Title: Frozen features
Author: fanficwriter101
Pairing: Lestrade/Mycroft
Fandoms: Sherlock
Disclaimer: The characters from the show aren't mine, they belong to others. No copyright infringement intended. Any characters you don't recognize are mine. Feedback would be nice, positive feedback would be nicer. Enjoy!
Category: Sherlock (BBC 2010 version) angsty fluffy slash fic
Rating: PG for implied coupledom
Characters: Ensemble
Series: No
Spoilers: None intended but anything (including the unaired pilot) might get a mention.
Summary: Gideon does something Mycroft (and I agree!) thinks is beyond stupid. Not to mention unnecessary.
Archive: Just tell me where it's going
Additional 'stuff': I'm too much of a coward to do what Gideon does. Gideon is 'my' Lestrade's first name.


Early evening...Mycroft and Gideon's apartment

Over dinner, Mycroft stared at Gideon. There was something...different...wrong. He couldn't work it out and it was annoying him intensely.

As he bought their after-dinner coffees into the living room, Mycroft noticed Gideon's forehead seemed tight. It came to him suddenly. Gideon was prone to headaches and they had established over dinner that both their days had been equally trying. He reached down, intending to rub Gideon's taut temple.

Gideon started at the light touch. "Oww!"

"Is it very bad?" Mycroft asked gently, his voice full of concern.

"It's not a headache. Look, I'm really tired...I'm just gonna..."

"There's something wrong. What is it? Tell me!" Mycroft's expression morphed from concern to panic in an instant.

"Look, it's nothing...everyone does it."

Mycroft's coffee cup impacted the glass-topped table with a near-shattering force. "Everyone does *what*?!"

Gideon swallowed hard, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and leaned back. "Botox. Okay, I had botox. It's nothing...it's harmless...I went to a Harley Street clinic..."

Mycroft's face changed again but there was no panic or sympathy. It was half-way between horror and anger. "You let a stranger inject poison in your forehead?"

"Don't be melodramatic. It's not like that."
"Did you or did you not have injections of botox in your forehead today?" Mycroft snapped.

"I knew you'd react like this." Gideon got to his feet and headed for the front door.

"And yet you went ahead anyway." Mycroft said softly.

The door slammed and Mycroft's hand shook as he reached for his phone.


John rarely did as Sherlock did and read his caller ID before answering his phone. So Mycroft's call came as a bit of a surprise. The elder Holmes brother rarely called him on a non-Sherlock-related matter.

"Hi Mycroft. Is everything okay?"

"Gideon had botox injections." Mycroft fought hard to ensure his voice wouldn't shake as he spoke.

"Okay...and?" John was lost.

"What do you mean 'and'? It was stupid and unnecessary."

"A lot of people get botox Mycroft. It's not as if..."

"Talk to him John."

"And tell him what exactly Mycroft?" John frowned.

Mycroft realized at that point that he hadn't really considered being asked that question. He had simply expected John to agree with him. "Well...I mean...it's...so stupid...and...unnecessary."

John didn't have much time to think about how he felt about being dragged into what he would have considered a private matter between Mycroft and Lestrade. As he listened to Mycroft, a knock at the door interrupted the conversation. "Look Mycroft, there's someone at the door. I have to go. But I wouldn't worry about it. I mean, millions of people have it done all the time. Bye."

John disconnected the call and walked to the door. It wasn't the first time Sherlock had, either accidentally or deliberately, 'forgotten' his key. And it was altogether possible it was someone he wouldn't want in the flat. The spy hole revealed a harmless visitor and he opened the door.

"John...sorry...can I..?"

John smiled as Lestrade stood uncertainly in the doorway. "I'm supposed to tell you that Mycroft disapproves of what you did."

Gideon scowled. Or at least he did in his mind. His face barely moved. "I can't believe he told you!"

"It's a bit obvious...I mean...your face is sort of...stuck."

"Yeah, right, MY face! I can do what I bloody well like to MY face."

John tried to be polite and not let on exactly how he felt about what the DI had done. "I just...I don't understand why you would..."

"Look at me John! It's not bad enough I've had grey hair since I was twenty and now I'm living with a younger bloke who looks like he models clothes for a living but he doesn't want me to try and look half-way decent!"

John smiled. "Look at me. I hang around with Sherlock who looks like he spent all day getting his hair and clothes just right when it actually takes him all of five seconds. I've got more grey hair every day, although that's mostly Sherlock's fault..."

Gideon laughed at the truth of the statement.

"...but I don't stick needles in my face to make me look like something I'm not."

Gideon shook his head emphatically. "It's not vanity...I'm not vain...I'm not doing it because...oh, forget it. I'll just go home and let him yell at me a bit more."

John patted Gideon's shoulder sympathetically. "You sure? You can stay. I was just going to make a cup of tea."

"Thanks but it wasn't fair of Myc to involve you in the first place. It's just putting off the inevitable, right?"

John nodded. "Good luck."


Late evening...Mycroft and Gideon's apartment

Gideon smiled. "It hurt like hell and it needs doing every six weeks. I don't know how people do it for years."

Mycroft sighed and leaned across so his shoulder was resting on Gideon's. "Please don't do it again. If something went wrong and you were..." His voice hitched and he blinked back tears.

Gideon sensed Mycroft's tension and slipped his arm around Mycroft's shoulders. "Hey...I already said, I won't do it again, okay?"

Mycroft sniffed and nodded, his cheek scraping against Gideon's shoulder. "I'm sorry I shouted."

"I'm sorry you called John. Poor sod didn't know what to say."

Mycroft sat up and reached for his phone. "I should telephone him and apologise."

Gideon took the small black phone from Mycroft and dropped it onto the bedside table. "I think you shouldn't make any more phone calls tonight."

Mycroft smiled apologetically. "Perhaps you're right."

"Yeah. Now come here."