Mystrade-ish

[brotherthine]

It is quite one thing, to steal a painting, or a bracelet, or even missile plans.

It is quite another to steal an actual person; a living, breathing human being with skin that can be bruised, veins that can be sliced open, and a body open to all kinds of abuse. To steal a painting is to incur a loss of property, to steal a person is to steal someone else's hopes, dreams ... perhaps even their will to keep going.

Now, Mycroft was not going to say to anyone that Gregory Lestrade was all that to him, but he would openly say this; whoever kidnapped Lestrade would not be leaving their long prison sentence with many parts at all, if any harm had come to him. Which was why he agreed to speak with the kidnappers himself -- because anyone who would harm Lestrade was going to be marked for later.

It also gave him a better idea of how to break Lestrade out of this boxed in warehouse, but first? The most important thing.

"Before we discuss payment, I want to see Gregory Lestrade." He stated to the first masked kidnapper. "Now."

Comments

[crimogen]

[Well, they've all had a bad week, more or less. Neither of them are in the best state of mind at the moment.

He huffs at the response, but gives a nod all the same.]

Yeah.

[He's more than ready to get this whole thing over with.]

[brotherthine]

[That was completely fair, and hopefully Gregory would remeber that when Mycroft is in ... a more contrite mood.]

Good.

[He lets Lestrade walk out, and be summarily surrounded by his men and women, allowing himself to go to the background.]

[crimogen]

[Lestrade would protest at the bodyguards, but honestly at this point he just wants to lie down somewhere comfortable and sleep. He's had his fair share of excitement for a while already.

So he just lets the bodyguards lead him out of the building and to the ambulance, where the medics give him a look over to ensure that he's fine. (Although Lestrade would tell them that yes, he is indeed fine.)]

[brotherthine]

[Mycroft went to move towards his car, to leave, but then the police officers surrounded him. He sighed, and stood, waiting to answer any and all questions. Explaining all the details he had gathered from the kidnappers (one of them was fighting Parkinson's, another one had three children).

He glanced over where they were getting him over to the ambulance.]

[crimogen]

[Lestrade pretty much just puts up with all the standard procedure that goes on, answering the medics and reluctantly accepting the shock blanket they drape over his shoulders. It's a bit hard to not emphasize with Sherlock now, remembering all the way back when the other also had to put up with this. Still, at least he's not being a prat about it.

The medics ask him a few more questions, which Lestrade replies before they seem satisfied and leave him alone. Finally not badgered by people, he sighs and rubs the back of his neck, wincing at the bruise there.

What he wouldn't give for a smoke right now.]

[brotherthine]

[He is finally able to get away from all the pesky questions, and in that time he's lost sight of Lestrade. He slipped behind some police cars, and sighed as he reached into his suit pocket. He tucked a cigarette between his lips, and lit it.

He sucked in a breath and let out a puff of smoke.]

[crimogen]

[Oh, sure, Mycroft, just rub it in, why don't you.

After being left alone Lestrade takes the moment to brood in silence, though it doesn't last that long. Mycroft reappears, this time with a cigarette in-between his lips, and the sight of that has Lestrade longing even more for a smoke. He rarely lets himself indulge in one now these days, but after a situation like this? Hell, he better deserve one.]

[brotherthine]

[He will, thank you very much.

However, he will not be selfish. When he sees the way that Lestrade is looking at him, or more precisely, the cigarette -- he sighs and walks over. He flips open the silver case, arching an eyebrow at the detective inspector.]

Just one. John would murder me otherwise.

[crimogen]

[Oh. Well, he was fine without it, but if Mycroft is offering...]

He'd only murder you if you offered it to Sherlock. [He mutters, but accepts the cigarette anyway.] Thanks.

[brotherthine]

[Mycroft lit his cigarette, and shrugged his shoulders.]

Well, I have in the past ... but only in extreme circumstances. Holidays, murders, that sort of thing.

[crimogen]

[Those words more or less earn a small snort from Lestrade's end.]

Well, as long as John doesn't know. [And Mycroft probably knows better than Lestrade where to draw the line here.]

[brotherthine]

[Mycroft took another long, satisfying puff off of his cigarette.]

Whatever John doesn't know, will not hurt me.

[He smirked faintly.] Which is truer than I want to really go into.

[crimogen]

I can guess. [He hasn't seen that much, but from what he has witnessed and can guess out... well. It's not too much of a surprise, at this point.] Don't worry, I won't tell him.

[brotherthine]

As always, your digression is appreciated, Inspector. [Mycroft drawled out, putting the cigarette to his lips and drawing out the smoke carefully.]