Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/Pairings: Mycroft Holmes, DI Lestrade, OMC
Warnings: implied dub-con, dark!Mycroft, language, adult situations
A/N: Many thanks to sidneysussex and impishtubist for the beta. Originally written for a prompt on the sherlockbbc_fic kinkmeme asking for rentboy!AU with bonus points for pimp!Mycroft. There was a great cracky fill - this wasn't it.
Summary: Mycroft finds some incriminating photos of a prominent politican - but that's not what really interests him...
A Face In The Crowd
Mycroft handed over the sealed envelope and sat in the chair opposite Lestrade. He crossed his legs and flicked a speck of dust from his knee while Lestrade slid out the bundle of photographs and studied them.
"I'm sure you'll appreciate the need for discretion, Inspector," Mycroft said.
Lestrade's face paled and his eyes widened. He started as if only just recognising that Mycroft was addressing him. "Yes... I mean, obviously."
The series of photos in question had come up almost by chance, thanks to some new facial recognition software Mycroft had been testing. They weren't recent. The original subject had been the man in the foreground, a minor Russian diplomat who was no longer considered to be of any importance. What had brought them to Mycroft's attention now was one of the men in the background - an unknown at the time, but now a minister in the new coalition government, with powerful friends. It wasn't his name Mycroft wished to enquire after - it was the name of the rent boy the photos clearly showed him propositioning and then leaving with.
"We both know who that is on the right, but I believe you also know the young man on the left," Mycroft prompted. He could almost hear Lestrade's methodical little policeman's brain working.
"Tony Lawrence - at least that's what he went by," Lestrade said eventually. "He... disappeared not long after that was taken. Hasn't been seen since."
"And no-one was concerned by that?"
"Happens all the time," Lestrade replied, still staring at the picture. "It's a young man's game, after all. Some of them drift into addiction or crime; the luckier ones get out."
"Would you be able to find him for me, do you think?" Mycroft casually asked.
Lestrade's head snapped up. He looked at Mycroft with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "I... might be able to. Why?"
"I would very much like to meet him. If he agrees, call me and I shall tell you where and when." Mycroft stood up.
"If he agrees - why do you want to meet him?"
"I think we have some things to discuss, don't you?" The end of Mycroft's umbrella tapped the photos lying on the desk meaningfully before he moved towards the door. "Good day, Inspector."
Mycroft swiped the card through the slot. There was a clunk as the lock of the hotel room door disengaged. As he entered, he noticed a leather jacket hanging by the door. It carried the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne.
Tony was waiting for him, sitting on the end of the bed. He was dressed in faded blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt. The skinny youth from the long-ago photo had aged, as all men must, but a better diet and healthier lifestyle had done wonders for both his physique and complexion. He had kept himself in shape, filled out and cleaned up. His dark eyes looked Mycroft up and down.
"You told Greg Lestrade you wanted to talk to me, so here I am." His voice was deep and pleasing but with a hard edge to it.
Mycroft engaged the deadbolt, then placed his umbrella over the hook on the back of the door.
"I take it your presence here means you understand the position you are in." He turned and met Tony's eye.
Tony held his gaze. There was a stubborn set to his jaw Mycroft found most appealing. "You won't use those photos against me. I'd be in trouble, sure, but my face isn't the one that'll make headline news."
"You're quite right. Those pictures will never see the light of day. They no longer exist. In fact, they have never existed and the events they depict never happened. Do you understand?"
"However, certain people have already suggested it would be far simpler and safer for the boy to be dealt with in the same way; for him to quietly disappear, just to make sure of his silence - assuming he is still alive. I see no need for them to know that is the case... if you are co-operative."
Tony smiled bitterly. "Co-operative. I knew you wanted something from me. That's why you asked to meet me and didn't just bury it."
"So what is it you want? And why me? Greg Lestrade's seen those photos too - wouldn't he be more useful to you?"
"Lestrade has already proved himself useful without the need for any coercion on my part. I see no reason for that to change. You, on the other hand, have certain other talents I wish to employ."
Tony shook his head. "There was only one thing I was good at - and that was a long time ago."
Mycroft allowed himself a small predatory smile. "Nevertheless..."
"What? You don't mean you're after...?" Tony's eye's flicked towards the bed.
"Of course. What other possible use could I have for you?"
"Of course," Tony scoffed. "And I bet you won't even be paying for the privilege, will you?" He rubbed his hands through his hair then swore quietly and abruptly stood up. "Fuck. All that time I got by fine without a pimp - never thought I'd be getting one now."
He walked slowly towards Mycroft, stopped about a foot away then took one final deliberate step into Mycroft's personal space. He leaned over and breathed against Mycroft's neck, his nose millimetres from Mycroft's ear but still without touching him. "So... what was it you were after, exactly? I bet I can guess. Want to teach me a lesson? Put me in my place?" His voice dropped seductively. "Want me to suck you off and call you sir?"
Mycroft's breath caught - the tiniest fraction - but he knew Tony must have spotted it. He forced his voice to remain calm. "That would be an acceptable start to proceedings. You will remove your clothes first."
"Yes... sir." The insolence in his voice was arousing rather than aggravating; after all, Mycroft did not want - and had not expected - fawning acquiescence.
Tony stepped back and Mycroft sat in a chair and watched as he peeled his t-shirt off while simultaneously kicking off his boots. He pulled off his socks then shoved down his jeans and underpants together and stepped out of them, leaving him completely naked.
He stood with his hands on his hips, feet slightly apart. "So, where do you want me, sir?"
Tony's body was even more attractive than Mycroft had dared to imagine - and it belonged to him now. The knowledge of that power together with the accompanying rush of lust was a heady combination. His mouth had suddenly gone dry so he gestured for Tony to kneel on the floor in front of him. He moistened his lips and widened the gap between his knees to allow the other man access.
Tony reached over and deftly unbuckled Mycroft's belt. "As if I don't get fucked enough by your little brother," he muttered.
Mycroft's hand shot out and seized Tony's chin. His smile was thin-lipped and unamused. "If I want you to use your mouth for talking you will be the first to know- and I assure you there will be nothing metaphorical in our arrangement, Inspector."
Lestrade lowered his eyes. "Sorry... sir. Can you - please - at least stick to calling me Tony? Or whatever else you fancy - just not--"
"Understandable. I will permit you the dissociation." Mycroft ran his hand through Tony's hair and pulled his head down. "Everything else, Tony, you will have to earn from me - like a good little whore..."