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Mycroft salivated every time he perused the new monthly cupcake designs. It had been in a moment of weakness, he had google searched local bakery and had discovered a new one had opened up near his office.
It was only natural that he had to order a few of his favorites and some of the most interesting looking ones. After that, it was a slippery slope and the next week he had asked his PA to visit one of the bakery’s that didn’t do deliveries. His PA, Athena, had corked up an eyebrow for his request of eclairs and bear claws but had voiced no rebuttal. The pastries had been beyond heavenly and Mycroft soon only ordered from Lestrudels.
The creamy filling and glazed dough were too much to resist. They melted in his mouth and Mycroft soon found his shrinking waist had started to expand again. So, in order to discover the one pastry they couldn’t bake to perfection, Mycroft had been forced to try one of everything Lestrudels’ had to offer. It was only fair that he find a fault that forced him to reassess how good of a baker their owner really was.
Except that every pastry was delicious and Mycroft found himself getting even more intrigued. Whoever ran the bakery was obviously devoted to his craft and although it would have been easy to have his PA do all the work, Mycroft found that be preferred to met the owner in person. If he was honest with himself, Mycroft just wanted to see what the bakery looked like. Maybe he could find a fault with the shop or the owner and that way he could stop his growing obsession.
Mycroft tapped his umbrella impatiently on the sidewalk. It was ridiculous for him to feel so much anticipation from just a bakery but he found that every moment he stood staring at the sign, it became harder to open the door. The shop was open and their were colorful plants all along the outside. The entire feel was comforting and homely.
Finally shaking his head of his disturbingly ‘fuzzy’ thoughts, Mycroft opened the glass door. A small bell chimed and he was greeted to an empty shop. The air smelled of freshly baked rolls and it had a Pavlov affect on Mycroft’s saliva glands. He eyed the mounts of baked goods greedily and could practically feel his hips growing wider.
Mycroft gripped the handle of his umbrella tighter. This wasn’t turning out like he had hoped at all.
“I’ll be out in a minute!” Came a voice from inside the bakery’s back kitchen.
Mycroft wasn’t surprised that it was a male voice. He had already surmised from the wrapping that the pastries came in that the bakery’s owner wasn’t a woman. There were no bows and pink ribbons, just simple string and packaging. Mycroft had always liked ascetically pleasing wrapping but Lestrudel’s baked goods were so delicious he found that he didn’t care so much for all the extra frills.
He turned his back to the counter and started to take an inventory of all the different cupcakes, pastries, rolls and just general assortment of delicacies. When Mycroft turned back to the counter, he saw different types of magazines and order pamphlets. Mycroft’s fingers twitched. This is dangerous.
For one second, Mycroft contemplated running out the door and never looking back. It was like an addict going to an opium den and he was just allowing all the self-control he had managed to build up crumble at his feet. How could he resist all this? Could one man be so strong?
Mycroft licked his lips. Tea cake crumbles.
“Any questions? What can I get you?”
Mycroft turned around to the voice and it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. It had been clear from his voice that the bakery owner was younger than he had first deduced but he had never imagined how utterly..edible he would look.
Gray hair was sprinkled with white and whether it was hair color or flour, Mycroft couldn’t tell. The government official had been expecting someone with a pot belly and a wedding ring; not a sweat stained white shirt and a perfect waist with an apron tied around it. Mycroft ran his tongue over his bottom lip, momentarily speechless.
“Why is a DI running a bakery?” The words were out before he could stop them. Mycroft rarely slipped when it came to his deductions (he didn’t rub it in people’s faces like Sherlock) and he couldn’t believe that he spoke without thinking. It just wasn’t on.
The man laughed and placed his tray of rolls on the counter. “Ex-DI. Is it that obvious?”
“It is to those of us who observe.” In other words, no one other than me. Mycroft eyed some of the cinnamon buns. He fought the urge to pick one up and take a bite out of it.
“What? Is the dough I use? The color of my frosting?” The man laughed again and put the tray he was carrying on the counter.
Mycroft smirked. “There are police awards lining the wall behind you.”
The ex-DI blinked then he started to laugh so hard that tears sprang to his eyes. “You cheeky bastard.”
Mycroft had no idea how to reply to that.
“So what brings a man like you to my humble bakery?” The man bent down and began to put away the steaming rolls but his shoulders occasionally shook with silent laughter.
Mycroft knew he stuck out like a sore thumb. A man in a full three piece suit in a small local bakery was slightly out of place. “I just thought I would pop in for a look.” It was a lie, a man like him would take a chaffier to work and he certainly didn’t ‘pop’ into anything but it sounded like something an average person would say. The baker just nodded his head in understanding.
“Want a bite? I can’t sell this one.” He pointed to some of the misshaped rolls on the side of his tray nearest Mycroft. “I usually break them up for the free samples anyway.”
Mycroft eyed the rolls suspiciously. It wouldn’t look polite to appear too enthusiastic, he took a moment to ‘think’ about whether he would take one.
The baker offered Mycroft a toothy grin as he took one misshaped roll. “By the way, I’m Gregory Lestrade. Can’t have you eating my mistakes with at least knowing my name.”
“It doesn’t matter, everything you bake is delicious.” Mycroft took a bite of the steaming roll. Ah, that’s it. Mycroft wondered if the ex-DI had taken to adding confiscated cocaine to his baking and that what was making it so addicting.
“I don’t ever remember seeing you before.” The I would remember you was unspoken but there. Mr. Lestrade eyed him curiously.
“I normally send my PA.” Mycroft had been tempted to lie but what was the point? He had nothing to hid. Although it would obviously raise questions.
“Are you that bloke whose been ordering a different pastry each day?”
Mycroft refused to admit that his cheeks burned with being found out so quickly. It was nothing to be embarrassed about- not really. Still, his lips turned down and his tone was condescending when he answered the innocent question. “Yes, I would be the ‘bloke’ who has been ordering from your establishment.”
Mr. Lestrade laughed and gave Mycroft another broad smile. This time the flush covered Mycroft’s cheeks and when right to his ears. “It’s a compliment. I was quite proud of myself. Your PA is fairly posh and I thought I had impressed someone important. Looks like I did.” He winked and Mycroft almost choked on a bit of roll he had been swallowing.
“Yes, well, I admire craftsmanship and a superior product.” Mycroft took a handkerchief out to dab at his mouth.
“And the right kind of filling I’m sure. Which one was your favorite? If I might be so bold to ask.” Mr. Lestrade’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
Mycroft eyed the man for a moment. Unconsciously, he leaned in closer.“I admired your eclair and the sticky buns were quite pleasant to the palate.”
“Really? Personally, I always liked the cake donuts. Maybe that’s the ex-cop talking.” The baker smiled and stood back up. Mycroft felt his body moving away from the counter just the smallest bit. Even with the counter separating them, it suddenly felt like they were too close.
“Are you going to be coming in to check the stock from now one or will I be seeing that lovely PA again?”
Mycroft sniffed. “If that would be to your liking.”
Mr. Lestrade eyed him before dropping his elbows down on the counter and looking up at Mycroft. “I would much rather see you. You appreciate the craft much more than she does, Mr....?”
“Holmes. Mycroft Holmes.”
Mr. Lestrade wiped his hands off on his apron before offering one in a handshake. “Well, Mr. Holmes, it is always a pleasure to met a fellow lover of sweets.”
Mycroft thought Mr. Lestrade’s handshake to be both firm and authoritative.
---
Mycroft prided himself in his ability to stay away from Lestrudel’s a whole day. He couldn’t look to eager after all. When the small bell let out a jingle, Mycroft knew his mouth was already watering- except now he wasn’t sure if it was because of the pastries or the person baking them.
Mycroft inhaled the sugar thick air and licked his lips at the sight of all the sweets. He was only there to bring back some treats for Athena and other staff members, so there was no reason for him to feel guilty about his diet...and if Greg just happened to offer him a free sample it would be rude to say ‘no’, wouldn’t it?
“Mr. Holmes, is that you?” Greg’s voice sounded from the back.
It made him cringe and smile, so it came out as a sort of grimace on Mycroft’s face. When had started to refer to the baker by his first name in his mind he had no idea. Mycroft wanted to ask Greg to call him by his first name but it left him oddly nervous. Normally Mycroft would agree with keeping it business like but now he wanted to hear what his name would sound like coming from the baker who had started to haunt his dreams.
Although, in a way, they were only supplier and consumer since Mycroft only visited him when he came to buy pastries. Then again, this was only their second meeting...Mycroft shook his head. World affairs could make sense, but trying to start one for himself was nearly impossible. How people ever dealt with interpersonal relationships was a mystery to him. Well, at least to people that he wanted to talk too.
Mycroft opened his mouth to answer, only to realize that he had taken to long. Greg popped his head in the doorway. “Why didn’t you say it was you?” Greg had flour on his nose and Mycroft clenched the handle on his umbrella tight enough to feel his fingernails digging into his palm.
“Apologizes. I was too distracted by all these new creations.” Mycroft smiled widely to hid how uncomfortable he was in the whole situation. When had he become such a bumbling fool?
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Holmes.” Greg winked and Mycroft’s heart almost stopped beating. “Do you have a few minutes to spare? I’d love a second opinion.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Mycroft nodded and made his way to the back of the bakery. Greg was busy kneading dough and he gave Mycroft another smile as he walked into the back area. The huge mixer was gently twirling and Mycroft could feel the heat of the ovens- it was perfection.
“I added a bit more vanilla than normal and lessened the sugar. What do you think?” Greg had dipped a spoon into a bowl of frosting and lifted it for Mycroft to try. Without a second thought, Mycroft put his mouth around the spoon and licked it dry.
Greg glowed a pleasant pink. “What do you think?”
“Could do with a dash more vanilla but there is an improvement.” Mycroft’s tongue darted out and he licked at his top lip. He was pleased to see Greg’s eyes follow his tongue. Not a lost cause after all.
“My mother always told me my biggest problem with being a baker was my need to experiment.” Greg laughed. “Could never just be happy with the recipe I was given.”
Mycroft pursed his lips. “My brother has the same problem.”
“Um?”
Mycroft waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing.”
“I’m making a new batch of pecan rolls. I know that they’re your PA’s favorite.” Greg continued to knead the dough. Mycroft watched the lithe baker’s hands and there was a distinct hotness that started around his collar that had nothing to do with the ovens.
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate the gesture.” Mycroft tried to sound semi-disinterested. Because the plain fact was that he was spitting jealous that Greg was seeing to making a new type of roll for his PA. Still, Mycroft did his best to brush it off. Really, he was over examining every little thing the Greg did or said. It was completely irrational.
Greg stopped kneading the dough and turned his eyes to give Mycroft a cheeky look. “My, you get possessive over your baked goods.”
For once this has nothing to do with the pastries. But Mycroft was happy for the easy out the ex-DI had given him. Mycroft shrugged his shoulders and brushed off an invisible bit off dust off his suit.
They stood in silence. Mycroft just allowed himself to admire the way Greg’s shoulder muscles moved and how his upper arms, to his fingers were all beyond hypnotizing. Greg concentrated on his work with a single mindedness that Mycroft found to be utter sexy.
As if waking from a trance, Greg stopped his work and turned to face Mycroft like he had forgot he was there. “I’m sorry. That was so rude of me...I-” Greg was floundering and it was the cutest thing the government official had ever seen.
“No bother.” Mycroft wasn’t going to admit to the fact that he would be more than pleased to continue watching Greg work for the rest of the day. Well, if he was quite honest, even longer than that...much longer.
They stared at each other, both unsure where to go next. Greg opened his mouth but before he could say anything the alarm on the oven started to chime. Greg let out a curse and walked over to the oven. He turned off the alarm, put on oven mitts and took out the freshly baked cinnamon rolls.
Greg put the tray on a counter and turned back to Mycroft. He gave him an odd look. “Um, sorry for asking you back here. Geez, I must have forgotten all of my manners today, Mr. Holmes.”
“It’s Mycroft.” Now that he had started, Mycroft knew he might as well just say all of it. “I don’t mind you asking me back here at all. I would love to give you my opinion whenever you desire it.”
Greg’s face transformed with relief. “Good. Call me Greg.”
---
Mycroft tried not to giggle. People in his position did not giggle. But with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up it and his hands messy with dough it was difficult not to want too. Greg easily gave into the urge and chuckled as he taught the British government how to cook.
Even though Mycroft had a deep, everlasting love for food, he had never seen the need to actually learn how to cook. But when Greg had offered to give him a some lessons on a quiet Monday night, Mycroft knew he couldn’t resist. It had only been a week since they had started calling each other by their first names but it felt like they had been friends for a lifetime.
It was utterly ridiculous and Mycroft was loving every minute of it. Greg was a patient teacher but than again, Mycroft was an ideal student. Still, Mycroft would occasionally make a face at how dirty he was getting and it would make Greg laugh at his posh pupil.
“Here let’s get an apron on you.” Greg wiped off hands and reached for a spare apron. Mycroft went to wipe off his own hands but Greg stopped him. “Here, let me get it.”
Mycroft gulped. Greg put the straps around his neck and started to tie it. On impulse, Mycroft reached up and smeared batter on Greg’s nose and over the side of one cheek. Greg’s eyes went wide. Realizing that he might have miscalculated, Mycroft got ready to apologize.
He never got the chance to as Greg’s lips moved over the small distance it took to cover Mycroft’s. It was a light kiss and Mycroft could feel the batter getting on his own face as it Greg’s nose rubbed against his face. Mycroft’s hands came up to wrap around Greg but then he remembered his hands were sticky.
Mycroft hovered them just over Greg’s waist cursing the fact that he couldn’t wrap his hands around that beautiful slender waist. His baker let out a light sigh of contentment and Mycroft thought his chest might burst from the feel of possession that erupted inside him.
Greg tasted like sugar and there was an underlying lingering smell of cologne. Unable to resist, Mycroft took Greg’s lower lip between his teeth and gently tugged at it. Greg’s hands wrapped around Mycroft- the strong hands that he had been admiring, started to trace a lazy pattern along his back. The gesture was both loving and kind; filled with care.
When they pulled apart, Mycroft kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, just to savor what had happened between them. Greg kissed the tip of Mycroft’s nose and that made Mycroft open his eyes in surprise. The baker’s smile was mischievous. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”
“You taste better than anything you bake.”
Greg looked like he was torn between laughing or kissing Mycroft again. So Mycroft took the decision away from him and placed a quick peck on Greg’s lips. Greg took the two strings of the apron and tied them in a knot behind Mycroft. After a pause, his hand dipped down and grabbed Mycroft’s ass.
“You have tasted everything yet.” Greg whispered into Mycroft’s ear.
A shiver ran up Mycroft’s spine. Like so many other times before, he found himself speechless. He was completely tongue tied in the presence of Greg Lestrade. It was amazing to be finding so much of what he had been missing in his life in the kitchen of a small local bakery.