Breaking the ice {Mystrade}

Chapter Two - A phonecall to Mr Holmes

Earlier that day

"And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again. I can still here you saying-"
Greg groaned at the sound of his alarm. A while ago, he'd though it would be a good idea to set his alarm as his favourite song - start the day off in a good mood. However soon the song became a thing of pure annoyance, always reminding him of the worst feeling in the world. Getting out of bed.
He wandered downstairs and into his small kitchen, poured a cup of instant coffee and settled down at the table to contemplate the day. Paperwork was piling up as always, Anderson couldn't help but be an irritating sod, and there hadn't been a decent investigation in weeks. The Sherrinford incident was certainly a shock for everyone, and quite frankly a Nation-wide embarrassment. Despite Mycroft's furious attempts to limit the publicity, it was inevitable that the news would get out, and soon the headline flashed around the world: 'Highest Security Prison Dismantled by Five Minutes'.
Although not directly involved, things were becoming increasingly difficult for Greg. About three days after the rescue, he'd been asked to give several interviews on the real Sherlock Holmes. After a week, everyone at the office was asking what he knew about what had happened inside the cells.
On top of all of this, Greg was becoming increasingly worried about Mycroft.
"Mycroft. Make sure he's looked after." Sherlock had asked. When Greg agreed to it, it had seemed like the easiest thing in the world. However as the days passed by, he began to wonder how on Earth he was supposed to single-handedly look after The British Government. Should he invite him round for a cup of tea? Call at the door? A stroll in the park?
None of these options seemed particularly possible. Mycroft Holmes wasn't the sort to meet at a cafe for a chat and hot chocolate.
Two weeks. Two weeks, and he still hadn't even tried to arrange a meeting. Time was getting dangerously thin, and he knew Sherlock would be concerned. Whatever did happen that day, it had changed the consulting detective. Of course, he was still the same old man with an almost unparalleled mind. However a strange new warmth seemed to have crept in. Sherlock still slammed doors in the face of Anderson, and constantly deduced embarrassing things about Donavon, but beneath all of that, Greg could see it. Sherlock Holmes really did care.
Yawning, Greg spread a liberal amount of Nutella over his slightly burnt toast. Perhaps today should be the day to do it. He would, with every confidence in the world, call Mycroft Holmes and invite him for a coffee. He didn't care that Mycroft would most likely decline. All he wanted was to be able to truthfully tell Sherlock that he was keeping half an eye on his brother.
Picking up the landline, Greg cautiously punched in the first five digits of Mr Holmes' phone number. Then, he paused.
It was stupid. Completely and utterly stupid. Who in their right mind would phone Mycroft Holmes and ask him out for bloody coffee?
Greg deleted the numbers and sank back into his chair. It was nearly half  six, and he couldn't be late for work again. At first he was able to get away with saying he was being ambushed by press reporters, but two weeks on, the excuse was beginning to run very dry. Why was Mycroft making him so damn nervous? He'd spoken to him plenty of times before - even on the very day of Sherrinford. This was different though - far more... personal.
He simply had to do something. Anything! It would have been far easier if he could call in at Mycroft's office. Unfortunately however, he was still on leave due to John's rigorous medical assessment. The prospect of going to Mycroft's house was quite unthinkable.
Greg wondered what Mr Holmes' house  actually looked like. He imagined either something classic and antique or highly modern, with large, bright spaces. The former seemed more likely, considering the fact that he always carried an Umbrella and was never seen out of his three piece suit. Greg chuckled to himself, as he imagined a display of umbrellas, all mounted to the wall.
Greg made a mental note to ask John about the house - the pair had only broken in a couple of weeks ago.
Then, it hit him. The perfect plan, an excellent way to bring Mycroft to him, rather than him to Mycroft.
"John. Hi, it's Greg Lestrade."
"Morning, Greg. Bit... early, isn't it?"
"Yeah... Sorry. I... I need your help, John. You see, Sherlock asked me to-"
"Hang on a minute, Greg - I think Rosie's woken up." Greg mentally kicked himself. He'd forgotten about Rosie.
"Oh God sorry."
"It's fine, honestly. She's a good little girl... Sorry - you were saying?"
"Yeah. Sherlock asked me to keep an eye on Mycroft and for days I just haven't known what to do. So, I was wondering if you could pop down to the yard this morning - I need an excuse to call him over."
"Umm. Sure. What time do you need me?"
"Would eight o'clock be okay? I'll tell Mycroft to come for eight thirty, but if he's early, I need you to be there. Are you sure you're happy to do this, John?"
"Well if I'm honest I'd rather be asleep, but as it's you..."
"Thanks mate. I'll see you soon."

Greg took a taxi into work, and was settled at his desk by 07:00. Already, Anderson had plagued him with another Sherrinford theory, Sally had asked if he'd been talking to the freak recently and a stray journalist had snapped his photo just as he was about to sneeze. A typical D.I. Lestrade morning.
At five past, he nervously picked up the phone and re-entered Mycroft's number. It only rang a few times before it was picked up.
"Good Morning?" Greg's heart leapt - this was it, the moment where he would finally do what he should have done a long time ago.
"Good Morning, Mr Holmes. It's D.I Greg Lestrade, here... Um... Please do excuse me, if I've called at an inconvenient time..."
Greg stumbled with his words. He took an anxious sip of water.
"No, not at all, Gregory ...How might I ...Help you?"
Mycroft always called him Gregory. No one else ever did, so the name always startled him a little.
"I was hoping if, Mr Holmes, you would be able to come down to Scotland Yard this morning if it would be, uh... Convenient?"
"It depends on the occasion, Gregory. I'm under the strictest of orders from Doctor Watson."
"Ah, yes. It is actually about John - um, I mean, Doctor Watson."
It was strange, really. To lie through one's teeth to the British Government itself.
"Oh."
"The situation is, Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson wishes to see you. He says it's urgent but he won't tell me what it's about."
"Doctor Watson knows where I live, Gregory. Him and my dear brother broke in and disabled my security only two weeks ago."
"Oh... Um... Well... He says he needs to see you here. That's all he'll say to me." Damn. Why hadn't he thought this through a little?
"Give me half an hour. Ensure a piping hot, black coffee will be there on my arrival. Bone China teacup, not paper, thank you." Greg felt a glorious wave of achievement wash over him - he'd done it. Finally.
"Thank you, thank you ever so much, Mr Holmes!"
"Oh, and Gregory..."
"...yes."
"Whatever you do. Don't waste my bloody time."
With any luck, he wouldn't. But who knew when it came to Mycroft Holmes, the Iceman?
No matter what happened, it was certainly going to be an interesting morning.

A/N: Hello again! Sorry this chapter took a few days to write - the trouble is, I get strange bursts of inspiration at about eleven o'clock at night. During the week I'm usually so tired, I'm asleep by that time. However now it's finally the weekend I've had my little bit of inspiration... Hope you enjoyed the chapter - next chapter will probably be a mixture of both their perspectives. Thanks for reading xxx