Some Mystrade fluff. Well. Pre-Mystrade-ish. The Reichenfuckening has fuckt my ability to write, but I hope you like it anyway. It’s pretty long so you can also read it on AO3. Love you guys 💜
24th June 2016
“Yeah, no, that’s fine, Mycroft.”
“I would appreciate it if you could involve Sherlock in the Hartingdon case, too, as there are a few aspects to it which may link to a matter we have ongoing at the moment.”
“No problem. Just send me the files, as always.”
“Thank you, Detective Inspector.”
“Greg. You know I asked you to call me Greg. And you did, for a while.”
“My apologies, Greg.”
“Alright. You know, I was wondering, we could probably – I mean, if you fancied it – we could…we could do this over dinner, sometime.”
Mycroft freezes at his desk for a moment. He’s tempted. He really is. But he can hardly look at the man. He is unreasonably attractive. If they were to blur the boundaries of their purely professional relationship by meeting on more informal terms, no matter how innocently, the…situation he finds himself in would only worsen. As it stands, the problem is manageable; his painful attraction to the silver-haired DI is bearable when parcelled out in short doses every couple of weeks.
It is kind of Lestrade to attempt to be friendly, but on this occasion, it would be counterproductive.
The man is so kind. And thoroughly admirable in every sense.
Mycroft does not look up from his paperwork.
“Thank you, Det- Greg, but unfortunately I have a lot to attend to at the moment and cannot find the time.”
9th July 2016
“Sherlock – no – this is impossible –”
“Hardly impossible, brother dearest. It seems to be happening already.”
“There must be someone else –”
“Nope. All away. Or dead. Some of them are dead. John and I have to go now. Important. Back soon.”
As the car roars away, Mycroft looks down at the small human cradled awkwardly in his arms. The changing bag hangs from his shoulder, where Sherlock dumped it. Rosie blinks at him. “Christ,” mutters Mycroft.
Lately, I’ve been “out” more than I’ve been “in.” Huh?
What I mean is…
Looking back at the last two years, I see a flurry of hotel napkins, languages I can’t quite place, foods of indiscernible ingredients. I’ve measured out my life in coffee spoons at various cafes (thanks, T.S.)!
This moment, I’m here in Los Angeles, and I’m staring at my guitar.
It (like me) has picked up a lot of souvenirs and memories. I’m excited to share it with you!
When you have a few hours to spare, in the early morning, before a busy work day, the place I would recommend anyone to go to is Little Spoon Cafe on 15th and South. It’s the home away from home when it comes to a tasty and satisfying breakfast that is cooked and prepared just like your mom would make it. To top off the mouth-watering meal, you must order an ice coffee, that will wake you up and make you feel refreshed. Besides the food, that I could talk about for hours, the decoration and interior-design of Little Spoon is impeccable. I can tell that a lot of time and effort was put into making Little Spoon stand out from the rest of the coffee shops and cafes around Philly. Kudos, Little Spoon for exceeding all expectations.
i need advice i just bought a pint of butter pecan ice cream but i dont own any silverware and usually id grab a plastic spoon from a cafe or something but i Forgot so now i have a choice. do i try to eat this with a plastic fork or wooden chopsticks
did i say spoon or fork i forget. i dont have a spoon; i do have a fork
fork it up, my child. if it’s fresh from the freezer, it should remain firm enough to enjoy without melting enough not to have.