The torrential rainstorm that drenched London held the funeral back until John Watson's release from jail. Just as it held Mycroft Holmes in his stately office concealed within the dreary walls of a nondescript office building. As well as holding Greg Lestrade stranded at his partners home, nervous, anxious, and more than a little frustrated.

He paced the kitchen floor, anxiously staring out of the window with his phone in hand, waiting to gain enough signal to get a call out. He needed to check on John, and on the floral arrangements, and on Mycroft. He needed to call his daughter and ask how she had gotten on with her exams. He had a million thoughts running through his head when there was a thud in the foyer and a thin voice called out.

"Mr. Mycroft?"

Greg weighed his response carefully. The voice sounded familiar, and it had to be someone trustworthy to get through the gates. He did not, however, know what this person's response would be to seeing him, the detective inspector who questioned Sherlock Holmes, standing in his house-clothes in Mycroft's kitchen.

The voice answered that question for him.

"Detective Inspector, is it you I here puttering around in the kitchen? Oh, I do hope I've not disturbed your personal time." Greg smiled at the site of a pristine Mrs. Hudson moving around the corner towards him.

"Not bothering anyone ma'am. I'm just waiting to get a call out." The woman nodded, and moved about the kitchen as if she had cooked here for dozens of years. Before Greg could stop her, she had a tea kettle down, filled, and on the stove top. "Mrs. Hudson you really shouldn't bother-" She chuckled and wagged a finger at him. "

It's too cold not to have tea on, and you're too distracted think of it yourself. Besides, you only make yours from the electric kettle, and I tell you it doesn't taste the same." Lestrade sighed and pulled a chair out at the table for her, to which she graciously seated herself.

"Mrs. Hudson, not that I mind the company, but why-"

"Why did I bother hiring a cab all the way out here instead of ringing? Well first off, let me say that your Mr. Holmes is notoriously difficult to get a hold of. I came calling to make sure he was alright. I know that losing a loved one can be difficult." There was a strained note in her voice and she had a far away look in her eye. Lestrade cleared his throat and nodded.

"Sherlock's passing has been hard on all of us. Myc, er, Mycroft has been stuck at the office since the storm hit. Though frankly if you can get out then I don't see why he can't." Mrs. Hudson laughed lightly and patted Greg's arm.

"There there, don't get so worked up. I'm a resourceful old bird. Besides, Your Mycroft has got a nation to run, hasn't he? This storm has half of Britain underwater. I tell you he's coordinating flood relief efforts and orchestrating political responses as we speak."

"Indeed I did, Mrs. Hudson." Mycroft's voice boomed from the entryway to the kitchen. Unlike Mrs. Hudson, who had arrived without a drop of water on her clothing, Mycroft was drenched from head to foot. His grey suit clinging to him in a manner that had Lestrade biting the inside of his lips. He stood, water dripping from him as he leaned against the tattered and bent remains of his umbrella. Mrs. Hudson clutched her hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a giggle, while Lestrade simply roared with laughter.

"What in the name of the saints happened to your brolly?" Mycroft grimaced as he held up the tattered object and turned it in the light.

"An errant coach decided it needed protection from the rain." That drew another round of laughter, ad even earned a smile from Mycroft himself. "At any rate, Mrs. Hudson, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The woman rolled her eyes and glared playfully at the elder Holmes brother.

"As if you weren't aware Mr. Big Brother. I've come to check on you, as well as to ask about the new times and things for-" Mycroft nodded.

"My assistant will provide you with the details, it will be this afternoon, as the weather will let up. Tell me, do you think Mr. Watson will be alright to attend?" Mrs. Hudson shrugged and sighed.

"In my opinion John's not alright for anything aside from tea and rest. But he'll want to be there, you know it. He'll want to say his goodbyes." Mycroft nodded once more.

"Plan on seventeen hundred, I'll have a car for you both." The woman nodded and walked up to the elder Holmes, taking his hand in hers.

"Do take care of yourself Mycroft, I know that you and Sherlock had your disagreements, but he did love you." Greg winced as he saw Mycroft's jaw tighten and his entire carriage tense. Ever the polite politician, however, he managed a tight smile, and patted the woman on the back gently, before his assistant materialized and guided her away.

The moment she was out of sight, Mycroft peeled off his drenched suit coat and waist jacket, draping them over the kitchen chairs. He loosened his tie as he spoke.

"I've been informed about Emily's grades. She's got top scores on all topics but geography." Lestrade smiled wistfully.

"Just like her old man." It was then that the gravity of what had been said struck him. "You checked Em's scores?" Mycroft quirked and eyebrow and nodded.

"Gregory it is my utmost priority that you are happy and well provided for. Part of that is making sure that you are well informed on things that you care for. It also means that I take an interest in the things that you care for. " Lestrade nearly grinned at what the politician had inadvertently admitted through his careful wording.

"So in other words, you've invested yourself in my personal life." Mycroft grimaced again as he pulled off his belt.

"When you phrase it like that it sounds grossly-"

"Sentimental?" The whistling of the kettle saved Mycroft from finishing that sentence. "Damn." He ran over and pulled the kettle of the eye, burning his hand in the process. He jumped and bit hs lip against the string of profanities that threatened to fall from them. Mycroft rushed over and held the Detective Inspector's injured hand out, examining the wounds.

"Run this under the tap and I'll go get a dressing." Lestrade shook his head as he stepped over to the sink.

"Don't worry about that, it's nothing major." Mycroft shook his head and smirked.

"I now see why you prefer the electric kettle. Mrs. Hudson didn't consider your lack of forethought." Greg rolled his eyes and wrapped his stinging hand in a dishtowel."

"Clearly not. Now do you want to get the tea down or would you rather I do it." Lestrade look pointedly at the completely immobile and half dressed man before him and grinned. "Damn. I'll do it. Why don't you go get out of your clothes and put on something more decent." Paused and looked down at himself, then at the kettle, the cupboards, and back at Lestrade, he seemed to take a moment to process before he smirked.

"You know, that was half of a perfect sentence." He then scurried away, leaving Lestrade to shout after him.

"you stole that. I know it!" A distant chuckle echoed through the halls.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: AH HA HA HAHAHA I've finally done it! I've finally risen from the piles of homework and appointments to write something. Congratulations me! There will be more soon. Fancy that? I'm actually going to write more! Hot damn!