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“A karaoke bar? Are you kidding me, Anthea?”
Mycroft felt very uneasy. A kind of Reggae or African music filled the small, crowded café and the dusty wooden stage. Some would-be singers, mainly quite drunk people, were taking their chance, under the audience's laughs or applauses.
“Sir, please rest assured our agent certified there will be a fundamental piece of information for you here tonight!
-Are you completely sure about your sources? I tend to find you nervous!”
She was indeed. She ordered a glass of wine for her and an armagnac for her boss, while typing on her screen - “a little faster than usual, Mycroft noticed. What on Earth is wrong here?”
Suddenly a tune Mycroft recognized -and, he had to admit, he had liked very much all along the years- spread in the room -You can call me Al by Paul Simon! He hardly paid attention to Anthea apologizing and leaving their table. He was all the more focused on the music as -how was this possible?- the handsome Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade had just taken the stage and was now sensually whispering the lyrics and the “oooh... oooh” all along the song.
“If you need a bodyguard, I can be the one..”
Mycroft couldn't help focusing on Greg's body now. The DI was slightly dancing, and was smiling to the audience, with glimpses here and there. Applauses and shouths exploded in the end while Greg was leaving the stage and joining a group of friends, and Mycroft smiled, his heart beating at an unusual pace.
He suddenly realized Anthea was here again, and composed himself.
“Oh, sorry, my dear, tell me about this piece of information...
-Well, Sir, I think it's just been partly delivered... and someone wants to tell you more...”
She waved her hand, and Mycroft could see Greg slowly walking towards him, a little pale, shyness on his face contrary to a few minutes before.
“Hi, Mycroft... How are you? The song... I wanted to sing it for you, and tell you... just like in it... yes, you can call me out.”
The joyous and colourful music was going on, but the only thing Mycroft could hear was the little voice whispering him to curse Sherlock and Anthea for this-of course it was a plan, they would have been stupid not to notice the hints of mutual attraction! But he finally let it go, and closed the distance left between him and Greg.
Their first kiss smelt like salt of a few tears and flavours of French liquor.