Chapter Text
London welcomed Greg with heavy, cold rain. The wind lashed right into his face as he got out of his car. He cursed and crossed the street quickly. He knocked at the dark door in front of him. For a moment, Greg could hear nothing but the moving cars on the street behind him. With a soft click, the door opened and Mrs Hudson came into view.
"Oh good heavens, come in, come in," she ushered him in. "You are getting yourself soaked, Greg." A slow smile spread on Greg's lips as he stepped in.
"Are they home?"
"Nobody ever comes to see me," she nagged, leaving him alone in the hallway. With a huffed laugh, he shook his head and walked up the steps, taking two at once.
Without hesitation, Greg opened the door. Sherlock lay on the floor, one leg up in the air, staring at the ceiling.
"Do I need to know what you are doing?" Greg asked as he raised one eyebrow.
"Nah," came the answer from John, who walked out of the kitchen with a mug in his hand. "He has been doing that for half an hour now." Greg shook his head as he tried to wrap his mind around the absurdity that was Sherlock.
"Mycroft is not here," Sherlock mumbled, eyes never leaving the ceiling. Greg's heart stopped for a moment and he let out a scandalised noise.
"I can see that," Greg hissed, his hands finding their way into his jacket.
"Why would Mycroft be here?" John asked, settling himself onto his armchair. Sherlock let out a huff.
"Do you know where he is, Sherlock?" Greg urged.
"Why would I know that?"
"Sherlock!" The silver-haired man hissed and pushed Sherlock's leg out of balance. With a grumble, Sherlock sat up and if glances could kill, Greg would be a dead man now.
"John," Sherlock uttered and stretched one hand out. "Phone." John didn't react right away and took a sip from his mug. With his feet, John pushed Sherlock's phone into the other man's reach. With more force than strictly necessary, the dark-haired man grabbed the phone and tapped away on it.
"He is home."
"Are you sure?" Greg asked, stepping closer. Sherlock's gaze bored into him.
"I asked him," he spat out with an eyeroll. Greg felt his heart in his throat.
"But you have not told him, it was me who asked, right?" His hands felt jittery, and he was glad they were in his pockets. A short laugh escaped Sherlock's lips and he only stared at him. Greg cleared his throat and nodded.
"Right..." he mumbled. "Can you please send me the address?"
"Why?"
"Because I need to see him," Greg explained, his voice sounding shaky even in his own ears. Sherlock's eyes were still locked on him.
"Sherlock!" John hissed and he raised his eyebrows as he nodded in Greg's direction. With some grumbling, Sherlock stood and scribbled something on a small piece of paper.
Greg took it carefully from the other man.
"Thank you," he said.
After a last nod, Greg turned and walked out, forcing himself to calm down. It would do him no good if he fell down the stairs just because he wanted to get faster to Mycroft. He wasn't entirely sure when his mind had shifted from being scared of facing thr other man to having the urge to talk to him. Even if that meant getting his heart broken once more. If the only thing he would get out of this was clarity, it had to be enough.
The drive to Mycroft's address felt like hours and when he finally stopped in front of the townhouse, a breath trembled out of him. For a second he closed his eyes, trying to collect himself, trying to brace himself for what would happen next. Slowly he stepped out of his car, Mycroft's umbrella in his hand. The rain eased as he walked up the steps to the door. His stomach felt heavy and cramped but he pressed the bell nonetheless. A light huff escaped him as he noticed the tremor in his hand.
Greg waited patiently impatient and after a moment the door was pulled open.
"Please Sherlock, I'm not in the mood for your little gam..." Mycroft stopped mid-sentence as he noticed Greg. His hand found its way to the door handle and he tried to close the door again.
"Wait," Greg begged, his foot stopping the door from fully closing. "Please don't do this." His voice was merely a whisper. The pushing stopped but Mycroft didn't meet his eyes. "We should talk, Mycroft." For a moment, only their breathing was audible between them.
The other man swallowed thickly but then stepped aside to let Greg in. Greg's hands felt sweaty as he walked in, only now fully taking in the other man. He was wrapped in a dark green soft-looking dressing gown. The collar of a white shirt flashed out slightly. He looked composed and still... Greg noticed the dark eye bags under Mycroft's eyes, eyes that seemed dull and so far away. He noticed the slight tremor in Mycroft's right hand.
For a moment, they stood in silence, neither seemed ready to begin speaking.
"Please follow me," Mycroft mumbled and started to walk further down the hallway. Greg breathed out slowly, placed the umbrella in his hand against the wall and followed the other man.
Mycroft led them into a small room with a big fireplace and a comfortable-looking sofa. The walls were full of bookshelves.
"Your own library?" Greg whispered, fascinated, as his eyes roamed over all the books. "That must be one of your favourite places in the house." When he turned back towards Mycroft, the other man was staring at him with wide eyes.
"It is indeed."
Greg swallowed thickly but a tiny smile tugged at his lips.
"You wanted to talk?" Mycroft asked and pulled Greg out of the moment. Hesitantly he nodded and let himself sink onto the sofa.
"I..." he began as he stared into the fire in front of them. The fire had not consumed much of the wood yet. And Greg wondered just for how long Mycroft was home before he arrived. "I don't know where to start." With a sigh, Mycroft sat down next to him, just out of reach.
"I would like to apologise," Mycroft said as he noticed that Greg had yet to find his words. His eyes were fixed on his own hands in his lap which were balled into fists. "I forced myself onto you and took advantage of the whole pretended relationship."
"You said, you love me," Greg mumbled with a dry mouth. He tried to swallow. The other man's shoulders tensed.
"I did not intend these words to leave my lips." Greg's heart stopped for a moment and it felt like someone squeezed his throat. Somehow Greg had hoped Mycroft's words had been the truth despite the other man being drunk. Oh, had he been wrong...
"So you didn't mean them?"
Mycroft's head shot up, a strangled sound leaving his lips as he stared at the silver-haired man. Then his eyes flared shut and after a moment he shook his head.
"I had no right to say these words," he uttered and when he opened his eyes once more, he finally met Greg's gaze. "I had no right to burden you with my feelings. Not after I had rejected you two years ago." A breath caught in Greg's throat.
"You...?" He asked with a strangled voice. A choked laugh escaped Mycroft's lips. He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes. His back curved and he became smaller and smaller.
"It feels like a cruel joke, doesn't it?"
Greg leaned further into the sofa. He started to feel lightheaded.
"It does feel like it," Greg breathed, a lopsided smile on his lips. He watched the other man for another moment. He still couldn't quite grip the information he had just learned. His eyes drifted to the fireplace.
"Did you love-?" Greg started but his throat closed at his words. "Did you love me two years ago already?" He had to know. Mycroft lowered his hands slowly but his eyes were still fixed on them.
"I did not." His answer was barely a whisper then a sigh left his lips. "Since meeting you I have held a certain interest in you." Mycroft's fingers rubbed against each other repeatedly. "I never had anyone I would have considered a friend until I met you." Something warm developed in Greg's chest. It was small but Greg still felt it. Slowly, Mycroft raised his head again, a soft glimmer in his eyes. "I..." Mycroft cleared his throat. "When you confessed, I was afraid it would change the connection we had. I was trying to protect myself but all I did was hurt you along the way." Greg reached out and gently placed his hand on Mycroft's. The other man's eyes shortly drifted towards their hands. Carefully, as if afraid he would scare Greg away, Mycroft turned his hand and squeezed Greg's hand. "Please forgive me, Gregory." A small smile tugged at Greg's lips.
"Thank you Mycroft," he mumbled.
"If I'm honest, I think I came to terms with the rejection quite some time ago... I just don't understand..." A soft sigh escaped him and he ran his fingers through his hair.
"How I ended up falling for you?" Mycroft asked.
Greg hummed and nodded softly. Mycroft's thumb began to lightly rub over the back of Greg's hand as he swallowed hard.
"I suppose it happened slowly. It wasn't until recently that I acknowledged my feelings towards you", Mycroft explained. "I started to notice more things about you. How you smiled when you took the first sip of that good coffee from the café three streets from your office. The way you patiently wait for Sherlock to stop acting like an idiot. That you even listen to him warms my heart." Mycroft's eyes slowly started to wander and his free hand began to draw circles on his trousers. "I started to notice the way your laugh reaches your eyes and the way it makes them shine." Greg couldn't hold back a light chuckle and a grin spread on his lips. "How you treated everyone with respect even if they don't deserve it. You protect those who can't protect themselves." The silver-haired man didn't know what to say right away. His chest felt warm and the ache he had felt since Mycroft's confession was slowly easing.
"I have been so selfish," Mycroft uttered. "When we arrived at that cottage and Maddy told everyone we were in a relationship. I..." A huffed laugh escaped him but it was cut short. "I selfishly thought I could let myself have these few days to see what it would have been like... if I had seen earlier just how much you mean to me." Greg gently squeezed Mycroft's hand.
"Then you have to call me just as selfish," Greg confessed. Mycroft's eyes found Greg's once more, his brows furrowed. "My Granny would have been quite sad to learn I didn't bring my partner to the birthday weekend. But it would have been a funny story to tell later on that Maddy had just assumed things." For a moment, only the cracking of the fire was audible. "I, myself, selfishly thought, I could let myself have this weekend to see what it would have been like." A breathy sound came over Mycroft's lips as his shoulder softened and the frown on his face disappeared.
"Does that mean...?" he asked, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid of the answer. Greg snorted and softly nodded.
"Yes," he confirmed. "I still love you." Gently he pulled Mycroft closer. "That doesn't mean that everything is suddenly good again and I will still need time to heal but now that I know you do feel the same, I would like to see where it takes us." Mycroft's eyes widened. "Of course only if you want that as well."
"I would like that very much," the taller man replied with a nod and a soft smile that sneaked onto his lips. Greg felt like his whole body began to tingle and he pulled the other man into a tight hug with a wide smile. Mycroft's warm body, pressed against his own felt just right. It seemed to relax every muscle in Greg's body. A sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes, leaning his head carefully against Mycroft's shoulder. Slowly, Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg and he let himself sink against the silver-haired man. He took a deep breath in. And out. After a moment, Greg turned his head towards the other man and pressed a feather-light kiss on his temple.
They would work it out together, Greg was certain. And in the meantime... he could stay like this forever.