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 Summary: Lestrade decides Mycroft needs a day off.

Rating: PG-13

Type: Fluffy as all hell

: 850

Inspired by http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/2727.html?thread=5776039#t5776039


It had taken some talking. And several of his best smiles. But eventually the lady who was not called Anthea agreed.

"It's just for 24 hours. If there's something really earth shattering then you can text me, but I'm sure there's nothing short of nuclear explosion that can't wait for 24 hours."

He left it to her to organise the blackout and to give the driver the day off. That left his end of the job...

Mycroft had got home late. As usual. Had checked his messages and his phone and his mail. As usual.

Had eaten a late supper and gone to bed. As usual.

He may have remembered it was his birthday the following day, but probably not. He had not made a habit of celebrating it.

He woke up perhaps later than normal, but he couldn't confirm his internal clock via the clock by the bed, because that appeared to be turned off.

He couldn't confirm it by the clock on his phone, or his watch because both of those were missing.

he couldn't confirm it by the sky, because the curtains were closed and the cords looped well out of reach.

He could perhaps confirm it by getting up and checking the computer in his home office or the kitchen clock or the laptop in the living room. He rolled back the bedclothes and was about to get out of bed to do just that when a sleek, self satisfied, and very naked Detective Inspector appeared in the doorway.

Bearing, it appeared, breakfast.

"What time is it? And if you say breakfast time I will not be amused."

"But if I said lunch time you wouldn't believe me. So breakfast time it is." A piece of delectable looking bruschetta was being held temptingly in front of him.

"It would be churlish to refuse" he thought, and didn't.

"Where's my phone?"

"You don't need a phone, you are having a lie in on your birthday and
a phone would only get in the way."

"Inspector! Where is my phone!"

"You have been kidnapped. Prisoners don't get phones."

"Don't be silly! I have important work to do!"

"Indeed you do. Sit here, eat breakfast, lie back, and see what ... umm.. occurs to you."

"If you are going to keep me here, you are going to have to tie me to the bed. I didn't think you were into that. I am certainly not!"

"I'm not... but there are other ways you know."

Lestrade climbed onto the bed, sliding up until he was lying right on top of Mycroft, imitating a rather heavy, rather warm, blanket. Mycroft was the taller by an inch or two, but Lestrade was the heavier more solid man.

Mycroft knew several ways of reversing their positions, some didn't even damage your opponent. As he wondered which one to use more bruschetta made its way to his mouth, and it didn't occur to him to refuse.

It was probably not a good idea to refuse the tea (Darjeeling, first leaf) that was next in line either, spilt tea would make a mess of the sheets.

Lestrade placed the food on the bedside table and resumed his blanket imitation, although in Mycroft's experience blankets didn't tend to nuzzle one quite like that.

"Consider it a duvet day" said the imitation blanket, the huff of the words over his skin doing interesting things to Mycroft's state of mind. "Hello, my name's Greg and I'll be your duvet for the day"

"What, pray tell, is a 'duvet day'"?

"It's where you spend all day in bed, under..." and at that point there was possibly a little more independent movement than a blanket usually made "your duvet. Ignoring the outside world. "

"I have important work to do!"

"Yes" said Lestrade, running his hand through Mycroft's hair "And very competent people who know where you are if they really need you." The hand movement changed to a massage with just the right amount of pressure.

"You can't distract me like this all day!"

"Are you sure about that? Shouldn't we test that hypothesis?"

At some point Lestrade had changed his head angle, and the huffs of his breath were, if not at the level of an all day distraction, certainly more distracting than they had been before.

The idea of testing the hypothesis was becoming more and more attractive.

He made one last token protest "I should go...." but it didn't sound sincere even to him.

"You aren't going anywhere right now." which was true enough, even if it hadn't been followed by Lestrade adjusting position to cover more and more of Mycroft, with the effect of making Mycroft less and less inclined to get out of bed.

He gave one last thought to his missing phone before he settled down to durance vile, being held captive by a large warm heavy blanket. That had gone back to nuzzling in ways his previous blankets had most definitely not done.

Over the course of the day he discovered it did quite a few other things that his previous blankets hadn't been known for....

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