
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/843942.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Gen, F/F
  Fandom:
      James_Bond_-_All_Media_Types, James_Bond_(Craig_movies), Sherlock_Holmes
      &_Related_Fandoms, Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Mycroft_Holmes/Greg_Lestrade, Siger_Holmes/Olivia_Mansfield, Sherlock
      Holmes/John_Watson, James_Bond/Q, Sherrinford_Holmes/Annabeth_Holmes,
      Mycroft_Holmes/Past_OMC, Mycroft_Holmes/OFC
  Character:
      Mycroft_Holmes, Sherlock_Holmes, Siger_Holmes, Olivia_Mansfield, Holmes'
      Father_(Sherlock), Mummy_(Sherlock), Alcott_Holmes, Sherrinford_Holmes,
      Rishley_Holmes, Q_(James_Bond), M_(James_Bond), Mike_Stamford, John
      Watson, Annabeth_Holmes, Anthea_(Sherlock)
  Additional Tags:
      Family_Bonding, Dysfunctional_Family, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics,
      Alpha!Mycroft, Alpha!Sherlock, Alpha!Sherrinford, Omega!Mike, Omega!John,
      Omega!Annabeth, Omega!Alcott, Alpha!James, Overprotective!Mycroft,
      Misunderstood!Mycroft, manipulative!Mycroft, Romantic!Oldschool!Mycroft,
      Fluff_and_Angst, There_will_be_old_school_dime_novel_courting_in_the_last
      two_chappies, I_Believe_in_Mycroft_Holmes, Rough_Sex, Face-Fucking,
      Vaginal_Sex, Rutting, Prostitution, Surprise!_Mycroft_is_really_good_at
      sex, Public_Sex, Car_Sex, Dirty_Talk, Blow_Jobs, Oral_Knotting, Mutual
      Masturbation
  Series:
      Part 7 of M_is_for_Mummy
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-14 Completed: 2014-10-04 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 27378
****** Behind Blue Eyes ******
by Rhiw
Summary
     Seven times Mycroft Holmes is forcibly reminded that he feels like
     everyone else.
     0. Grief - Mycroft can remember the first time Sherlock called him
     ‘daddy.' ((No longer considered cannon to this story, but I've kept
     it up))
     1. Fear - For the first time in years, Mycroft found himself utterly
     afraid and unprepared.
     2. Disappointment - Though the Alpha knew this outcome would happen,
     he could not fight the biting disappointment.
     3. Lust - He hated his ruts.
     4. Interest - And yet…there was something interesting about Lestrade,
     something that made him impossible to forget completely.
     5. Attraction - The attraction he felt towards Gregory was the
     strongest he'd ever felt towards anyone.
     6. Affection - It wasn’t quite love, but it was close; a deep and
     binding affection, a budding sense of possession and obligation, and
     Mycroft took his obligations very seriously.
     7. Love - Love, the Alpha realized all at once, that was what the
     emotion was called.
     +1. Family - Yet the Alpha could hardly deny that it had never looked
     as fine as it did today, filled to the brim with his suddenly rather
     expansive family.
***** Grief (No longer canoncial part of this story) *****
Chapter Summary
     **This chapter is no longer considered canonical to this series now
     that Sherlock's 'death' has been explained, but I kept it up because
     I'm very fond of it.
Chapter Notes
     This is four days after the fall and inspired by one of my favorite
     scenes in the series.
     Mycroft - 43, Sherlock - 36
June 16th, 2012

Mycroft can remember the first time Sherlock called him ‘daddy.’

As he sat silently in Diogenes club, newspaper held in a deceptively calm grip,
the Alpha found himself hating his perfect recall.

Sherlock was one, and having learned to speak early as all Holmes children
tended to do, proceeded to refuse to ever fall silent again. The Alpha had been
as patient as an eight year old could be, helping the pup eat his homemade
squash baby food, as he recorded pertinent information from the business
section into his day journal. It was a familiar scene. With a family full of
high profile, in demand members, the two youngest Holmes pups were often left
alone. Siger Holmes, ever a man dedicated to his craft (despite the fact that
he was supposedly 'retired' at forty-two), was away for work again – a month in
Nice this time – and Mummy rarely made it home before ten o'clock. Even
Sherrinford was away at boarding school.

Mycroft had found it somewhat annoying. He had better things to do, even if he
had only been eight, besides toting his clingy brother around and letting him
gum up his favorite shirts' collars. But he couldn't quite bring himself to
leave Sherlock alone, either. Besides. It was his duty as both an Alpha and the
eldest Holmes' boy in the house too look after him.

The tiny pup chewed slowly, the gooey stuff slowly spilling from his mouth,
head cocked to the side as if considering something as he watched Mycroft read
the newspaper. The older boy ignored him mostly, off-handedly using the baby
spoon to catch dripping food and shovel it back up into Sherlock’s mouth. But
then the baby had begun to steadfastly refuse the spoon entrance, letting out
annoyed little huffing sounds as he bobbed up and down in an attempt to escape
the older Alpha's instance.

After a few more failures, Mycroft had finally set the paper down, turning his
full attention to his brother with a frown, far from in the mood to deal with a
fussy one year old. Sherlock had pointed a dirty, grubby little fist in his
direction and despite the fact that he was a toddler there had been a confident
authority behind the movements.

“Dadda.”

Mycroft mouth had dropped, eyes wide in a rare sign of surprise as he stared at
the tiny boy. He knew it shouldn't have, really. After all their parents were
rarely home and Mycroft did spend most of his time with Sherlock. He helped Nan
feed and bathe him more often than not, picked him up from daycare after school
and always put the little one to bed at night. It was only logical that the pup
would assume…it didn’t mean anything, really.

But Mycroft had felt something warm and undeniable bloom in his chest, a vice
that had locked itself around his heart and only grown tighter and tighter as
Sherlock had matured into brilliance. He’d felt it for both of his younger
siblings, but the love he had for Sherlock – for the first child he had raised
– was all encompassing.

He was a Holmes, and they were not known for encouraging attachments, but
Mycroft had clung to those he had with a fierceness that bordered on obsessive.
And so despite everything that had happen; the rebellion, the drugs, the
younger Alpha’s resentment, Mycroft loved his little brother with every inch of
his being.

And now…

He would never see Sherlock again. Never argue with him. Never hear his brother
tell him how much he hated him. Sherlock. His brave, brilliant, lonely, broken,
little brother was gone. And it was Mycroft's own fault.

He had failed Sherlock.

Just like he had failed Sherrinford.

His brothers were dead.

In the silence of the room, the Alpha allowed himself a deep breath. Only the
slightest twitch, a subtle pull around his eyes, gave any truth to the hurt
that seemed to cut into his very soul. This place had become his only respite.
Only here, in the unbudging privacy that the silence brought, did Mycroft feel
he could grieve.

He sat there for too long. Until they began to shut the lights off and an usher
stood off to the side, searching for a polite way to ask him to leave. It was
only then that Mycroft stood, gathering his hat and overcoat, tucking an
umbrella under his arm before stepping out into the London air. He walked home.
Something that the busy Alpha never did, yet had done every evening for the
last four nights.

It took him almost two hours to reach his home. Anthea waiting for him outside,
her face perfectly composed but Mycroft did not miss the echo of worry behind
her grey eyes. He gave her a nod, but could not manage a smile and took the
portfolio she offered before stepping into his house.

The foyer was dark, but Mycroft didn’t move to turn the light on. He hung up
his cap and coat, slid his umbrella into the holder. Everything was methodical.
Every move precise. He felt terribly remote from his own body, as if he was
floating away yet was kept grounded by his grief and guilt. For a long moment
he simply stared at his front door before making himself turn, fully intending
to go into his library and crack open a 1864 whiskey he’d been saving and
froze.

A scent – an impossible, illogical scent and – there, standing in the shadows
and backlit by the light streaming into his study, was Sherlock.

For a moment, the Alpha thought he was hallucinating, but then Sherlock gave
him that same half-cocked, blasted smile he always did when he knew he’d done
something very naughty, and greeted him with a soft, “Surprised?”

The tone he spoke with was overly casual, but the lines around his face were
tight, his light eyes serious. He was nervous. The younger man looked like
hell; skin an unhealthy white dotted with dark, browning bruising that crept up
the side of Sherlock's neck and chin and graced his forehead like a tarnished
crown.

Mycroft took a long inhale in through his nose, holding the scent of his
brother deep in his lungs before letting it out just as slowly. He crossed the
distance between the two of them in three short strides and the younger Alpha
stiffened, muscles tensing as if preparing for a strike. But Mycroft only
yanked him forward by his lapels. The tall body fell into his own awkwardly,
the size difference causing a moment of in-cohesion as Mycroft attempted to
hold Sherlock like he had when he was still a young pup; all lanky limbs and a
deadly bark with no bite.

The eldest Holmes pressed his forehead against the younger's shoulder, both
hands greedy in their grip as he pressed Sherlock against him. Mycroft took
another deep inhale, allowing himself to relish in Sherlock's own personal
smell, only slightly embittered by the London air and injury.

Sherlock’s own hands came up to his shoulders jerkily, as if unsure, which
Mycroft was sure he was. They hadn’t touched each other on a personal level
since Sherlock had been a boy. He was acting completely and utterly outside of
the realm of his normal behavior. This had not been what Sherlock expected. But
the Alpha didn’t care.

Because Sherlock was alive.

Alive.

Here.

With Mycroft.

His pup.

“Mycroft,” his brother mumbled, his voice carrying the wilted tone of
uncertainty, of apology, “I should have told you before I-”

“Be quiet.” Mycroft ordered, his own voice heavy with emotion. “It was…do you
have any idea what…you were dead, Shirley.” Sherlock let out a sharp exhale at
the childhood nickname, flinching in the older Alpha's arms as if he’d been
struck. “You were dead, and I…”

He broke off, unwilling to carry on when his voice was so obviously compromised
by emotion, and suddenly Mycroft was being held back just as fiercely. They
stood like that, wrapped tightly around each other, soaking in the comfort of
the other’s existence, for far longer than either would ever care to admit.
***** Fear *****
Chapter Summary
     For the first time in years, Mycroft found himself utterly afraid and
     unprepared.
Chapter Notes
     Un-betaed and not brit picked. This is a part of the M is for Mummy-
     verse. For anyone interested, the next chapter for A Private War
     should be released by the end of today as well.
     Sherrinford - 48, Mycroft - 43, Sherlock - 36, Alcott - 31.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
February 27 th, 2011
Sherrinford laid still and unmoving on the slab before him.
His eldest brother’s skin was abnormally pale, making his shock of auburn hair
stand out harshly. They’ve cleaned him well and the only sign of the wounds
that caused his death was the small, craggy hole in the front of his forehead
and the torn skin around the Alpha’s knuckles.
It is his brother’s hands that cut Mycroft the deepest.
Sherrinford had never been much of a fighter. No, the eldest Holmes boy had
always solved his fights with pervasive words and a firm tone, preferably
putting down the conflict before it had ever had a chance to become one. His
brother had always been calm like that; infuriatingly so and had hardly ever
raised his voice.
Perhaps that’s why the bruised knuckles seemed so wrong?
It seems impossible – incredible, even – that this still thing is his larger
than life brother and for a moment Mycroft felt an overwhelming amount of
panic. It clawed at his chest, ripped at his lungs until he has to take a few
steps away from the still form (the body), a hand seeking support on a nearby
stainless steel cabinet.
Mycroft found himself instantly out of his depth; emotions swamping him in a
manner that is completely understandable but not at all acceptable.Alcott and
his nephew were unattended and injured several floors above him. Mummy was
flying in at this very moment. And someone still had to tell Sherlock. Mycroft
was the eldest now, the Pack Alpha. It was his responsibility now to look after
his pack, but he couldn’t think – not when every time he took a breath it felt
like he was swallowing water.
All he could think of was that his big brother had died alone and frightened,
convinced he’d failed to protect the love of his life and his long awaited
heir.
He stared hopelessly and helplessly at his brother’s unmoving form, taken with
an insane urge to leap forward and shake him, to demand he awaken.
Sherrinford had been the only one to ever understand him. The only one who had
truly knew what made Mycroft tick. Unlike Sherlock and Alcott, who had always
viewed him with shifting levels of love tainted by animosity, annoyance, and
indignation, Sherrinford had always treated him as a naïve, callow younger
brother whom he still needed to check up on. The dratted man had always been
correcting his speech and vocabulary, his outfits and hair.
It struck Mycroft quite suddenly that his hair was wrong. Sherrinford would
never be seen as anything less than perfectly groomed and he couldn’t help the
way his feet stuttered forward, a less then level hand carefully, reverently,
combing through tangled hair until it laid in Sherrinford’s usual style.
He pulled back a moment later, but only found to his horror that he had only
managed to make the pale, dead thing look even more like his brother. The Alpha
looked years younger in death and it’s that thought that managed to break the
normally iron-clad man’s will. He let out a choked sound, turning away from the
body, biting fiercely into his knuckle.
Pain blossomed across his skin but it did little to ground him.  
Mycroft’s was terrified. He had never been without Sherrinford. Even his
earliest memory was of him.
He had been lying awake in his bed, curled tightly around his teddy as a raging
storm shook their mansion so hard that he, at two, believed it was about to fly
apart. He was quiet, of course, because he was a Holmes and that’s how Holmes
behaved. Even at two, he knew the rules. That didn’t stop him from shaking,
hiding his tears against the soft, fuzzy warmth of Mister Bear.
When Mycroft felt like he was about to truly die from fear he had felt warm
hands on his small body, detangling him from his blanket and lifting him up
gently. He could still remember the sheer relief and joy that had come from
seeing his much older brother. At seven, Sherrinford Holmes already looked
almost exactly as he would in adulthood, just smaller in dimensions. Mycroft
had linked his hands around his neck, burying his face in the older Alpha's
neck and let him carry him into his room.  
“I’m scwared, Sher’fowd.”He’d whimpered and Sherrinford had scoffed and settled
him down on the plush cushions on the large sette that was stretched in front
of a roaring fireplace. Mycroft had shuddered, grey eyes wide and terrified at
the deep rumbles. He had crawled up into the older boy’s lap, pressing his wet
and snotty nose into the crook of his brother’s neck and shoulder. The seven
year old didn’t seem disturbed by the sudden stickiness, deftly wrapping a knit
blanket around Mycroft body and head as if it was an oversized cloak. His word
had narrowed down to the warmth of Sherrinford’s body and scent, the heat of
the fireplace at his back and the soft pitch of his brother’s voice.
“Don’t be silly, My,"Sherrinford had replied dryly, “lightning and thunder is
nothing more than an atmospheric-”
Mycroft had fallen asleep to the sound of statistics and science that he
couldn’t begin to understand, curled tightly around Sherrinford, and had felt
utterly safe. It had never mattered how old he had gotten; when he had been
utterly, stupidly terrified of learning how to drive, when he had graduated
from university, the first time he’d manipulated the Prime Minister into doing
what he wanted and had been convinced he’d been too transparent, every time
he’d felt out of his depth with Sherlock or Alcott; all it had ever taken was
the even, well-spoken words of his brother to calm him.
They may have frequently failed to see eye to eye (Mycroft felt no urge
to…to…display like Sherrinford had and Sherrinford had been appalled by
Mycroft's apparent plainness) but the older Alpha had always known what the
family needed. Every blunder of youth and inexperience of Mycroft’s had been
covered and erased by him and in doing so, Sherrinford had taught him the skill
needed to repeat those actions with their younger brothers when he'd grown too
busy with the business or running the estates.
Sherrinford had always known how to pull Papa back when the uber-Alpha pushed
too hard at too distant sons, knew how to force Mummy to see past her work and
make time for lunch with each of her children at least once a month. It had
been Sherrinford who had manipulated Mycroft into taking vacations, had hidden
his phone and conspired with Anthea to make sure he ate three meals a day and
tea. It was Sherrinford who had first tracked Sherlock down when he’d
disappeared in the homeless underground, his brilliant eyes lost behind a film
of ecstasy and confusion and coaxed him, screaming and indignant, back to
reality. Sherrinford, who had forced Mycroft to stop trying to arrange a
bonding for Alcott and single handedly saved his relationship with his youngest
brother.
How was Mycroft supposed to even begin to emulate that?
For the first time in years, Mycroft found himself utterly afraid and
unprepared. Sherlock resented his veryexistence and Alcott dodged his phone
calls and messages doggedly. Alarm and inadequacy flared in his chest; brute
forced and ugly and all consuming. And Mummy no more listened to him then she
did to anyone.
He simply couldn’t be the head of the family.
He just…he just couldn’t.
How was he supposed to – where did Mycroft even begin to –
In his pocket, his mobile began to blared Mahler's 8th. Sherlock’s ringtone and
Mycroft let out a hitching breath as he stared at it. He knows. Somehow,
Sherlock had to know. And if he didn’t? What was he supposed to say? How was he
supposed to tell him? The ringtone faded off as it queued to voicemail, but
only seconds later it began again.
Answer the phone, Mycroft,a voice that sounded entirely too much like it
belonged to the still form on the slab behind him, tell your brother what has
happened to me, and the Alpha thumb pressed down unreasonably hard on the
little green phone symbol.
For an extended moment there was silence and then, “is it true, Mycroft?”
Sherlock’s voice was completely level but the soft shaping of his name, the
strange ache that seemed to form around ‘My’ and the hollow dip of ‘croft’ did
not escape him. And somehow, despite the clawing fear he felt, Mycroft found
the strength to relate the entire incident in a smooth, balanced manner.
“…when are you two coming home?”
 “Soon.”
“You will come – all three of you – to Baker Street.”
“First thing.” The elder Alpha agreed, careful to keep his voice free of any
compassion or pity that may set the moody Alpha off and cause him to revoke his
invitation. It was as close to a declaration of need that Sherlock could
manage.
“You will keep them safe?”
And it was that – the way Sherlock had stated it as less of question and more
of a statement, as if fully confident in Mycroft’s ability to protect their
dwindling pack, that caused something deep inside him to harden like tempered
steel. Resolve suddenly swamped the anxiety and Mycroft turned to stare at
Sherrinford’s still form, the hand holding the mobile tightening.
“Naturally.”
He would keep them all safe.
If it was the last thing he did, Mycroft would not allow anything to harm his
family again.
Chapter End Notes
     So, there's the first branch off into actually making this a -verse.
     Did you like? Poor Mycroft. I just love putting this guy through the
     paces, don't I?
***** Disappointment *****
Chapter Summary
     Though the Alpha knew this outcome would happen, he could not fight
     the biting disappointment.
Chapter Notes
     Un-betaed. Not britpicked.
     Been a while since I've touched this series, but I've got the whole
     of Mycroft planned out.
     Mycroft - 42, Sherlock - 35, Alcott - 31.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
March 4th, 2011
Mycroft made his way quietly up the stairs, a tray with tea and his youngest
brother's favorite biscuits on it, and gently nudged the door to Alcott's room
open. Alcott was sitting where he had left him this morning, staring out the
window in an old armchair Mycroft had rescued from an antique shop in Wales,
bruised face blank. From the angle the Omega sat, he could easily see the whole
of the cottage's frontyard and where Anthea and John were playing with Rishley
and the gamekeeper's dog.
The house was one of the Holmes' main vacation homes, this one settled out in
depths of the Irish countryside and though it bore the name 'Rosewood Cottage,'
it was more of a small manor home than anything else. It was Mycroft's favorite
of all their homes and he often retreated here when he needed time away or to
think uninterrupted. It was, the Alpha supposed, his safe place; it was where
he'd taken Sherlock after Victor to detox. So it made a certain amount of sense
that he had fled here with his wounded brother after Sherrinford's death. They
both needed sometime away from the memories of London, especially Alcott who
was mourning not only their eldest brother but his some-what boyfriend, James
Bond.
If the Omega had been distraught and emotional after the car wreck, the news of
the double-Os death had utterly broken him. Mycroft gently set the tray down,
mixing up a cup just how his youngest brother liked it. He brought it over to
him, voice steady and insistent as he offered it.
"Drink this." Pale greens eyes, lifeless and without any of the normal glimmer
of intelligence they held, looked up at him blankly before slowly reaching out
and taking the cup. Mycroft nodded, pleased. “That's a good boy.”
“Mummy’s coming up the drive.” Mycroft’s head snapped up, glancing through the
window to see that there was indeed a car pulling up. “I don’t want to talk to
her, My.”
The Alpha forced himself to take a deep, calming breath through his nose and
gently pushed his brother’s bangs from his forehead in a soothing motion that
he'd done often throughout Alcott's childhood. “Stay up here, I’ll handle it.”
Just what the hell was Olivia thinking? Even if Mycroft had the time to have
hidden the audio of Bond’s mission, there was little doubt in his mind that
Alcott still would have found it, and the Omega was besides himself at the
thought that his own mother had given the orders that lead to his probable
mate's death. The Alpha closed the door quietly, straightening his waistcoat
before moving back towards the foyer. The Holmes boys’ relationship with their
parents was…complicated…across the board, to say the least.
To be honest it was fairly generous to say that there was a relationship at
all. While it had been better to some extent for Sherlock – and better still,
for Alcott as their parents had aged and grown more secure in their positions -
they were most absent from their childhoods.
It was fair to say that all four had been closer to their father, but it had
been a companionship that had grown between two adults rather than a sire and
his pups. When Siger had retired he’d made a real effort to connect with his
distant children. But from their mother...for the most part it had been too
little, too late. Mycroft’s earliest memories revolved almost solely around
Sherrinford and he knew that they both taken over the brunt of raising their
younger brothers. So it made sense in many ways that with Sherrinford gone and
Alcott hurting, both his boys had drawn closer to him then Olivia, though he
knew his mother did not view that with much kindness.
Alcott was arguably closest to his mother out of them all – perhaps because
they were both Omegas – but it was often a vicious, unhealthy relationship.
Olivia was constantly fighting to keep her youngest close and Alcott struggled
underneath the domineering woman’s hold. As misguided as it was, Mycroft knew
that it was her way of trying to maintain a relationship with the only one of
her children Olivia thought she had a chance with; her Omega son.
Sherrinford had been a married man many times over and Mycroft well established
in his own household when his mother began to spend more time in London, and
Sherlock stubbornly refused to have anything to do with her. But at the time
his mother had taken the reins at MI6, Alcott was still young enough to need to
live with an adult and the acceptable societal choice was his parents. But
teenagers rarely craved the input of their fathers or mothers and Alcott had
been on the very cusps of adulthood. The living situation had been tense for
everyone.
Mycroft met Olivia on the covered porch, standing in the front entryway, arms
clasped behind his back. She stood at the bottom of the steps, her hands
resting in her pockets as she stared up at him. “Mycroft.”
“Mummy.”
“How is he?”
“You killed his Alpha.”
“They were not-”
“They would have been.”
There was a long silence, the lines along Olivia’s mouth and eyes growing
tight. “This outcome was never my intention, Mycroft, but I did what I needed
to protect this country. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
“I wouldn’t lead with that, if I was you.” A sharp voice said and Mycroft
sighed as Sherlock came around the corner, a fierce frown on his face. Thank
god he’d had the good sense to leave Watson behind.
Olivia did not look pleased. “Sherlock. I was not aware you’d left London.”
The smile his brother gifted their mother was sharp. “Surprise.”
Olivia sighed, shaking her head before moving up the stairs. “I’m not here to
fight with you, I’m here to see Ally. Move.” Mycroft did not, bracing himself
for a very uncomfortable conversation. “Mycroft, move.”
“He doesn’t want to see you.”
His mother froze, glancing up on at him disbelief. “Mycroft.” She let out an
awkward laugh, “move.”
“No.”
"Mycroft Lesley Holmes-”
“I really don’t understand what the misconception here is.” Sherlock announced
coldly, stepping around their mother and onto the porch until he was standing
just behind Mycroft in a not so subtle show of support. “Alcott doesn't want
you here. Leave.”
And with that, the Alpha turned on his heel and stalked back into the house.
Mycroft sighed. Sherlock had always been protective of Alcott. He was the baby
of the family, the only Omega, and with five years between Sherlock, twelve
with Mycroft, and nearly eighteen with Sherrinford, they all had been
protective and possessive. How could they not be? It had been they that Alcott
had first walked to, they he had said his first words to, and it was to them he
went when hurt or scared or sick.
But still…she was their mother.“Mummy-”
“No.” Olivia said, stepping back from the step. “Your brother has made it clear
enough how you two feel about this.” The Omega was hurt though she hid it well,
but she was his mother and Mycroft knew her too well to miss it. She took a few
steps towards her car before turning around, face tense. “I did not plan on
Bond dying, but he was a double-O and he knew the risks of the job. I won’t
apologize.”
Mycroft sighed, shifting his own hands into his pockets, his thumbs resting
outside against the tweed.
“No one is asking you to. I understand your position well enough.” And that was
a truth, as Mycroft’s own orders had sent more than enough men and women to
their deaths. The good of the whole must always triumph over the individual.
“You may see him when he wishes it. But I am sorry, it will not be before."
“I am Alcott’s mother.” Olivia said sharply, “not you.”
The Alpha stiffened, eyes narrowing. “Do you want to know what the difference
between you and I is? I would never have called that shot. I have always done
everything in my power to protect them – and that means keeping John Watson and
James Bond safe.Goodbye, Mother.”
He shut the door with a definite click and stood in the foyer of his home,
spine straight and pulse sharp, until he heard the sound of the car pulling
away. Only then did Mycroft allow himself to go loose, bringing a hand up to
run through his hair. That, the Alpha thought with no small amount of despair,
could have gone better.
“Is she gone?” Sherlock asked, appearing from the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“No, Sherlock, it is not good.”
The younger Alpha frowned. “I don’t know why you insist on continuing this
charade.”
“Because she is our mother,” Mycroft said, scoffing in frustration.
“Why must everything be so cookie-cutter with you? I may fall outside the
normal spectrum, but even I know that our family hardly counts as loving or
nurturing.”
“That’s not the point-”
“Than what, pray tell, is ‘the point?’”
“The point is that she is our mother, Sherlock!” Mycroft hissed, “she’s our
mother and in case you haven’t noticed we are running out of family.She is my
mother, and one brother is dead and another is broken and right now she hates
me as a usurper. I know it is impossible for you to begin to comprehend human
emotion outside of lust, but please do try and understand my position.”
There was a long silence in which the two Alphas stared each other down before
Sherlock finally looked away, focusing on a print on the wall instead of
admitting total deference and staring at the ground. Mycroft let out another
bone weary sigh. Despite everything that had happened, he had still hoped that
something between he and Olivia might blossom. No, he was not naive enough to
ever expect the picture perfect relationship between a carrier and their pup,
but something.Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that once in his life,
Mycroft would have liked to see one of his progenitors chose them over their
work, even if it was not himself chosen.
Though the Alpha knew this outcome would happen, he could not fight the biting
disappointment. He could not understand what it was that made them all so easy
to ignore or shrug off. Why had they bothered having children if they never
intended to be a part of their lives? Despite all of his disdain for emotion or
sentiment, Mycroft had always put his pups first, as had Sherrinford, and he
would continue to do so even it meant burning every bridge he attempted to
build with his mother.
“Mycroft.” Sherlock said after a moment, eyes still locked on the framed beetle
print on the wall, “there is a reason Alcott came to you. Why I came to you
after Victor.” Mycroft’s attention was completely captured, because even a
decade after Victor was still a forbidden subject. Those startling bright eyes
flickered over to glance at him. “She is wrong.”
It was as close to a ‘I love you’ from his brother that Mycroft was likely ever
to get. The Alpha gave him a wan smile, trying to bury the ache and
disappointment in his chest, and stepped into the kitchen. Perhaps he was
destined to never have a loving relationship with his parents. They said that
validation from one’s sire and carrier was something you could never really
achieve, but it always started him how disappointed he was every time. After so
many years, you would have thought that a man of Mycroft's intelligent would
come to expect and accept that his mother's behavior would never change. And
yet, there was some part of him that still hoped...
“Go and collect John from wherever it is you have stashed him, brother. I’ll
put the kettle on.”
The younger Holmes nodded, his hand brushing against Mycroft’s elbow in a move
so slight that on anyone else it would seem an accident. Coming from Sherlock,
it meant much more.
No. Perhaps Mycroft would never have maternal love, but he had fraternal and
that was more than enough.
Chapter End Notes
     Ah, family can be a terrible, wonderful thing.
     Porn next chapter - clean and simple, and than finally some Mystrade.
***** Lust *****
Chapter Summary
     He hated his ruts.
Chapter Notes
     Un-betaed and not brit picked.
     Mycroft - 42
See the end of the chapter for more notes
March 20th, 2011

By the time Mycroft heard Anthea arrive at his townhouse, the Alpha was already
in full rut. Unlike Omegas whose heat continued for a set amount of days
regardless of whether or not a partner was present, an Alpha could cut a rut
short with sex, even if they did not bond. And having already had to take half
a day off and with his billit for tomorrow completely filled, he needed his rut
over. Mycroft felt frustrated with his body's inconvenient demands, pacing the
length of his bedroom, completely naked. His swollen and angry cock weaving and
bobbing with each step.
He hated his ruts.

Oh, Mycroft knew he was luckier than most. He had never had to spend a rut
alone; Siger and Sherrinford had seen to that, but he’d also never spent one
with the same partner. And never with a male Omega. The reason for that was a
secret so deeply buried not even Sherlock or Alcott knew about it. Because
Mycroft had his own Victor Trevor.

His name had been Joshua Lorne, the son of their cook, and nineteen to
Mycroft’s fourteen. His features had been pure omegan; slim shoulders, a tiny
waist that flared into full hips, and delicate features. With sandy blond hair,
rich brown eyes, and an easy smile, Mycroft had been utterly besotted. The
young Alpha had begun leaving gifts for Joshua. They were easy, almost cliché
gifts (a pair of kid leather gloves, tickets to his favorite band for him and
all his friends, a book of poetry) but expensive.

Joshua had looked so pleased when he’d gotten them, giggling and grinning
happily as he used his presents in full view of Mycroft. And in return, Joshua
began to leave him sweet notes. It had been their secret. No one knew of their
blossoming romance and when Mycroft’s first rut had hit, the young Alpha had
met his Omega in the empty stable hand's apartment and consummated their love.

Mycroft had been over the moon, convinced that this was his future, starry eyed
with dreams of a home in London with Joshua, a seat in parliament, children
with their mixed features, and so much more. It had seemed so possible then,
and the illusion was only embellished by the lack of any adult family members
in the home. Every day when he returned home from school, he was met with his
much younger brothers and Joshua busily working in the kitchen. A vision of the
future, Mycroft had thought.

But then a week after his rut had passed, Mycroft had come home to find that
the Lorne family had taken up employment with another family – in South Africa.
Sherrinford was also home from university, waiting for him in his study.
Mycroft had nearly hit him, convinced that either Sherrinford or his parents
had taken Joshua away from him. Sherrinford had said nothing as Mycroft yelled
and ranted, only watched him with the most peculiar expression before pouring
and offering the younger Alpha his first glass of whiskey, the tumbler nearly
filled to the brim.

It was then that Mycroft began to realize his family had not sent anyone away.

His brother had explained in a level tone that Joshua had apparently found a
way to record their time together and had approached Sherrinford in London that
morning, threatening to sell the video if the family did not pay. The Omega had
never had any intention of settling with a fourteen year old; Mycroft had only
ever been a means to an end. But his brother had handled it as he always did;
the tape was destroyed, Joshua received nothing, and the Lorne family had been
so far removed that it was a guarantee Mycroft would never see them again.

They had sat in a long, long silence after that – Sherrinford smoking calmly
while Mycroft fought though his emotions, his face deceptively clam and
controlled despite that he had never felt so alone before in the entity of his
life. The next day when Sherrinford returned to his flat in London, his younger
brothers went with him. They were never left without an adult living in the
home again.

The door to Mycroft’s room opened and he glanced up to find an attractive
female Omega smirking at him. She was tall and thin, her hair a fiery red that
curled around shoulders. She wore a Burberry trench and high black stilettos
and smelled pleasantly ripe. The agency said her name was ‘Helen’ and she was
one of the highest paid escorts in the country, known not only for her beauty
and charm, but for her silence.

“My, my,” Helen cooed, shutting the door behind her as she untied the belt of
her trench. It fell open to reveal a black lace and mesh teddy, fitted so
tightly to her body it may as well have been painted on, and a pair of sheer
stocking attached to a garter. Mycroft's cock ached with a vengeance at the
sight. "Look at you, big boy. Why don't I-"

He surged forward, interrupting her as he spun and pinned her roughly again the
door. He tore off the silken panties, sheathing himself into the already
prepped and ready pussy in one violent move. The Omega cried out, her body
curving into the classic lordosis position as he fucked her so hard the door
creaked and moaned, his hands brusing around wide hips.

Her hands clawed desperately at the varnished mahogany, the sounds of her moans
and mews driving his overtaxed body to the edge quickly. Mycroft bit deep into
the back of her neck, well aware Helen had been paid extra for the privilege,
and the Omega tighten with orgasm around him. He came with a bellow, knot
swelling and locking them together, and the Alpha slumped over her form,
finally relieved.

"Jesus, sweetheart," Helen breathed, "don't let anyone tell you that you don't
know how to show an Omega a good time."

Mycroft rolled his eyes at the cliché talk, but shuddered at the feel of his
knot shrinking, the rush of hormones and testosterone of his rut driving it
down far quicker than the norm, and he pulled out. Helen let out a squeak of
surprise as he turned her and physically threw her across the room and onto his
bed. She bounced a few times, her wide eyed expression shifting into giggles at
the motion. He stalked over to her, his Alpha pride swelling as she took in his
well toned form. Like most Alphas, Mycroft had a driving urge to stay fit
(though you'd hardly know it from the cut of his suits) and his inheritance
ensured he was very well endowed. The Omega's eyes locked on his still very
hard arousal, a tongue darting out over full lips in an obscene movement, and
Mycroft's lips twisted in a dark smile at the scent of lust - genuine, not the
manufactured kind that she had lubed herself with earlier - filled the air.

He fisted the back of her hair and sheathing his cock down her throat in one,
smooth motion. He groaned, eyes closing at the tight, warm sensation, and began
a brutal pace. Helen's hands flew up to his hips for balance, humming and
moaning, the vibrations traveling up his dick so wonderfully. The Alpha took
his time, fucking her mouth slowly and methodically, than quick and sloppily.
Whatever pace Mycroft wished until he forced himself down to the root, her
painted lips stretched around the base flair of his knot as he filled her. When
he pulled away she was gasping, looking dazed, and Mycroft pushed her flat on
her back, hitching her legs up over his shoulders as he pushed into her - knot
and all - while pressing against her clit cruelly. She contracted viciously
around him, back bowing as the Omega's knotting muscles reflexively locked
around him, forcing her into an orgasm.

He waited until she had gone limp underneath him, pliant and satisfied, before
beginning to fuck her in truth. Helen gasped, her hips pulling back as if to
retreat, but the Alpha halted it with a firm grip around her throat, pinning
her in place as Mycroft took everything she had to offer. Helen had become so
wet that the room was filled with the dirty suctioning sounds that could never
be mistaken as anything else but a cock fucking a wet hole and Mycroft's rut
tainted mind howled with it.

"Alpha!" Helen cried, head thrashing about as he pushed her into another orgasm
far too soon and he knew that she must be so oversensitive that it bordered on
pain. Mycroft hardly cared. He pulled out, twisting her onto all fours before
driving back in, grunting and panting harshly as he sought after his third
orgasm. It hit him all at once, so strong that it nearly took his vision, and
Mycroft dug his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder, his jaws aching to claim.
Helen screamed, clenching down around him, hands clawing at the bed sheets
until she'd pulled them from the mattress.
His knot shrunk even faster with the scent of their activities and the Alpha
hardly paused before flipping her onto her stomach and beginning again.

He took her so many times that night that Mycroft could hardly remember them
all, only small flashes of images. He fucked her on her back, her knees,
hanging only from his cock and her own desperate grip against the wall. He tied
her over his desk and on his desk chair, in the shower, across the bathroom
counter, against the tightly curtained and drawn windows of his room, pressed
face first in the carpet until they were both covered with rug burn. Took her
until their hair was a tangled mess, her makeup smeared and debauched, their
bodies a pattern of scratches and bruises. Took her until she was completely
fucked out, face slack with pleasure and body limp beneath his thrusts.

When the morning came and his rut ended, it found Mycroft finally sated. He
stood before his mirror, freshly showered and groomed, securing his cuff links.
Perfectly manicured hands slid across his waist, a pair of lips pressing
against the patch of skin left exposed above his collar. The Omega smelled
utterly of him, Helen's natural scent drenched almost into nothingness.

"Come on, love," Helen cooed, fingers stroking his silk tie, "why don't you
take the day off and come back to bed? You have to be tired. I'll stay a bit if
you like." Mycroft shook his head and the Omega smiled as she slipped around to
his front. "A hard worker, huh? I like that." She licked her lips, eyes locked
on his Adam's apple, just centered enough to hide how she was eyeing his
bonding lymph note. "I don't normally do this but," a card was pressed into his
suit pocket, "here’s my personal number - and my real name. Give me a call
sometime; maybe we can grab dinner or something."

There was the press of soft lips under his jaw - a submissive appeasement act
designed to call to his inner possessive instincts - before Helen pulled away
and disappeared into his bathroom. Mycroft waited until he heard the shower
start before pulling the card out (Trisha, 2578-9190) and dropped it neatly in
the bedroom trash. The Alpha pulled on his waist coat and blazer and left, mind
already focused on his first meeting with the Japanese ambassador.
Chapter End Notes
     Think she ever noticed Mycroft didn't say one thing to her the entire
     time?
     Next chapter Greg finally makes his appearance.
***** Interest *****
Chapter Summary
     And yet…there was something interesting about Lestrade, something
     that made him impossible to forget completely.
Chapter Notes
     Shit, bros. I'm on a roll with updating lately.
     The start of the Mystrade! Hurray!
     Un-betaed.
     Lestrade - 45, Mycroft - 42.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
April 1st,  2011
It would seem that fate was damned and determined to involve Gregory Lestrade
in his life, Mycroft mused as he leaned on his cane, observing the still figure
that sat forlornly on the park bench. Lestrade had yet to notice the Alpha’s
presence, his hands mindlessly shredding a piece of bread and tossing it to the
pigeons, his face utterly lost in thought.
The first time Mycroft Holmes had met Lestrade, the year was nineteen eighty-
five, he’d been eighteen years old and tearing his London flat apart in a
desperate search for his brothers. Sherlock had been particularly annoying
 that day and Mycroft was right in the middle of finals for university and so
he’d locked them out of his study. When Mycroft had emerged a few hours later
for tea, he’d been dumbfounded to find the house empty of his boys and not a
one of the staff capable of providing their locations.
“What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?” Mycroft snarled, hands fisting at
his side and the collective wince from his house staff did little to calm his
fury. Not even the plaintive whimpers of the staff Omegas affected him. Mycroft
rarely lost his temper and certainly never before with the staff.
Sherlock had only recently had his eleventh birthday and Alcott was not even
six yet, and the thought of them out in the world (on what they undoubtedly
viewed as a great adventure) unprotected was so terrifying that the young Alpha
found his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“You’re fired – all of you – and if anything happens to my brothers I assure
that not only will you never find a job again, but you’ll be brought up on
legal charges!” He bellowed furiously, “you have five minutes to get your
things and then I want you out!”
He paced the foyer as they scrambled about, mind racing as he tried to imagine
anywhere that Sherlock – and it had to have been Sherlock behind this – would
have gone off to. Instead his mind only provided horrifying  images of his pups
hurt and lost or god forbid something worse. 
Sherrinford was in Europe on the third month of his honeymoon, but he called
every night promptly at six o’clock and again at nine, regardless of what time
zone the elder Holmes was in, to speak with them before dinner and to wish them
goodnight. It was already five-forty and there was no way that Mycroft was
going to answer the phone and inform Sherrinford that he’d lost their siblings.
Growing with a mix of anger and anxiety Mycroft stormed to the front door, not
even bothering to grab his suit jacket or an umbrella, already forming a list
of places to start looking. The library first – it was just down the street,
then the park, and then the museums. The Alpha swung the door open and nearly
ran into the raised fist that was poised to knock.
A constable stood on his stoop (male Omega, unbonded, twenty to twenty-two,
well liked, works too many hours, sloppy eater if the stain on his collar was
anything to go by) his uniform in the process of being drooled on by a
completely passed out Alcott. Sherlock was by the Omega’s side, the back of his
jumper held in a fierce but gentle grip. Both boys were covered head to toe in
mud. And just like that the panic and worry drained out of him, leaving Mycroft
suddenly exhausted and terribly relieved.
“Hello there.” The constable greeted, giving Mycroft a wide smile. “I take
these belong to you?”
“Yes,” Mycroft said dryly, glaring down at an unrepentant looking Sherlock, “my
younger brothers. I had just discovered they were gone, in fact.”
“Found 'em a couple blocks down at the park, happy as can be in a mud puddle.”
The tiny Alpha puffed his chest up, eyes narrowing as he refused to be cowed by
the disapproving stare that earned him. “You were being boring. I wanted to go
exploring.”
Mycroft scowled. “I don’t care how boring I’m being, you know you’re not
allowed out of the backyard without permission. What were you thinking? And
taking your brother with you? What if something had happened?”
“Just because he’s an Omega doesn’t mean he doesn’t get bored, too. None of
this would have happened if you had just played with me.” Sherlock said,
staring up at his elder brother impudently, “and nothing happened,
obliviously.”
Mycroft rolled his eyes, reaching out and pulling the pup in by his dirty
collar. “We’ll be discussing an appropriate punishment later, but for now
straight to the bathroom and don’t touch anything.”
His brother stiffened. “I see no reason for me to take a bath.”
“Sherlock-”
“If I take a bath I’ll ruin the experiment, I can’t be around soap of any kind
if I want the fungus I gathered in my hair to grow correctly and-”
“Sherlock.”
“- it took me a half hour to get the levels right and if I bathe it will
completely destroy everything! The entire reason of my trip to the park, which
by your own words you most likely won’t let me be repeating, was to see if when
dirty enough you really could grow mushrooms behind you're ears. And so as you
can see-”
He reached out, a warning growl rippling from his chest as he gripped the
mouthy brat lightly on the back of the nape. Sherlock’s excuses faded off with
a pout. “Do not try me, not after this. Bathroom. Now.”
Mycroft let out a put upon sigh as the pup did so, dragging his feet and hands
across as many surfaces as he could, leaving smears of dirt and mud everywhere
in direct defiance to his earlier statement. The Alpha sighed, running a hand
through his hair in frustration before turning back to the constable and
reaching out to take a still slumbering Alcott.
“Precocious little Alpha, in’t he?” The police officer asked as he carefully
handed his brother over.
“You have no idea.” Mycroft muttered, accepting the still form. The tiny pup
let out a whimper, struggling slightly before inhaling a deep whiff of
Mycroft’s natural scent and going limp in his arms, snuggling into the older
Holmes’ chest. He ran a hand down a mud-caked jumper, uncaring of the mess, and
let himself take a moment to enjoy his brother in his arms, safe and unharmed.
“Thank you again, Constable…”
“Lestrade,” the Omega said with a half cocked grin, watching the two of them
with a fond look. “One of your folks home, by any chance?”
“Our parents are currently out of the country,” Mycroft explained, shifting
Alcott into a better grip. “I am of age, however, as is my eldest brother – of
whom this flat belongs to – and we’ve been given legal permission to act as
guardians.”
“I see.” The constable pulled out a notebook, “I’m just going to have to ask
you some questions, for the report. ‘Fraid I’ll have to fill one out, what with
minors out and about unsupervised.”
That was annoying, as it meant that Sherrinford would most definitely find out
about the incident, but it would mean little else, and so he answered the
questions without hesitation. It only took a handful of moments, though the
Omega paused at the sight of so many of his newly unemployed staff exiting from
the kitchen door.
“They are no longer employed here.” Mycroft answered preemptively.
“Ah.” Constable Lestrade flipped his notebook shut, before offering his hand.
“Well, that’s all I needed from you, Mr. Holmes. Try to keep a better eye on
your brothers, if you please.”
“Most certainly.” Mycroft took the offered hand, eyebrows rising minutely when
the grip lasted longer then polite, a playful squeeze added on at the end. He
looked up to find the Omega grinning at him, the smile all teeth.
“Say, would you like to grab dinner sometime?”
The Alpha blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown. Constable Lestrade was
attractive enough. He was a shy shorter than Mycroft, with short, raven hair
and bright, playful brown eyes and he could still smell the Omega’s scent –
gentle and thick, pleasing, with something earthy (though that could have been
the mud) to it – wrapped around Alcott. But he had little time (or want) to
indulge in such dalliances and so he politely declined.
“Ah, well. Can’t blame a bloke for trying.” The constable said cheerfully,
giving him a wink before turning and heading down the stairs. Mycroft stared
after him, head cocked slightly to the side in thought before a crash from the
upstairs bathroom both drew his attention away and woke a now very cranky
looking Alcott.
They wouldn’t meet again until nearly fifteen years later, when a terribly
serious Sherrinford had called Mycroft, his tone so unlike his normal jovial
one, and gave him an address. It had turned out to be the entrance to an
abandoned subway maintenance tunnel, the mouth wide and yawning as it had
reached into the darkness like the gates to hell. Sherlock had been missing for
almost three weeks at this point,  and none of Mycroft considerable sources had
been able to locate him. It seemed that Sherrinford had better luck with his
and the two Holmes had arrived simultaneously. Both Alphas had been devastated
at the sight of a limp and pale Sherlock crumbled on the ground.
His brother was shirtless, eyes glossy and unseeing as he stared up at the sky,
protected from the winter air only by a pair of ragged pants and a peacoat that
obviously did not belong to him. Sherlock was practically in the lap of a plain
clothed police officer, the man talking rapidly into his cell phone as his free
hand ran up and down the unmoving Alpha’s body, trying to warm him, and as
Mycroft grew closer he was surprised to realize he recognized the man.
It was the very same constable – now promoted – that had brought his brothers
home so many years ago. Gregory Lestrade looked much as he did before, though
his hair held streaks of grey now and his scent clearly bore the markers of a
mate.
“-unresponsive male in hypothermic shock, intravenous drug use suspected. I
repeat – I have a white male, twenties, brown hair, grey eyes, in hypothermic
shock and possible overdose. Request a bus to – where the hell are we?”
“An ambulance is unnecessary,” Sherrinford said abruptly, plucking their
unresponsive brother from the Inspector’s lap, “I have government decals, I
won’t be stopped. I’m taking him to the Royal London. Handle this and meet me
there, Mycroft.”
“Oy!” The Omega snapped, eyes flashing furiously as he jumped to his feet, “you
just can’t-”
Mycroft stepped smoothly in front of him, blocking his charge at Sherrinford as
his brother carefully slid Sherlock into the back of his car. For the family –
and Sherlock’s – sake it was best if this went undocumented and Mycroft felt
his calm return as he slipped into the familiar role of manipulator.
“I thank you for your aid, Inspector Lestrade, but Sherlock is our brother and
I can guarantee you that he will be looked after.”
“How the hell do you know my name?”
“Allow me to reintroduce myself, Mycroft Holmes.” The Alpha said smoothly,
offering a gloved hand. “We met some years ago, when you delivered my brothers
to my home.”
Lestrade took the offered hand, though his entire body was tense and
suspicious. “…so we did. I seem to recall telling you take better care of your
brothers, Mr. Holmes.”
A lesser man would have winced at that. As it was, Mycroft’s facial expression
didn’t even twitch. “I assure you, Inspector, I strive to do little else but
care for Sherlock.”
“Well you’re doing a bang up job of it.” Lestrade bit out around clenched
teeth. The Alpha let his eyes sweep over the shivering man’s form, eyes resting
for only a moment on the slight swell beneath the button up. The Omega blinked
in surprise as Mycroft settled his own wool trench around his shoulders, deft
fingers buttoning the coat up. “I couldn’t-”
“Don’t be preposterous," Mycroft insisted firmly, “there is no way I could
allow a pregnant Omega freeze to death before me – especially not if my brother
was to be the cause of it.”
“Oh.” The aggression seemed to bleed out of the Inspector's form, a hand coming
up to run through short, salt and pepper locks as he sighed. “Thank you then.
But this doesn’t change the fact that you can’t just walk off with someone like
that. Your brother needs immediate medical care.”
“He will be cared for, I assure you. Sherrinford will make sure he receives
everything he needs.” Mycroft soothed, guiding the Omega away from the open
tunnel mouth and towards the warmth of his waiting car. “I see that you were
walking when you found my brother – off duty, no less – the least I can do is
offer you a ride home.”
“Not home, the yard. I’ve got to fill out a report about this.”
"I’m afraid that is rather impossible.”
Lestrade stared up at him, half bent from where he was beginning to climb into
the car. “What – no, I mean,  there has to be a report. I called it, I gave
them by badge number. I can’t just not report this.”
“You may fill out a report if you so chose, Inspector Lestrade, but it would be
gone by the time you returned to work tomorrow.” The Alpha said it with such
certainty – because it was the only outcome - t hat Lestrade seemed to sense
the truth of it.
The Omega sighed, shaking his head. “Funny, my last report got ‘lost’ too. You
Holmes sure are something else.”
Mycroft gave him a sympathetic smile. “I assure you outside of my brother’s
addiction nothing untoward happened here today – nor all those years ago. There
is, quite simply, nothing to report. Now, shall I drive you home?”
“Might as well,” the Inspector said, slipping into the car, “I don’t think I
have much a choice in the matter.”
“There are always choices,” Mycroft corrected gently as he shut the door, the
heated air in the cabin a soothing balm after the cutting chill of London in
Winter, “they’re just not all correct ones.”
Lestrade snorted, shooting the Holmes a rather unimpressed look, before giving
the driver his address.
Mycroft had truly thought that would be the end of it. After all, it was
already quite an astounding play on fate that they had met a second time. But
it seemed that while the elder Holmes were quite willing to forget Gregory
Lestrade completely, the Inspector was not quite as eager.
The Omega kept in contact with Sherlock, keeping an eye on him throughout the
decade struggle that followed to get his brother clean and finally off drugs.
And when Sherlock entered his third year drug-free, he’d offered him an
unofficial job as a ‘consulting detective' with the yard. Mycroft had
participated in only a handful of interactions with him over the last six
years, most of them revolving around getting updates about Sherlock, as the
surly Alpha had never quite forgiven Mycroft for helping him and was damned and
determined to keep him out of as much of his life as he could. And even those
meetings were sparse things, barely lasting longer than fifteen minutes.
And yet…there was something interesting about Lestrade, something that made him
impossible to forget completely. Perhaps it was his scent (such a rich, yet
mild thing) or the easy way he’d smiled at Mycroft all those years ago. Perhaps
it was his unending patience and genuine care Lestrade gave to Sherlock – there
was certainly no arguing that the detective was quite likely his little
brother's only friend before John Watson.
Perhaps it was the part of the Alpha that always wondered what would have
happened if he’d accepted that dinner invitation.
Mycroft straightened his scarf, standing slightly taller before making his way
over to where the despondent Omega was sitting, staring mournfully out over the
park. “Lestrade, what a pleasant surprise.”
Dark eyes blinked up at him, surprise leveling the wrinkles that age had
brought. The years had made his hair completely silver and his body – while
still fit as the job required – bore the soft, rounding curves of an Omega
who’d given birth. Yet Mycroft still found him quite handsome, even with a day
old stubble and emotionally reddened nose and eyes that stared up at him.
“Mycroft, hey.” Lestrade said softly, looking away as he wiped at his face
discretely, letting out a somewhat pathetic sounding laugh. “Wear some bells or
something, will you? I’m not a young man anymore.”
He did not need the fading scent marker of Lestrade’s Alpha wife to figure out
why the D.I. Was so upset. There was little that happened around his brother
that Mycroft Holmes did not know about, so even though he hadn’t spoke in
person to the Omega in nearly eight months, he had known the moment the
Lestrade-Wheelock household had gone into couples therapy, nearly a year ago.
He had known months before the D.I. that his Alpha – an older, shapely blonde
by the name of Ashley – had begun an affair with a much younger Omega. One of
her interns, stereotypically enough.
And Mycroft knew that today had been the first meeting of what would most
likely be a very lengthy and painful custody battle. The state almost always
sided with the Omega or Beta mother in these types of cases, but Lestrade had
the bad luck of being left by one of the foremost divorce barristers in London.
The Alpha sat down on the cold bench, careful to keep his eyes forward to
maintain the illusion of privacy for the distraught man.
“I, uh,” the Omega cleared his throat roughly, “don’t have anything new on
Sherlock, so if that’s…I mean...” his shoulders slumped, “…yeah.”
“I didn’t come about Sherlock.” Mycroft assured, finally turning to face the
older man now that Lestrade had managed some manner of composure.
“You…didn’t?”
“No.” The Alpha answered as he leaned forward, resting his weight on his cane,
“I was wondering if it wasn't too late to take you up on your dinner offer.”
Lestrade stared at him for a long moment in confusion before recoiling slightly
in understanding, face flashing through several emotions – confusion,
disbelief, suspicion – before settling on a shy, pleased surprise and a faint,
enticing blush that Mycroft decided instantly that he rather liked.
“Not too late, no."
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you guys liked! Expect the Johnlock story of this series to be
     up soon, so keep a look out! Would love to see you all there!
***** Attraction *****
Chapter Summary
     The Omega’s presence was a pleasant distraction and surprisingly a
     rather calming one, and the attraction he felt towards Gregory was
     the strongest he'd ever felt towards anyone.
Chapter Notes
     Smut.
     Oh yeah, and some romance.
     But mostly smut.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
April 8th,  2011
The Alain Ducasse at the Dorchester was one of Mycroft’s favorite restaurants
and the Table Lumière, a semi-private dining table, served as the center piece
of the restaurant. Hidden from sight by an oval curtain made by shimmering, lit
white fiber optic cables, it provided the right amount of privacy without
losing the atmosphere of the place.
The eldest Holmes ran a critical eye over the table setting, his personal
waiter and the maître d' standing nervously at his elbow as he did so. The
pristinely white table cloth had clearly been ironed, free of any wrinkles or
blemishes. The table was set with the Dorchester’s unique Hermès china pattern
ware and Puiforcat silverware, the crystal goblets (Saint-Louis, Mycroft’s
favorite) gleaming in the soft light.
“Is everything to your liking, Mister Holmes?” The maître d’ inquired. The man
(like most of the wait staff at upscale hotels and restaurants tended to be)
was a Beta and in the traditional way of things, wore no cologne to distract
from his mild, unassuming scent.
“It is acceptable,” Mycroft said, “thank you.”
“I am very pleased to hear that, sir.” The maître d' said with a genial smile,
“I will retire to the front then, to wait for your guest.”
Mycroft dismissed him with a hand, before locking his eyes on the Beta waiter.
His name was apparently ‘Jossaih,’ or some other artistic  nonsense, but his
scent and posture was unassuming, his uniform perfectly in order and other then
the slight twinge of nervousness in his stance, rather well put together.
He leaned back in his seat, his eyes still locked on the Beta, “take care my
guest and I well tonight and I will see you handsomely rewarded. Shall you
prove incompetent, I will have you fired. Are we understood?”
The Beta swallowed. “Yes, sir. Your guest, sir.”
Mycroft glanced up, straightening at the sight of the maître d' leading a
slightly stunned looking Gregory towards him. Lestrade looked dashing in a grey
trench coat, the well cut black suit just peeking out from under it. Mycroft
stood as the waiter lead him over, giving the fidgeting man a smile as the
maître d’ parted the curtain.
“I’m not late, am I?” Gregory asked, giving an awkward smile to the maître d’
as he handed him his coat and stepped to the side slightly as the waiter pulled
his chair out.
“Not at all, I just happened to get out of my meeting early.” And if that had
happened because Mycroft had decided none of his wardrobe would do and had an
impromptu meeting with his tailor, Lestrade need not know. They both sat,
listening as the waiter read off the day’s special and poured the wine – red,
naturally – that Mycroft had already ordered.
The Alpha watched, feeling a warm blossom of affection as Lestrade’s eyes
widened at the sight of the menu prices. Mycroft would be paying, of course,
and he didn’t miss the impressed, yet exasperated look the Omega sent him.
Gregory was fairly independent for a Omega, which was one of the reasons he’d
captured Mycroft’s attention, and the Holmes had known that he had intended to
make some attempt to pay for his dinner himself. The prices were far too high
for the D.I.’s salary.
“You look stunning.” Mycroft complemented. He smelt wonderful, too. But that
was far too forward to say, as the Omega’s natural scent was unadorned even by
cologne.  
The grin he was rewarded with was crooked and incredibly charming. “You’re not
so bad yourself.”
Mycroft felt his lips tug slightly at the edges as those warm, chocolate eyes
drifted over his seated form in a not so subtle once over. The dinner went by
surprisingly quickly and the time was spent talking about everything that had
happened between their interactions over the years. Most of it Mycroft already
had known. Lestrade had graduated from an inner city school, then had been at
the top of his class in the Yard training program, and worked his way through a
sociology undergraduate and than a masters in the newly constructed criminology
degree, both from the London MET. Mycroft in turn volunteered information about
his own education – Cambridge, for all but one of his four degrees, Oxford for
the last.
The conversation was spirited, if not overly taxing, and for once Mycroft found
himself completely free of boredom even if the subjects they talked about were
what he would usually consider dull. They ended the night with coffee and
dessert, before the two headed back out into the London air. Gregory suggested
going for a walk since the night was still young and he had the sitter for
another hour.
“The kids like her,” the Omega said with a smile as they walked down the
street, his eyes soft and fond, “she’s a good girl. A nice Beta, working her
way through nursing school.” He dug out his phone, scrolling through the touch
screen and pulling up a photo. He handed the phone to Mycroft, grinning with
pride. “All three are Alphas, god help me. Alex is ten, Charlie eight, and
Teddy is six.”
The pups all looked remarkably like Gregory, even the two females, but it was
the youngest – the boy – that the relation was the most obvious. They all had
Lestrade’s dark, curly hair and brown eyes, but Teddy was almost a perfect
picture of his carrier. When he lost the baby fat, the youngest Alpha would
look the spitting image of the Omega that had appeared on his door all those
years ago.
Mycroft had already read the profiles Anthea had constructed about them. Alexa,
called commonly ‘Alex’ in the tradition of giving female Alphas names with male
nicknames, had a mid to high range intelligence, played keeper for her football
team, and was currently seeing the school counselor twice a week for anger
issues undoubtedly from her parents impending divorce. Charlotte’s intelligence
was slightly lower, but was apparently a promising ballet dancer. The youngest,
Theodore, had scored much higher but was very quiet and had been dealing with
bullying issues for the entirety of his school carrier.
Let it never be said that Mycroft did not do his research. “They’re beautiful.”
The grin grew wider, “aren’t they? Alex is starting to get mouthy, gearing up
to be a teen, but she’s hilarious. Charlie is still my little girl – she’s my
princess, in every way. And Teddy, well, he’s just got into bugs so I keep
coming home to find random insects in jars everywhere.”
“I was quite fond of bugs myself when I was younger, as was Sherlock.”  
Lestrade’s nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. “Not a fan, myself. I could live
without coming home to find my kitchen crawling with things. But if it makes
him happy, I’m happy.” The Omega glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes.
“You know you have to tell me about baby Sherlock.”
“Oh?”
His smile turned wicked. “Oh yeah. Something embarrassing, if you please.”
To the Alpha’s surprise conversation from there revolved around the Holmes’
childhood, which was a rare topic for Mycroft and not one he usually indulged
people asking  about. But it seemed that Gregory’s charm was not to be
underestimated and he found himself parting with stories and information
(within limits, of course) about his younger siblings. It helped that Lestrade
already knew Sherlock, as well as Alcott, who often joined John and Gregory’s
morning runs.
As the hour grew close, Gregory flagged down a cab, face red and eyes damp from
laughter at the stories of Sherlock and Alcott’s numerous adventures as
children.
“I have no idea why Sherlock insists you don’t have a sense of humor,” Gregory
said cheerfully, “I think you’re hilarious.”
“My brother is often wrong.” Mycroft replied haughtily and that seemed to only
send his date into more laughter. He felt his on smile grow as he watched, eyes
taking in the aging but still quite attractive Omega’s features. He couldn't
remember the last time he'd genuinely smiled so much. The cab drew close and
Gregory leaned into the window, giving the driver his address before turning to
face him again.
“I had a great time, Mycroft.” Lestrade said, smile softer but no less large,
“we should do it again.”
“I agree.” Mycroft agreed smoothly, already thinking of the next free evening
he had, only to find his thoughts stilling as the Omega took a step forward.
Gregory’s scent swelled around him as he leaned into him, his weight a fleeting
warmth as lips pressed a chaste kiss against the Alpha’s lips.
The wrinkles around Gregory’s eyes crinkled in mirth as he took in the younger
man’s stunned look. “Call me, yeah? Goodnight, Mycroft.”
“Goodnight, Gregory.” He managed, voice level even as him heart stuttered
unevenly in his chest. He watched as the Omega slipped into the cab, keeping
his eyes pinned on the car until it was out of sight.
A black sedan pulled up next to him, Anthea climbing out and opening the back
door, her lips twitching against a smile.
“Not a word, Anthea.”
“Of course, sir.”
===============================================================================
More dates followed.
Dinners at the Sketch Lecture Room and Library, Le Gavroche, and Hibiscus,
plays and concerts at Albert Hall, and before Mycroft really realized it, the
two had been seeing each other for nearly a month. Long enough for his brothers
to begin teasing him about his boyfriend. Things had been stressful on the
Holmes’ end. There had been a rather unfortunate merging of Mycroft personal
and professional lives, the two intertwining on a level that even he was unused
to.
Sherrinford’s death still weighed heavily on the family, especially on Mycroft.
Alcott had only recently been recruited into MI6 (his youngest brother had
purposely allowed himself to be caught hacking the mainframe and Mycroft had
been forced to convince Olivia to take him on as Q less he face criminal
charges) and the reemergence of James Bond – along with Silva and his constant
threat to his mother – had caused a whole new vein of worry to consume his
time. Added with that was the fact that Moriarty and Sherlock’s game was
starting to enter into a truly delicate stage and Mycroft found himself rather
busy.
Still, he found time for Gregory. And kept him safe. Mycroft had quietly
increased security around Lestrade and his family, moving a constructed family
of private security into the townhome next to his home and replacing one of the
children’s teachers completely as well as adding new student teachers to the
other two. Moriarty was a clever beast, through and through, and Mycroft wasn't
going to allow him any chances to touch Gregory.
It would be best if he stopped seeing the Omega all together, but Mycroft found
himself unwilling to do so. He told himself that it was a refusal to alter his
life in response to Moriarty’s activities, but the Alpha did not deny to
himself that it was also a selfish action. The Omega’s presence was a pleasant
distraction and surprisingly a rather calming one, and the attraction he felt
towards Gregory was the strongest he'd ever felt towards anyone.
Tonight they were walking though Hyde Park after a delightful meal at Maze at
the Mayfair, both full and content after a truly delicious meal of steak.
Gregory was in good spirits, still star struck from meeting Gordon Ramsey, and
the light hearted conversation was just what Mycroft had needed. They’d both
had just the right amount of wine – just enough to make them both loose and
open – and the Omega was a warm spot against his side, his hand tucked in the
crook of Mycroft’s arm.
They’d made their way to the Serpentine, the two pausing before it to stare out
of the shifting water. Gregory let out a soft sigh and Mycroft felt his
eyebrows rise in surprise as the Omega navigated his arm free and around the
Alpha’s waist, leaning into him just enough to be a welcomed weight. Mycroft
wrapped his own arm around his waist, hand spreading wide over Gregory’s
hipbone in a possessive move. Lestrade didn’t seem to mind if they way he
leaned heavier into Mycroft was any indication, settling his head against the
Alpha’s shoulder before entangling the fingers of his free hand with Mycroft’s.
The Alpha would not claim that he found the…snuggling…distasteful, only that it
was different and he glanced down at Gregory in puzzled surprise. The position
put the tip of Lestrade’s short hair against his lips and Mycroft allowed
himself a deep inhale, eyes drooping half mast at the heady scent.
“Mycroft?” The Alpha frowned at the soft tremor of Gregory’s voice. 
“Yes?”
“I’ve got another court appointment tomorrow. Ash is going to be there. And…”
Lestrade’s voice dipped even lower, “and Sheri, too, I think.”
They’d talked about Ashley Whitlock a handful of times. Gregory had never lied
or tried to hide his divorce and Mycroft had enough respect for the man not to
pretend he didn’t already know everything that was happening between the two.
Sheri Daproe, an Omega nearly fifteen years Gregory’s junior, had rarely been
mentioned though.
Mycroft’s arm tightened reflexively at the Omega’s discomfort, tucking Gregory
closer against his side. The head on his shoulder turned, burrowing into the
hollow of Mycroft’s throat. The action sent an arrow of heat down the Alpha’s
spine, curling in stomach.  
“I could accompany you.” He offered, his grip on the Omega tightening again at
the feel of nose nuzzling against his skin.
“I appreciate the offer, but I need to do this alone.” Gregory said softly, his
breath warm brushes. “But, maybe I could take you up on that later?”
“Whenever you’d like,” Mycroft promised, eyes still locked on the Omega’s
crown. “My schedule is always open to you.”
There was a huff of a laugh against his skin. “You sure about that? I wouldn’t
want to take you away from running England.”
“My brother exaggerates.” He said with a snort, “I am not nearly so
irreplaceable.”
“I still don’t want to bother you.”
“You are never a bother, Gregory.”
Lestrade pushed back slightly, eyes soft as he stared up at him, lips quirked.
“Mycroft Holmes, I’d never have guessed it. You’re a closet romantic.”
The Alpha paused, wondering all at once how he’d ever ended up in a situation
where the word ‘romantic’ had been paired with his own name, before giving
Gregory a small smile. “I suppose I have never had the urge to be one. Until
recently, of course.”
Gregory’s smile grew wider and Mycroft found his breath catching slightly as
the Omega pressed against him, lips seeking his own. They’d kissed a handful of
times, but as Gregory’s mouth slotted against his own, Mycroft could tell that
this one would be unlike the those they’d shared before.
There was a burst of wet warmth against his lips as the Omega’s tongue swiped
coyly at his mouth and he instantly responded. Gregory let out the softest,
most appealing sound when Mycroft deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into
his mouth – a mouth that still tasted of the coffee and German chocolate cake
from dessert – and proceeded to map every inch of the welcoming space.
Strong arms wrapped tightly around his body as Lestrade snuggled in even
closer, eliminating any space between them, and Mycroft let out a low rumble of
approval at the move, hand cupping the back of the Omega’s head possessively.
The kiss grew longer, more impassioned, lips parting only to find a new angle
before meeting instantly against each other again.
Gregory’s erection was pressing against his thigh and Mycroft’s own had
hardened in response to the delicious ramp of arousal in his scent, and the
Omega let out a soft whine as their cocks rubbed against each other. Gregory
bucked slightly in his grip, a half restrained roll that ground their hips
together and Mycroft broke the kiss with a growl, latching onto the exposed
patch of neck. Gregory let out a breathily whimper, hands fisting into the
fabric of Mycroft’s coat, head craning to the side to expose as much of his
neck as possible.
“Jesus, My.” The Omega croaked, voice ragged and wrecked, and Mycroft felt a
burst of fondness in his chest at the nickname, the strength of it rivaled only
the bolts of lust that were streaking through his frame. “Christ, I’m so wet.
You – just being near you makes me fucking leak like a teenager.” Mycroft
snarled, biting down harshly on the flesh as hands reached down to grip at a
perfectly formed, tight arse cheeks. “I – oh ,” Gregory breathed, arching into
the touch as the Alpha pulled the covered mounds as far apart as they could be,
hands tightening on Mycroft’s coat until the fabric strained, “oh, god. Want
you, My, please. Need you – been – been thinking of you.”
Mycroft pulled away from the thoroughly bruised neck, pleased with the thought
that Gregory would be meeting his former mate with his mark on him. The Omega’s
face was flushed, pupils so dilated it had nearly swallowed those warm browns
Mycroft so enjoyed.
“Fucked yourself to me,” the Alpha correct, voice a low growl, and felt his
cock twitch harshly at Gregory's full body shudder at those words. “Stuffed
your greedy little hole thinking of my cock, didn’t you?”
“Oh, shit. Should be illegal – you talking like that.” Gregory croaked, “never
– you cursing – god, I –ngh!”
The words broke off into a started sound, eyes squeezing shut as Mycroft’s
fingers dove underneath his coat and waist band in one fluid move. He found
himself almost completely holding Omega’s body upright as his fingers sought
that greedy hole, digits gliding through the slick. The angle was terrible, but
Mycroft still managed to press his middle finger inside. Lestrade let out a
cry, the sound muffled by the Alpha’s shoulder, before thrusting back almost
violently.
Mycroft watched his reactions hungrily, pumping the digit in out of the hole,
marveling at the tight heat. Had Gregory truly been mated? Had he really
carried three children? He was so tight still, so perfect around his finger.
“Please, My, I – I need-” the Omega shivered, words lost as he clamped down
hard around the finger, body shuddering.
He kept his finger deep inside, searching and prodding, determined to feel and
map every inch of the warm channel. Gregory was so slick, so wet, that it was
pooling against his curved palm, making a sticky webbing between his fingers.
“Mycroft,” Gregory breathed, the name desperate, hips humping back against him.
Shrewd grey eyes cast a look around them, taking in the near empty park, before
practically carrying the Omega towards a shadowed, darkened back end of a
nearby groundskeeper hutch, hidden by tall bushes and trees. “Oh, Jesus,” the
shorter man gasped as Mycroft spun him, pinning his front against the shed,
before deftly undoing his belt. “This is so fucking illegal.”
“Should I stop, Detective Inspector?” Mycroft asked, voice a low purr as he
used the new angle to shove two more fingers into the sopping hole. “I believe
you’d made a vow, ‘fairness, integrity, diligence’ and all that?”
“Fuck no.” Gregory said with a moan, legs spreading as wide as they could in
the confines of his trousers. “Don’t – Don’t stop.”
“Good.” The Alpha growled out, dropping to his knees as his hand rucked the
D.I.’s coat and blazer out of the way, before parting glistening cheeks.
Mycroft let out a low sound of approval at the sight. Slick was dripping
liberally down toned thighs (an impressive amount really, given Lestrade’s age)
and Mycroft couldn’t help the feeling of smug satisfaction that he had been the
cause. The Omega’s hole was puffy and swollen, open ever so slightly from his
fingers. And the scent…
The sounds Gregory made when he buried his face between those cheeks, tongue
pressing insistently inside, nearly made the Alpha come. He reached down,
gripping his balls tightly and easing the swollen and drawn flesh down. Above
him Lestrade was shaking violently, collapsed completely against the hutch
wall, body curved in a lordosis pose that was hampered only by Mycroft’s face.
He slid a hand up, gathering slick before wrapping it around the Omega’s hard
little dick and pumping.
“Mycroft!” Gregory cried out, body trembling so hard it was as if he was
seizing. The Alpha stood smoothly, replacing his tongue with four fingers while
his other hand shoved his date’s tie into his mouth.
“Bite down on that, if you must,” he commanded, his hand returning to pump the
swollen member, “be quite embarrassing to be caught by the police, wouldn’t it?
A man of your status – a D.I. caught being fucked in the park like a common
whore.”
Gregory whimpered but nodded, drool quickly dampening the tie a dark color as
his hips stuttered between the attention of Mycroft’s hands.
“Or is that what you want? Do you want to be seen? Caught practically on an
Alpha’s knot?” The Omega whined, thrusting roughly back against the probing
fingers. “Maybe I should call someone over here, let them watch as I fuck you.
Would you like that, Detective Inspector? Let everyone watch as I fill you up?”
“Please,” Lestrade whimpered, words muffled by the tie, “please, Mycroft. Need
it – need you ‘n me.”
Mycroft cursed, yanking his hands free to fight with his own belt, the
movements hampered by the slick on his fingers. He managed to free himself a
moment later, hands shaking as he lined himself up. The Alpha took a moment to
admire the sight before him; Gregory Lestrade still half-dressed, slick
staining (and undoubtedly ruining) his suit trousers, skin flushed to a bright
red, before pressing in.
They both let out strained whines at the feel of his cock sinking in and in
until it was buried till the root.
“Gregory,” Mycroft gasped, pressing his forehead against the Omega’s sweaty
nape, utterly lost at the wet warmth that had swallowed him so well. “So good
for me, so tight. Took me so well.”
Gregory whimpered, voice utterly shot. “Oh, My, baby. Please, move, I need –
yes.”
Mycroft began a brutal pace, for once in his life utterly lost in the moment,
uncaring of who may overhear or find them. He molded his body to the Omega’s
back, hips pistoning in with enough strength to force his partner flat against
the hut.
“Mine,” he growled out, teeth digging into Gregory’s nape, placement carefully
done to avoid any chance at bonding even as his instincts cried for him to do
so. He'd never been with an Omega who had ever invoked that urge, but with
Lestrade it had seemingly awoken. The Omega nodded rapidly, hips meeting each
thrust doggedly, no matter what pace Mycroft set.
“Yours!” Gregory whined, voice cracking, hands scrambling for purchase against
the smooth sliding. “Only yours, I promise. Please, please, My! I’m – I’m
gonna-”
The Omega cried out, biting roughly into the tie to silence the sound as he
orgasmed, and Mycroft felt his eyes roll back at the sensation of Lestrade's
passage gripping almost painfully around him - searching for his knot, the
Alpha thought wildly - hips thrusting roughly now and without cohesion. At the
last moment he pulled out just enough to free his knot – only a lifetime of
ironclad control keeping him from shoving it back in as he came. His primal
mind screamed in frustration at the feel of his seed leaking out around his
cock, so liberally it coated the front of his suit and dribbled down Gregory’s
thighs and legs until it pooled against the fabric of the Omega’s trousers. 
But the larger part of him recognized the pointless danger of knotting in such
a public place. Despite his earlier taunts, the Alpha had no intention of
allowing anyone to see Gregory in such a state. He eased out carefully, tucking
himself back into his suit trousers and redoing the belt. Lestrade was still
resting limply against the hutch wall, face slack with pleasure and body so
limp it was a wonder he didn’t collapse.
Mycroft studied the well used form, eyes growing darker at the sight of his cum
coating nearly every part of the Omega’s lowers. He leaned in, pressing a soft
kiss the pliant lips as he carefully negotiated the still drained man back into
his trousers. He turned him, tucking the spent cock back into the utterly
ruined pants before tying Lestrade’s trench coat to hide the worst of it from
view and allowing the Omega to curl against his chest.
“No one gets to see you like this.” Mycroft said quietly, stroking his hand
through sweat drenched locks. “Not Ashley Wheelock, not Sherlock, not that
bitch of an Alpha you work with me. Just me, only me.”
Gregory nodded tiredly, resting his face against his shoulder. “I have the
sitter until nine tomorrow morning.”
“Oh?”
“Hm.” The Omega nuzzled in closer, his hands weaseling underneath Mycroft’s
blazer to wrap around the sweat soaked shirt. “You should take me home and knot
me properly. Wanna fall asleep with you in me.”
Impossibly, Mycroft felt his cock already beginning to swell, his still hard
knot aching. He pressed his lips to Gregory's forehead before fishing out his
cell phone to arrange for their ride. “I would like nothing more, dear one.”
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you guys enjoyed. Our boys are very naughty.
***** Affection *****
Chapter Summary
     It wasn’t quite love, but it was close; a deep and binding affection,
     a budding sense of possession and obligation, and Mycroft took his
     obligations very seriously.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the wait guys! Enjoy! Un-beated.
     Notes:
     D.C.I. - Detective Chief Inspector
     Slight allusion to TV show MI5/Spooks, which exists in the Bondlock
     world in my mind, and which Mycroft is currently working as the
     'temporary' head of.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
August 20th, 2011
Mycroft woke slowly, mind instantly cataloging the room around him even before
the Alpha opened his eyes. He was on his stomach, body stretched like a
protective blanket over a still sleeping Gregory. His nose was buried in the
Omega’s neck and his partner’s scent filled his lungs with every breath.
Mycroft shifted, enjoying the dull pleasure of his morning erection sliding so
pleasantly across the Omega’s plump bottom. For a moment the Holmes’ Alpha
thought about grinding himself off, bringing them both to a quick, burst of
morning pleasure, but his ears picked up a low clattering coming from below
them and Mycroft regretfully pulled himself free from the warm bed and it's
most pleasing occupant.
Mycroft pulled his robe on; a bright red and green thing that had been gifted
to him by Gregory to keep at the Lestrade house. Despite the fact that couple
had only been dating for four months, they had reached a level of intimacy that
would be more at home in a relationship twice or even tripled that age.
Gregory's painful and drawn out divorce and the death of Mycroft's mother had
aided in this, making open conversation and a level of transparency necessary
for their relationship's survival. Mycroft was quite ashamed to say that
Gregory had surprised him; the Omega been there in every way that Mycroft could
have ever needed. With his father and Sherrinford's death still so recent, the
Alpha had needed that comfort desperately after Olivia had been killed. Now
that he had experienced having affection and attention in his time of need, of
how it had felt – for once – not to shoulder the blunt of their family’s
tragedy by himself, Mycroft doubted he could go back to his world of isolated
control.
In the months following his mother's death, Mycroft had shocked himself by
sharing so much of his feelings and history with the Omega, and Gregory had
born the weight of them so well, seemingly never missteping with his words or
reactions. Perhaps it was because the D.I. had been broken into the Holmes way
of thinking by Sherlock already, but there was little that he had told Lestrade
that seemed to put the older man off. By their second month dating, both
Gregory and Mycroft had felt secure enough for him to meet the Lestrade
children. By the third, it had become common to find one at the other’s house.
Because of the children, they tended to end up at Gregory’s more than Mycroft’s
brownstone, but to the Alpha it hardly mattered.
To the Holmes' surprise, he found the children pleasant and enjoyable.
Alexa was a rowdy, precious ten year old, constantly getting into things in a
way that fondly reminded him of Sherlock at that age – if he’d been much
slower, of course. And Charlotte was an incredibly charming young girl, a lady
in every meaning of the word,  and despite her tender age every move and word
thought out to ensure her appearance to be refined and patrician. It was a
habit that Mycroft greatly appreciated and encouraged. While all three of the
little Alphas had seemingly ‘clicked’ with Mycroft (much to his greatest
relief, as he had very little experience with children outside of his own
brothers and they could hardly be considered normal) the Holmes found himself
drawn towards the youngest, Theodore, the most.    
Theodore was only six, but he was already showing a great glimmer of fierce
intelligence. The tiny Alpha preferred his insect and rock collection over much
else, including idol conversation, and it was fairly obvious that Mycroft
favoritism of Lestrade's youngest was due to his more Holmes-ian traits, but
Gregory didn’t seem to mind. The Omega had reassured him that between the
girls' older age and more vivacious personalities, they needed less coddling
than young Theodore, who seemed to crave the extra attention the elder Alpha
paid him.
The readiness with which the children had accepted him had eased Mycroft’s
frequent presence at the house and the three barely looked up when he entered
the kitchen. They had latched onto his presence quite willingly, and Mycroft
wasn't emotional enough to see that as anything but what it was. While they may
like him, the majority of good will he was currently enjoying was due to his
timely arrival to fill a long standing gap in their family dynamic; the need
for an Alpha parent.
From Mycroft's understanding, even before beginning her affair Ashley
Whitlock's work schedule made her an absentee parent. That had only increased
once she had began her new relationship and now that the female Alpha was free
of even the most basic of pretenses, she spent little time with them. While
some of this was undoubtedly due to the still in-progress custody hearings,
most of if most likely had to do with Whitlock's new freedom and her growing
lack of attention the last eight months was sorely felt by her children. 
Still, it would never be said that Mycroft Holmes looked a gift horse in the
mouth - or that he did not use every angle available to him - and he would
gladly exploit his ability to serve as a proxy to establish an emotional base
with the children. There would be time later for something deeper, something
real that developed from their actual relationships, but for the moment this
would due. Mycroft's lips curved into a small smile at the sight of Alexa
making her siblings toast, staring blearily down into the toaster, balanced on
a step stool. While her attitude may be at times rather uncouth and abrupt,
Mycroft felt a certain kinship with Lestrade's eldest. While Gregory was far
more involved than his own parents had ever been, the D.I.'s work hours and the
lack of a second parent meant that Alexa often stepped up to help out with her
siblings. Charlotte was drawling in her Disney Princesses coloring book, each
down stroke of her marker measured carefully to keep within the lines, a look
intense concentration on her face. Theodore was practically asleep in his seat,
nibbling on his toast, his stuffed giraffe held limply to his chest.
“Good morning, children.” Mycroft greeted, crossing the kitchen and lifting
Alexa off the stool and onto the ground. The ten year old blinked up at him as
he steered her towards her seat. “Would you like some eggs?”
“Scrambled.” Alexa ordered as she plopped in the kitchen chair, “with cheese.”
“Manners, Alexa.”
“Please, make me some scrambled eggs with cheese.” The young Alpha said with a
pout, tugging at the end of her pony tail.
“I want scrambled eggs too, please.” Charlotte said, smirking at the dark glare
her sister threw her.
“What about you, Theodore?” Mycroft asked as he set a cup of orange juice down
in front of each pup.
“Teddy doesn’t like eggs, My.” Alexa corrected in a superior tone.
The Alpha felt his lips twitch. “Of course, my mistake.” He pulled the eggs and
cheese out and began to slice it. “What are you doing up so early? It’s unlike
you all to be up before nine.”
“Teddy wet the bed like a baby.”
That seemed to wake the littlest Alpha up immediately, crying out in dismay. “I
did not!”
“Did too!”
“Yeah you did!”
The two Alpha girls berated together and Theodore flushed a bright red, lower
lip trembling. Mycroft moved quickly to intervene, brushing a hand across
Theodore’s downy hair in a gentle pet. “No yelling at the table, your father is
still asleep. And it’s alright, Theodore, these things happen. My younger
brother Sherlock wet the bed until he was seven. A whole year older than you.”
Bright brown eyes stared up at him and not for the first time, Mycroft was
swept by a gratefulness that Lestrade’s children took after him and not their
sire. He did not believe his affections for them would have been swayed if they
had, but it was not unheard of; there was a biological basis for new Alphas
rejecting the pups of a previous mating. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Have you changed?” An embarrassed nod. “Did Alexa help you? Then
say thank you to your sister…that’s a good boy. You as well, Alexa. You are an
excellent older sister, an Alpha should always look after those smaller and
younger than them, especially if they're family." Alexa practically preened
with the praise, grinning around her toast. "I’ll change your sheets after we
eat, Theodore. How does that sound?”
Theodore nodded. “Thank you, My.”
He gave the small Alpha a smile before turning back to the eggs. He’d only just
finished cutting the cheese when he was startled by the sound of the front door
opening. He turned, eyes narrowing, and had cleared the length of the kitchen,
standing protectively in the opening, before it had clicked shut. Mycroft had
to still the irritated growl when he found himself face to face with Ashley
Whitlock. The Alpha woman was only slightly shorter than him and she instantly
puffed herself up to eliminate the difference, blue eyes blazing as she stood
taller and wider.
“Who the hell are you?” She snarled, lips pulled back in a snarl. “What the
hell are you doing in my house?”
“I was under the impression you no longer live here, Ms. Whitlock.” The Alpha
said coldly, “does Gregory know you’re coming?”
“I don’t need to ask permission to come to my own house.” Whitlock seethed.
“The deed is in Gregory’s name,” and it was – Mycroft had seen to it himself.
He felt his eyes narrow even further, disgusted at the arrogance of the woman,
thinking she could just waltz back into Lestrade’s house as if nothing had ever
happened. “As I believe you are aware, seeing as you signed it over just last
month.”
“Listen, you prick-”
“Mummy?” A trembling voice interrupted and Mycroft glanced over his shoulder to
find all three pups visibly upset by the harsh tones and raised voices.
Charlotte was staring at her mother, eyes wide and not a little bit tinged with
uncertainty and Theodore had slid from his chair, pressed against Alexa’s side,
his giraffe clutched close, as the older Alpha gave her sire a truly weighty
glare for a pre-teen.
It was like a switch had been flipped, the female Alpha’s tone going soft even
as her glare never left Mycroft’s face. “Charlie, sweetie, everything’s fine.”
“You missed my recital.” The little girl accused, lips pulling into a decisive
frown. “It was the biggest one of the year. You promised.”
She had promised, and she had missed it.
Mycroft hadn’t.
Whitlock winced, “I called you, hunny, to explain but your Daddy wouldn’t let
me talk to you.”
“Yeah, to explain how you were off replacing us.” Alexa snarled, pulling
Theodore even closer to her side. To say the news of Sheri Daproe’s pregnancy
had gone over badly with the children would be an understatement. None of the
pups were under any delusions over what was happening between their parents.
Gregory had thought it best to be open and Mycroft – whose childhood had been
ruled by lies (both well-meaning and not) – had encouraged the idea. Children
were not stupid, even at their tender ages they were capable of understanding
and rationalizing a great deal, and they would form their own assumptions -
often times worse and far harsher - if they were not guided.
“No, Alex! Kids, I would never replace you, this is just like when Theo was
born-”
“Alexa, will you please take your siblings upstairs and fetch your father.”
Mycroft interrupted, shifting to block Whitlock’s attempt to bypass him and
step into the kitchen.
The female Alpha was still in the honeymoon stages of her new relationship and
whether it was intentional or not, she had been neglecting her obligations as
both a mother and an Alpha. Obligations that Mycroft had since begun to fill.
It had been Mycroft who had gone to the recitals and school plays, who had
picked the children up from after school practices when Gregory couldn’t get
away from work, who had calmed and bribed angry and disappointed tears away
when their mother had failed to show or call yet again. And it had been Mycroft
who had sat with the pups, trying to comfort and reassure them of not only
their worth but potential, as Gregory told them of their impending half-
sibling.
Alexa nodded, keeping Theodore by her side as she took Charlotte by the hand,
and navigated the space between the two Alphas. Ashley Whitlock seemed to
shrink as none of her children so much as spared her a glance. Only once they’d
disappeared upstairs did the fire return to her glare.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but if you think you can just step into my
family and take my place you are sorely mistaken.” She snapped, hands fisting
by her side, “those are my kids. I made them and there is nothing you can ever
do to replace that, to replace me? You hear me?”
“No one is trying to replace you, Ms. Whitlock.”
“Really? Sure as fuck could have fooled me.”
Mycroft drew to his full height, hands locking behind his back, and the air he
took was more appropriate for the parliament than his boyfriend’s kitchen, clad
only in pajamas and a house coat. “I will ask you to reframe from such
profanity, at least while you’re in the house. Children are so impressionable,
after all.”
“Don’t you tell me how to raise my kids, you little shit, who the hell do you
think-”
“Ashley!” A sharp voice barked and both Alphas turned to find Gregory
descending the stairs, a storm incarnate. “Don’t you dare talk to him like
that.”
He reached the bottom of the steps, glaring at his ex with an expression he
usually saved for the interrogation rooms. Mycroft felt something inside him –
deep, deep inside him – and something he would never own up to, crow in victory
as the Omega joined him by his side, a hand curling into his own.
“What are you doing here, Ash?” Gregory demanded, livid.
The female Alpha stiffened. “I was in the neighborhood and thought it would be
nice to see the kids.”
“I’m having the locks changed; you just can’t show up whenever you want.” The
Omega let out a frustrated breath, “you can’t just do these things, Ash. You
can’t just disappear from their lives for eight months and then just…just show
up! You can’t play with them like that.”
“Play - Play with them? They’re my kids, too, Greg! I have a right to see
them.” Whitlock hissed, face turning a dark maroon in her anger. Mycroft felt
his lip curl at the sight of it, slipping his arm around Gregory’s waist and
tugging the Omega against his side in a move that couldn’t be seen as anything
other than the possessive, protective movement it was. Gregory instantly melted
into him, leaning his head against Mycroft’s shoulder as his hand rested
overtop the Alpha's. The actions only seemed to further infuriate Whitlock,
though. “And this is protecting them? Shacking up with some stranger? Jesus,
were the sheets even cold-”
“I am really sure that’s not an argument you want start, Ashley.” Gregory
interrupted, tone positively glacial, “how is Sheri?”
“She’s fine,” Whitlock bit out, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you
shouldn’t be having your boyfriend living at the house!”
“He’s not living here,” Gregory corrected smoothly, “and even if it was, you’d
have no say in it. You gave that right up when you broke our bond and divorced
me.”
“I still have rights and-”
“Yes, you do, as you keep reminding me at the custody meet-ups, but they don’t
extend to me or my relationships.”
“They do if I think it’s going to affect my children.” The Alpha snarled. “And
I don’t like the idea of some stranger shacking up around them.”
The Omega scoffed, his own arm curling around Mycroft in a soothing motion,
trying to calm the tense lines of irritation and anger in his form.
“Mycroft is hardly a stranger, Ash. I’ve known his family for almost thirty
years, I work with one his brothers and his other is practically my best
friend." The Alpha opened her mouth to object, but Gregory continued on, voice
hard. “What’s more, he’s a doll with the kids. They love him and he’s been kind
enough to pick up the pieces that you left behind. I know him pretty damn well
and I trust him, way more than I trust you. I have zero issues having him
around – hell, even leaving him with the kids.”
“We’ll see about this.” Whitlock declared angrily, “expect a call from your
barrister on Monday.”
“Fine, whatever,” the Omega said dismissively as he crossed the small entryway
and opened the door, “just leave.”
Whitlock hesitated, looking torn. “Greg, I never wanted it to be like this. I
mean, we've had-”
“No.” Gregory snapped, voice very low now, a rumbling growl echoing his words,
“you don’t get to do that. You choose this, Ash. You made your bed the moment
you cheated on me with Sheri. Well, you got your hot little thing, don’t you
dare begrudge me finding my own happiness. What did you think? That we’d be
friends? That everything was going to continue on as normal, that I wasn’t ever
going to move on? That everything was going to be like before, that I was going
to just keep coming home to a lonely house?
These last two years have been a joke, and I deserve better than that life.
Mycroft is a good man – a better Alpha than you could ever hope to be – he's
there for me and the pups, and that…that…” The Omega shook his head, seemingly
running out of steam, suddenly looking tired and exhausted. “That’s just the
way it is, okay? Now, please leave. You can keep your key; it won’t work after
today anyway.”
The female Alpha stared at Gregory, looking at her like she’d never seen him
before, before nodding and slowly, reluctantly, leaving. Gregory shut the door
and locked it, the lines of his face still hard, before the emotion melted into
something much more vulnerable. “I’m sorry about, Mycroft. You shouldn’t have
had to deal with that. I’m just…I’m just really sorry.” Mycroft crossed the
small space, startling the Omega as he pulled him into a heated kiss. When he
pulled away, Gregory was staring up at him, looking beautiful with kiss plumped
lips and a flush to his cheeks. “What was that for?”
"For defending me so wonderfully, my dear." Mycroft purred, pressing himself
closer to the Omega. "Your sister is still taking the children to the zoo at
eleven, correct? Why don't let me show you how thankful I am?"
Gregory's delighted laugh was muffled as the Alpha swooped in, claiming his
mouth hungrily again.
===============================================================================
Mycroft was deep in the middle of an MI5 section heads briefing when his phone
vibrated at his hip. Usually the Alpha kept it on silence during meetings, but
it was rounding on lunch time on Monday and the Holmes had little doubt that
Ashley Whitlock would be going through with her threat. He excused himself from
the meeting - the act so out of the norm that nearly everyone fell gapingly
silent at the action - walked the three feet to his sound proofed office and
shut the door before calling Anthea back. His personal assistance briefed him
quickly, her normally inflection-less voice tinged with annoyance. Anthea had
taken such a liking to Gregory that if the Alpha hadn't been homosexual,
Mycroft may have been concerned.
Of course, it was hard not to like Gregory. The kindhearted Omega had been a
police officer for so long, years of existing in a realm where the team was
everything, and often went out of his way to include Anthea. He brought her
plates of warm food and tea to where she waited in the car, often invited her
in to join them for dinner or activities (though she always declined politely),
and the PA - who was often ignored and overlooked by those around her - had
been visibly touched by the constant inclusion. Mycroft hardly minded the
attachment; Anthea was a highly trained instrument of destruction and having
her emotionally invested in his boyfriend and family was hardly something the
Holmes scion thought of as a negative.
The Alpha gathered three thick packets, pushing them into his briefcase before
leaving the meeting under the direction of the incredibly capable hands of
Harry Pearce, and left MI5. The car had barely left the garage before his phone
rang again. The Holmes tabbed up the privacy window before answering.
“Gregory.”
“Hey, sorry to call like this,” the Omega sounded completely frazzled, breaking
for the indistinguishable sound of a cigarette inhale and Mycroft felt his nose
wrinkle in distaste; he abhorred the habit, yet he knew that Gregory only
indulged when he was incredibly stressed, “I hate to – I’m not interrupting
anything am I?”
“No, I’m free at the moment.” Mycroft assured, asking what was wrong even
though he already knew. The Omega immediately launched into the tale, telling
of how Ashley Whitlock was trying to get custody by getting Gregory pronounced
an unfit parent.
“She's saying I work too much to pay attention to the kids! That’s such a
laugh, given her hours and – oh I don’t know – the fact that she’s hardly been
around this last year.” Gregory laughed harshly, voice frustrated and hurt,
“and she’s also lodging that I can’t fully support three kids on my salary; not
with the private school andthe after-school activities. God, I just don’t even
know…”
There was a heavy sigh.
“And she’s saying I’m a bad example by having my boyfriend over and shagging me
with the kids home. She’s…she’s really pissed off about that, though I’ll eat
my badge if that’s what this is about. Seems a bit of the pot calling the
kettle black to me, I mean seriously! Attacking mycharacter! She’s the one who
had the affair!”
Gregory’s voice cracked slightly and Mycroft felt his temper rise at the
shuddering intake that followed it. His instincts were swirling just underneath
his iron-like control, the distress of the Omega he was so rapidly considering
his evoking every inch of the Alpha’s protective nature.
“Christ, I’ve got to go back inside, the break’s almost over.” Gregory groaned
and Mycroft could practically see the hand dragging across a tired face,
“bloody hell, I don’t want to go back in and sit there, listening to Ash call
me a bad Omega. God knows my barrister certainly isn’t defending me. Why am I
even bothering to pay him? If I wanted to be belittled in silence, I could have
just done it without spending so bloody much.”
“Gregory, I think it’s best I join you.” Mycroft said, straightening his tie as
the car drew up to its destination. He could just see the tall figure of
Lestrade as he paced the sidewalk.
Another heavy sigh. “That would be lovely, My, but I can’t ask that. You’re
busy and half way across town.”
“As I said before, I happen to be free at the moment,” the Alpha corrected as
the car pulled to a stop. He stepped out, giving the surprised Omega a small
smile as he flipped the phone closed, “and I happened to be in the
neighborhood.”
“Like hell you did.” Gregory said with a snort, immediately calling him out on
the lie. He was too used to the Holmes' modus operandi thanks to Sherlock and
for a moment Mycroft worried that perhaps he had presumed too much, but then
the Omega was in his arms, nuzzling into his throat. He returned the gentle
motion, pulling his partner closer, nose wrinkling at the smell of Ashley
Whitlock that still clung to him, eager to see the offensive scent gone. “I’m
glad you’re here, really I am, but I don’t want you to hear what’s going on in
there.” Brown eyes glanced up at him worriedly, “I really appreciate you
coming, but I don’t think even you can help here.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Mycroft said as he carded a gloved hand through
short locks, “I rather think I can help in several ways.”
The look Gregory gave him was almost comically suspicious. “I know that look –
that’s the same smug-arsed expression Sherlock gets. What have you got planned,
My?”
“Nothing that will cause you or your own any harm, darling, I promise.” The
Alpha leaned in for a chaste kiss, “I’m just here to aid you, may I?”
The Omega stared up at him searching, brows furrowed, before nodding. “Alright,
but I’m trusting you here, Mycroft. These are my kids.”
“Which is exactly why you should trust me, dearest.” He assured softly, “I
would no more allow them to be taken from you than I would you from me.”
He took the Omega by the hand, guiding him inside and back towards the room.
And the Alpha meant what he said; the level of protectiveness he felt for
Gregory and his children was something that Mycroft had only felt before for
his brothers. It wasn’t quite love, but it was close; a deep and binding
affection, a budding sense of possession and obligation, and Mycroft took his
obligations very seriously.
Gregory let out a soft laugh as the Alpha brought them to a halt in front of
the legal chamber they were meeting in. “Do I even want to know how you know
what room we’re in?”
“I had Anthea follow you.”
“Of course you did.”
“In my defense,” Mycroft said as they slowed before the legal chambers, “I was
very concerned.”
Gregory only shook his head, looking amused, but the smile was fleeting,
disappearing completely only moments later. "I was serious about what I said
outside, Mycroft. She's saying some...unflattering things, about both of us."
He reached, stroking the Omega's cheek gently. "There is nothing Ashley
Whitlock could possibly say that could ever influence my opinion of you," not
that he was planning on allowing the female Alpha to speak much, "and I ask
only that you have faith in me and my abilities to manipulate the situation.
There are some benefits to dating a Holmes after all, Gregory."
Gregory nodded before cursing loudly. "What the - my barrister isn't in yet. He
must be running late."
"I believe Anthea is with him."
"Mycroft..."
"Have faith, my dear. I know what I'm doing." He gave the nervous looking D.I.
a reassuring smile, than pushed the door open.
Ashley Whitlock sat at the table, her current mate, Sheri Daproe by her side,
and looked absolutely infuriated at Mycroft’s presence. “What are you doing
here?”
Mycroft set his briefcase down on the table before pulling a chair out for
Lestrade. Only once they were both seated did the Alpha respond. “As of this
moment, I am serving as Gregory Lestrade’s representation.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate? Are you even a barrister?”
Whitlock snapped, clearly unhappy with the change.
“I have a law degree, several in fact, and from universities assuredly better
than your own. And my presence here is no more unprofessional than you choosing
to represent yourself in these proceeding.” Mycroft explained as he pulled out
and neatly set out the three packets, taking time to ensure they were aligned
on the table perfectly. “Proceedings which I believe have taken far too long
already. So, as they say," he folded his hands together as he rested them on
the table, smiling genially, "let’s get down to the brass tax.”
“Fine by me.” Whitlock spit out.
Daproe placed a calming hand on her mate’s arm. “I’m sorry, sir, but what did
you say your name was?”
“Mycroft Holmes.” And there – there it was, the recognition (on Daproe’s face
at least) that always followed his name. “I understand that you have brought a
charge of unfit parenting against my client.” He gestured to the left most
packet, “inside you’ll find twenty-eight signed affidavits; from the children’s
primary teachers, the Academy head master, their after school instructors, as
well as their medical team – their pediatrician, dentist, and therapist – as
well as Mr. Lestrade’s coworkers, direct underlings, superior and close friends
that not only validate but praise my client's parenting skills.
As for your concern of my client’s time obligations, there are the profiles of
six different nannies – all whom have stunning references included within –
that will be looking after the children when necessary. I encourage you to look
through and pick your favorites for Gregory's final approval.
The middle packet, on the other hand, contains thirty-two affidavits –
including three signed by your law partners - that comment on how incredibly
strenuous and inclusive your own schedule has been for the last three years,
including your billable hours (which are rather numerous in number) and logged
hours at your firm. The rest are from many of the same individuals from the
first packet, in which they comment – rather effectively – on your own lack of
involvement in your children’s upbringing, going back several years before you
even began your affair. You will also find several very well recorded
documentations of your…extra-marital activities of the last two years. As well
as very scathing character statement from your former secretary that outlines
your moral discrepancies not only during work hours but after, including
frequently missed holidays and birthdays to spend with your mistress."
The entire table was gaping at him, but Mycroft was hardly done. He pushed the
last packet forward slightly.
“So, as you see, you’ve forced our hand here. We’re filing a claim of unfitness
against you, and I’m rather afraid that we’ll win. As for your concerns of Mr.
Lestrade’s finical situation; in the left most packet you will also find a
written notification of an assigned promotion to take place in the next six
months, which includes the figures of the accompanying raise as well as the
new, flexible hours. That, in accompaniment with your own child support, should
suffice. However, I find it necessary to quell this matter once and for all.”
He opened the last packet, allowing the contents to slide out onto the table.
“I fully understand and empathize with your concerns that for your
children financial safety and emotional well being and as such I cannot fault
you for suspicion of my character. To address this matter, I have prepared my
credentials. This includes an extensive background check and resume,” he held
up the red folder, nearly the size of a small book, “character references of my
own,” he pushed for a rather large number of sealed envelopes, including one
that bore the crest of the royal family, “as well as my yearly earnings and an
extensive list of my stock holdings, real estate and commercial properties. I
am the third richest man in England, Ms. Whitlock, I am not seeking to abuse or
take advantage of Gregory.”
He carefully put the information back inside the packet, before stacking all
three of them and pushing them across the table.
“Now, I believe it best if you take a few days to consider the situation. But I
advise you to be intelligent about this, Mrs. Whitlock. Drop your charges and
sign over full custody to Mr. Lestrade, as he is clearly the fittest parent to
hold such a privilege. You will receive the same visiting privileges as most
divorced sires; you may have the children every other weekend.”
Whitlock leapt to her feet, hands slamming against the table, and both Gregory
and Sheri flinched at the impromptu show of violence. “Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not,” Mycroft said with no small amount of distaste, appalled not
only by the outburst but how uncomfortable it had made both Omegas. “However,
to clarify; if you continue to pursue full custody – despite the documented
fact that you are not qualified to be the main care taker – I will assure that
you will be declared unfit and any visiting privileges you have will be in a
small, uncomfortable room, with a social worker. Are we clear?”
The female Alpha eyes flashed, turning her glare to Gregory. “Greg, are you
going just sit there and let him do this to me?”
“Honestly?” The Omega said, voice awed and eyes locked on Mycroft, “yeah.” His
eyes flickered over to his ex. “You could have whatever you wanted, Ash. The
house, our savings, the cars. But let you take my babies from me? Do you even
know me?”
Mycroft stood, guiding the Omega to his feet with a light touch to his back. “I
believe that we’re done here for today. You’ll find a copy of my card in each
packet, Mrs. Whitlock. I expect to hear from you by the end of the week or I
will be pressing forward with our own charges. Mrs. Daproe, good day.”
He gave the shell shocked looking Omega woman a nod, before gently steering his
partner from the room. He barely made it a few feet outside when he was
suddenly being pulled into an aggressive kiss. Gregory’s mouth claimed his own,
hot and frantic, as he pushed him against the building's wall, body needy
against his own. When he pulled away a few minutes later, both of them were red
and sweaty, cocks hard as they pressed against each other.
“Fuck,” Gregory cursed, voice hoarse, “bloody fucking Holmeses. That was
brilliant, youwere brilliant.”
The Alpha chuckled, hands resting on the small of the Omega's back. "I trust
your good faith was not wasted then, Detective Inspector."
"Not even remotely," the older man said with a grin, leaning back into
Mycroft's hold as he stared up at him. "How the hell did you pull all that
together, Mycroft? All of those affidavits? No way you pulled that together
this morning, how long have you been getting those packets prepped?"
"I admit that I had bit of foresight there," Mycroft said casually, but not
without an air of smugness, "I begun gathering statements a few weeks ago. It
was very easy. You are very well liked, my dear."
"And how did you know about my promotion to D.C.I.? I haven't told anyone about
that, not even Sally." The Omega stiffened, alarmed. "Mycroft, you didn't-"
"No, of course not." The Alpha reassured quickly, "you earned your promotion on
your own. My job gives me certain perks when it comes to accessing the police
database and your superior has already begun filing the paperwork." He gestured
to the waiting car. "Seeing as we both have the afternoon off, would you like
to join me for lunch?"
The smile Gregory gave him was blinding, leaning up to press a kiss to the
Alpha's ear before whispering a dirty, filthy suggestion involving Mycroft's
oversized bed and the D.I.'s handcuffs, each word accompanied with the wet drag
of the Omega's tongue against the shell of his ear. Mycroft swallowed harshly,
nodding as he all but manhandled his partner into the sedan. The doors had
barely shut when Gregory was on him again, worrying his neck as his hand
disappeared into the Alpha's trousers. 
"I'm going to do horrible, deplorable things to you, Mr. Holmes."
Mycroft's breath hitched as his cock was freed, eyes flickering from the
privacy window to the tinted rear ones as calloused hands worked him to full
hardness. "Is that a promise, D.C.I. Lestrade?"
There was the distinctive clink-shinkof a belt being undone and a dark chuckle
rattled against his ear, "Oh, yes. I'm going to ride your knot until you loose
every clever, snarky thought in that beautiful head of yours."
The Alpha groaned as the D.I. was suddenly in his lap, trouser and pants pulled
down just enough to free his hole - and suddenly Mycroft's cock was sinking
into a familiar - but always missed - wet heat. The Omega let out a sharp hiss
as he sank down to the root all at once. The Alpha let his eyes close, head
slumping back against the head rest, mouth parted slightly as Gregory rose and
sank a few times shakily before his hands latched onto Mycroft's shoulders for
support and begun to ride him in earnest.
"Such a good Alpha," Gregory panted, "you take such care of me and my puppies.
N'ver seen Ashley struck dumb like that, she couldn't even think of what to
say. Not that I'm a surprise, she's - oh - not half the Alpha you are." Mycroft
moaned, hands wrapping tightly around wide hips, helpless against the tight
vice of the Omega's cunt and the words - as submissively cliche and
transparently constructed to appeal to his Alpha-nature as they were - spilling
from his mouth. "Should have done this before we went in - so she could smell
you all over me, smell how good you fill me up. Want her to think of me like
this, riding you like a knot-whore, desperate for you to plug me up. Only for
you."
"Gregory."
"Yeah, babe. That's it, My. Give it to me, w-want it." The Omega moaned,
lapping at the bonding node, a hand jerking himself off rapidly as he pressed
their chests together, the rise and fall of his hips speeding up. The small
cabin was filled with the unmistakable sounds of sex; the slap of skin against
skin, the squelch of a slick ass being fucked. "God, you make me so wet, My.
Wet all over you."
"I'm close." Mycroft bit out, his grip tightening until it was bruising, eyes
still shut and teeth grinding together in an attempt to muffle the low growl
and moans escaping him, ever mindful of their driver, even if the back cabin
was soundproofed.
"M-Me, too," his lover panted and only seconds later bit sharply into the
fabric of the Alpha's tweed jacket, body jerking in orgasm. Mycroft followed
half a breath later, crying out as his hips jutted upwards, pulling the Omega
against him in a crushing hug as he tied them together. Gregory went limp
against him, breath a staccato against his neck, arms wrapped around Mycroft's
shoulders. "Christ, I love your cock."
The Alpha laughed, letting his hand drift down to squeeze a round ass cheek.
"I'm fairly certain it's rather fond of you as well, darling."
"I'm so glad you're here with me, Mycroft. I'm so glad you asked me to dinner
that day in the park." Gregory said softly, burrowing even closer to him, face
still hidden in his neck.
Mycroft tightened his own arms, taken by the same need to have the Omega
closer, as close as he could possibly get, and nuzzled into the Omega's sweaty
hair. He took a deep inhale their scents - combined in the most perfect,
intimate of ways - before voicing his agreement.
"So am I."
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you guys enjoyed Mycroft being a badass and – of course – the
     smut ;P I personally love a domestic!Mycroft and writing him with the
     pups was so much fun.
     Almost done now, only one chapter left. Not going to lie, this
     chapter mainly got done because Lyaka and feliciahm left a comment on
     the last chapter and it got my creative juices burning. This story
     can be an asshole to me sometimes, lol. Please drop me a comment or a
     kudo if you enjoyed the chappie and I’ll try and get the final
     chapter out soon.
     ...
     Which will probably involve a very lengthy BJ and some oral knotting
     because…yum.
***** Love *****
Chapter Summary
     Love, the Alpha realized all at once, that was what the emotion was
     called and the fact that he – Mycroft Holmes – was feeling it was a
     gift that he’d never looked for nor expected.
Chapter Notes
     Un-beated.
     Okay, I lied. Oral Knotting in the epilogue chapter, but this one
     does have a bj!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
September 17th, 2011
Mycroft’s townhouse was silent save for the sound of the Alpha’s pacing. Sheer
force of will had him still dressed, a pair of pajama bottoms (cotton instead
of the usual silk, no reason to ruin the fabric) that were tented obscenely at
the crotch, the material damp with a growing stain of pre-come.
Gregory was late.
Over two hours late.
It wasn’t the Omega’s fault; the D.I. had been called out unexpectedly and had
been stuck at a crime scene throughout the afternoon.  The Alpha snarled, hands
fisting at his side to keep them from tearing at his face or ripping his
erection free and tossing off. Despite the aching need in his gut, getting off
would only make everything worse without a partner and so Mycroft kept up his
pacing and tried to keep his temper under control. The Alpha stalked across the
flat, glowering as he re-read his text messages.
Double Homicide. I’ll try to hurry. – GL
This is taking too long. I’m sorry. Are you alright? – GL
I’m calling Sherlock, Sally’s pissed. – GL
It was the daughter. Lestrade has left with Anthea. – SH
15 – GL
The last message had been nearly half an hour ago. Mycroft threw the mobile
away, suddenly furious, and was about to send the table lamp to join it when
the sound of his front door opening and slamming shut instantly redirected his
attention. Even from upstairs, the Alpha’s rut crazed mind could pick up the
scent of Omega and he practically leapt down the stairs. Gregory barely had
enough time to shrug off his raincoat before Mycroft was on him.
He slammed him against the entryway wall with enough force to rattle the
pictures, one framed print of Nice dropping to shatter on the marble floor, but
Mycroft could care less. He was too busy trying to smear his scent across his
Omega; Gregory smelled too much like the world outside. The stench of other
Alphas clung to the D.I. and even though two were the familiar smell of pack,
it did little to comfort Mycroft. He rucked up his partner’s shirt, hands
roaming over as much as skin as possible as sucked and licked at Gregory’s
neck, slipping a leg between the Omega’s to grind against his thigh.
“My,” the Omega groan, hands fumbling to get his tie off, as his hips rocked
against Mycroft’s legs, “Mycroft – let me, I just need to get-”
The Alpha snarled, unhappy as Gregory twisted and turned in his arms, trying to
shimmy out of his shirt, and the primal part of Mycroft’s mind that was
convinced his mate was trying to escape bit down on a now naked shoulder –
hard. The Omega cried out and suddenly Mycroft found his chin being held in an
iron grasp, brown eyes bright with warning.
“No,” Gregory warned, “I know you hurt, but you don’t get to hurt me, are we
clear? Mycroft, are we clear?”
It took some effort but Mycroft manage to find some strain of self-control and
nodded, head dipping to mouth over the bruising mark contritely, soothing the
tender flesh. A hand stroked the back of his sweaty neck, fingers combing
through his hair.
“My poor Alpha,” Gregory cooed, “you just can’t help yourself, can you?” A hand
pushed Mycroft’s trousers down, freeing the massive, swollen erection and the
Alpha growled, entire frame tensing when a hand wrapped around the hot flesh
and began to pump. “Not when you’re like this, all hard and ready. I kept you
waiting for so long, didn’t I? Can you be good for me and hold on just a little
bit longer?”
Mycroft nodded and managed to pry his hands off of the Omega’s hips, determined
to keep himself from hurting his partner a second time. They gripped at the
wall on either side of the tall form with enough force the plaster caved
inward. Gregory rewarded him with a dirty smile, hands efficiently undoing his
belt and stepping out of his pants and trousers, kicking the pile of clothing
and his shoes away. Mycroft watched each movement sharply, fingers hooking into
the plaster to keep himself from touching.
“Such a good Alpha,” Greg praised as he knelt before the Alpha. He pressed a
kiss to skin just above Mycroft’s trouser line, licking up the pool of sweat
there as he slowly pushed the trousers down. Mycroft watched, mouth dry as the
Omega leaned forward, nuzzling the length of his cock and smearing pre-come
across his lips and cheek. “Such a good boy like you deserves a reward, don’t
you think?”
Gregory pulled back, a pink tongue darting out to lave once across the purpled
head. Mycroft snarled, but in a herculean effort, managed to keep his hips from
thrusting into the waiting mouth. A hand wrapped around his length, pumping as
Gregory nuzzled and whimpered. His tongue darted out again and again – always
in short, controlled kitten licks over his slit, gathering a mouthful of pre-
come before disappearing inside once more.
He was faintly aware that he was growling – one low, continuous sound – head
hanging limply down to stare at the Omega all but worshiping his cock. A second
hand joined the first, fluttering and squeezing at his already popped knot.
“Come on, Alpha.” Gregory coaxed, licking his lips as he sped up his movements.
“Don’t you want to come? I want you to come. Make me smell only like you,
baby.”
“Gregory.” Mycroft managed, every muscle tensing and the Omega’s grip around
his knot tightened. Those brilliant, pretty eyes found his own, staring up at
him coyly as Gregory held his mouth wide open, ready to receive –
Mycroft came with a howl, knot hardening like it was carved from granite, balls
drawing so tight against his body it hurt. He fought to keep his eyes open,
utterly captivated by the way his come striped across Gregory’s face, how it
pooled in his open mouth and the gentle curves of his face, and dripped
further, across his shoulders and chest, clumping his hair.
It seemed that the Alpha came forever, hips thrusting forward over and over
again, riveted at the sight of his Omega drenched in his come. When it finally
ended, Mycroft’s knees gave out with little warning, but Gregory was darting
forward, catching him by the waist and helping him sink down more gracefully.
The Omega wasted little time climbing into his lap, curling into Mycroft and
the Alpha grunted approvingly, hands rubbing and smearing the come into
Gregory’s heated skin.
But the Omega was already moving, a hand digging into Mycroft’s thigh for
support as he raised himself up and the Alpha barely had a moment to realize
what was happening before Gregory was sinking down on his still hard cock. The
Omega paused at the knot and Mycroft felt rather than heard him take a deep
breath before forcing the blown flesh passed the rim with a grunt. Mycroft let
out a choked whine, head snapping back as his hands tightened around Gregory’s
hips like a vice, entire body trembling.
It was so much – too much after his orgasm, his knot oversensitive and aching,
sending shivers of pained pleasure up Mycroft’s spine as it was gripped so
tightly by the stretched rim. Gregory collapsed backwards against the Alpha’s
chest, panting and shaking even as his lower back arched and his hips began to
grind in a slow, steady circle.
“Gregory.” Mycroft gasped as his larger frame curled around the Omega,
completely lost to the sensations. Hands reached backwards, wrapping around his
shoulders as they clung tightly. It only took a handful of tight, controlled
grinds before Gregory was coming apart in his arms, body locking tight around
his cock. The resulting orgasm nearly undid Mycroft, his weak arms flying from
the Omega to slam against the floor, elbows barely catching himself in time to
keep them both upright.
“Oh,” Gregory whimpered, gripping tightly at Mycroft’s thighs, “oh, yes.”
The Omega let himself go limp, seeming aware that even in his weakened state
Mycroft would never allow him fall. He cradled his partner against his chest,
careful to keep him in a position that would keep the knot from becoming
painful, even as his arms strained to hold them both up.
Gregory gave him a truly salacious smile. “God, I’ve missed your knot.”
An emotion reared up then, as all encompassing as it was sudden, and Mycroft
found his breath catching at as he stared down at the Omega. His heart thudded
painfully in his chest, but it was a queer, pleasant sort of feeling and
Mycroft was struck all at once with how much he wanted.
How much he wanted this Omega in his arms, locked on his knot, grinning so
fondly up at him forever. How much he wanted every inch of his flat to smell of
their mixed arousal and completion. But it was more than sex; Mycroft wanted
Gregory and everything that came with him. He wanted the sound of the D.I.’s
grinding his teeth at night, wanted to come home everyday to trip over clothing
and backpacks and toys strewn carelessly across his flat. Mycroft even wanted
the candy bar wrappers he kept finding shoved between the sofa seats.
Love, the Alpha realized all at once, that was what the emotion was called and
the fact that he – Mycroft Holmes – was feeling it was a gift that he’d never
looked for nor expected. Something of the realization must have shown on his
face, because Gregory’s expression softened, a calloused hand coming up to
stroke at his jaw before guiding him down into a gentle kiss.
“I love you, too, My.” Mycroft stared at him mutely, almost unsure if he’d
heard correctly, before reaching out and gently tracing his thumb over the
swollen bonding node. Gregory shivered, neck tilting to expose more of the
tanned flesh. “Yeah,” the Omega breathed, “yeah, if you want.”    
The Alpha’s eyes darkened, hand tightening around Gregory’s neck in a
possessive hold, before gently releasing it. He gathered the Omega in his arms
and stood, ignoring the yelps and whines of his lover as his knot twisted and
rocked, and made his way towards the stairs.
There was no way Mycroft Holmes would be claiming his mate on the floor like a
heathen.
Chapter End Notes
     Almost to the end, folks! Expect the Epilogue up if not tonight, than
     tomorrow.
***** Family *****
Chapter Summary
     Yet the Alpha could hardly deny that it had never looked as fine as
     it did today, filled to the brim with his suddenly rather expansive
     family.
Chapter Notes
     Now betaed by Felicia (whom I'm very grateful to).
     As promise - the oral knotting.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
October 9th, 2011
It was a perfect fall day for an outdoor party and Mycroft felt completely
comfortable in a light jacket and a jumper, sipping his gin as he glanced about
his garden. The space was fairly large for a London property, with a high
wooden privacy fence and a stone patio. The entire place had been designed to
look elegant yet simple and everything from the plants to the wicker furniture
had been coordinated.
Everything was always in its place, unchanging as it had been for years, save
for the passing of the seasons. Mycroft had always enjoyed that, how his garden
had looked like a living painting. Yet the Alpha could hardly deny that it had
never looked as fine as it did today, filled to the brim with his suddenly
rather expansive family.
He nursed his drink, eyes drifting across the space to find Gregory. He looked
happy from where he stood with John, both Omegas taking turns poking the
grilling meat as they listened to Alcott. The youngest Holmes was sitting in a
chair, a hand securing Rishley in his rapidly shrinking lap while the other
gestured wildly; face alit with indignation as he related some story or another
about someone doing something at MI6 that he really couldn’t talk about but
trust him, was stupid.
The older Omegas took his ranting in stride, exchanging amused looks. Theodore
was perched on John’s hip, watching the cooking meat with fascination as he
clung to the doctor. That had been a strange friendship. There had been
something about Watson that the silent boy seemed to gravitate to and Theodore
always sought out John when their families gathered together.
Which was something that seemed to be happening more and more; the Holmes’
brothers hadn’t spent so much time together since they had been pups. Gregory
was insistent though, and Mycroft found it impossible to deny his mate
anything. He hoped that would fade once the novelty of being mated wore off,
but the Alpha wasn’t too optimistic. One look from those espresso eyes and
Mycroft was consistently caving. And Gregory seemed to know it, planning
weekend grill-outs, family dinners, and movie nights at will. It seemed the
D.I. was stunned with how little time they spent together (“It’s a right shame
that you lot aren’t closer, for goodness sake! Imagine, seeing your brothers
three times a year when you live so close!”) and was damned and determined to
undue years of family dramatics and feuds. And as it seemed that neither Alcott
nor John was opposed to idea, that meant that Mycroft had been spending far
more time with both Sherlock and James Bond as well.
There was a shriek of laughter and Mycroft glanced towards the center of the
lawn to find one of the said Alphas, James Bond – agent of MI6 and perhaps her
Majesty's most feared double-O – mimicking a dragon as he pounced on Charlotte,
ticking the small Alpha mercilessly. Alexa let out a battle cry, raising her
foam waffle bat high before charging the spy, batting it uselessly yet quite
determinedly against James’ head.

“If she is successful, I may finally be able to convince Ms. Hudson to allow me
to use 221C as a lab.” A bored voice said from next to him and Mycroft’s lips
twitched minutely as Sherlock appeared.
“Tired of Alcott’s neighborly presence already, dear brother?”
Sherlock scowled. “I said no such thing – and don’t you dare tell him that I
did either. You have no idea what he is like now that he is so…” the Alpha
shuddered in distaste,“hormonal.”
“Hormonal, am I?” A sharp voice interrupted and both Alphas froze. Alcott was
glaring at them, arms crossed threateningly. The other Omegas were watching
from the grill in amusement, Rishley relocated to peak at them from Gregory’s
arms. “I’d like to see you be cheery when you’re as fat as I am.”
“Dear brother, I assure you that you hardly fat,” Mycroft placated, “if
anything, you are simply radiant in motherhood.”
“Uh huh.” Alcott said dryly before holding up a napkin with a list hastily
scrawled on it. “Do us a favor and run down to the corner store and picked
those up. I put the brand names down, so there is no way you two can mess it
up.”
“I can get them for you, love.” James offered as he slid up behind the Holmes
Omega, hands seeking the growing bump greedily as he flipped the napkin list to
read it.
“No, you’re busy being the dragon.” Alcott admonished, batting the agent's
hands away from his stomach, “besides, Sherlock owes me a favor. Don’t you,
Sherlock?”
Mycroft felt his eyebrows rise at the not so subtle conversation taking place
between his younger brothers via facial expressions before sighing and plucking
the napkin from Bond’s hand. He took Sherlock by the elbow, leading them
towards the back gate. “Come on along, brother. The quicker started, the
quicker completed.”
The younger Holmes glared over his shoulder in irritation, but allowed himself
to be led outside. Only once they’d were far enough from the garden gate that
Mycroft didn’t think that Sherlock would try and dart back in did he released
the captured limb.
Mycroft shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing up at the fall sky. “So,
what is it that my dear brothers wish to talk to me about?”
“He was frightfully transparent, wasn’t he?”
"Pregnancy brain, Sherlock, be kind."
The silence returned again, but the older Alpha knew better than to push
Sherlock into speaking and allowed the conversation to lull. Despite the fact
he had (somehow) found enough emotional competency to secure a mate, Sherlock
was still lacking in most other aspects of human emotion, and so he pointedly
ignored the discomfort that stiffened his brother’s shoulders as they walked.
They arrived at the store, paying for the needed items, and began their walk
home, their silence still intact.
Mycroft barely kept in the sigh of irritation. He hoped this wasn’t about
Moriarty; the man had turned the trial into a complete joke, walking off a free
man despite the Holmes’ best efforts. It was a rare day in his life indeed,
because Mycroft found that for once he didn’t want to talk about work. Still,
Sherlock was knee deep inside whatever it was Moriarty was planning and if his
brother wished to speak of it, Mycroft could hardly deny him the chance.
Still, perhaps a more secure area than a street would be prudent.
He was just about to suggest such thing when the younger Alpha cleared his
throat awkwardly. “Greg told John about the test results.”
Ah.
So that was what this was about.
After their mating there had been a brief moment when more children had been
considered, but a visit to Gregory’s OBGYN had brought that conversation to an
abrupt end. There were ways to procure a pregnancy as Gregory hadn’t yet
entered menopause, in vitro fertilization and such, but a complicated family
medical history that was splattered with diagnosis of endometriosis, ovarian
cancer, and several cases of late-life pregnancy ending in miscarriages or – in
one sad case – the death of the mother as well, made the option an unrealistic
one.
Both had been disappointed, but after a long conversation they decided they
were quite content with the household of Lestrade-Holmes as it was. Mycroft
already had formed a strong connection with Gregory’s children, one that would
surely only grow as the years passed, and even the eldest was still only ten.
Added to this was the fact that as far as Mycroft was concerned, he’d already
raised two pups from babes to adulthood.
“You have always wanted children, Mycroft.”
“I have five,” the Alpha offered casually, “and one nephew I am rather fond of
as well.” The tension in his brother’s frame eased and Mycroft let his lips
curve in a small smile, somewhere between touched and amused that his siblings
had been worried about him. “Perhaps soon I'll have a niece as well.”  
Sherlock shot him an odd look. “You know Alcott’s pup is a boy.”
“I wasn’t talking about Alcott.”
The other Alpha stared at him blankly. Then, “John isn’t pregnant.”
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, smirking as his brother’s eyes widened comically.
“Is he?”
He opened his mouth to answer only to startle when a loud bang echoed across
the neighborhood, the litre of milk that had been hanging loosely from his
fingers suddenly exploded, the white liquid splashing everywhere, coating both
Alphas. Sherlock – who had despised milk since he was a toddler – immediately
reared back, face twisted in a disgusted snarl. He said something biting about
the smell of it, but Mycroft hadn’t really heard him.
He was too busy staring at the blood that was mixing pink with the milk, a pain
so acute in his side that for a moment Mycroft couldn’t even really feel it,
mind seemingly incapable of processing it. The busted plastic litre dropped
from his hand, clattering loudly against the cement and a half a second later,
Mycroft joined it. Sherlock launched forward with a cry of his name, catching
him underneath the armpits and taking the brunt of his weight and sending them
both tumbling to the ground. Mycroft was vaguely aware of his brother shouting
above him, calling for an ambulance, but shock was setting in firmly and the
Alpha was struggling just to keep his eyes focused on Sherlock’s distressed
features.
“Mycroft, stay awake.” Sherlock commanded, grey eyes wide with horror, but
despite his best attempts Mycroft could feel his lids already growing heavier.
“Mycroft, damn’t!” A sharp slap to his face gave him a burst of awareness and
his eyes flew open, grunting in pain. “The paramedics are on the way, but you
need to stay awake.”
With great effort, Mycroft brought a hand up to grasp his nearly frantic
brother’s, squeezing it tightly.
“There, there,” and despite everything, Mycroft could still feel embarrassed by
the slur to his words, which made it sound more like, “therh-therh,” and did
nothing to calm the wild air around his usually so unflappable brother. He gave
the hand another weak squeeze, “does’n ‘nh hurt.”
Sherlock was starting to blur above him, though if that was because of tears or
something else, he hardly knew.
“Mycroft?”
How queer.
“Mycroft!”
He couldn’t feel his lips.
“My!”
===============================================================================
The first thing he was aware of upon waking, was the twin sounds of a heart
monitor and the low, worried voice of his mate.
“- to the principal’s office. God, I’ve never been so embarrassed. Alex had
just…decimated this kid and she wouldn’t tell me why. Charlie’s refusing to go
to dance class and Teddy…Teddy’s stopped talking, just like he did when me and
Ash first split.”
There was a shaky sigh.
“They’re so worried for you, Mycroft. So am I. I tried to keep most of it from
them, but they’re not dumb kids.” No, the Alpha thought blearily, they are not.
“And they understand what’s happening, even if you’re not in a hospital.”
Not a hospital. Good, that means that his contingency plan had been followed,
and he was resting in the fully equipped hospital/safe room in his townhouse’s
basement. Mycroft absolutely abhorred hospitals. Sure enough, when his eyes
opened he was staring at the wallpapered ceiling of said safe room.
“It was a clean shot – straight through – right above your hip, no permanent
damage.” There was a strangle sob and Mycroft craned his head up in alarm,
finding Greg with his face hidden in his hands. “So just wake up.”
The Alpha frowned, struggling to sit up and hissed as his stomach erupted into
muted but still present white-hot shot of pain. Gregory was at his side in half
a heartbeat, voice soothing and hands gentle as they helped him up, pressing
thick pillows behind him to support his weight.
“Don’t move too much, just wait…yeah, there you go.” The Omega was smiling
brightly at him, eyes teary. “God, it’s good to see you awake.”
“How long?” Mycroft rasped, gratefully sipping water through a straw from the
glass his mate offered him.
“Not even two days, but god you gave me a scare.” A gentle kiss was pressed
against his forehead and the Alpha ignored the stiffness in his trunk and
shoulders to turn, meeting the eager lips. “Gave all us of scare, really.”
“What happened? I was shot…was it-”
“Nothing like what you’re thinking,” his Omega said softly, running his fingers
through Mycroft’s auburn hair, seemingly incapable of not touching the Holmes
now that he was awake. “It was just some stupid kid, one of the neighbor’s
boys. He got in a fight with some bloke he owed money to and tried to scare him
off with his mom’s gun. He didn’t understand how the safety worked, and it just
went off.”
Not Moriarty than.
Some ball of tension he wasn’t aware of lessened in the Alpha’s breast at the
thought. But still, how pointless. A child had shot him. Two days would make
today Tuesday, meaning Mycroft had lost two entire days of work that he could
hardly afford.
“Sherlock?”
“He’s fine, well, physically at least. I think seeing you like that really did
a number on him; the paramedics had to sedate him when they showed up, he
wouldn’t let anyone near you.” Gregory gave the Alpha a soft smile as Mycroft
frowned fiercely, annoyed. His barrister would be looking into that; there was
nothing Sherlock despised more than having control taken from him, especially
when panicked. “He’s upstairs with Alcott, they’ve been watching the kids for
me. John’s been acting as your doctor, between patrolling the grounds with
James and Anthea. You’d think we were under attack or something with the way
they're acting.”
Mycroft barely kept the twitch off his face. He had yet to really explain the
situation with Moriarty to his mate. While he doubted the two events were
connected, it was clear that neither Watson nor Bond were willing to take a
chance it was. He couldn't say he didn't approve.
“And the boy who shot me?”
Gregory’s smile was sharp. “Sally’s handling it.”
The Alpha nodded. While he may not like Sally Donovan, he would admit that she
had her uses, and her loyalty to the D.I. was unshakable. Mycroft shifted,
reaching out to tug his Omega down and claimed his mouth in a deep, probing
kiss. His mate let out a sound of surprise as Mycroft pressed his tongue
insistently inside, but seemed to melt into the touch. He broke only moments
later, far more out of breath than he should have been. “Forgive me for scaring
you, Gregory.”
The Omega huffed a breath against his lips, eyes still closed as they rested
their foreheads together. “Just don’t do it again, you arse.”
“I second that,” a pleased voice announced from the door way and the mated pair
glanced up to find a relieved looking John standing there, stethoscope hanging
loosely around his neck. “Alcott’s been an absolute nightmare and don't even
ask me to explain Sherlock’s behavior. Why can’t you people just worry like
normal people?” The doctor moved into the room, reaching out and to take
Mycroft’s wrist, timing his pulse. “In fact, Greg do you think you could call
them both down here?”
It was a testament to how trying the younger Holmes truly must have been that
Greg left immediately, hollering up the stairs. Mycroft exchanged an amused
look with Watson at the sound of rapid footsteps across the sitting room above
him.
“That bad?”
“You have no idea.” John muttered as he Velcro-ed the blood pressure sleeve in
place. “Don’t get shot again – for all our sakes.”
Mycroft snorted, but he could not deny the pleased feeling in his chest at the
thought of Sherlock and Alcott’s worry. “I will endeavor to avoid it in the
future; it’s not something I find enjoyable after all and…” The words faded as
his brothers entered the room, eyebrows rising at their disheveled states.
“Sherlock, how on earth have you managed to singe off your eyebrow? And sit
down Alcott, for heaven’s sake, think of the baby. You look like you’re about
to pass out, when was the last time you’ve eaten?”
===============================================================================
As it turned out, Mycroft was out of the office for a full week and if John was
to have his way, it would still be another week before he could return. From
where he was hiding in the laundry room, sneaking a cigarette while Gregory
puttered about in the kitchen, the Alpha typed rapidly on his smuggled
blackberry while signing paperwork Anthea was holding up through the window,
trying to manage his overflowing inbox.
“Mycroft, tea’s ready!”
“Just a moment, dear.”
“Are you in the laundry?” The D.I. asked, voice suspicious. “…what are you
doing in there?”
The Alpha froze in alarm, eyes darting to the closed door at the sound of
approaching footsteps. He shoved the cigarette out of the window, ignoring
Anthea's surprised yelp as she danced away, documents held protectively to her
chest, and waved frantically at the smoky air. He barely had time to to yank
the window shut before the door opened. His mate took one look at the mobile in
his hand before glaring fiercely.
“Mycroft Holmes, you’re supposed to be resting – not working! Doctor’s orders.
Have you – were yousmoking?” The blackberry was plucked from his fingers and
tossed unceremoniously over his shoulder. “I can't believe you were smoking!"
“Gregory!” Mycroft admonished, eyes narrowing at the sound of the plastic
cracking against the tile.
“Don’t you ‘Gregory’ me, Holmes. What did I say that last time I caught you?”
The Omega said with a snarl, hands on his hips. “Now, come on. Tea’s getting
cold.”
They took tea in the family room, the large area silent for once as the house
was empty save for the two of them; the children off at school. Gregory had
never taken advantage of Bonding Leave after mating with Mycroft, so he had
more than enough time off saved up to stay at home and play nursemaid. It was a
role which the Omega took rather seriously much to Mycroft’s amusement and
annoyance. Honestly, it was simply impossible to get any work done with Gregory
around. The Omega had commandeered all of the electronics in the house,
including all three of Mycroft’s laptops and various mobiles, and refused to
even let him watch the news or get the post.
What’s more his mate rarely left Mycroft’s side, clearly still shaken by the
shooting, which made sneaking work with Anthea incredibly difficult. Outside of
the thought of how dreadfully full his desk was going to be upon return, the
Alpha hardly minded the time he spent alone with Gregory. But it was hard to
from any kind of contingency plans when he couldn't concentrate on anything
with his new mate. Mycroft found himself losing his train of thought more often
than not, caught up in watching his Omega. They had only been mated for a
month, so Mycroft supposed it was normal enough, but even the slightest hint of
Gregory’s scent – the barest flash of a neck – made the Alpha was rock hard in
his pants.
Which wouldn’t be so much of a problem if Watson hadn’t been rather implicit in
his directions to‘avoid all strenuous activities, and I mean all,you two.’ The
sexual frustration added with his inability to work was making Mycroft cranky
and bored. And a bored Holmes was never a good thing.
Gregory was talking about something or other, his voice a pleasant tenor as he
cleared the tea tray and settled next to Mycroft on the couch. The Alpha slid
an arm possessively over his mate’s shoulder and Gregory didn’t miss a beat in
his story as he snuggled up against Mycroft’s good side. His mate shifted
against him as he talked animatedly and Mycroft reveled in feeling Gregory
easily through their thin t-shirts, the Omega’s higher body temperature making
him like a small furnace. Mycroft let his arm hang lower around Gregory’s neck,
watching fondly as the Omega rubbing at his jaw ruefully as he laughed, still
going on about a story he'd heard from Sally about some rookie’s mistake that
had led to some hilarious mix up or another.
Gregory’s lips twitched into an easy smile, a tongue darting out to moisten his
bottom lip and the Alpha let his hand slide over his mate’s neck in a caress,
touching the scabbed and still healing bonding mark. His fingers drifted lower,
stroking down in small increments until he found a covered nipple, fingertips
swirling.
“-and don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Gregory grumbled, voice
hitching as Mycroft teased and tweaked the peaked nub.
He huffed, hand sliding up Gregory’s thigh to brush at his crotch, nipping at
his ear lobe. “I’m bored.”
“Watch a show.”
“I’d rather watch you.” Mycroft murmured against the heated skin and Gregory
gasping as the Alpha stroked his rapidly hardening cock.
“John said no sex,” he panted, pushing Mycroft’s hands away and scooting clear
to the other side of the couch, “we could pull your stitches.”
“Watching you fuck your hand is hardly sex, Gregory.” The Alpha purred,
stretching out across the small space between them, ignoring the tight pulling
pain from his hip. His mate whimpered, hips squirming as he bit his lip, eyes
locked on Mycroft's already rather sizable errection.
“Why would you want to see that?”
“I enjoy watching you pleasure yourself.”
“But you wouldn’t be able to-”
“Humor me, Greg.”
The diminutive of his name – so rarely used – seemed to be just the push his
Omega needed and he nodded, a slight tremble to his hands as pulled his cock
out. Mycroft stared at the vestigial organ, taking in its pinked flush, the
sheen the head had already taken, and felt his own dick twitch longingly at the
sight and scent of it.
“Spread your legs more,” Mycroft demanded, bringing a hand down to press
insistently against his own erection as Gregory obeyed. The Alpha groaned as he
watched his mate play with himself, making sure to tug at his foreskin –
slipping his fingertips underneath the loose skin, stretching it up and away
from his body. It was a kink of Mycroft’s that never failed to arouse him,
whose was fascinated by the skin his own cock lacked, and he slipped his pajama
trousers down, freeing his own dick.
Gregory started to object but the Alpha interrupted him, voice harsh. “It’s not
sex, don’t stop touching yourself.”
The Omega scowled but obediently kept stroking himself. For a long moment the
room was only filled with the sounds of their mutual masturbation; their
panting and moans, the sound of slick skin moving against itself, as the pair
just watched each other.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that he could only watch but not touch that made
the moment one of the more arousing sexual acts of Mycroft’s life. It seemed to
be having the same effect on Gregory, who let out a moan of frustration before
dropping his hands from his cock. Before the Alpha could reprimand him, his
mate was settling between his legs.
The Omega glared up at him, though the sour look was more than a little
ridiculous so close to Mycroft’s straining erection. “Keep your hips still; if
you pull your stitches because of this, I’m telling John you did it wanking in
the shower.”
“Fair-” Mycroft’s voice hitched as Gregory’s mouth wrapped around his cock, “-
enough.”
The Alpha stroked his mate’s graying hair affectionately, panting open mouthed
as he watch Gregory’s mouth sink lower and lower. It was a struggle to keep
from moving – it had been so long since he’d had an orgasm and his Omega’s
mouth was so wet and warm – but Mycroft knew the first moment his hips so much
as twitched, Gregory would cease the activity.
Mycroft watched lazily, eyes drifting from the sight of his cock disappearing
past Gregory's lips to where wide hips were frantically grinding against the
leather couch. The Omega took his time, sucking up the length until only the
tip remained inside, his tongue tracing every ridge of the mushroom head. He
seemed to take particular interest in Mycroft’s slit, nimble tongue lapping at
and probing the hole, sucking ever drop of pre-come that escaped it before it
could even pearl up.
When he’d apparently had his fill of the salty liquid Gregory pulled off,
mouthing and laving at the thick vein on the underside of his cock, following
it down to the root. Perhaps it was the Omega in him that made Gregory so
obsessed with is knot, but Mycroft hardly found it a fault, breath quickening
the more that hot mouth sucked and nipped at it, and he couldn’t quite the
long, drawn out moan when teeth scrapped lightly over the inflating skin.
The attention soon became too much for the oversensitive skin and Gregory
seemed to sense that on all of his own, giving the knotting bulge on last kiss
before pulling back. Mycroft sighed in relief, hand tightening in his mate’s
hair in warning as the Omega swallowed his length once more, deep throating him
all as the muscle constricted around the throbbing length. It was clear that
neither wanted this to last long – Mycroft out of sheer need and Gregory out of
fear of aggravating his injuries.
The Alpha was close (and he told Gregory as much) but instead of pulling off,
the other only sank deeper and deeper, until his nose was buried in Mycroft’s
pubic hair. He came with a snarl, head smacking against the couch arm, trying
to pump up only to be pinned by Gregory’s gentle - yet quite firm - grip on his
thighs. His knot began to bloom, but to Mycroft’s surprise the Omega didn’t
pull away.
Gregory mouth went slack around him even as his throat worked overtime to
swallow everything his Alpha was giving him. Mycroft watched, dumbfounded, as
Gregory’s lips stretched with his knot, letting the hard flesh force his jaw
open in a way that could not have possibly been comfortable. Semen escaped the
open mouth easily, spilling across the Omega’s lips and jaw, dripping down into
Mycroft’s lap.
The Alpha cried out, hands digging into the leather of the couch as he fought
the urge to slam Gregory’s head down, to gag the Omega with his cock until it
split him two. The ache in his knot was both pleasant and terrible, trapped
between the wet warmth of Gregory’s mouth and the harsh pressure of his teeth
and impossibly Mycroft found himself coming yet again. The strength of the
orgasm was no less than the last – if anything it was far greater – and so
closely after the first that it left the impeccable Alpha close to babbling.
Fingers dug into his thighs and Mycroft whined at the sight of his mate,
absolutely filthy, trying desperately to swallow as much of his come as
possible. Suddenly Gregory moaned, hips stuttering against the leather, and the
vibrations in tandem with the heady scent of his mate's completion seemed to
reach far into the Alpha, forcing a third orgasm from him with a loud curse.
When the aftershocks finally left him coherent enough to think, Mycroft stared
down at his mate in awe. He brushed his fingers over a harshly angled jaw and
painfully swollen lips in a gentle caress.
“Gregory, that was…” His voice sounded utterly wrecked and Mycroft stopped to
collect himself, swallowing several times before he felt confident enough to
speak again. “No one has ever done this for me.”
The Omega smiled up at him, the crinkling around his eyes the only sign of the
expression, his mouth still locked by Mycroft’s knot. Oral knotting was
something that the Holmes had only heard about in hushed tales in Alpha
dormitories and locker rooms or in porn. It was certainly not something Mycroft
had ever thought he'd see - let alone experience - in real life. The act left
an Omega at their most vulnerable, completely immobilized and exposed, and when
consensual the act implied an unheard of level of trust.
The sight of Gregory so defenseless and trusting roused something deeply
possessive inside Mycroft, the warm emotion curling tightly in his chest.
“You do know that I love you, do you not?” Mycroft asked softly as he brought a
hand up to knead gently at the hinge of Gregory’s jaw while the other cupped
his chin in support, trying to ease some of the strain. There was a huff of air
against his damp crotch as his Omega glared up, but Gregory’s eyes were more
amused than annoyed as he settled more comfortably between the Alpha’s legs.
Mycroft chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I should have waited to express that
sentiment when your mouth was not quite so full.”
Chapter End Notes
     And that's the end, folks! I hope to be getting the last part of this
     series out soon, which focuses on John and Sherlock.
     Thanks for reading, I hope everyone enjoyed it!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
