Chapter Text
Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade had been in a quandary all week. What Christmas gift could you possibly get for a man who has access to everything?
Mycroft liked vintage scotch, so on Christmas Eve Lestrade visited an informant who owned an upscale liquor shop. After obligatory pleasantries, he diplomatically threatened the man into selling him a bottle of 17 year old Balvenie at a price that a divorced policeman could afford. His supervisor wouldn’t approve of the misuse of power, but Mycroft certainly would.
Lestrade had known Mycroft Holmes for nearly six years, but their friendship was a recent phenomenon. They’d originally been united by a shared concern for Sherlock, but gradually they progressed from superficial greetings and the odd inconvenient kidnapping to Friday night drinks at the Diogenes Club.
Mycroft was an attentive listener when Lestrade needed to vent about his pressure-cooker job. That in itself was therapeutic, but he occasionally went one step further and did something about the source of aggravation, like the time an abusive Detective Superintendent was ‘transferred’ to the British embassy in Zimbabwe. The bisexual Lestrade often wished that their friendship would develop into something more intimate, as he found the elder Holmes brother attractive. But Mycroft was firmly platonic in their dealings, and the policeman didn’t want to jeopardize their association.
After wrapping the Balvenie, he called Mycroft’s office. When Anthea told him that Mr. Holmes was visiting his brother, Lestrade decided to head over to Baker Street. He also had presents for Sherlock and John, and could deliver everything simultaneously.
There’d be no opportunity to be alone with Mycroft, he thought ruefully as he buckled his seat belt. But there was always New Year’s.