Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

fic: Perfect Strangers

Title: Perfect Strangers
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC), crossover with Merchant Ivory's 1987 film adaptation of E.M. Forster's novel Maurice
Pairing: Mycroft/Maurice, Lestrade/Maurice
Rating: PG-13/R
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 663
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: When one occupies a minor position in Her Majesty's Government, discretion is essential.
A/N: written for 2ndskin's request for Mycroft/Maurice, and as a fill for the [community profile] kink_bingo square "anonymity". I'm grateful to [personal profile] kalypso and [personal profile] thimpressionist for beta wisdom.


When one occupies a minor position in Her Majesty’s Government, discretion is essential. Relationships are risky, especially with partners of one’s own sex. Anonymity is, paradoxically, safer.

Mycroft knew the best places for discreet sexual encounters in every city he’d visited on Her Majesty’s Service. He took care never to carry away inconvenient memories, never to leave any compromising traces. Anonymous couplings suited his tastes and his temperament: no messy emotional entanglements, merely a satisfying encounter of hands and mouths and limbs, of bodies shining with sweat, grappling in the dark or the half-light, groaning in ecstasy.

He’d noticed the fair-haired Englishman right away, though he hesitated to approach him at first. A shared language could present unwanted complications. But as the steam-clouds formed and dispersed, his eyes kept going back to the man, and eventually he’d laid a questioning hand on his thigh.

The blond responded enthusiastically - almost exaggeratedly so. For a moment Mycroft wondered whether he’d come here to forget, but dismissed the speculation as pointless. Besides, if the way this man kissed was any indication – and it usually was – having sex with him could be something rather special...

Afterwards, resisting the temptation to ask his companion's name, Mycroft returned to the hotel alone. He allowed himself a solitary cigarette, and got quietly drunk on the local apricot brandy.


When you've had your heart broken for the second time in thirty years, and then been dumped by the cute much younger boyfriend who never had your heart to break, you go back to what you know. Which, in Maurice's case, meant anonymous sex of the kind he'd spent most of his life having, after Clive and before Lestrade.

He liked the way sex with strangers could be just itself. Liked the sense of improvisation, of creating something in the moment, purely for the moment. No future, no obligations. Enough risk to make it exciting, but the risks were only physical.

He couldn't have said how he knew the man in the Hungarian sauna was English. Pale freckled skin, broad shoulders, powerful swimmer's thighs. A man who clearly worked hard to keep in shape, and who knew how to use his body. Wearing nothing but a cloud of steam and a smile.

The last person he'd have expected to run into at one of Clive Durham's black-tie charity dinners. He could see the other man felt the shock too, the jolt of it, like stepping on a rake and getting the handle full in your face.

“Maurice!” Clive said. “Do you know Mycroft Holmes?”

Holmes,” Maurice said, his heart sinking. “Any relation to Sherlock?”

Mycroft Holmes smiled thinly. “Sherlock's my brother.”


After nearly thirty years in the Force, Lestrade knows guilty when he sees it. It's not a good look on Maurice.

“I wasn't sure I should tell you about me and Mycroft,” Maurice says. “Because of what happened between you and Sherlock.”

You what? Lestrade thinks. Then he gets it. “You think I'm still pining for Sherlock? Oh, honestly. Come here, you.”

Maurice may be a daft bugger, but he's still a bloody fantastic kisser. Amongst other talents.

“Haven't you ever done that?” Maurice asks, unbuttoning Lestrade's shirt.

“Run into someone I'd shagged? 'Course,” he says, unbuttoning Maurice's.

Never shagged the British government, though. Lestrade starts to laugh, thinking about it.

“Bet Mycroft had a fit when he recognized you. Not to mention finding out you knew Sherlock. Must have been worried you'd blow his cover. So to speak.”

Maurice snorts. “God, your jokes are dreadful.”

“Wouldn't mind having anonymous sex with you myself,” Lestrade says, pushing his hand between Maurice's thighs. “Maybe we should check out that Hungarian sauna of yours.”

“Christ, the thought of meeting you somewhere like that, not knowing you,” Maurice groans. “I'd want to have you right there and then, no matter what happened afterwards.”

“Mmm,” Lestrade says, groping him shamelessly. “Well, you know what they say about that. What happens in Budapest stays in Budapest.”

Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/86921.html with comment count unavailable comments.


( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
Aug. 5th, 2012 02:05 pm (UTC)
hurrah, you liked it! *dances*

thank you very much - I'm so pleased this worked for you. I thought of the punchline early on, and of course there had to be apricot brandy, in tribute to your hint fiction... *grins*
Aug. 5th, 2012 03:30 pm (UTC)
Love your Mycroft! He's delicious. I think his skin tastes like apricots and honey. lol

Was very worried though, knots in the tum, but Maurice and Lestrade are ok at the end. whew.
Aug. 5th, 2012 03:36 pm (UTC)
thank you very much! very glad you liked this Mycroft and that you enjoyed the fic. I couldn't break up my OTP, so it had to end happily for Maurice and Lestrade. *grins*
(Deleted comment)
Aug. 5th, 2012 07:10 pm (UTC)
thank you very much! *sporfles* oh yes, poor Mycroft...
Aug. 5th, 2012 08:03 pm (UTC)
This is such a cool premise! I can easily imagine Mycroft seeking out anonymous partners and running into someone like Maurice -- someone who is trying to forget the pain of a failed relationship. Of course, given how in the closet Maurice was all those years, it makes sense that he's had sex with a number of anonymous partners. It probably suits his lifestyle almost as well as it suits Mycroft's. Anywaaaaaay, I really like the way they run into each other at Clive's party, especially when Maurice can't help asking Mycroft if he's related to Sherlock Holmes. Maurice's guilt and concern about Lestrade is really touching. I thought it was funny that Lestrade found the situation so amusing and couldn't help teasing Maurice while trying to reassure him. Love the "blow his cover" pun and the "What happens in Budapest stays in Budapest" line that crop up in their banter at the end.

I hope you'll consider writing a fic in which Maurice and Lestrade roleplay an anonymous sexual encounter scenario. That would be awesome.
Aug. 5th, 2012 08:33 pm (UTC)
thank you very much! I wanted to do this as a trio of 221bs so there wasn't space for the actual roleplaying, but I'm not ruling it out for the future. *grins*

I think that (as kalypso_v said in her beta comments on this) Maurice would like personal with the right person but appreciates anonymous - so he's half way between Mycroft's preference for anonymity and Lestrade's personal approach, where the anonymity becomes roleplay.

very glad you enjoyed the humour, especially "What happens in Budapest stays in Budapest"!
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )


scallop voices


Powered by LiveJournal.com