how Anthea could put up with his brother. And Mycroft wondered how long it would be until the Prime Minister had another issue. Anthea waddled into the kitchen and put down the tank as gently as she could on the kitchen table, narrowly avoiding the human head that was sitting there.

"Thank you, Anthea." Mycroft said with a wave of his hand, while Anthea only sighed and went back to her phone and started to rapidly tap on the buttons on her phone. Anthea would occasionally look up from her phone to watch the scene that was taking place. "So Lestrade, are you wanting this goldfish? I will give it to you free of charge of course and we can forget about everything that happened."

"Mycroft, you just can't give another man your goldfish!" Sherlock exclaimed. " I bought you that goldfish with you in mind and you can't get rid of my present for you. Mummy wouldn't be happy with you doing that."

"Mummy isn't here, Sherlock." Mycroft hissed, while sending a rather apologetic look to Lestrade. "I can do what I want, I am the smarter one and I am older than you, Father told you to respect your elders."

"So I should be listening to you because you are older and fatter than I am?" Sherlock asked with a smirk. "That is a rather strange reason to listen to someone, but how is the diet going? You've look as if you have gained weight since last week, is it the cakes again? I heard that weight watchers is a good program, I think that you should try that."

Lestrade looked over at Mycroft and instantly felt rather sorry for him, for getting that much taunting about his weight after bringing up the topic of respecting elders. Lestrade got the image of a young Mycoft at some boarding school in the middle of nowhere, getting bullied, and it was a horrible image. To Lestrade getting picked on by a family member, was a lot worse than getting picked on by the playground bully.

Lestrade knew the horrible sinking feeling that one often experienced when they were looked down upon by a family member for something that they didn't have complete and utter control over. The memories of his brother, Henry, laughing at him and making jokes to everyone else, when he got his first grey hair when he was in his twenties and there was the whole thing with the ex-wife and the PE teacher, who was better looking than him and could beat him in a fight-the fight was easily considered to be one of Greg's worst moments-he did learn that he should start going to the gym more often after that. He knew that Mycroft wasn't the nicest person to him and he made him feel uncomfortable, but he felt sorry neither the less.

"Sherlock, why don't you stop making fun of your brother?" Lestrade asked with a slight edge to his voice. "I'm sure that he isn't fat." Lestrade said as he sent Mycroft a rather apologetic look as he mouthed the word 'sorry.' Mycroft in return pretended to read a newspaper, but it was upside down.

"Why should I?" Sherlock asked. "You don't even like my brother, you had to see a therapist after talking to him."

Mycroft put down the paper with a look of curiosity, but he kept pretending that he was reading it. This was the most interesting thing that happened during the whole visit with Sherlock. He was expecting that Lestrade would be lying any way, as who in the right mind would actually like him? He knew that Anthea liked him and they were on first name terms with another, but then again, he did pay for her phone bill and it was rather large.

"Well regardless of what feelings I may have for your brother, it doesn't give you the excuse to be a knob." Lestrade said. "Would you like it if I called you stupid?"

"Lestrade your option doesn't matter, I am aware that I am smarter than you are." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "Even my brother has to admit that I am, even though it is a difficult task for him. Don't you Mycroft?"

"I think it would be wise for me to not say anything." Mycroft replied sighing, as he turned a page in the newspaper that he was still pretending to read. "I wouldn't want to make enemies."

"Well you could be making friends." Anthea quietly said as she momentarily looked up from her phone and looked at Mycroft from the door. "Mr Holmes, you have a meeting in twenty four minutes, it would be best if you go now, the traffic is going to be dreadful in seventeen minutes."

Mycroft let out a sigh in relief as he stood up and neatly folded the newspaper onto the table. Just as Mycroft was going to turn his back to the table, he noticed a folded piece of paper that had Lestrade's name on it. In a perfect world, Mycroft wouldn't snoop around in his brother's property, but in reality, he did and he would have to admit that he enjoyed it. Mycroft could happily answer any question that anyone had about Sherlock. He could answer questions about his brother's favourite tea brand, or his favourite brand of shower gel that his brother used as a child. Mycroft didn't believe in secrets, as he always thought that there was no point in keeping them as someone was always going to find out and Mycroft was the person to discover all of the secrets. Sherlock seemed to be absorbed in taunting Lestrade about his failed diet, and Lestrade seemed to be rather unhappy about it and he kept making fun of Sherlock falling out of the window and friends with benefits for some reason. Mycroft picked up the piece of paper, and he quickly put it in his suit pocket. Sherlock didn't seem to notice.

"Well I should be saying my farewells." Mycroft said, coughing lightly to grab the attention of his brother and company. "It was present seeing you, Detective Inspector." Mycroft said, nodding in Lestrades's direction.

"I guess that I should be going now, as well." Lestrade said standing up and taking his phone from Sherlock's dressing gowns pocket. "The football was on yesterday and I want to watch the match and get hammered before I go back to work. Tell John that I am up for the pub on Monday and France is going to be his teams arse on the pitch."

Sherlock only gave him a glare, that lost all effect due to the fact that he had a bright orange cast on his leg.

"I'll be waiting for you in the car, Mr Holmes." Anthea said, not looking up from her phone as she opened up the door and made her way out of the apartment.

"I am going to take my leave now." Mycroft said, nodding once at his brother and the detective before he had left the apartment himself.

Mycroft was just about to leave the apartment, when he heard someone calling his name. Maybe Sherlock had noticed that the bit of paper had gone missing. He turned around and he noticed Lestrade was right behind him.

"I was just wanting to make sure that you are alright after what your brother said to you." Lestrade said. "He is a bit of an arse, isn't he?"

Mycroft made himself force out a chuckle as it would be considered rude if he didn't. "Lestrade, what my brother says about me, isn't any of your concern. I have been called a lot worse, trust me. I managed to survive boarding school and name calling was more used than simple greetings."

"It doesn't matter if you are used to it or not," Lestrade said, reaching out to clap Mycroft's shoulder with a heavy hand. "It still shouldn't happen."

"I guess that I should be thanking you for what you said to my brother." Mycroft said looking rather sheepish. "You didn't have to do that, especially after what happened and the phone call."

"You don't need to worry about the phone call," Greg said with a small smile. "We can just forget about it, and act as if it never happened. I can tell that you aren't that good when it comes to talking on the telephone."

"I have to admit that it is a cross that I have to carry." Mycroft said with a sigh. "I don't telephone many people, and if I have to do it, I get someone to phone on my behalf...The reason that I don't telephone people that often, isn't because I am lonely." Mycroft added as an after though. "I'm not lonely, I telephone my mother once a week."

Lestrade looked at Mycroft with a look of pure confusion and he moved back once Mycroft had his little outburst, Greg decided that it was probably the safer thing to do, as Mycroft had an umbrella in his hand , and he might use it to attack him if he kept implying that Mycroft was lonely.

"I wasn't saying that you were lonely." Lestrade said with his hands raised in self-defence, just in case Mycroft would attack him at any second. "I was just saying that you are not that good on the phone that is all. I'm not trying to be offensive or anything." Lestrade placed his hands in pockets and sighed. "If anyone it is lonely it is me. I spent last night talking to a goldfish."

"Why would you do that?" Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow, even though he knew that he was guilty of doing the same thing, but he wasn't willing to admit to it, as he was wanting to keep some of the little remaining dignity that he had left, and he wasn't going to lose the last shred of it to Lestrade, as to be honest, he had little dignity left. Mycroft was actually surprised on how he managed to roll out of bed this morning, but then again, when you have had only several hours sleep and the government is having a crisis that could cause the shut down of the country, it was rather difficult to have a lie in.

Lestrade only shrugged. "I didn't have anyone else to speak to and I didn't want to speak to myself."

"Sherlock does that at times," Mycroft said with a small chuckle, that was considerably out of character for him, but Mycroft actually wanted to look human and even though it was rather tedious at times, but other people rather liked humans who smiled and laughed at times. "You would think that once he got himself a friend he would stop doing that."

"I thought that he would stop experimenting on John after John started calling him his boyfriend." Lestrade chuckled dryly. "According to John he still does experiments but they are more personal ones now."

Throughout the years of knowing his brother and that was all the years that Sherlock had graced the world with his stupidity and his rare moments of intelligent, Sherlock had been called many names , such as 'Freak,' ( That he got called on a regular basis much to Mycroft's dislike,) Shirley, (Only to his mother,) 'Sherleen,' ( Was a thing that Mycroft called his brother, especially after when Sherlock wore a dress during a drunken new years party when they were younger,) and Sherotter (But that was only if Mycroft was in one of his good moods and that was usually fuelled by a glass of brandy or two) and boyfriend was never one of the things that Sherlock was called, and Mycroft was positive that he never thought of that name being applied to Sherlock in his life time. Perhaps this was the sign that Sherlock had achieved something that he never thought that he would never achieve. Maybe Sherlock had finally become human.

In most areas, Mycroft had bested Sherlock in them. Mycroft was the more intelligent brother, who had a high paying job, he had a house that had what you would call a small mansion, that could easily have ten people living in it comfortably and there would be still room for more, that he lived in himself. But Sherlock had bested him in one area, Sherlock actually had a heart, while Mycroft lacked one and he was more of a robot while Sherlock had somehow managed to find break the code that had prevented him from using his heart for all of these years.

Sherlock had learned to become human.

And it frightened Mycroft to some extent, but he pushed that fear back into his mind and he hoped that he could suppress it for the rest of his life.

"Mycroft are you okay?" Lestrade asked, with the look of concern painted over his face. Mycroft blinked several times and tried to think of the right response to say. It was a simple answer, but Mycroft was struggling to find it. Mycroft was positive that if there was a script that it would be easier, but unfortunately Anthea wasn't there and she had gone back into the car, most likely texting furiously on her phone.

"Perfectly fine, Gregory." Mycroft replied curtly after a few tense moments. "I was just pondering about Sherlock."

"Any particular observations about him?" Lestrade asked, folding his arms and leaning against the walls, with a stupid smirk on his face, that Mycroft found tempted to get him incarnated for, as he was beginning to believe that Lestrade had somehow managed to read his thoughts.

"When I first met John Watson, I had confessed to my assistant that he was the making or undoing of my brother, and even though it has been several years since the first encounter, I still cannot decide if John Watson has made my brother better or worse." Mycroft said, pulling out his pocket watch. "Well I should be going, you should probably have something better to do than to chat with me."

"You cannot just leave me wondering about your thoughts, I want to know why you think that." Lestrade said, grabbing the politician's arm to stop him walking down the stairs of the flat. "You can stay for five more minutes."

Mycroft briskly removed Lestrade's large arm from his arm and removed the imaginary dust from his suit with a look of disgust. He removed the glare that he had on his face when Lestrade had placed his hand on his brand new Italian made suit, as who knows where Lestrade had placed his hands in before he put his hands on his coat. It wouldn't have been much of a surprise for Mycroft, if Lestrade had put doughnut grease or some other filth onto his coat. "Well when you are the British government, you don't have much free time on your hands and a lot can happen in five minutes. Besides you have something better to do than speak to me."

"Well I could be talking to someone who is boring." Lestrade shrugged. "I am positive, you can spare five minutes of your day."

Just as if there was a que, Mycroft's phone gave out a low buzz and the light on his blackberry started to flash in his pocket. Mycroft looked at Lestrade with a look of questioning on his face and Lestrade nodded and mouthed the words, 'go ahead.'

Mycroft smirked to himself as he turned his back to the grey headed man and he left the flat. He quickly checked his phone and saw that it was a message from Anthea. Lovely Anthea, who had sent him a text message to prevent himself from having to participate in more social interaction than what was necessary. Mycroft didn't believe that anyone could read minds, but he believed that Anthea was probably the only person on the planet who could almost do it. Mycroft briefly considered giving her a bigger pay packet, but he decided against it, because he paid for her mobile phone bills from his own pocket and those could be quite hefty at times. Mycroft could never understand how one woman could create such a high phone bill.

"I need to go, a government official is being rather difficult at the moment, and I need to make an appearance in my club." Mycroft said, putting on his best smile.

"Well you can tell me your thoughts when we have dinner on Tuesday. I need to give you those reports on your brother anyway." Lestrade said. "You are still up for it, right?"

"I have scheduled it in my agenda for the day," Mycroft said putting on a smile. "Until we next meet, Lestrade." He said giving Lestrade a hand shake, and then turning his back on the man and leaving the apartment, wondering if he was simply far too kind.

Mycroft silently went into the black Royals Royce that was waiting outside the flat for him. Mycroft entered the back seat of the car and let out a large sigh when he sat down and he closed the door, finally safe from the exploits of his brother and Lestrade.

Anthea looked up from her phone with a smirk on his lips that was poorly disguised when she moved her phone to hide her mouth. " I am fully expecting a thank you right now Mycroft."

"Well Anthea, you have got me out of a few scrapes in the last few years, and I am happy to know that you have kept up the good work." Mycroft said placing a smile on his face. "Thank you for getting me out of that, hopefully you can get me out of having dinner with the Prime Minister now, he might force me to listen about his Eton school stories again."

Mycroft reached into the pocket of his suit and he pulled out the bit of paper that he had taken from Sherlock's apartment. He opened it up, once he was fully confident that Anthea was absorbed into the game of solitaire that she liked to play on her phone during the long car journeys.

In his brother's scrawling writing the piece of paper said;

_Operation Goldfish._

_Step one; force the subjects to have a conversation with another and say something that will result in them making a bond with another._

_Step 2; Mention one subjects name frequently to the other subject, and repeat for as long as necessary._

_Step three; Put a dead owl in Lestrade's apartment._

Mycroft folded the paper and put it back in his pocket, not knowing what else to do and hoping that if he ignored the problem, it would go away and he would stop being some science experiment to his brother. Mycroft wondered if he should tell Lestrade about the plan as it involved him and the risk of a dead owl going into his flat. Maybe he could do it over dinner and it would be a lovely conversation topic. With the goldfish left at his brother's apartment, Mycroft hoped that he would have peace of mind for at least five minutes while he dealt with the latest crisis over Britain.


	4. The Mule and Stallion

The tradition of having a monthly meeting with Lestrade over dinner had first begun five years ago when Sherlock had come to Mycroft one afternoon, while Mycroft was in his Diogenes Club and reading his newspaper and he had declared that he was going to be helping out on crime scenes and he was needing his brother to pull a few strings for him so he would be allowed to do it. Mycroft who liked to have an interest in his brothers current affairs, found himself rather intrigued at his brother's request and he hardly hesitated to contact Gregory Lestrade-who was a newly promoted Detective Inspector on his first month in his new position. After several failed emails with Lestrade, that would usually go unanswered or replied with just one word, Mycroft decided to take matters in his own hands and find a way to contact him. Instead of doing the things that a normal person would do such as send Lestrade a letter or even come to Scotland Yard to arrange a meeting with the man, Mycroft did the next best thing and that was a plan to kidnap Lestrade and take him to a warehouse and discus arrangements with him in the time that they were in the warehouse and then Mycroft would drop him back to his house and everything would be forgotten about.

However this plan did not happen as Lestrade somewhat protested about being taken into a warehouse in the middle of the night when Mycroft's Royals Royce was waiting outside Scotland Yard for Lestrade's shift to be finished and he was off duty. Mycroft had waited in the car for two hours later than he had originally planned and then when Lestrade did eventually come out of the yard with a large pile of paperwork in his arms and and a cheap take away coffee, he only looked at Mycroft in the black car and simply had refused to go in and had started to walk away from him. Mycroft then had to get out of the car and start following the detective inspector, who just looked at him blankly when Mycroft said that he wanted to talk to him and in the end had only agreed to talk about Sherlock if Mycroft would buy dinner for him. And thus the tradition of dinner with Lestrade had begun.

Mycroft waited for Lestrade to finish his shift outside Scotland Yard while there was a light fall of snow that had little to no chance of lasting in the British weather that mostly consisted of rain that would last for days. It was the winter that made Mycroft wish that he had chosen somewhere nicer to settle into do his work, but then again to be the British Government you did need to be based in Britain in one way or another, or it would be rather difficult to stay on top of British problems such as bomb threats and not the price of hummus in Waitrose. The umbrella that Mycroft normally kept on his side, was actually open and it was providing little protection from the snow due to the fact that there was a bit of wind. Mycroft could have waited in the car, but it seemed a little bit rude considering all of the events that had happened between him and Lestrade. The bit of paper that he had taken from Sherlock's flat was still in his pocket and Mycroft had inspected it in the spare time that he had and the paper had been bothering him, as his brother had decided that he was needing a plan that would end up destroying his life that included a dead owl. Well this could be seen as an improvement for his brother who was normally rather unorganised when it came to one of his schemes, but regardless of anything, it was still something that Mycroft frowned upon.

"You don't need to wait out." Lestrade said as greeting as he walked out of the building with a cigarette placed in between his lips and his old lighter in his hand. "You will get your shoes damp and I am pretty sure that those a new Italian leather ones." 

"You are correct," Mycroft said with a tone of surprise to his voice. "Have you taken an interest in the science of deduction?"

"No it isn't that." Lestrade lit up his cigarette and took a puff before answering. "Sherlock was telling me about your shoes for some reason. He just called me at work today and started going on about shoes and how you can tell a lot about someone by their shoes. Your brother is a strange man, brilliant but strange. "

"He was worse when he was a child." Mycroft said taking a cigarette from the box that Lestrade was offering, he lit it up with his own lighter and soon coughed after his first puff. Sherlock was right, he still smoked like a beginner, hopefully Lestrade would believe that it was the winter air that was causing him to cough and not the fact that he couldn't smoke regardless of all the times that he tried. "Trust me, I was just thankful that I was at boarding school and university for the majority of the time."

"What did Sherlock do as a child?" Lestrade asked with a smile forming on his lips. "Did he dissect your teddy?"

"Much worse, he tried to mummify a dead sheep and he kept it in my wardrobe when I was away for school as a way to protest my leaving." Mycroft replied as he threw his cigaret butt to the ground and rubbed it out with the heel of his new shoes. "I made dinner reservations and I recommend that we go into the car now in order to make them."

"Will I get more stories about your brother?" Lestrade asked as he put out his own cigarette. "I could do with a laugh after the day that I have had."

Mycroft made a noise of agreement and they walking in comfortable silence as they had made their way to the car and the drive to the restaurant-a rather expensive five star French restaurant that was one of Mycroft's personal favourites in London that had made the best Chocolate gateau even though he usually ended up regretting eating it and his diet didn't appreciate being ruined again after many failed attempts of staying on track and not falling off the rails after three weeks at the most. The restaurant has been difficult to get a reservation for and it had taken a while for Anthea to persuade the manager to make up a table for tonight.

Mycroft and Lestrade went into their sides of the car, Mycroft always going into the right side of the car, as that was his spot and no one was allowed to go in there, otherwise he was positive that things would go wrong if he sat in another seat. His usual driver, Henry, was not present tonight and in his place was Anthea who had filed in due to the fact that Henry was on his second honeymoon to Italy and Mycroft being the ever so kind man that he was , had given him a month of holiday with full pay and access to a five star hotel and company car. Anthea was a good driver however she hadn't the ability to drive without listening to the radio and she rather liked the radio stations that would play the loud music that Mycroft had no chance in understanding the lyrics as no one seemed to announce what they were saying and they used lots of 'urban words,' much to Mycroft's dismay.

The car ride to the restaurant was silent and Mycroft spent the time descretting looking at Greg who seemed to be engrossed in paperwork that he had on his lap. Knowing that he wouldn't have the desire to participate in conversation while he had a pile of paperwork in front of him, Mycroft decided to not speak-mostly as he doubted that he would have enough topics for conversation and the fact that the list from his brother was still bothering him even though he had taken it a few days ago and he had worked out all of the possible things that his brother may do to him now. There was definitely a lot worse things his brother could do instead of putting a dead bird into Lestrade's home, Mycroft personally had the vision of a bomb exploding his bathroom in his town house that would lead to him seeking refuge in a hotel or other accommodation. Mycroft shook his head and he tried to get the thoughts of a bomb out of his head, he looked out of the window and he watched the world go past through his tinted windows.

"I can't believe that we drove all this way and the place has been shut down." Lestrade grumbled as he made his way back into the car, closing the door with a loud bang.

Mycroft closed his phone with a sigh as he looked at Anthea for guidance. The restaurant that they had been planning to go to had the nerve to be closed down on the day that Mycroft had manage to get his name on the seating list after waiting for two months for a reservation, due to a case of rats in the store cupboard. Mycroft was a man who did care for the finer things in life and this also extended down to good hygiene-however at the moment he didn't care about the rats or the fact there had been cases of cross contamination in the kitchens, he was rather annoyed due to the fact that he had paid a lot of money for reservations for the restaurant two months ago and there was probably not a chance for a refund and the fact that he had made himself look like a fool in front of Lestrade especially after all what happened. The thought that maybe it was Sherlock who did this crossed Mycroft's mind for a brief moment but then it was ignored as Mycroft realised that Sherlock wouldn't do anything as simple as putting a few rats in the kitchen.

With a sigh, Mycroft entered the car and he made the effort not to slam the door unlike what Lestrade did as being honest expensive cars did not grow on trees. Lestrade was furiously typing on his phone and he looked rather annoyed and Mycroft felt slightly guilty for wasting his time. Mycroft coughed to get his attention. "I am terribly sorry Greggory about this, I may say that it has caused me some embarrassment." 

"Don't worry about it. I was just looking forward to some good food after the day I have, and now this has happened." Greg said putting his phone in his pocket and rubbing his face with his hands. "Are we going to make a rain check or something?"

Mycroft didn't even need to look at his diary to know that he wouldn't be able to reschedule, as he was permanently packet to the brim with all of the tasks that he needed to do and the eventing of the twentieth over every month was reserved for his dinner meeting with Lestrade and nothing would ever change that. "I am afraid not. I have the rest of my days consumed with work and I am out of the country for some time in the recent future. We can discuss my brother and other matters in a new location perhaps?"

"I don't mind where we go as long as there is a bar." Lestrade shrugged as he put on his seatbelt and he looked at Mycroft with a glimmer of a smile on his face. "Will that be suitable for Mr Holmes." 

"I am sure that I will cope Detective Inspector. " Mycroft said putting on his own seat belt. "I used to frequent bars and pubs when I was in my younger years before I had moved to London and everything became too urban for my liking."

"Urban?" Lestrade asked with look of confusion. "What do you mean by urban?"

"You know urban when you see it." Mycroft said. "Any preferences for bars?"

"There is a small one not far from where I live, might be easier to actually hear what you are saying, as your voice would be eaten up in the bigger places and the nightclubs." Lestrade leant forward to give instructions to Anthea about where to drive, which Mycroft thought was pointless due to the fact that Anthea and himself knew most of Lestrade's personal information such as the fact that he is mildly allergic to mushrooms and the fact that he had a motorbike accident that was caused when he went into a bush that sent him into hospital in 1987. Lestrade looked happier when Anthea started driving and Mycroft gave a small smile to him as he moved his gaze back into his phone.

The Mule and Stallion was a pub that Mycroft would probably have turned his nose up at, due to his dislike of pubs that grew as he started at the Diogenes club and he began to go to expensive wine bars as he moved to London. The pub was small and it was well kept despite the fact the floorboards looked like they needed to have a rather good polish and the tables were needing to be scrapped underneath as Mycroft's knee brushed a wad of chewing gum that was stuck under the pub was empty apart from a few regulars who were sitting at the bar. Lestrade had made himself busy with getting drinks and Mycroft sent a message to Anthea sending her away and that he would call her when he was needing to be picked up as he knew that his assistant would not appreciate staying in the car up until all hours in the night while her boss was in a pub, and Mycroft wasn't that cruel to make her stay, and he had made the promise of phoning her when something had happened.

Lestrade walked over to the table with two pints in his hand, one that was clearly his was already half drunk before he had even left the bar. Mycroft wasn't a man who drank beer, mostly as he disliked the taste and the smell of it, and he was more of a wine and whisky man himself but he took the pint from Lestrade with a smile on his face as he tried to not breathe in the revolting smell. Knowing that the weather was probably a pointless conversation starter, Mycroft tried the simplest conversation starter. "How was your day?" He asked taking a sip out of the glass, immediately pulling a face after drinking it.

"Absolute horror of a day." Lestrade sighed. "Your brother has been a right nightmare, just because he can't go to the crime scene for health and safety reasons, he has been making John go there himself and John has been carting around a laptop with your brother on a video call all day. I think he is even worse than he is normally."

"I can imagine, this is why I prefer to make my contact with my brother through a phone call or in person if I have to." Mycroft said with his politest smile on his face. "He has been annoying me as well, he has been going on about how I lonely I am and that I need to get a life and have friends."

"I'd say that we are mates." Lestrade said as he took a sip of his pint. Mycroft wrinkled his nose in disgust as he heard the word 'mates,' it sounded incredibly urban and common for a term for companionship. "So we are not mates then?" Lestrade asked, Mycroft noticed a slight look of disappointment on his face.

"We are people who talk about my brother once a month and we regularly make enquires about my brother. I don't think that makes me your friend." Mycroft said with a look of confusion on his features, " You don't even like me that much." he added quietly under his breath as he looked at his new shoes to avoid Lestrade's gase.

"Mycroft if I didn't like you, I wouldn't have gotten into your car tonight and I certainly wouldn't be having your pint with you." Lestrade said with a serious expression on his face. "I have known you for five years and you are an alright bloke."

Mycroft looked up from his shoes and he gave Lestrade a stern look and he was about to make a noise of protest at what Lestrade was saying, but before he could think of anything to say, Lestrade had begun to speak once more. "I would like to be friends with you Mycroft, you look as if you can use a mate, and being honest I could probably do with another one."

"That would be pleasent to have your companionship but..." Mycroft said as he tried to think of a reason of why he couldn't be friends with Lestrade, but he couldn't think of anything. Maybe having a friend other than Athena or his brother would be a good thing to have and because it was Lestrade it might make getting information about his brother easier to get. "i would like to be your friend."

Lestrade broke into a smile and he downed the rest of his pint before standing up, Mycroft gave his new friend a look of confusion about the whereabouts he was going . "I think that now we are mates, we should have another drink to celebrate." Lestrade clasped Mycroft onto the shoulder before he walked off before Mycroft could ask anymore questions about what their friendship would the requirements to it and if there was a contact needing to be signed to signify their friendship. Mycroft wondered if normal people did that, it would be something that he would need to ask Anthea or the internet at a later pulled out his phone to ask Athena about friendship, however his phone's battery had died and he had been stupid enough to forget his spare phone in his office. It wasn't the end of the world though as Mycroft could just get a taxi or he could just walk to the diogenes club tomorrow if he was stuck.

"Just got you the same as before mate." Lestrade said as he sat down onto the table with two more pints in his hands. "I think that for this meeting, we can skip talking about how your brother is doing because, he has a cast on his leg and he isn't going anywhere with John keeping an eye on him."

"What do you suggest that we talk about then?" Mycroft asked as he removed his suit jacket at he hung it at the back of the chair when he had the feeling that he would be in the pub for a while .

"Well now that we are friends, we can learn things about another-within reason of course." Lestrade said as he leant back in his chair. "There has to be more than you than your work and your brother."

"I'm afraid there isn't." Mycroft said. "I am pretty much married to my work and she can be a cruel mistress and she makes me do pointless tasks that I don't like doing, such as having dinner with the prime minister."

"You have had dinner with the prime minister?" Lestrade asked with a tone of intrigue in his voice. "How was that?"

"Bloody awful I must say." Mycroft smiled with Lestrade let out a small chuckle. "It was not an experience that I am not wanting to relive again being completely honest. I come over to help him to sign a bit of paperwork and then I find myself at the dinner table while his cook is shoving a bowl of trifle under my nose."

"That sounds dreadful." Lestrade chuckled, and it make the whisper of a smile appear at Mycroft's lips.

"It was, I had to sit through pointless chit-chat and be bombarded with stupid questions from his children. But other than that, I really don't do that much outside work."

"Well I reckon that you already know about my life outside work." Lestrade took a sip of his drink before wiping his hand at the back of his hand. "But you already know about football and I like going to the pub. I am not very exciting unfortunately."

"Neither am I, Lestrade, But I am sure that we can cope with the fact that we are very extraordinary people." Mycroft said with a smile on his face, finally allowing himself to relax a bit around Lestrade and letting himself be a bit more human, If Mycroft wasn't sure if was doing it unintentionally or if it was the alcohol allowing him to do it, Mycroft would never know and being honest he didn't want to know.

"You are amazing Mycroft, and so is your brother." Lestrade said as he cleaned off his second pint. "But you are a good man though, despite what you like to believe."

Mycroft took in a breath and he closed his eyes. There was no way that he was a good man or if he was amazing. He was no saint and he was probably not a sinner. He was in the middle of the equation as he was not easily distinguished as being a good man or a bad one. He was just Mycroft and that is all he was. Hopefully Mycroft could be enough though. Mycroft put on a smile and he decided to change the topic. "So your football, how is that going?"

"It actually has been doing okay, even though the team has been getting their arses kicked by the other team. Things haven't been going great since we are at least ten years older than the other team." Lestrade said with a sigh. "There is a match next friday and hopefully the team will get their act together and we will actually win sometime. Do you care for any sport?"

"I rather enjoy cricket and I know that you may think that it is boring, but it is something that can switch off my brain for at least ten minutes after speaking to the prime minister. I do care for rugby as well." Mycroft replied. "I am a fan of Bath."

"I have always been more of a Wasps fan myself." Lestrade said. "There is a match next Saturday with Bath and Wasps, I was going to watch it home or at the pub, would you like to join me? Normally I like to watch it with John but John has his hands full with Sherlock."

"I am sure that I can try and find some time in my time table for it." Mycroft said with a smile on his face as he took a sip of his pint, finally used to the taste of his beer, he finished off his first glass and he started onto the second. "It would be pleasant to watch it, I am making no promises though as there might be an international cris."

"There better not be one, as I want to want to see your face when Bath loses as the Waps have been doing rather well recently." Lestrade said with a smirk.

"I am positive that Bath is going to win. If I am wrong I will buy you a drink." Mycroft said with a smirk. "That reminds me that I owe you money for mine." Mycroft said as reached for his wallet.

"Don't bother Mycroft, it is what friends do for another." Lestrade said, a smirk formed on his lips. "You can just buy me all the drinks I want after Bath loses."

"Gregory I can easily reassure you that I won't be buying you a drink as I am positive my team is going to win if you like it or not." Mycroft replied. "I will bet you one it."

"Oh is that a challenge?" Lestrade asked, "I will take you up on it then." He looked at his watch and he quietly swore under his breath. "I didn't realise how late it had gotten, I really need to head off and make a start of his paperwork."

Mycroft checked his watch and Lestrade was right, as the time had flown past as he was spoken to Lestrade. He didn't want to go in particular but Lestrade and himself had other commitments outside of the safe atmosphere of the Mule and Stallion. Lestrade drained the rest of his pint and he put his coat on and slung his rucksack over his shoulder, Mycroft followed and he did the same.

"I know this is a strange request but may I borrow your phone, mine has lost all battery and I am not using a phone box as they are probably really unhygienic." Mycroft asked once they had left the pub and were standing outside, the snow had finally stopped but the air was bitterly cold and it took the breath from Mycroft.

"Not a problem mate." Lestrade said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and a box of cigarettes. He passed the phone to Mycroft and offered him a cigarette both of which Mycroft accepted with a smile.

Mycroft quickly phoned his assistant and the car was going to be there to pick him up in ten minutes. He passed the phone back to Lestrade and he was soon given a light for his cigarette from Lestrade who already had his in teeth.

"Are you not going home yet?" Mycroft asked as he blew out a puff of smoke. "You don't have to wait around until my car comes."

"I only live down the road, I don't mind waiting. It saves you waiting alone in the dark." Lestrade said as he took out his cigarette from his mouth and he tapped it against his fingers to let some of the ash out. "Plus if you get murdered , it will allow me to give you a decent case for your brother to solve."

Mycroft let out a loud chuckle that soon resulted in Lestrade laughing as well. "I doubt that he would want to solve my murder, but he may be forced to do it with the encouragement of our parents."

Lestrade laughed again and he stopped and he had a look of curiosity on his face. "Do you think that John has made your brother better or worse?"

Mycroft threw his cigarette to the ground and he put it t out with the heel of his shoe, and thought carefully for a moment. "I believe that John Watson is a good man and I trust him with my brother's life and my brother needs him in so many ways. Through emotional needs and danger nights, and I will always be thankful for their meeting. But I also think that John has made him worse, as Sherlock has been getting into more trouble with John at his side. And John has made my brother more human, so I should be thankful for that."

"What do you mean by that?" Lestrade asked.

"John watson is one of the first people to show that someone like my brother or myself can be loved, and I never thought that would happen." Mycroft slowly replied as he noticed his car driving up to the pavement.

"Do you think that it would happen to you?" Lestrade asked.

Mycroft let out a cold laugh as he started to make his way to the car, he opened up the door before he was about to step into the car he looked at Lestrade and said ."Sherlock has a heart, I have one as well. Mine is made out of stone and I doubt that it could beat even if I wanted it to. I am myself, how can anyone love that when they are few who can accept that?" Lestrade looked puzzled and with the way the street lamp hit his face, Mycroft swore he looked a bit upset from his comment. "Goodnight Gregory." Mycroft got into the car and the car started to drive away from Lestrade the moment that Mycroft closed the door.

Mycroft looked into the window and Lestrade was becoming more and more of a blur as the car went further away from him. A sense of regret filled Mycroft as he realised that he might have said too much and it was definitely more that he wouldn't have dreamed of saying in the slightest. He closed his eyes as he let out a sigh when he dug into his jacket pocket to pull out a packet of painkillers as a headache was starting to make itself known. His fingers touched Sherlock's list that he had left in his pocket from his visit in Baker Street. He was meant to tell Lestrade about his brother's plan and operation Goldfish but he had forgotten about warning him about the potential for a deal owl to be in his flat and it wasn't something that he would say to a new friend. THe next time he saw Lestrade he would tell him about the owl.

A low buzz came out of Mycroft's spare phone, and the screen showed that he had two new messages on his phone from Lestrade.

_You shouldn't say things like that about yourself. You are Mycroft and I rather like who he is. _

_Cheer up, and you better hope that Bath doesn't lose the game otherwise you will be paying for a lot of drinks. _

"What are you smiling at?" Anthea asked with her eyes still focused on the road. "Who has been sending you messages?"

"A friend." Mycroft said with a smile on his face. "Anthea make sure that next Saturday is going to be cleared off as I have an important meeting that I have to attend and a bet to settle."


	5. The Rugby Game

Out of all the things in the world, Lestrade would never thought that he would have a friend in Mycroft Holmes. It was something that he would never thought that would happen to him, as to be honest Mycroft didn't look like the type of bloke to have many friends and Lestrade wasn't too sure if why he asked Mycroft to be his friend, but there was something in Greg that saw that Mycroft probably needed someone to be a friend to him. Lestrade had followed the advice that his mother had told him on his first day of primary school_, if you see someone who looks like they need to have a friend, just be that friend for them_. It was simple advice and Greg would try and follow it the most that he oculd. And being honest it paid off in a way, especially in the fact that Greg soon found out that being friends with Mycroft had some perks.

Even though he had been friends with Mycroft for about a week, Greg had already been gifted with football tickets to see his favourite team in the box, instead of being forced to sit in the stalls with everyone else. When this happened Lestrade was rather shocked, mostly as he had just been escorted by a large security guard out of the his seats in the stall of the stadium without the guard telling him anything, Lestrade soon found himself forced into one of the box seats with a pint shoved into his hand. Greg knew it was Mycroft's doing due to the fact that no one else would do something like that for him and Lestrade himself knew that he hadn't done anything special to gain such treatment. Greg didn't expect anything from being friends with Mycroft, well actually he did, but it wasn't in positions or money, all that Greg expected was to have someone who would be there for him and he would be there for them, and someone who he could have a laugh with. But that was all, as Lestrade was a simple man, even though he had to admit that the new watch that he found on his desk at his work was a rather nice thing to get due to the fact that his last watch had been pinched from his desk by someone-Lestrade thought that was outrageous and it just seemed impossible for something to get stolen in a police station.

Mycroft was already waiting for him outside the Mule and Stallion when Lestrade had finally managed to turn up to the bar twenty minutes late despite the fact that he had only lived about a minute away from the bar. Lestrade raised a hand up in greeting to the other man who seemed to be occupied with his phone and he had a serious expression on his face-Lestrade reckoned that it was caused by the fact that he was probably caused by a rather boring conversation or due to the fact that Mycroft was standing outside in the snow just in his suit and his umbrella without a jacket.

"Alright?" Lestrade said as he made his way over to the bar and he clapped Mycroft's shoulder hard.

"Cold." Mycroft replied with the upper corners of his mouth curling up into a smile as he looked down at Lestrade's wrist and saw the new watch that he was wearing. "I see that you got the watch." 

Lestrade looked down at his own wrist and moved the sleeve of his coat up further so that the other man could see it better. The watch was clearly something that Lestrade wouldn't have bought for himself as he was positive that the price tag for it was probably four figures and the last watch that Lestrade had bought for himself was one that he got into a charity shop for ten pounds and even then it was concerned to be slightly expensive for Lestade's taste. "Nice thing you decided to get me, the football tickets were great as well."

Mycroft gave Lestrade a smile that was definitely a lot brighter than the one that he had on his face before. "I hope that they weren't too much, but friends do things like that for another don't they?"

"They do things like that for birthdays and important occasions I guess." Lestrade said as he tried to recall the amount of times he had actually given a friend something like a watch or just a gift for the hell of it just like what Mycroft was doing. Normally Lestrade would just buy them a beer and things would be over like that. " You don't need to get me anything you know that. You are not needing to bribe me for friendship, we are already friends."

"If it is any consolation for you," Mycroft said as he moved into the Mule and Stallion and took down his umbrella opening it and closing it a few times to make the little snow that was on it fly off into the ground. "The watch was a birthday gift from a government official from Berlin, I didn't care for it much and it's not my usual when it comes to watches. I do prefer pocket watches to be honest."

Lestrade moved over to the table that he and Mycroft occupied the last time they had went to the bar together, however Lestrade switched sides of the chair so that Mycroft was in the chair closer to the radiator due to the fact that the other man had complained about the cold, Lestrade kept his own coat on as he was feeling the cold from being outside, "So it was your birthday this week then?"

"Unfortunately so, it's actually today." Mycroft said with a shrug as he inspected the menu of the table. "I'm thinking about red wine to start off with as I do hate that beer you have been ordering for us."

"Your birthday is today?" Lestrade asked even though he was extremely aware of the fact that he had just asked a very stupid question that made Mycroft roll his eyes in response to his question. "Don't you have anything better to do than spend your birthday in a shitty pub with me?"

"My birthday isn't anything important." Mycroft responded with a shrug as he didn't look up from the drinks menu, looking rather interested in it. "I'm spending it with friends and we are going to watch rugby and have drinks. Isn't this what people are meant to do on birthdays? I couldn't face going home and having a family dinner and being forced to endure happy birthday sang to me,"

"Fair enough," Lestrade smiled as he walked over to the bar and ordered his usual from the bar. "I won't promise that I won't sing happy birthday to you after a few pints though." He said as he came back from the bat with a pint of his usual and a pretentious sounding red wine for Mycroft. The name of the wine was so above Lestrade's level of French , that he ended up just pointing to the word on the menu to the bartender. Lestrade was pretty sure that he put his French grandfather to shame and he was probably rolling around in his coffin.

"Please don't do that." Mycroft said with a sigh." I have already have had to face a muffin basket from my brother-I believe that he is trying to sabotage my diet again. I don't know if he is just starting to go insane from the pain medication." He took the glass that Lestrade handed him and swirled it around and smelled it. "You have a good choice in wines. Chateauneut du Pape."

"Brothers love them or loathe them. Regardless of that you have to put up with them, family is family after all." Lestrade commented as he sipped at his drink. "You must have good wine tasting ability if you knew what wine that was. I'm just impressed that you can even tell what that wine is just by smelling it." 

"I've done a few wine tasting trips during business conferences. Some ambassadors I have met over the last few years are only willing to talk business in more informal settings and once they have had a few sips of wine in them. It is not to my standards but I can't really complain." Mycroft's lips curled up for a second. "I also heard the barkeep correctly say the name of the wine that you were trying to order. I thought that you would have got past the point in your life where you point to the word that you are trying to say when you don't know how it sounds."

"In my defence, I haven't really spoken French since I left secondary school, and the last time that I tried to speak French, it was on my last night of freedom before I got married and my brother thought that we were in France when we woke up in a field the next morning in Nottinghamshire."

"I take it that this happened after a high consumption of alcohol." Mycroft asked after letting out a warm chuckle that forced Lestrade's smile to come out. "So you have a brother then?" Lestrade knew that Mycroft only asked that to be polite as he was pretty sure that Mycroft probably had access to a file on each of his family members, being honest he wouldn't put it past Mycroft.

"Yeah, just got the one, thankfully. Henry is a right cock being honest." Lestrade said as he lent back on his chair and he continued to sip at his drink. "He's the better looking one out of the two of us, his hair isn't grey. I'm the one who has the cooler job, he's only an accountant." 

"Being a detective inspector is definitely 'cooler,' as you say than just being an accountant." Mycroft said, wrinkling his nose at the word 'cool,' as if it was that unpleasant to say. "I've done accountancy and it was rather tedious."

"I take it that you did that before you went into your current job whatever it is. I can't actually imagine you doing that, I can only imagine you in a position of power. "

"I'm glad that you think that about me." Mycroft said with a nod as he drowned the rest of his glass of wine and gestured to the bar for two more drinks. "I would rather be an accountant than being a personal assistant again, that was the worst carer that I ever had. It makes me more and more thankful for the job I have even though I do detest some of the paperwork I have to do, though I would rather do that than legwork."

"You were a personal assistant?" Lestrade asked in a tone of disbelief, mostly as he struggled to believe that Mycroft Holmes who was a man of power and intimidation once worked as a personal assistant and would get ordered around by his superior and probably had to do menial tasks such as filing, taking notes in meetings and probably bringing them cups of tea. It just seemed impossible to think that Mycroft would do a job like that.

"Unfortunately I was, four years I was doing that job." Mycroft said with a sigh. The waitress came over with two drinks and put them on the table. Mycroft reached over into his pocket to pay for the drinks, however he was stopped by Lestrade who quickly reached into his wallet and pulled out a note and passed it to her. When Mycroft was about to protest about the drinks, Lestrade shut him down with a glare that Just made Mycroft go quiet.

"Don't worry about it, it's your birthday." Lestrade said as he started to drink his pint. He looked up at the TV when he started to hear cheering from people in the bar. He noticed that the other people in the bar were cheering at the rugby game that had come to a close. He had been talking to Mycroft for about an hour and a half and he didn't even notice that the rugby game was on the telly, despite the fact that the rugby was the main reason why he was hanging out with the other man. However despite the fact that he had missed the rugby, Lestrade had begun to see that Mycroft was more human than he thought and he had noticed that the two of them had a connection of some sort, despite the fact that the two of them hadn't hit it off right away at the start, Lestrade was positive that the two of them had found a way to mesh together and it was probably a sign of a good friendship.

"Looks like the Wasps won then." Mycroft said with a nod towards the television. "I'm not aware if we were having a bet on or not. I'm rather disappointed at the lost of Bath, they had been doing so well recently." 

"I did tell you last week that the Wasps were the better team." Lestrade said with a smirk. "I would say that you could buy me a drink for the victory of my team, however you shouldn't have to pay for drinks today. Conversation is good enough for me."

"That is reassuring to know." Mycroft said as he folded his fingers under his chin. " The conversation part of your statement not the part about the drinks. My birthday is just another day, and the world still turns regardless if I was born on this day." 

"Your birthday is important and we are celebrating with drinks." Lestrade said, "We are going to spend the rest of the night doing what you want."

"Conversation is just plenty for me." Mycroft commented. "You can chose the topic and ask questions if you want."

Lestrade thought carefully for a moment before he looked down at Mycroft's finger and he noticed the ring on there. It was a simple gold band that looked like a wedding ring. Was Mycroft married? Mycroft never mentioned being attached to someone before and being honest, Lestrade never thought that he would be interested in relationships as he seemed to be a man who was married to his work. "Alright I've got one question. What's with the ring? You married or something?" He asked as he nodded at the ring.

Mycroft looked down at his finger and removed the ring that was on it and started to fiddle around with it with his long, thin fingers. "No I'm unattached." He said quietly. "The ring is for personal reasons."

"Why's that? If you don't mind me asking." Lestrade asked.

"It was my grandfathers." Mycroft replied simply. "We were close. The ring also prevents awkward encounters at the job, you would be surprised how people offer intercourse in the return of a few documents being passed through. They see the ring and most of the advances are called off. "

"I can imagine how awkward that must be for you." Lestrade said with a raise of his eyebrows. "Fortunately, I never have had that issue at work. I can imagine the look of horror you must have when a women tries to seduce you for a few papers."

"Fortunately I don't get too phased by that." Mycroft commented. "I don't get phased too much at work by encounters with women."

"Definitely married to the job then?" Lestrade asked with a forced chuckle as he realised that Mycroft looked slightly uncomfortable at all of his questions and he wondered if he should stop asking questions but it was probably his only opportunity to find out more about the other man who was strangely intriguing and there was definitely more to him than meets the eye. "No chance of you seeing anyone on the side?"

"You seem to be awfully interested in my life, if I didn't know you I would be assuming that you were trying to get me to ask you out for dinner." Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lestrade felt his ears turn red. "No…I'm not asking….I'm not." Lestrade stuttered, feeling tempted to hide under the table and wait until the hurricane of embarrassment to finally pass. "I'm not asking, no. I'm divorced and I'm focusing on the career right now." He lamely said.

"I'm definitely married to my job." Mycroft replied coldly. "Thank you for your clear protests though, it was reassuring for you to tell me." He drowned off the rest of his wine and stood up. "I should be going, I have a meeting I have to attend to in the morning. He reached into his wallet and placed a few notes on the table. "Now we are even, I don't want to make you feel like this is a date or anything." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another piece of paper. "I recommend that you read this."

Lestrade sighed and covered his face in his hands feeling like he had messed up massively and he had probably made an enemy out of Mycroft Holmes and it would probably be a nicer fate to be dead than by an enemy of a Holmes. He stood up as Mycroft made his way to the door. "Mycroft wait."

Mycroft stopped at the door for the minute and gave him a questioning glare. "I'm sorry." Lestrade said, not knowing what to say to Mycroft. Mycroft only rolled his eyes and left the bar and from the window Lestrade could see out of, he saw Mycroft enter a black car that drove away the minute that Mycroft had closed the door. Lestrade let out a sigh and wondered why it had upset Mycroft so much.

He looked down at the piece of paper that Mycroft had given him and he started to read it and discovered it was a list. _Operation Goldfish_ was the title on the piece of paper. Lestrade recognised Sherlock's handwriting and when he saw the mention of the dead owl in his flat, Lestrade stared at the piece of paper in disbelief. Why would Sherlock want to put a dead bird in his flat? Why was Sherlock wanting to get him and Mycroft together? Maybe it was the reason why Mycroft reacted like that?

The only thing that Lestrade could really think about doing right now was have another drink as he felt like a right tosser for acting like that to Mycroft, and it was even worse due to the fact that it was Mycroft's birthday as well. Lestrade wouldn't be surprised if he had help create the worst birthday ever for Mycroft. Lestrade did managed to ruin several people's birthdays before. He ruined his brother's eighteenth by getting alcohol poisoning and having to be taken to the emergency room to get his stomach pumped right before the cake had come out. He had also ruined an old girlfriend's birthday by breaking up with her on her birthday-that was an accident as Lestrade had been going out with the girl for a short amount of time and he didn't even know her birthday. Lestrade managed to ruin his own birthday years ago which was caused by the fact that it was the first time had had let Sherlock onto a crime scene and he ended up getting pushed into a river-technically that was Sherlock's fault but Lestrade took the fall for it.

After a few drinks Lestrade looked at the list once more before pulling out his phone and sending a few messages. One for Sherlock, another for John and one for Mycroft.

_Why are you putting an owl in my flat? –GL_

_What is Sherlock doing with Operation Goldfish? –GL_

_Can we talk? It's about Operation Goldfish. –GL_

Lestrade only got one message back. The message that he had received was from an unknown number.

_Mr Holmes is unavailable right now. If you have the need to speak with him, please arrange a meeting with him. –Anthea._

Lestrade let out another sigh and wondered if there was an award for being the biggest arsehole in the whole of Britain and he wondered if he had won it. The only solution was to go home and stop himself from making a bigger idiot of himself and watch the rugby game he had missed with Mycroft the goldfish.


	6. Operation Dolphin

Lestrade hammered on the door of 221B for several minutes until he could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. It wasn't too late at night as it was only ten at night, even though he didn't understand why it was taking Sherlock or John so long to go down the stairs as normally the two were up about this time. Well he could expect Sherlock to take a little longer to go down the stairs due to the cast. Lestrade looked at the list that Mycroft had given him and wondered what Mycroft thought about the list. Mycroft was probably extremely unamused by it, however he wasn't too sure about the matters Mycroft had done to end this Operation Goldfish. Lestrade was convinced that Mycroft would probably let Sherlock put the dead owl in his flat especially after their conversation at the pub.

John appeared at the door, his hair sticking up like someone had been running their fingers in his hair, he was wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns and there was a small bruise on his neck that peered out from the collar of his dressing gown. Maybe he had come at the wrong time, at least tonight Sherlock and John were having a good time this night unlike Greg himself.

"Good night then John?" Greg asked with a nod at his head to the other man. John just looked unamused, clearly it was just time to just take things direct to the point and it would be a lot less painful for everyone involved. "I was wanting to speak to Sherlock." 

"Can't this wait?" John asked impatiently as he tried to hide the mark on his neck with his hand. He looked almost embarrassed. Well it was good to know that Sherlock's injury hadn't prevented any good times for him and John. "It is late at night and Sherlock and I were in bed?" 

"I really need to speak to Sherlock," Lestrade shoved his fist into his pocket and he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper that was hastily shoved into his pocket before he had left the pub. John took the piece of paper and his eyes went wide as he read it. Lestrade was pretty sure that the list of Sherlock's plan was meant to stay within the walls of Bakers Street. "You can kind of see why, I kind of wanting to see him. It is a bit of a matter of importance. Mycroft isn't too happy about it as well." 

At the mention of his brother's name, Sherlock seemed to come alive and he made his presence known. His rumbling voice made its way down the stairs. "Jawn," He called out, his voice sounding gruffer than normal. Lestrade had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop laughing at 'Jawn,' which was used instead of John. "Let Geoff come in." 

John looked reluctant to let him in to the flat, however he moved away from the door and he let Greg in. He took the lead going up the stairs, mumbling to himself that Sherlock better have at least a bedsheet on minimum. Greg himself hoped that Sherlock was wearing even more than just the bedsheet as even though he had known the man for years, he wasn't prepared to be that acquainted with Sherlock with little to no clothing. Sherlock was sprawled out on the couch when Lestrade and John had entered the Livingroom, thankfully, he was wearing his dressing gown instead of just the sheet, his hair was even more messed up than normal and there were a few marks on his neck that he didn't bother trying to hide unlike John. He was displaying a rather blissful look on his face. Even though Lestrade was slightly disgusted at the thought that he had interrupted his two friends while they were being intimate, but strange enough, Greg was rather happy to know that Sherlock's injury didn't stop him having a good time with John. In the past Greg had thought that when John was wanting to have sex with Sherlock , he would cover himself in tomato sauce and he would lie on the floor in the attempt to resemble a corpse to get Sherlock's attention. Greg had a quick glance around the flat for tomato sauce and he made sure to give John more than just a quick glance to see if he was wearing any sauce on him.

"Ah George," Sherlock said as he placed his hands under his chin. "What do I owe this visit?"

"Greg." Lestrade corrected him with a roll of his eyes as he moved to sit on the edge of John's chair in the fear that it had been used impartially by Sherlock and John. "You know why I am here."

"So my brother sent you here then?" Sherlock asked with a slightly amused look on his face. "John do you want to put the kettle on?" John stood up with a grumble about how he was the one to make the tea and do all the jobs like get the milk while all Sherlock seemed to do was put his jacket collar up and try look all cool with his cheekbones.

"John you don't need to make tea; I have the feeling that you are involved in this somehow." Lestrade said with a sigh as he beckoned John to sit on the couch with Sherlock. John followed and he had an incredibly guilty look on his face compared to Sherlock who just looked amused. "First things first, Sherlock and John, are either of you wearing pants?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock and John looked at another for a brief moment which felt like several minutes. The two of them looked at another with smug smiles on their faces before looking over to Greg and bursting out laughing. Greg decided to take that answer was a firm no, Lestrade decided that she should have consider himself to be lucky as the two men were wearing dressing gowns at least to make up for the lack of underpants.

"Right, I don't know how to start this up but," Lestrade went into his pocket and he pulled out the list that Mycroft had given him and he passed it over to Sherlock as he was probably the mastermind of this plan. Sherlock took the list in one hand, he just looked slightly relieved instead of having a look of guilt on his face.

"I've been looking for this, I thought that John had thrown it away when he was cleaning the flat." Sherlock said. "Have you read it?" He asked. The look of innocence that Sherlock had on his face was almost sickening. He was acting like he hadn't done anything wrong with this stupid plan and that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Of course I've read it, your brother has read it as well." Lestrade said, hoping that the mention of Mycroft would drive the point of how stupid the idea of Operation Goldfish was, how was putting a dead owl in his flat going to achieve anything? Why was Sherlock even wanting him and Mycroft to go get together? It was stupid questions that made Lestrade wonder how far was Sherlock willing to go to get what he was wanting. The only result of this stupid plan was that Mycroft was no in a huff with him, however Lestrade could understand why Mycroft was no longer speaking to him as he had basically ruined the other man's birthday.

"Oh has he now?" Sherlock asked. "So you know about our plan?"

"It is your plan." John corrected him with a sigh. "Greg, I don't have anything to do with this. Sherlock is just dragging me into this plan of his. One day he got this idea of getting you and his brother together he came up with the idea when he was in the hospital and he was on pain medication, and with how stupid this idea is, you can tell that he was on the strong stuff." John said with a sigh.

"Regardless of whose plan this it's a bloody stupid one." Greg sighed, he took the list from Sherlock's hand and he started to read the list out loud. When he had gotten to the point of, 'Put a dead owl in Lestrade's flat,' Greg sent his best glare over to Sherlock who just looked happy with himself when his plan was being read out. "Why are you putting a dead owl in my flat? There has to be so method for this madness that is coming over you. I don't know if it is the fact that you are being kept in doors and you are bored, or you are just a very strange man who likes to make me suffer?"

"Mostly because I'm bored." Sherlock replied with a shrug, he sat up on the sofa and wrapped his dressing gown around himself tighter before discreetly giving John's arm a squeeze resulting in the other man giving him a warm smile. "My brother deserves to be happy, despite the fact that my brother is annoying and he has the problem of not being able to keep his large nose out of things and he can't lose those last ten pounds, but regardless of everything he deserves to be happy…George, you've done a lot for me in the last few years…more than you would ever know. I'm thankful for all, and I think that you should be happy as well."

Lestrade let his mouth drop. The words that he was going to say were now unimportant and they were forgotten, he didn't even brother correcting Sherlock. He had known Sherlock Holmes for at five years now, and he was still amazed at the other man. Sherlock Holmes was a great man, as Lestrade had hoped over the years, Sherlock had become a good man in his own way even though it was an idea that seemed completely impossible during the first few encounters that Lestrade had with Sherlock Holmes. Despite the madness that Sherlock was causing him and his brother, he maybe did have the best interests at heart even if it means that a dead owl was going into his flat. Sherlock's motives were good at least.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Sherlock asked with a look of confusion on his face, he nuged John several times. "John, Lestrade is looking at me funny and he has been drinking. Help."

"He's just shocked that you have some kindness in you, you big sod." John said, rubbing Sherlok's arm. "Greg, Sherlock is meaning no harm. It's not like he's planning to kill you or his brother. He's just wanting you and Mycroft to be friends. That is what he is meaning by you to being together. He just wants you to have what Sherlock and I have in the means of friendship." 

Lestrade nodded as he didn't know what to say anymore. Maybe Sherlock just sensed that he needed a friend and that Mycroft needed one as well? Greg had no idea why Mycroft had acted the way that he did in the Mule and Stallion, perhaps he was just stressed from work or something? That had to be it. Mycroft did have a rather stressful job after all. His reaction was probably one of stress, and the topic of his personal life was in the air, Mycroft was probably just uncomfortable with that.

Deciding what was the better thing to do, Lestrade decided to leave. He would let Sherlock and John get back to what they were doing before. Leaving just seemed like the better thing to do in this situation. He would text Mycroft later and just apologise for making the other man uncomfortable and hopefully it would make things better and the two can resume their friendship back at the safe point.

"Right, I'm going to go now." Lestrade, stood up and placed his coat back on. "I'm going to leave you to get back onto what you are doing and I want no dead owls in my flat. " He said, nodding in Sherlock's direction. "I am meaning it or you can find yourself into a cell for the night for all the things that I have let slide through the years. I could have you arrested for going into crime scenes."

"Fine, no dead owl," Sherlock said with a sigh. "It wasn't like I was going to put one in your bed anyway."

"No you would leave it in the bathtub or you leave it in the oven." John replied.

Greg felt slightly relieved for some reason. He didn't know why he felt this inexplicable sense of relief, but it was mostly due to the fact that Greg rarely used his oven, so he wouldn't be in trouble right away and he wouldn't have to deal with cremated owl when he tried to make lasagne. Even the owl in the bathtub wouldn't be a bother for him right away, mostly as Greg always just showered at work or at the gym. The only thing that would concern Greg about the owl in the bath would be that he would get a fright in the middle of the night when he would go to the bathroom and he would be greeted with the sight of dead owl eyes staring at him.

"Regardless of where you are going to put it, there are no dead owls going to be in any area of my flat. I will arrest you for breaking and entering." 

"I've got the message, Gerald." Sherlock said with a large eye roll. "If you are going, make sure to close the door properly. I don't want Mrs Hudson comparing us to Mrs Turners married ones."

Greg decided that it was probably the best that he left then. He made sure to properly close the door and he could hear Sherlock and John mumbling to themselves as he went down the stairs. Deciding to risk getting stabbed by walking home, Lestrade took to the street. He sent off a few messages off to Mycroft once more.

_I was talking to your brother. Turns out that he was wanting us to be friends. -GL_

_Don't know why he is wanting us to be friends, and why he has made a plan for it.. -GL_

_Want to go and talk sometime about this ? -GL _

Greg sighed when he had only received a message from Mycroft's personal assistant, saying that Mycroft was out of the hours and if he was wanting to get into contact with the other man he was going to have to arrange a meeting with him. Greg let out a sigh and he shoved his phone into his pocket as he walked back to his flat in the hopes that he wouldn't get stabbed. He needed to give Mycroft a few days at least and hopefully Mycroft would have decided to forgive him. Lestrade doubted that as Mycroft wasn't the forgiving type. Hopefully the thing would blow over before their next meeting.

One day later after his disastrous meeting with Lestrade, Mycroft found a birthday card at his desk and there were several text messages on his phone from Lestrade. Mycroft smiled when he saw the birthday card as he couldn't remember for the life of him when he last received one from someone who isn't his mother. However the card wasn't enough to mask the feeling of something that Mycroft hadn't experienced before and why it was caused when Lestrade had confirmed that he wasn't interested in anything more than just his career, like Mycroft himself. There was no reason for Mycroft getting upset, perhaps it was the feeling of sadness that Lestrade wasn't wanting anything else in life. Mycroft was happy he had finally had some success in the area of making a friend, but there was something missing in his life. Maybe he was wanting to be Lestrade's Watson or for Lestrade to be his Watson. That had to be it. With a sigh Mycroft sent a message over to Anthea for her to tell Lestrade that if he was wanting to be in contact with him, Lestrade would have to arrange a meeting. It looked cold and detached, but that is how Mycroft liked things to be, even when they were on the matters of friendship. If Lestrade was wanting to speak to him, he would arrange the meeting and things would go back to a relatively normal state. Mycroft let out a sigh and reached over for the piece of cake that he had been eyeing up for the last ten minutes. The diet could start back up tomorrow, Mycroft thought as he looked at the treadmill that was on the other side of the room. Mycroft averted his eyes from the machine and moved back to looking at the card again. Before Mycroft knew it, he was licking the icing from his fingers. '_To the hell with it_,' Mycroft thought as he placed the card to the side and started digging in. The cake was going to be the only thing that would keep him sane in the stupidity of Operation Goldfish.

John walked into the flat to be greeted with the sight of Sherlock who was hunched over his laptop, furiously typing away on it. Sherlock's bright orange cast had been removed after a morning appointment in the hospital and now he was supporting a leg support and a new set of crutches. Sherlock did have crutches before but they had somehow managed to get broken in a fit of boredom when Sherlock decided to use them as a pocking device to get John's attention across the room. Sherlock seemed in better spirits once the cast was removed.

Sherlock looked up from the laptop for a brief second before going back to work. "John, you were taking a bit long for that tea. I've been waiting for about ten minutes for it."

John bit back a sound of laughter as he gave Sherlock his best eye roll even though it meant nothing, he just tended to do it out of habit as he had picked it up from Sherlock. "I've been gone for more than ten minutes; I've been at work once you came back from the hospital." 

The other man blinked in surprise several times before he looked away from the laptop, like it was realisation had washed over him and he was surprised that it had been more than ten minutes since his request for tea was made. "So are you making me tea now?" He asked. He pushed the laptop away from himself and he ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

John moved into the kitchen and he started the calming ritual of making tea. Deciding that today was a celebration of some sort as Sherlock got the cast off he took out a packet of chocolate hobnobs. "What are you working on? Is it a case, I'm sure that you will get it solved in no time." 

"Not a case unfortunately." Sherlock sighed and he placed his fingers under his chin. "I'm working on operation Goldfish."

"There is no point in doing operation Goldfish anymore, the two of them know about it. There is no point in doing it when they know about the plan." Sherlock replied, as he grabbed a biscuit that John passed him and he took a large bite of the biscuit.

"Operation Goldfish is just part one of the plan and was just to throw them off." Sherlock said with a through a mouthful of hobnob, spraying crumbs onto the keyboard. John bit back the sigh as he realised that he will be spending a large amount of his evening removing crumbs from his computer. "Do you think that I was going to let the real plan get into my hands of my brother?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow and a smug look on his face. "Besides, I remember what you were saying to Lestrade about our plan. He is positive that he is just going to be Mycroft's Watson thanks to you. I know lots of things about you John, but I never knew that you could be that cunning."

"The things that you learn about me, I'm just like a box of chocolates there are lots of possibilities when it comes to me." John smiled.

"Chocolate is boring." Sherlock said, even though it was pretty clear that he didn't think that as he was already onto his second hobnob. Who would have thought that the great Sherlock Holmes would have a weakness for chocolate biscuits? " I'm working on the new plan. Operation Dolphin."  
Sherlock passed John the laptop and John scanned the document that Sherlock had been working on.

"There are no dead owls in this plan." John pointed out. "That is already a considerable improvement over the last one. I don't know if I like the name of 'Love Squad,' for us. Who is in the Love Squad?" John asked with a look of confusion on his face.

"You and Myself. Mrs Hudson, Anetha. Molly. Mrs. Turners married ones and that cat lady who lives next to Lestrade. " Sherlock listed off. "Angelo might be a good candidate for joining the squad, he does have a restaurant." Sherlock started typing into his laptop again. "This plan isn't too detailed at the moment, that is because my brother and Gary need to do some of the work themselves."

"You know that his name is Greg." John stated with a sigh. "If this plan goes work and it follows the last step of the plan, 'marriage,' you are going to need to remember the name of your future brother in law."

"Lestrade should be happy that I call him Gary rather than Dolphin." Sherlock shrugged. "We need to start part one of operation Dolphin, we need to take my brother and Lestrade out for dinner."


End file.
