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.