Oh. I just click the little plus every time I see a new person on that list on the right hand side. I haven’t been following you - I’m the police, that wouldn’t exactly be good for my rep.
Best thing I’ve been given? Well, uh… my daughters. If that counts.
16. Sally called me with a question about ten minutes ago, actually!
5. Well, John changed my contacts a few Fridays ago and I haven’t gotten around to changing them back. He changed Anderson’s full name to just “Andy,” so he’s first.
Keep this up, and we’re going to have to play Century Club next Friday…
You think you’re so funny, John.
The bloody drink arrived and Mycroft gave the bartender a curt nod, picking up the glass and taking a long sip from it. It was good. In fact, it was very good. Lestrade clearly knew drinks. The Irish cream was soft and creamy on his tongue, and he took another swallow before setting it down. Best not to drink it all at once. Mycroft knew his limits well.
“Oh, I’d have to say cake,” he said, trying to act like he’d had to give it some thought. “Cannolis being a close second. Though I don’t, ah, eat much of either these days.” Mycroft desperately hoped that Lestrade would accept the blatant lie and leave it. “You, Detective Inspector?”
“Yeah?” Lestrade asked, a little smirk to his grin. “Any specific kinds, or do ya just love them all?”
He drank more of his beer before answering. “I think I’d have to say…” He scrunched up his nose and squinted in thought. “I dono, there was something I tried once - I think it was called… Monkey bread? Friend made it once, I think, and it was really good. American, or somethin, I think. Either that or apple pie. With ice cream. And whipped cream, probably.” Lestrade nodded at his choices, wondering if he could convince his friend to make him more monkey bread.
godsavethegovernment replied to your post: ((I’m here and putting honey on tea biscuits. For…
((hi I love you))
Mycroft’s almost-smile froze in place. That was not something he’d expected. It was one thing to entertain the smallest bit of affection for the Detective Inspector, but it was quite another for it to be returned, much less for him to be winked at, by Jove. This crossed the line between harmless, fruitless manipulation over into…something that he couldn’t predict as well.
He needed to back out, now. But for some reason, he didn’t want to do that just yet. Maybe he was just a sadist. Maybe he’d changed a little too much in the three years since Sherlock passed.
At least Lestrade had the decency to look embarrassed, though he still had that bloody grin plastered to his face. Mycroft tried to make himself be disgusted. Couldn’t quite manage it.
“I imagine I will,” he said carefully, aware that his tone was colder than it had been all evening. “Sweet and creamy is my favorite.” And then he bit his tongue and told himself to stop speaking, now.
Lestrade laughed a bit nervously. He didn’t know what he was doing, and, worse yet, he had no idea what Mycroft was doing. He kept going from seeming like he might actually have fun, to seeming like he might actually get Lestrade fired from his job with less than a phone call.
“I can see the appeal, yeah,” Lestrade replied with a grin that clearly wasn’t sure if it was amused, flirty, or hugely embarrassed. He had the urge to “accidentally” spill a drink on his sleeve just to excuse himself for a while in order to sort himself out.
He leaned forward onto the bar after taking a gulp of his beer and wishing John would say something useful. He flashed another grin at Mycroft, searching around in his brain for something not utterly mundane and annoying. At least, to Mycroft.
“On… the subject of sweets,” Lestrade started, then hesitated a bit before shaking his head a bit and pushing on. “What’s yer favourite dessert?”