Title: Seven
Author: Jessie Blackwood
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Fandoms: Sherlock
Rating: PG
Note: These are a series of ficlets, short fiction pieces (I hesitate to call them drabbles because I think they're too long, despite the loose definition being 500 words), inspired by one-word prompts from my followers on Tumblr, because I wanted to celebrate passing the 50 follower mark.
Over the last two years since losing my best friend and soulmate, Heather, everyone on Tumblr, particularly the Mystrade crew, have quite honestly saved my life and my sanity. So thanks, guys. These little one-shots are prompted by all of you and are my thank you. I hope you enjoy.
Summary: Anonymous posted a prompt 'seven', so here it is. Their seventh date and things are not going according to plan for Greg and Mycroft.

***

“Okay, mate, what’s up? This is a bit more than our weekly ‘moan about your Holmes’ evening, isn’t it?”

Greg regarded John over the rim of his glass and swallowed a healthy mouthful of beer before replying. The doctor was astute as always, and knew when something was wrong.

Greg sighed. “I dunno, John. I’ve about had it with His Majesty.”

“What? Why? I thought you two were permanent. In it for the long haul.”

“So did I, but it’s frankly not going anywhere.”

“Oh? How come?”

“This is our seventh date, John. Our seventh. I’ve heard of taking things slowly, but this is getting ridiculous. We’ve never even gone past a hand shake. We’ve never kissed, you know that?”

“What, not even goodnight?”

“Nope. And I’ve tried, you know, leaned forward slightly, given him the opportunity, little space in the conversation, but he’s never taken it.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Pardon?”

“Why haven’t you taken the opportunity?”

“I...I was waiting for him. Didn’t want to rush him or anything. Didn’t want to scare him away.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to take the lead, you know? Right now, he’s probably waiting for the same thing you’re waiting for.”

“For me to…Nah, not him. I… really? You think so?”

“Yes, I do. Sherlock was the same, waiting for me while I was waiting for him. Those two are more alike than they care to admit, so I say go for it.”

000000000000000

The black car whispered to a halt by the kerb and Greg got in, seeing Mycroft sitting primly on the seat, immaculately dressed as always.

“Good evening, Gregory,” he murmured. There was something subdued tonight though. Greg frowned.

“Evening, Mycroft.”

“A lovely evening, is it not?”

“Not bad for spring. Weather’s been better this week. So, nothing too taxing in Whitehall this week?”

“Hm? Oh, no. Nothing too stressful. Anthea is taking more of the responsibility for the...less complex cases off my hands, so I have more time to myself.”

“That’s nice for you.” Mycroft was distracted, Greg noted. Not a good sign.

“Yourself?” Mycroft prompted.

“Nothing too bad, no.” Greg regarded him from a distance that was more than just the length of the car seat. Mycroft was not with him… “You okay?”

Mycroft turned to face him, looking pensive. “Probably not…” he said.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“I am not sure...I had hopes for us, Gregory…”

“So do I.” Had? Oh damn, not good. “Mycroft, what’s wrong? This will be our seventh date, and...honestly? I am not sure where this is going. We’ve not even…well… kissed…”

“I was wondering the same myself. Why have we not kissed, I wonder?”

“I was...waiting for you,” Greg admitted, tentatively. “I didn’t want to...well, push you.”

“And if I wanted to be pushed?”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So...um...you want to be...pushed? Are you sure?”

“If I was not sure, I would have said absolutely nothing, and let this carry on until it’s rather sorry end. I have never been successful at relationships, Gregory. I am neither sentimental nor am I romantic, and I have no idea how to navigate the waters of a partnership like this without muddying them with my ineptitude. I was hoping…” he paused, seeming to gather his wits before continuing. “I was hoping that the more experienced of us would take the lead…”

“Mycroft, I am not experienced. Married, sure. Married for nearly twenty years, with a misspent youth behind me. I am not used to dating, and I am not sure how to date you. You’re a Holmes. You’re not like anyone else. Normal rules do not apply where you and your brother are concerned.”

“I hope you have no intention of dating my brother…”

“No, but John has, and John and I talk to each other, you know. We discuss things, and we’re both agreed, half the time we have no idea how you tick, either of you.”

“You have discussed me?”

“Advice, Mycroft, I was looking for advice. John’s conclusion was that you two need clear communication, disclosure of intent, otherwise neither of us has a hope in Hell of getting any further than dinner. And don’t tell me you haven’t asked Anthea for advice concerning your dates? I won’t believe you.” Mycroft’s slight blush was all the answer he needed. “Not to mention that I’m not in your league… We go to swanky restaurants, and believe me, I like that. It’s nice to indulge in luxury. I have precious little of that in my life, and that’s the problem. I cannot afford you, you know that? Can’t afford to take us anywhere where you would feel comfortable. I can’t exactly take us to the cafe or the pub, can I? Cheap date? How crass would that be?”

“You...might.”

“What? Seriously?”

“I would go with you anywhere, Gregory. You do not understand.”

“Explain to me then. Come on, disclosure of intent and all that.”

“It matters not where we go. I would be with you.”

“Oh.” Greg stared at the man beside him. “I just thought… you don’t like noise or people, I figured a pub would be too much for you to cope with.”

“Thank you for your consideration, but honestly, I would settle for sandwiches in front of the fire in my study, as long as it was with you.”

“Mycroft, that’s…”

“Sentiment. Yes, I know.”

“...unexpected, is what I was going to say. Look, Mycroft, I think we’re both trying too hard and not communicating properly. We’re both scared of scaring the other one away, hm?” Mycroft stared straight ahead but his slight nod was not missed. “So let’s talk, hm? Look, after tonight, after dinner, take me home, hm?”

“Home?”

“Yeah, to yours. Or if that makes you uncomfortable, the Diogenese, or mine, but that might make you uncomfortable too. Look, somewhere we can talk. Just talk, about us, about what we want from each other, about where we see this going. We go on our dates, our dinners, and we talk about anything and everything and yet nothing at all that is relevant. We’ve shared our views on pretty much everything except us, except the important stuff. Seven dates, Mycroft. How has it taken us this long?”

“Because we are invested in this, Gregory. I would never have held out so much hope before this, before you. I would probably have given up by the third.”

“It’s a lucky number, you know?”

“What is?”

“Seven. In some cultures, including ours, seven is a lucky number.”

“A good job I picked somewhere appropriate then.”

Greg looked at the name of the restaurant they had arrived at and laughed. “Seven Park Place? Really?”

“Michelin starred. The name seemed appropriate.”

“Definitely, we are going home to yours after this,” Greg said. “You and I have a lot to talk about. So, tonight, we are both going to pick the seven things about each other that we most like. Okay? Think you can do that?”

“Already done,” Mycroft admitted as they were lead to their table. “Honour, integrity, compassion, kindness, your eyes, your hair, your…” he lowered his voice, “...body,” he murmured.

“Really?”

“Really, Gregory. Your turn.”

“Um...your hair and your eyes too. Your sense of justice, and your intelligence.”

“Three more I believe.”

“Your sense of humour.”

“Seriously?”

“You have a very dry sense of humour, Myc. What’s not to love? You are very witty, when you allow yourself to be.”

Mycroft tried not to preen at the praise. “Two more then,” he said as they were seated.

Greg boggled at the menu. “Generosity,” he said, ruefully.

“I am not generous. Not really. This is a means to an end, and I have too much money. It means nothing to me beyond getting me the things in life that I want. Although, your integrity means you won’t allow yourself to be bought, which is refreshing. You still owe me two more.”

“One more. I am holding out for generosity. Look, Myc, you don’t need to do this. You know you don’t need to impress me. So why choose here?”

“Indulgence? Hedonism?”

“You could come here any time, you don’t need me.”

“I confess a certain desire to share.”

“Generosity, don’t argue.”

“May I add misguided to your list?”

Greg ignored him. “Sensual,” he said.

“I beg your pardon? Change the subject, now!” Mycroft was scandalised.

Greg couldn’t help the wide grin that blossomed. “Come on, Mycroft. You love fine clothing, fine food, and you have a wicked grin, and your eyes...You are a sensual person and...if you’ll let me, I’d like to explore that...with you. In private.” he smiled. “You expressed a wish for the most experienced person to take the lead, so I am doing as you asked.”

“So it would seem. I might hold you to that, later.”

“I hope so, Mycroft. I do hope so. You know something else I hope for?”

“I am sure you’re about to tell me.”

“Seven in the morning, Mycroft.”

“What about it? Is there some significance of that hour? A lucky time perhaps?”

“Well, make me breakfast at seven in the morning, and it will definitely have been a lucky time for us both.”

Greg watched Mycroft blush again and somehow in his heart of hearts, he knew everything would work out just fine between them.

***