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Mycroft Holmes exited the back of his sedan and stood just beyond the cordon, watching Detective Inspector Lestrade. Impatient, he tapped his umbrella against the pavement, waiting to be noticed. Eventually, one of Lestrade’s team pointed him out.
Gregory Lestrade trotted over to Mycroft. “Hullo, Mr. Holmes. Is there something I can do for you?’
“I would like to have a word with you, Detective Inspector.”
Greg looked back at the crime scene he’d just stepped away from and then at Mycroft. “It’ll have to wait. As you can see I’m a bit tied up here.”
Mycroft’s eyebrows rose, and Greg smirked at him.
“It’s most pressing that I speak with you.” Mycroft glowered at Greg. He was not used to getting rebuffed.
“What about?” Greg asked innocently. He knew he was yanking Mycroft’s chain.
“Something of great importance.”
Greg’s forehead furrowed. “Care to elaborate?”
Mycroft sighed with annoyance. “I would be happy to, but not out here. Perhaps we could discuss the case someplace a little more private.”
Greg glanced around. “No one is listening.”
“I would prefer not to be observed,” Mycroft responded. “Join me in the car?” He turned and opened the door to the back seat. “Please?”
“Oh fine, since you said ‘please’.” Greg ducked under the cordon and climbed into the back seat.
Mycroft followed, shutting the door firmly behind him. He turned to face Greg.
“Is this about Christmas dinner with your parents?” Greg confronted Mycroft. “I thought it was settled.”
“No. Not at all. We’re in complete agreement. We’ll see them Boxing Day.”
“Then what? Why all the secrecy?”
Mycroft stared hungrily at Greg.
“I see.” Greg couldn’t keep the pleased grin off his face. “You’re looking for an excuse to get me alone.”
“Yes.” Mycroft murmured. His eyes darted upward, then back to Greg’s face. He bit his bottom lip.
Greg tracked Mycroft’s gaze, then reached out to cup the back of Mycroft’s head, and pulled him into a deep kiss. Mycroft whined with pleasure.
“Oh, how convenient, some mistletoe,” Greg breathed when they parted for air. He glanced up at the ceiling where there hung a sprig of pale green mistletoe.