A/N- I just realized I wrote three 221B drabbles last week that all ended with the word 'better.' Also, I am bad at titles. Not really beta-ed as everyone's been rather busy. Reviews are appreciated, and may I point out that this is a one-shot. Do not put it on story alert; you will be disappointed.

Disclaimer: BBC, Gatiss, Moffat, Conan Doyle, etc. Not me.

Lestrade heard the soft fwump-snick of an umbrella being opened. A moment later, another body entered his personal space, using the umbrella to shield them from the rain.

"Your refusal to carry an umbrella anywhere is concerning, detective inspector," Mycroft murmured, long nose brushing against Lestrade's ear.

The DI leaned into Mycroft's body. A small part of him felt guilty about getting Mycroft wet, but the larger part of him was cold.

"You came all the way out here to bring me an umbrella?"

Lestrade felt Mycroft's smile.

"I do have a rather vested interest in your well-being. And you seem to think it perfectly acceptable to stand around in the rain, getting soaked."

Mycroft used his free hand to draw Lestrade's hands out of his pockets, tutting.

"No gloves either? Gregory, surely you can do better."

Mycroft brought Lestrade's hands to the handle of the umbrella, slipping them underneath his own. The warmth radiating from Mycoft's gloved fingers was a vast improvement from the damp protection Lestrade's pockets had been providing his hands. Mycroft rubbed his hands over Lestrade's, using the friction to warm him.

When Mycroft decided Lestrade's hands were no longer in danger of frostbite, he lowered his arms and wrapped them around Lestrade's torso. Lestrade sighed at the warmth.

Mycroft leaned in, breathe warm against Lestrade's neck."Better?"