It's Not Optional (Sherlock: Mystrade)

[matilda3948]

A post-season 4 one-shot for all the Mystrade fans  

 

Mycroft was straightening his tie when Greg and a load of NSY and MI5 agents came bursting into the room. After being released from the glass cell, Greg took the younger man by the arm and led him a few feet away from the chaos. 

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Sherlock? John?" Mycroft asked.

"They're fine. Eurus is secure and being transported back here. Now, are you okay?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"Anything," Greg said.

"I need you to not inquire after my well-being until I tell you it’s okay to do so. And I need you to not question why." 

Greg frowned but agreed. There was a lot he didn't understand but this seemed important to Mycroft so he'd do it. A couple of medics came over to where the men were talking.

“I’m fine,” Mycroft said.

“Sir, we have instructions to—”

“Fine, but make it quick.” Mycroft knew this was protocol—he wrote it. He let the medics look him over. They found him uninjured but dehydrated. Greg was surprised that the younger man agreed to be hooked up to an IV. Mycroft asked one of the medics for something and soon had a bottle of water and a couple pills to swallow. Greg suspected they were painkillers until he saw Mycroft silently stifle a trio of sneezes by pinching his nose. Of course—it he hadn’t had water in over 24 hours, he certainly hadn’t taken an antihistamine either.

"I'll be waiting to take you back to London when you're done," Greg said.

"It's not necessary."

"It's not optional."

They were interrupted by one of Mycroft's assistants.

"Sir?" He stood ready for direction.

"I want a cyber sweep and explosives unit sent to Doctor Hooper's flat immediately."

"Anthea is already on her way," the man said.

"Tell her that Doctor Hooper has been granted level 2 clearance and should be informed as appropriate. I want a second team dispatched to the home of Doctor John Watson and a third to 221B Baker Street."

"Your residence as well, sir?" the man asked. Mycroft sighed.

"Yes, I suppose that would be prudent. I'll need to debrief the relevant parties as soon as possible—tomorrow afternoon or the following morning at the very latest. Once the family members of each victim have been notified I want to make personal calls to all of them. Send the phone numbers and names to my private email. When is Eurus scheduled to arrive on the island?"

"Within the next twenty minutes sir."

"I want to see her once she is secured. There is…excuse me…” Mycroft turned his head and silently squelched three more sneezes before continuing on like nothing happened. “There is to be a team watching her at all times and a team watching that team. Clearly the safeguards that were in place were woefully insufficient. Have three new proposals for surveillance and containment on my desk within the next 72 hours."

"Yes, sir."

Greg stood off to the side and watched Mycroft bark orders at the endless parade government staff that had filled Sherrinford. When he got word that Eurus was now secured in an adjacent room, Mycroft removed his IV himself. Greg watched a tremor in Mycroft's hand as he struggled to button the cuffs of his shirt. After he huffed at the second failed attempt, Greg deftly took his wrist and secured the buttons at his wrist. Mycroft said nothing, didn’t even make eye contact as he went to check on Eurus. Greg tried to follow him but was stopped by security at the door but a single nod from Mycroft was enough to grant him access, so Greg finally got his first good look at the mysterious Holmes sibling that had caused such destruction. She didn't look as threatening as Greg had imagined, but he knew that was part of what made her so very dangerous. Eurus was curled in the fetal position on the small bed, her eyes unfocused and staring straight ahead. Mycroft approached the glass and put himself in his sister's line of sight.

"I am so sorry, little sister," he said quietly. "I wish I knew how to do better." She remained completely unresponsive. Mycroft stared at her for a few more minutes then said, "If you need anything you know how to reach me." He turned and sniffled, swiping at his nose and walking straight out of the room, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Greg. He followed the younger man out into the cold night air and hopped into the helicopter beside him. Once secured, they were in the air and streaking across the sky. Greg remained a silent shadow as they exited the helicopter, got into the waiting government car, and speed across the city. There was a new mobile phone waiting on Mycroft's seat and he immediately got to work sending a series of text messages and emails at a speed that astounded Lestrade. After twenty minutes of nonstop work, Mycroft pocketed the device and ran a shaky hand across his face. He could feel the intensity of Greg's gaze on him without looking up. "Not yet," he said to the unasked question.

hh’NKTss! ehhNTss!

“Bless you. Here,” Greg took a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out.

“Thank you,” Mycroft whispered.

The sight of their house couldn't have been more welcome. Greg unlocked the door, hung up his coat and toed off his shoes, leaving them by the door. Mycroft did the same but was back on his phone. He stalked down the hallway to his study where he proceeded to pace the length of the room typing furiously on the tiny keypad. Greg poured two generous glasses of scotch, put them on the table, and sat on the arm of the sofa, his eyes tracking Mycroft's movements. Every few minutes, he’d press the handkerchief to his nose and muffle a sneeze or two, but he never seemed to stop typing.

Finally, Mycroft tossed the phone onto his desk, apparently satisfied that he was getting a temporary reprieve. He had his back turned to Greg and sighed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

"Now?" Greg asked.

"Now," he confirmed. 

Greg stood up and took a few steps towards him. 

"I need to know how you're feeling, physically and—”

He didn't even finish his question before Mycroft's legs gave out from under him. He crumpled to the floor and clutched his head in his hands. Greg was at his side in a flash, kneeling on the ground in front of him. 

"Shit.” He pulled Mycroft’s hands away from his face so he could try and assess what he was dealing with. “Okay, Mycroft. I've got you now," he said. Mycroft didn’t respond; he couldn’t. His breath was shallow and rapid, shaking hands clawing at his tie. “Let me get it,” Greg said, trying to get access. When Greg found the Windsor knot to be too tight for him to loosen, he reached up onto the desk and grabbed a pair of scissors. After slipping the blade between Mycroft’s ties and his shirt, Greg cut the tie and pulled from around Mycroft’s neck. Then he undid the first three buttons of his shirt and picked up one of Mycroft’s shaking hands. His pulse was thundering. “Listen to me,” Greg said quietly. “Stay with me and it will pass.” Mycroft remained unresponsive, eyes clenched shut, breathing in short quick gasps. His body was shaking so hard Greg half expected his bones to rattle. “You’ve got to try and breathe,” Greg said. “Just try and breathe with me.” He exaggerated his own breathing, making it slow, deep, and audible. “I’m gonna touch you okay?” He had learned from previous attacks that Mycroft’s chest got tight and sore—he’d never get any meaningful air into his lungs if he didn’t relax the muscles in his chest. Greg placed a hand in the center of Mycroft’s chest and applied light pressure with his fingertips. “Everyone’s safe, Mycroft. Everyone is okay. Time to slow down.”

They carried on this way for the better part of fifteen minutes before Greg noticed any meaningful change in his partner’s state. Greg only left his side long enough to get the box of tissues off the desk. He took a handful and wiped the tears from Mycroft’s eyes and then took another handful to blot the sweat that had gathered at his temples and forehead. By the time that was done there were more tears. Greg swapped out tissues for a third time when Mycroft finally reached out and stopped him. He took the tissues away from Greg and brought them to his nose.

hehGNshh! NTK’shhh! NKTSHHH! heh…hh’NKTSHHeew!

“Bless you,” Greg said. He smoothed Mycroft’s hair back from his face. “Keep breathing, love. Just keep breathing.”

When Mycroft eventually lifted his head and opened his eyes he was met with a very worried looking Detective Inspector.

“Been holding that in for a while then?” Greg asked.

Mycroft nodded. His body clearly didn’t like that movement though because instantly whatever color he had left in his face was gone and his vision tunneled.

“Whoa. Easy,” Greg said. “Come on, I want you to lie down. Right here.” Not that Mycroft had much energy to resist, but Greg was still surprised that the younger man allowed himself to be guided into the recovery position on the floor. Greg grabbed a couple pillows and a blanket off the sofa; he covered Mycroft up and then put a pillow under his head before stretching out on the floor next to him. “We’re just going to stay here until you’re able to make it to bed,” he said. When Mycroft started shaking again, Greg reached over and rubbed his arm. “Hey. Open your eyes. Mycroft, open your eyes.” The response was sluggish. Greg brushed the hair out of Mycroft’s face and then placed two fingers against his neck. “You cannot go into shock on me. Do you understand?” Mycroft nodded and his eyes started to close again. “Nope. Eyes open for a little while. I really don’t want to have to take you to hospital, so I need to see that you’re with me. Okay?”

“Okay.” It was the first thing he’d said in nearly a half hour and Greg smiled. After a few minutes both men turned onto their backs. Greg kept hold of Mycroft’s left hand, periodically checking his pulse but it seemed the worse was finally passing. He figured the conversation they needed to have would be easier when Mycroft could avoid eye contact, so Greg took advantage of their position.

“I know you’re not going to want to talk about it, but that’s not going to work this time. It’s too big. You saw too much. Locking this all inside is not an option. You know that right?”

“I do.”

“I’ll help you in any way you need—Sherlock and John too.” He felt Mycroft lightly squeeze his hand. “This is going to take some time, Mycroft. Please be patient with yourself.” When he didn’t get an answer, Greg started to mentally prepare his argument, but then Mycroft gasped out a sneeze.

hehNKTSHHeew! NGK’tshhheew! KTSHHHeew!

“Bless you.”

“Thag you.”

“Is this allergies or a cold?” Greg asked.

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Fair enough.” He gave Mycroft a moment’s reprieve before repeating his earlier question. “This will take time to get through. You have to give yourself time, Mycroft.”

“I’ll try.”

"Christ, I’m glad you’re safe,” Greg finally exhaled for what felt like the first time in a week. They continued to lay there even though predawn light was starting to filter through the windows. “We should go to bed and at least try for a few hours’ sleep. When do you need to be in the office?”

“Eleven at the latest.”

“Time for a few hours and a shower then.”

Both men took their time peeling themselves off the floor. Now that the adrenalin was gone they both felt like they’d gone ten rounds.

“Did you cut my tie off?” Mycroft asked.

“Yeah. Figured faster was better. You were…umm…”

“I know. It was the right decision.” Mycroft sniffled wetly. “Odds are there will be more of that in the next few weeks.”

“That’s okay. Maybe wear ties you’re not attached to just in case.”

Mycroft paused at the door to the study and put a hand on Greg’s shoulder. He started to say something twice but words failed him. Instead, in an uncharacteristic outburst of affection, he pulled Greg towards him in a crushing embrace.

“I thought…Gregory, I thought…”

“I know,” Greg whispered. He squeezed the back of his partner’s neck. He felt tears spring to his eyes as the full impact of what he could have lost today started to hit him. He felt Mycroft try and pull away but Greg couldn’t bring himself to let him go. As a result, Mycroft sneezed against his partner’s shoulder.

hh’ntschh! Ktschh! NTSHH! hehGNshh! NTK’shhh! NKTSHHHeew!

Greg smiled fondly and kissed the top of Mycroft’s head.

“Bless you, love.”

“I’m so sorry—”

“Shhh. Not another word.”

Edited April 10, 2017 by matilda3948
Spacing got all messed up.

[cally]

Oh, this was heartbreaking and lovely all at the same time.  Poor Mycroft.  

[AngelEyes]

This is beautiful. Heartbreaking and tragic and perfectly done. And so necessary. 

[Shamaël]

I'm not strictly speaking a Mystrade fan (okay, to be honest, I'm becoming very close to it...), but this was fantastic!

On 10/04/2017 at 2:18 AM, matilda3948 said:

"I need you to not inquire after my well-being until I tell you it’s okay to do so. And I need you to not question why." 

I love this beginning. Because of course that's what Mycroft would say in such a case.

And the whole scene of Mycroft's panic attack was incredible. I mean, the fact that he waits to be home and safe and alone with Gregory, and the description in itself, and the fact that THIS IS A GREAT MISSING SECNE AND I DON't UNDERSTAND WHY THEY DIDN'T PUT IT INTO THE EPISODE!!! I can't quite everything because it was great from the beginning to the end, but maybe this is my favorite part:

On 10/04/2017 at 2:18 AM, matilda3948 said:

When Mycroft started shaking again, Greg reached over and rubbed his arm. “Hey. Open your eyes. Mycroft, open your eyes.” The response was sluggish. Greg brushed the hair out of Mycroft’s face and then placed two fingers against his neck. “You cannot go into shock on me. Do you understand?” Mycroft nodded and his eyes started to close again.

I love what you're doing with season 4, both with Sherlock and Mycroft. Thank you!

[lsbn]

So sweet!!!! Thank you for writing!

[beatlelover22]

I definitely am a Mycroft/Greg fan and this was just great. And the idea of Mycroft with a delicious cold is just