A Charity Event (BBC Sherlock/Mystrade, M/M)

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Hello! This is my first long story. It is a one shot. If you enjoy it, I have a thread in the drabble section that you might like as well. Please feel free to check it out.

I wrote this having been inspired by a PM with AngelEyes. I try to follow the Mystrade head cannon of the forum as established by cally, Spoo and bangbang. However, I couldn't resist attempting to establish a little of my own with this story and I hope everyone finds it acceptable. I own nothing. There are no original characters of any consequence.

A Charity Event

“My, what is this?” Greg wandered into Mycroft’s study carrying what looked like an invitation. He had found it on the floor in the hallway just outside. He figured Mycroft had dropped it on his way in.

“Mmm?” Mycroft looked up from the file he was reading. He held out his hand and Greg handed over the invitation. Glancing over the paper, Mycroft responded, “It’s an invitation to a charity polo tournament.” He dropped it on his desk.

“No, it’s an invitation for you to play in a charity polo tournament,” clarified Greg.

“Mmm,” Mycroft looked at the invitation lying on his desk. “Yes, for me to play in the tournament.” He went back to his reading.

Greg stood there and stared at Mycroft. “Do you even play polo?”

Mycroft looked at Greg. “Well, yes. I played polo, when I was younger. Probably twenty or more years ago.”

“You’ve never told me that.”

“It was twenty years ago and it does not come up in day to day conversation.”

“You any good?” Greg looked at Mycroft appraisingly.

“Passable, I suppose.” Mycroft returned his attention to the document he was reading.

“Are you going to do it?”

Mycroft didn’t look up. “I was not planning to play or even attend.”

“Huh,” said Greg as he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over dinner Greg brought the topic up again. “I’m really having a hard time imagining you playing polo.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Greg and ate another bite of his salad. “It’s just you never seem interested in any sport.” Greg went on to say.

“I suppose I am not interested, as a rule.” Mycroft agreed.

“And you don’t look like someone who wants to play sports,” Greg added.

Mycroft looked mildly insulted. “What do you mean?”

Seeing the look on his partner’s face, Greg hastily backtracked. “No, you look fine. Believe me, you’re bloody gorgeous. I just mean you look so proper. You don’t look like you’d want to get all sweaty and hot and dirty.” Greg’s mouth got progressively drier as he talked and he found himself reaching for his wine glass and taking a big gulp.

Mycroft took in Greg’s dilated pupils and evident discomfort. He smiled. “Well, you are correct. I do not want to get ‘all sweaty and hot and dirty’, as you put it.” He paused taking a sip from his wine glass. “At least not from playing sports.” Mycroft gave Greg a meaningful look over his wine glass. Greg felt a surge of desire pour through him. Dinner was abandoned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening Greg, returning to the bedroom from his shower found Mycroft sitting on the edge of the bed, tissues in hand, sneezing.

“Bless you, love! Did you just use that rose smelling stuff?”

Mycroft nodded before setting off again. “Hih’Tish, tish, tishoo, hih’Tishoo!” He wiped his nose, balled up the used tissues and grabbed a few more.

“Bless you, again.” Greg went over his dresser and pulled on a T-shirt and track bottoms. He moved to sit next to Mycroft and rub his back. Mycroft sniffled a few times and started to sneeze again.

“Heh…heh…heh’etchoo, hih’tschoo, tish, tish, tish…hih’TISHOO!”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you! Think you’re done?” Greg asked gently.

Mycroft blew his nose. “I believe so. The longer I use the medication the less the reaction seems to be.” He turned and smiled at Greg. Returning the smile Greg leaned in and kissed him. Mycroft responded to the kiss, but as their noses brushed together he had to pull away.

“Heh’Etschoo, Heht’choo, Heh’Eftshoo!” Mycroft sneezed against his wrist.

“Not quite done then,” Greg smirked.

“No.” Mycroft made a face of distaste and rose to go wash his hands.

When he returned Greg had the room ready for sleep and beckoned Mycroft to join him in bed. Mycroft climbed into bed and they settled in their usual pre sleep position with Mycroft’s head resting on Greg’s chest. Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft’s soft hair.

“Leave it be. You are making it come out faster.”

“No, I’m not. I’m stimulating your scalp. You’d be completely bald if not for me.” Greg countered. Mycroft chuckled. They were quiet for a bit.

“My?”

“Mmm?”

“How’d you play polo with your allergies? You’re allergic to everything.”

“Point of fact Gregory, I am not allergic to everything. I am not allergic to horses.” Mycroft yawned.

“But the grass and hay and dust…” Greg trailed off wondering.

“They were not as severe, my allergies, as they are now. In addition, I was on allergy injections every two weeks. It was the only way I could do field work when I was active.” Mycroft sat up a little and peered at Greg in the darkness of the room.

“You keep coming back to this topic. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Greg mumbled.

Mycroft pressed his lips to his lover’s lips. “Good night, dear.” He rolled over facing away from Greg. Greg curled around Mycroft, spooning from behind as he usually did.

“Good night, love,” murmured Greg.

“Gregory, you would like to see me to play polo, would you not?” came Mycroft’s voice from the dark.

“Oh God, yes. How’d you know?”

Mycroft shifted his hips back causing Greg to moan softly. Embarrassed, Greg pressed his face into Mycroft’s back. “It became obvious,” Mycroft replied dryly.

“I’m sorry.”

Mycroft turned over to face Greg. “No need to feel sorry. It is lovely to be desired.”

“I just can’t stop thinking about you in the breeches and boots and how you would look on top of a horse.” Greg bit his lip. Mycroft watched Greg’s mouth and licked his own lips.

“Pony.”

“Pony?”

“Yes, they are called ponies.” Mycroft kissed Greg. “I will look at the invitation again. If the date works with my schedule, I am sure I can play a few matches.” He began to nibble along Greg’s jaw.

“What about your allergies? I don’t want you to be miserable,” Greg protested. He was beginning to lose focus.

“The medications are much better than they used to be. I may have to adjust the timing of them a bit. In addition, this time of year does not tend to be as problematic as the spring.” Mycroft spoke between kisses and nips. Greg groaned.

“Now, I believe there is a pressing matter that needs my urgent attention.” Mycroft disappeared beneath the duvet. Greg whimpered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, My…” Greg took in the vision that was Mycroft Holmes in his polo kit. He had walked into the bedroom to find Mycroft buckling the belt. He wasn’t wearing any boots, but Greg’s imagination provided those. It had been a few weeks since they had discussed Mycroft playing.

Mycroft turned toward Greg and grimaced. “The trousers are snugger than I remembered.”

Greg’s eyes roamed over his partner. “You look…”

“Fat.” Mycroft said shortly.

“Jesus, no!” Greg returned emphatically. He crossed the room and pulled Mycroft into his arms and kissed him hard. Breaking off, Greg panted in Mycroft’s ear, “Please tell me you aren’t on your way out.” He nipped at the sensitive area on Mycroft’s neck below his ear.

Mycroft whined, “I am supposed to go meet the ponies I will ride next week.” His breath was becoming short.

“They’ll have to wait,” growled Greg.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft returned home later that evening sweaty and hot and dirty and, of course, snifflly.

“How’d it go?” Greg asked. He was seated on the counter next to the sink while Mycroft showered.

“Better than expected. The string of ponies is well trained. I did not take long to get back into the swing of things,” Mycroft called out from the shower stall.

Greg smiled. He wasn’t sure if Mycroft had meant the pun. “And your allergies? You seem a little stuffy, but not as bad …”

“Hih…heh…heh’etschoo, heh’etchoo, hih’tish, tish, Hih’TISHOO!”

“Bless you! Sorry, spoke too soon.”

“It is only the st-heh-steam. Hih’tish, hih’tish, ish, ish, Hih’TSH.” Mycroft turned off the water.

Greg was ready with a bath towel and a flannel. They had long since determined the face cloth was better than tissues and handkerchiefs for post shower sneezing. Mycroft refused to sneeze into his towel. An imperious hand emerged from the stall. Greg rolled his eyes and handed over the flannel.

“Hih’Tish, Hih’Tish, Tish, Hih’TISHOO!”

“Bless you, love.” Greg handed the bath towel over next and Mycroft emerged from the shower.

“Thank you, dear,” replied Mycroft as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Bloody hell! What happened to your shoulder?” Greg exclaimed.

Mycroft looked over his left shoulder. “It is bruised. Presumably from the hit I took. I put ice on it before I arrived home.”

“My, I really don’t know about this.” Greg shook his head. The bruise was a violent shade of purple and the size of Greg’s hand. Greg reached out and lightly touched the traumatized area. Mycroft let out a faint hiss. “I suppose it is too late to back out?” Mycroft nodded, watching Greg closely. Sighing Greg picked up Mycroft’s kit. “I’ll get you some ice and a pain killer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Mycroft was ensconced in his study with an ice pack on his shoulder, water and paracetamol, Greg turned his attention to the filthy kit. Standing in the laundry room he shook out the trousers. Dust and dirt floated in the air. Greg examined the stains. Why white pants, he thought. Greg hadn’t believed his experience cleaning football kits was a skill he would have needed to apply to Mycroft’s clothes. He noted grass stains on the seat of the pants and smirked. It seemed Mycroft had neglected to mention he’d been unseated. Well, that gave him a good reason to check out My’s bum later, he thought.

Greg sniffed and rubbed at his nose as he readied the soak for Mycroft’s white trousers. “HuhhRRushoo!” The sneeze surprised him. He heard Mycroft call a blessing from down the hallway. Nose still itching, Greg finished getting the kit into the soak. He could feel another sneeze building. Cupping his hands over his face, Greg sneezed again. “HuhhRRusshoo!” And again, the force pitching him forward. “Hehh’DZschoo! Hehh’DSchSH!”

“Gracious, Gregory! God bless you!” Mycroft was standing at the doorway and offering his handkerchief. Straightening, Greg accepted. He stepped out of the laundry room and shut the door. No need to set My off as well, he thought.

“S’alright, love. Probably just the dust from your kit.” Greg tended his nose under Mycroft’s watchful eye. A bit annoyed at the scrutiny Greg couldn’t resist a little dig. “So, how’s your bum feel?”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “Fine.” He stalked off back to his study. Greg grinned and enjoyed the view of his lover’s retreating backside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following Sunday was beautiful and sunny. It had rained over night for which Greg and Mycroft were glad as it lowered the pollen count. Mycroft had left early for the Ham Polo Club and Greg arrived later with a picnic and chairs. Sherlock and John soon joined him with drinks and a blanket.

Greg secured a nice spot along the field. He was amazed at the size of it, but it made sense once he thought about it. The players were riding horses going at top speed, 30 to 35 mph. They would need the room.

Greg had been a little nervous about asking Sherlock and John to join him. But John cheerfully said he hadn’t watched any polo since he returned from Afghanistan and he thought it would be fun. Sherlock scoffed at the idea, but decided to come so that he might witness his brother making a fool of himself.

As they waited for the first match to begin, drinking lager and listening to Sherlock make scathing deductions of nearby spectators, Greg noticed a tall player striding towards them. Greg didn’t think he would have recognized Mycroft but for the sun picking out red highlights in his hair and his purposeful gait. As he came closer, the view just got better and better for Greg. The blue polo shirt complimented Mycroft’s eyes. The white riding pants still fit snugly, but Mycroft’s waist was trimmer than it had been the week before. The boots and kneepads accentuated Mycroft’s long legs.

Without thinking Greg found himself standing to watch his lover’s graceful approach. He lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head, and the bright sun caught Greg off guard. “HuhRRushshoo! The sneeze pitched him forward.

“Bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft stood in front of him, with a small smile on his lips. He reached up and gently settled Greg’s sunglasses back in place shielding the eyes. “I think you had best leave these where they belong.”

Greg chuckled weakly, “Thanks, love.” Sherlock made a noise of disgust.

“Ah, good afternoon John. So kind of you to come.” Mycroft greeted John cordially and John nodded in return. He turned towards his brother, “And Sherlock.”

“I’m only here to see your pony collapse under your gargantuan weight or, if it is strong enough, throw you.”

Greg could feel Mycroft stiffen and placed a comforting hand at the small of his partner’s back. Mycroft relaxed slightly at the touch. “I have no intention of being unseated, brother mine.” Mycroft fixed Sherlock with a glare.

Sherlock coolly returned his brother’s stare. “No…you have been practicing, haven’t you?”

“I took advantage of the intensive week of lessons offered at the club,” Mycroft replied.

“Who is on your team?” Sherlock demanded.

“Bennett is one, I am two, Rogers is three and Phillips is four,” Mycroft responded calmly. “I came to tell you that we would not be playing in the first match. We will play in the subsequent two and, if all goes well, we will play in the final match.”

“Then I have time to change my wager.” Sherlock strode off with his mobile to his ear.

“I didn’t hear that!” Greg called after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg sniffed for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon. He rubbed at his face and nose and had the sinking feeling he was coming down with a summer cold. He’d felt fine in the morning, but as the afternoon wore on he felt sniffly and his throat tingled. Greg opened the boot of his car and stowed the chairs and remains of the picnic. He found the stash of handkerchiefs he had brought for Mycroft and took one for himself. He blew his nose, triggering a harsh sneeze. “HhuhRRdshoo!”

He looked back at the field, watching spectators amble toward the clubhouse for the trophy presentations. Mycroft’s team had come in second place after a hard fought final. Mycroft was brilliant. He looked gorgeous on the ponies and played with a ferocity that was frankly frightening. From the way he wielded the polo stick, Greg could see from where some of his mannerisms with his umbrella had come. He was as clever at hooking as he was at the passing shots. He scored a few goals, but from what Greg had understood from Sherlock and John, that wasn’t Mycroft’s main job. His position was the playmaker and that fit with his personality.

John and Sherlock left right after the final chukka. Sherlock was crowing about collecting his winnings. Greg wiped at his drippy nose and sent a text to Mycroft. He was sure Mycroft was avoiding the crush of people at the clubhouse.

* Where are you? –GL *

* Stables –MH *

* Should I come find you? –GL *

* Please –MH *

“Huhh”RRUSSHOO!” Definitely coming down with something, thought Greg as he headed to the stables.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the assistance of a groom, Greg found Mycroft in a stall grooming one of the ponies. He looked fatigued, but peaceful as he brushed the neck of a pretty bay mare. She stood calmly, drowsy with the affection being bestowed on her. Greg felt relieved. They had talked about Mycroft’s allergies and the physical risks. However, neither had touched on Mycroft’s anxiety and his obsessive-compulsive disorder. Greg had no desire to disrupt this quiet moment, but his sinuses had been prickly since he entered the stable. He tried to muffle the resulting sneeze in the handkerchief. “Huh’Rrrmmpffsh”

“Bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft looked over at him. The mare had merely flicked her ears at the disturbance.

“Sorry, My,” Greg sniffled. “How are you doing?” Greg scratched at the side of his face.

Mycroft smiled at the mare. “I am fine. Animals are very soothing.”

“You were incredible out there. If someone had tried to tell me you could play like that, I wouldn’t have believed it. I think even your brother was impressed.” Greg rubbed at one of his eyes.

Mycroft snorted and left the stall given the mare a final stroke. “Thank you, dear. I am happy you enjoyed the tournament.” Mycroft approached Greg and bent his head to kiss his partner. Greg started to close the gap, but the last moment twisted away, cupping his hands over his nose and mouth.

“HuhRRrshsh, Heh’RDZschoo!” Greg fished the handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose and hands.

“God bless you! Gregory, look at me?”

“I’m sorry, My. I think I’m coming down with something. I really shouldn’t… Heh…heh…HuhRRusshoo! Huh’DRSCH!”

“Gregory, bless you. Now look at me.” Mycroft’s voice was firm.

Greg turned back toward Mycroft. Mycroft gently ran his fingers over Greg’s face, tracing around his eyes and sinuses and trailed down his neck. “No, you are not. But we do need to get you home.”

“Bloody feels like I’m coming down with something,” Greg grumbled. Mycroft’s touch made him feel itchy and he rubbed at his face and eyes. He sniffed and then began to cough.

Mycroft took Greg by the arm and lead him out of the stable. “Yes, it can feel that way.”

“So, what? I’m not sick, says Dr. Holmes. Why do I feel like crap? I’m not allergic to anything… heh…here. At least I don’t see any cats or pots of Earl Grey… heh…heh’DRRzschoo! Tea.”

“Bless you. I imagine there is a cat or two about, but I believe it is the ponies to which you are allergic.” Mycroft explained, finally getting Greg out of the stable and seated on a nearby bench.

“Well, that wrecks my plans for your birthday. HuhRRudssch!”

“Bless you, again.”

Greg blew his nose. He looked a mess, his face blotchy and his eyes red and watery. Sniffling, Greg rubbed at his nose and face vigorously. “Ugh! I itch so much!”

Mycroft bit his lip. He felt awful for his partner, but he did finally have some insight as to why Greg would tell him he was adorable during one of his allergy attacks. There was a certain amount of sweetness to being privy to a loved one’s moment of vulnerability. “Let me get you an antihistamine. Then I will change my clothes. My things are in the tack room.”

Greg just nodded. His eyelids were fluttering and nostrils gaping as he held the handkerchief at the ready. “HuhRRushhoo ... Heh’DRrschoo… Heh’DZSCHOO!” Mycroft jumped but kept a steadying hand on Greg until he appeared recovered.

“Gracious, God bless you! I know just how to make you feel better,” Mycroft promised Greg.

“I know you do, love,” sighed Greg. “But can I have an antihistamine first?” Greg looked up at Mycroft and winked.

“You are incorrigible.” Mycroft chuckled and slipped off to the tack room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Greg awoke to his alarm feeling well rested. He took a deep breath and wondered at the miracle of breathing through his nose. There were few things better, he thought. Happily, he’d experienced a few of those things last night. Mycroft was already up and out of bed, which didn’t surprise Greg since they both had to work today.

Greg rolled out of bed and headed to the en suite. He heard Mycroft sneeze down the hall. He called out a blessing and a good morning. Smiling, he thought his morning wasn’t complete without hearing Mycroft sneeze. When he exited the en suite he could hear Mycroft still sneezing. Now frowning, Greg went down the hallway and found Mycroft in the laundry room.

Leaning against the doorway, Greg folded his arms across his chest. “Bless you. What do you think you are doing?” Mycroft stood by the dryer, the lint filter sitting on top.

“I did not think it wise for you to wash the clothes from ye…hih…yesterday. So I took the li…hih…liberty of…hih’tish, hih’Tish, ish, ish, ish, TISHOO!” Mycroft buried his face in his handkerchief.

Greg shook his head. “Bless you, My. Thank you, but six of my sneezes are not worth sixty of yours. Now get out of here.” Mycroft looked as if he might argue, but Greg raised his eyebrows. Mycroft mustered his dignity and walked out without another word.

“Hhnnchx, hhnnchx, hhnnchoo.”

“Bless you, love,” Greg called out as he checked the washer settings. He finished cleaning the lint filter for the dryer. He returned to the bedroom to find Mycroft had finished dressing and was threading his watch fob.

“Since you did my chore this morning, may I make us breakfast? I seem to have a bit of extra time on my hands.” Greg smiled at Mycroft. “Brilliant job, by the way, getting the settings right on the washer.”

Mycroft snickered. “The hardest part was trying to read the care instructions. When did the print on the labels get so small?”

“When your eyes turned forty-four. At least that’s when it did for me.”

Mycroft walked over to Greg and slipped his arms around his partner. Greg returned the embrace. “Breakfast sounds lovely, dear.”

FIN

A/N: The Ham Polo Club does exist in London. They do have an intensive week of polo lessons available. I took liberties with my description of a how a polo tournament would go. I honestly don't know. (Not a lot of information about polo tournaments is available. Three whole books on polo in my city library.) I based my tournament structure on other sports tournaments. I suspect though, a tournament would actually take a couple days to complete, rather than one afternoon. I shortened it figuring no one was reading this for tournament Thank you for reading. Comments are love!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I'm so nervous about posting this I neglected to mention cally was my beta and huge thanks to her for that!

[TaurielRiver]

Oh this is hands-down the most functional of the Sherlock pairings! And your first full-length fic! I enjoyed!

I love Greg’s (trying not to be obvious… SO OBVIOUS) curiosity at the beginning, and then all the little details of Mycroft preparing for the game. I was intrigued! And Greg getting to use his rough-and-tumble football aftermath skills on Mycroft’s posh white polo trousers. So many lovely interactions throughout the scenes- Mycroft’s collected, clipped tones and dry wit felt spot-on (and Sherlock’s comment about changing his wager, haha, I can imagine this exactly!) OH, and Greg’s closing lines- aww, something about his worn-round-the-edges charming goofiness is just so heart-warming.

And lastly! The specifics of the polo club and the terminology really brought the story to life for me, so I totally appreciate all the thought/research that went into the writing, and resulted in this gorgeous and polished piece- well done!

[Garnet]

I'm going to echo TaurielRiver in that all of the little details of polo totally tied this story together for me! I know nothing at all about the sport, and I feel like I learned something with it also being well-integrated that my ignorance wasn't a hindrance! Also, how cute is Greg in this with his little surprise kink? I really loved the scene of all three picnicking with beers, just being casual and snarky with each other. Also, these couple of lines in particular:

He looked fatigued, but peaceful as he brushed the neck of a pretty bay mare. She stood calmly, drowsy with the affection being bestowed on her.

How utterly sweet and evocative, even I felt relaxed and content by proxy! Overall just a really charming fic, thank you for sharing!

[AngelEyes]

OMG! I'm so excited to finally read this!!!! It's brilliant!!! I love it!

“It was twenty years ago and it does not come up in day to day conversation.”

Such a Mycroft comment.

He smiled. “Well, you are correct. I do not want to get ‘all sweaty and hot and dirty’, as you put it.” He paused taking a sip from his wine glass. “At least not from playing sports.” Mycroft gave Greg a meaningful look over his wine glass. Greg felt a surge of desire pour through him. Dinner was abandoned.

Naughty Mycroft!

“No, I’m not. I’m stimulating your scalp. You’d be completely bald if not for me.” Greg countered. Mycroft chuckled. They were quiet for a bit.

I don't know why, but this is adorable. So domestically sweet.

It seemed Mycroft had neglected to mention he’d been unseated. Well, that gave him a good reason to check out My’s bum later, he thought.

LOL!

Sherlock scoffed at the idea, but decided to come so that he might witness his brother making a fool of himself.

Of course he did.

“I’m only here to see your pony collapse under your gargantuan weight or, if it is strong enough, throw you.”

He's such a brat. Lol.

Mycroft was brilliant. He looked gorgeous on the ponies and played with a ferocity that was frankly frightening. From the way he wielded the polo stick, Greg could see from where some of his mannerisms with his umbrella had come. He was as clever at hooking as he was at the passing shots.

I can see Mycroft being a fierce player. And the umbrella, LOL.

Greg found Mycroft in a stall grooming one of the ponies. He looked fatigued, but peaceful as he brushed the neck of a pretty bay mare. She stood calmly, drowsy with the affection being bestowed on her.

Awwww.

Mycroft bit his lip. He felt awful for his partner, but he did finally have some insight as to why Greg would tell him he was adorable during one of his allergy attacks. There was a certain amount of sweetness to being privy to a loved one’s moment of vulnerability.

Definitely!

Smiling, he thought his morning wasn’t complete without hearing Mycroft sneeze.

That would definitely be my favorite thing about mornings.

Mycroft snickered. “The hardest part was trying to read the care instructions. When did the print on the labels get so small?”

“When your eyes turned forty-four. At least that’s when it did for me.”

LOL.

This is just fantastic. I love it! *Happy Dance* I may just read this one or two or many more times....

[bangbang]

Ahhhhh! As soon as you mentioned previously that you were writing this piece I couldn't wait to see it.

Their voices are spectacular here. I love how playful they are with each other - Greg asking Mycroft about his ass, Mycroft telling Greg off for making him bald and the print on the clothes labels getting smaller - they're cheeky and faniliar with each other and I love it. Even Sherlock sniping about Mycroft's weight is done in a way that's perfectly within character. You have such witty dialogue.

I also really enjoyed how you touched on the subject of Mycroft's various anxieties but didn't focus too hard on them, because he's evidently got them more under control here. There's an air of safety and quiet to the piece that I love.

I'm also super into the idea of Mycroft's allergies getting worse over time, but him still having to take measures to prevent them when he did field work. And Greg being allergic to horses was such a nice role-reversal.

And you did great with the polo thing. Tbh I have not a single solitary clue about it (I, like Mycroft, am not a Sports Person) but you made it feel very real. You can tell you did your research!

I enjoyed this a lot, and I look forward to seeing what you produce next!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thank you for all the wonderful comments! I am thrilled people are enjoying this. I had this image of Mycroft in riding breeches and my brain went...fffzzzBOOM! So I gave it to Greg.

I'm over the moon to hear from Garnet and TaurielRiver. Both of you write so beautifully, your compliments mean a lot. I have more to come. Hopefully you will enjoy those as well.

AngelEyes, yay! You like it! Once again you picked the lines and parts that I like best. How do you do that?

Bangbang thank you for your compliments on the dialog. Sherlock scares me, so I worry about writing him in a story. Mycroft and Greg start talking in my head; I just take dictation. (I know, looney bin!) Yes, I believe Mycroft's OCD and anxiety are much better with Greg around. I think he misses his cats from time to time.

Thanks to everyone for appreciating the polo details. It wasn't easy tracking down some of the information and figuring out what position Mycroft would play. I watched a few matches on YouTube; it looks like a lot of fun!

[Spoo]

I feel like I've been late in responding to your fics lately. I promise I don't do it on purpose!

So I'm basically going to echo everything that bangbang said, because her and I speak on a daily basis and we always squeal/discuss in depth/gush over your fics. Just know that I love the dialogue, Greg lusting over Mycroft in polo gear, Greg sneezing multiple times while trying to speak (), and Mycroft/Greg discussing age (what I love best about the Mystrade pairing is that they're middle-aged men [Greg being a little older]).

Brilliant, scw! As usual, I can't wait for more~

[katy693]

This! So much this. Shame it's just a one shot because I really like the idea. I really like your drabbles but the way you flesh out a story is exactly what I like. Mycroft in the shower though I have no words.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Thanks Spoo and katy693!

Spoo I like they are a middle-aged couple too. Thank you for all the compliments and support!

katy693 I am happy you enjoyed it. I'll have to see if I can work more horses into my stories. No worries, I have another longer story I am polishing, in addition to the drabbles.

[Juto]

Late late late...

I can't possibly praise anything that havent already been praised, so I'm just going to echo the rest of your fangirls and add a few of my favourite parts for good measure!

“Mmm?” Mycroft looked up from the file he was reading. He held out his hand and Greg handed over the invitation. Glancing over the paper, Mycroft responded, “It’s an invitation to a charity polo tournament.” He dropped it on his desk.

“No, it’s an invitation for you to play in a charity polo tournament,” clarified Greg.

Sneaky My! Greg Sees right through you, love!

Leave it be. You are making it come out faster.”

“No, I’m not. I’m stimulating your scalp. You’d be completely bald if not for me.” Greg countered. Mycroft chuckled. They were quiet for a bit.

Echo: such a lovely domestic moment form a middle aged couple. I absolutely adore it!!!

Heh…heh…heh’etchoo, hih’tschoo, tish, tish, tish…hih’TISHOO!”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you! Think you’re done?” Greg asked gently.

Mycroft blew his nose. “I believe so. The longer I use the medication the less the reaction seems to be.” He turned and smiled at Greg. Returning the smile Greg leaned in and kissed him. Mycroft responded to the kiss, but as their noses brushed together he had to pull away.

“Heh’Etschoo, Heht’choo, Heh’Eftshoo!” Mycroft sneezed against his wrist.

“Not quite done then,” Greg smirked.

Ohh, Mycroft is never done.... And we LOVE IT!!!

Mycroft turned over to face Greg. “No need to feel sorry. It is lovely to be desired.”

D'aaaaawwwwwwww!!!!! I melted!!!!!

I love how dinner was abandoned, the ponies had to wait and Mycroft knew EXACTLY How to make his lover feel better!! Subtle hints... Ahh....so lovely.

Then I have time to change my wager.” Sherlock strode off with his mobile to his ear.

“I didn’t hear that!” Greg called after him.

Awwwwwwwwwww ... Greg defending his lover by "parenting" Sherlock! Just so lovely!!!

HuhRRrshsh, Heh’RDZschoo!” Greg fished the handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose and hands.

“God bless you! Gregory, look at me?”

“I’m sorry, My. I think I’m coming down with something. I really shouldn’t… Heh…heh…HuhRRusshoo! Huh’DRSCH!”

“Gregory, bless you. Now look at me.” Mycroft’s voice was firm.

Awwwwwwww Mycroft being firm with a sneezy and apologising Gregory... My heart couldn't really handle this!! It was so precious!!

Gosh, there is soooo much more, but I'm out of time.

Congrats again on your first long fic! It was incredibly well researched and well written with just that very subtle undertone of humour and sexual energy.... Just the way I like it

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Aww! Thank you Juto07ab! I'm thrilled you enjoyed it. You picked out some of my favorite parts too.

[AngelEyes]

No worries, I have another longer story I am polishing, in addition to the drabbles.

Squee!!!!!!!!!!!

[Juto]

No worries, I have another longer story I am polishing, in addition to the drabbles.

Squee!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh oh oh....YEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!! OOOOOOOOH ME GAAAAAAAAWD!!!! CANT WAIT!!!!!!

*composes self*

Sure, I mean, like, whatever... I'm an adult, I don't fangirl..... Much!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

No worries, I have another longer story I am polishing, in addition to the drabbles.

Squee!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh oh oh....YEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!! OOOOOOOOH ME GAAAAAAAAWD!!!! CANT WAIT!!!!!!

*composes self*

Sure, I mean, like, whatever... I'm an adult, I don't fangirl..... Much!

LOL!! You two crack me up!

[supernaturalfragalistic]

I didn't know I actually had an official fetish for sneezing...I just thought I liked them and I liked caring for people I guessed,,,until I read this fic....I love it!!! Might be the fav so far!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Hi supernaturalfragalistic! So glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for commenting. I've a thread in the drabble section, if you would like to read more.