You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like translock, sherstrade, and mystrade. Stranger: The needles were not for cocaine, I assure you, Inspector. That sort of drug habit was reserved for my brother. M [FTM] You: That doesn't make me feel much better Mycroft. There are other illegal intravenous drugs. -GL Stranger: It isn't heroin, either. M Stranger: [assuming Mycroft had taken T as a young adult and stopped relatively early to avoid side effects like male-pattern baldness, excess body hair, and a voice any deeper than his was already, I'd place Mycroft in his mid-to-late twenties here.] You: [Okay. Is this established Mystrade, or are they just friends at this point?] Stranger: [friends, I think. If you'd like it to be established, that's fine too.] You: [Friends is fine] You: Then what is it? I had to take the needles Mycroft, especially with Sherlock's problems...-GL Stranger: [delayed] Return them immediately. I had hoped to never need to explain this to you, but if I must I would rather do it in person. M You: [delayed] Do you promise that they aren't for any sort of illegal drugs? -GL Stranger: They were procured by means you might consider dubious but they are technically legal. M You: That...doesn't make me feel much better Myc. My shift's almost over, I'll bring them by after that? -GL Stranger: That's fine. M Stranger: Thank you. M You: You're welcome, I guess. -GL Stranger: [paragraphs?] You: [Sure] Stranger: [brief disclaimer: I am not transitioning nor have I ever transitioned from female to male, so anything I say about T or binding or surgery is really just from things I've seen or read. Apologies for any glaring inaccuracies] Stranger: Mycroft sat in his chair with the front legs pushed up. This precarious leaning had earned him many dirty looks throughout his life, from his mother, from schoolteachers and, lately, from Anthea. He ran a long-fingered hand through his rusty hair and sighed. What would Lestrade think when Mycroft confessed? Any lie he told wouldn't be accepted, obviously, since even if Mycroft could fib flawlessly Lestrade seemed to always penetrate his facades. You: Greg ran a hand through his brown hair (already showing hints of silvering, as the men in his family tended to go grey early), and sighed. He wasn't sure what to do, in all honesty. He believed Mycroft that the needles weren't for use for illegal drugs, and while he was relieved he was also confused. Why would Mycroft have the needles in the first place if it wasn't because of drugs? He knew the other man didn't have diabetes, so they couldn't have been for insulin. He gathered up the needles he had confiscated when he visited his friend the day before, pocketing them and heading for Mycroft's house as soon as his shift ended. Stranger: Mycroft eyed the CCTV footage playing across his laptop. As a requirement of his job, he always had to keep one eye open, even at home in his own flat. He tapped his fingers anxiously against the wood of his desk before rising, pacing aimlessly for a minute, and deciding to put the kettle on. You: Greg knew that Mycroft likely knew he was there, tracking him through the CCTV cameras as he walked from NSY to Mycroft's flat. He was used to it by now, knowing that it was a consequence of his friend's job (that he still knew little to nothing about). He knocked on the door, rocking on his heels while he waited for Mycroft to answer You: *answer. Stranger: Mycroft heard the knock on the door and left the kettle, checking his appearance in the hall mirror before pulling the door open. "Good evening, Detective Inspector," he said, "do come in." You: Greg nodded, stepping inside and hanging up his coat. "I just got the promotion last week, and I haven't had time to talk to you since. I don't even want to know how you found out." Stranger: Mycroft smiled wryly. "Then I won't tell you. Tea?" He offered, moving to the kitchen. You: Greg grinned. "Probably for the best. I don't want to think too much about how much power you have with that 'minor' government position. Tea sounds good though." Stranger: Mycroft prepared the tea with far too much sugar, just as Lestrade liked it, and splashed a bit of skim milk in his own. The diet was going well, after all. "Not nearly as much as you think, Lestrade. I am certainly not Prime Minister, or M. You, on the other hand, are ascending the ranks rather quickly." He brushed his hand companionably over Lestrade's shoulder as he set the tea down on the table. "Congratulations." You: "I thought you didn't like Bond films?" Greg asked, chuckling as he sat down and accepted the tea. "Just wait, you'll be advising both the Prime Minister and M by the time the year's out, even if no one is allowed to know that." He took a sip of his tea. "Thanks. I didn't actually expect the promotion. Meadows was retiring, and he thought I was a good fit. I was surprised that they accepted his choice." Stranger: "I am most definitely not. You are more intelligent and hardworking than most of the imbeciles at New Scotland Yard," said Mycroft decisively, "and you deserve to be Detective Inspector." Embarrassed by his own, tenacity, Mycroft took a long sip from his teacup. You: Greg smiled, but he shook his head. "There are a lot of good officers who could have been promoted instead of me, but thank you for your support. I don't doubt that you already know this, but I'd rather have you as the PM than half of the fools that run for office." Stranger: "I prefer to operate behind the scenes, but the sentiment is appreciated." Mycroft raised an eyebrow, "and I assure you, they are idiots." Mycroft tried desperately to keep the conversation rooted in the topic of NSY, as he would rather not talk about the reason for the needles. You: "I know they're idiots, even though I've never met most of them," Greg said, shrugging. He sipped his tea in silence for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the needles. He couldn't give them back to Mycroft without knowing what they were for, but it didn't seem like Mycroft wanted to talk about it. Stranger: Mycroft was content to sit in silence, as long as Lestrade stayed. It was better if the newly-appointed DI didn't know about Mycroft's attraction to him, especially in light of this new discovery. You: Greg turned the question over in his mind as he drank his tea. He sighed once he was done, setting the cup down and taking the bag that the needles were in out of his jacket pocket, laying it on the table in front of him. Stranger: Mycroft stared into the bottom of his cup. For a long minute, the silence stretched like taffy between them, until Mycroft snapped it apart. "It's testosterone." You: Greg frowned. Why would Mycroft need testosterone, and why was he that uncomfortable mentioning it? "Excess testosterone injection can cause health problems..." Stranger: "I am well aware of the risks," snapped Mycroft, "and I had planned to stop next week, actually. Those are the last of the needles." You: Greg was taken aback by Mycroft's apparent anger. "I don't see why you'd risk it in the first place. You don't seem the type who would use unnecessary chemicals." Stranger: "They are not," he growled through gritted teeth, "unnecessary. Really, Lestrade, I thought you were smarter than this." Why hadn't he /gotten/ it? You: He frowned. "A few minutes ago you were saying that I'm more intelligent and whatever else than half of NSY, and now I'm not? What am I supposed to be understanding?" Stranger: "I need it to..." he sighed. "...to pass." Lestrade really wasn't stupid, but this was something he had difficulty admitting. You: To pass? Greg almost asked 'pass what?' before it clicked. Oh. Well, that explained why Mycroft was so initially evasive about what the needles were for. Stranger: Mycroft lowered his eyes. Of course, he still knew the exact moment that Lestrade caught on, but it gave him some semblance of separation. "I understand if you want to leave now," he said softly. You: Greg frowned. "Um...am I supposed to want to leave now?" Granted, the main reason he had come over was to give Mycroft the needles back, but usually they talked and just spent time together if they were both free at the same time. Stranger: "Most people are repulsed." You: "I don't see anything to be repulsed about." Stranger: "Really? I'm /wrong,/ my body is /wrong./" You: "/You/ aren't wrong. You were just...born in the wrong skin, with the wrong parts." Stranger: "And that's wrong." Mycroft took a slightly shaky breath and continued, "I am lucky that my position comes with the advantage of discreet assistants. Anthea has shown admirable restraint. And you are taking this surprisingly well." You: "It's not wrong," Greg said, shaking his head. "It's not like you chose this. You're you, and you're just as much of a man as I am, despite what anyone else says. It's not wrong, it's who you are. It would be like someone coming up to me and hating me because I'm a bloke." Stranger: In a startling and inopportune moment of sentiment, Mycroft felt a lump in his throat that prevented him from talking. Traitorous tears filled his eyes and he put his face in his hands. You: Greg bit his lip, wondering if he'd said something wrong. "Mycroft?" He'd seen the tears in his friend's eyes and worried that it was because he had offended or upset him. Stranger: "I- I am sorry," he said abruptly, sitting straighter and recovering his voice. "That won't happen again." Honestly, that was utterly mortifying. You: "Don't apologize," he said, shaking his head. "Just...I think I should be apologizing. I didn't mean to upset you." Stranger: "You did not, I promise," Mycroft assured his friend, "I just... I was not expecting such a supportive reaction." He took a deep breath and grasped Lestrade's wrist loosely in his hand. "Thank you." You: Greg smiled, shaking his head and putting his hand over the one Mycroft had on his wrist. "It's the truth, Mycroft. I'm not going to run from you because of it. You're the same person, still the same bloke who showed up and demanded that I let his little brother out of jail when he was arrested for possession. You're still my best mate." Stranger: Mycroft froze. The touch, he welcomed, but the declaration? "Best mate?" He repeated stupidly. Really, it wasn't a good night for eloquence. You: Greg gave him a quizzical look. "Yeah, of course. You're my best friend, have been since not long after we stopped sniping at each other and started getting along." Stranger: "Oh," said Mycroft, "as you are my only friend, I suppose you are my best friend as well." /And I wish you could be more than that,/ he finished silently, rubbing his thumb lightly along the underside of Lestrade's wrist. You: Greg smiled. "I'm glad. You're one of the most important people in my life, of course you're my best friend." He would like it to be more than that, of course, but he had never broached the subject, content to have Mycroft's friendship. Stranger: Feeling particularly brazen, Mycroft leaned across the table and placed a soft kiss to Lestrade's cheek. He Stranger: [ignore the "he."] You: Greg froze, startled. That was definitely unexpected, but not unwelcomed. Stranger: Mycroft pulled back warily, staring openly at Lestrade now. You: Greg realized how his silence could have been taken, so he smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Mycroft's cheek. Stranger: "Oh," said Mycroft again. He wasn't sure what to do next. You: "Oh," Greg replied, smiling. "I didn't know you were interested." Stranger: "Well," said Mycroft slowly, "I am. I didn't know /you/ were interested in men." You: "I dated a few blokes in university, but admittedly I do usually date women," Greg said, shaking his head. "Gender doesn't matter much as the person does." Stranger: Mycroft grinned widely. "I suppose you are right," he murmured, and kissed Lestrade on the mouth. You: Greg smiled, returning the kiss and chuckling when they pulled apart. "I got the genius to admit I'm right. I think that's a victory for today." Stranger: "If you are amenable, I think there is time for me to prove you right again," said Mycroft rising and heading toward the sitting room. You: "Oh?" Greg asked, getting up and following after Mycroft. "How's that?" Stranger: "You aren't an idiot," Mycroft sat on the sofa, "and I happen to like you very much." He took Lestrade's hand and brushed a kiss across the knuckles. You: Greg sat beside Mycroft, smiling at the kiss and twining their fingers together. "Well, it's obvious that you aren't an idiot, and I like you very much as well." Stranger: "You should know, before we continue, that I am relatively inexperience, and that I may not... perform to your liking." You: "Mycroft, it's fine. I wouldn't leave you just because you've never, or rarely, done anything like this before. Why do you think you wouldn't 'perform to my liking'?" Stranger: "This is not the sort of activity in which I am usually inclined to take part, Lestrade," he said, shifting father away from the detective. You: He frowned slightly when Mycroft shifted away. "It's fine Mycroft, honestly." Stranger: "Are you sure?" He asked warily, unwilling to return to their previous closeness without confirmation. You: He nodded slowly. "I wouldn't say it if I wasn't. We'll go at your pace, Myc. We don't have to rush things." Stranger: Mycroft smiled and leaned back in, kissing Lestrade again. You: Greg smiled, but he still watched Mycroft carefully when they pulled apart. "We'll go at your pace," he repeated. "You don't have to feel rushed, or like I'm going to leave if we don't do certain things right away, alright?" Stranger has disconnected.