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Double homicide, Convent Garden. Need your help. -GL
An hour passed, and Greg Lestrade had already returned to Scotland Yard before he received a reply, and not the one he had been expecting.
BUSY -SH
Greg sat up in his chair, staring at the phone. His forehead creasing with confusion.
When the hell have you ever been too busy for a case? -GL
Greg watched his phone for the next fifteen minutes, gradually getting more worried as the time ticked by. When the phone remained silent, he picked it up and dialled Sherlock's number only to be met by the voicemail. The obvious solution was to ring John. His phone rang through at first and when Greg called again John answered. "What's wrong?" John sounded out of breath and annoyed. "I'm worried about Sherlock, he just turned down a case and now he's not answering his phone. Do you know where he is?"
He heard someone who sounded exactly like Sherlock in the background. "John for pity's sake, get back here."
John covered the mouthpiece and hissed, "don't you dare" and when he addressed Lestrade again, his voice seemed higher. "Sherlock's fine, he's with me...oh god!" Greg frowned in confusion and he heard some shuffling in the background before he heard Sherlock's voice address him. "Gavin we're preoccupied. Busy. Leave us alone- John!"
"There's a case Sherlock!” Greg exclaimed desperately.
He heard snickering in the background and when Sherlock spoke again his voice was shaking. "What part of the word busy -God John" Sherlock moaned, "do you not understand?" Realisation slowly hit Greg, his cheeks reddening. "I-I..."
"Well done, now unless you want to hear how busy we are, you're going to leave us alone." Sherlock let out another moan, this time softer. "We're not currently in Baker Street but we will be after three." This time John muttered something in the background that Greg didn't quite catch. "Case then." And with that the line went dead, the long beep rang in Greg’s ears.
Greg had his head in his hands, fresh mug of steaming black coffee in front of him when his office door opened. "You alright, boss?" Donovan's voice broke through his reverie and he glanced up at her. She was holding a folder in her arms and was frowning intently at him.
"Headache." Greg mumbled, waving his hand through the air.
Sally merely nodded, "The scene is still closed off, we had to clear the bodies. Dr Hooper is assigned pathologist, she's carrying out the post-mortems. Here's the write up on the scene and the photographs." She paused for a second, "Where is the freak anyway?”
Greg sighed heavily, "Sherlock is busy. He'll be on the case later. For our mental health you better pray that they didn't contaminate that scene too badly. He'll be pissed enough that the bodies aren't still there."
"The poor thing." Sally muttered sarcastically before dropping the folder on Greg's desk and leaving.
Greg had lost track of the time, preoccupied with filling out paperwork that he had neglected all morning. When he glanced at his watch he realised it was after three. He quickly grabbed the folder and made his way out of the office, throwing his coat over his shoulders. Greg was pretty confident that the case involved was a double homicide and not the murder-suicide that everyone else suspected. He wanted Sherlock to go over it to aid him and to back him up. The Yard may not have liked Sherlock, but they did listen to him. When Greg arrived outside Baker Street, he caught sight of a distinct shadow walking past the window of the apartment. Mrs Hudson let him in, a slight smile on her face. "Case time again?" Greg nodded in response and her smile widened, "Something to keep him occupied then. At last.” Mrs Hudson winked at him, as she went back to her apartment.
Greg was heavy footed when it came to walking up stairs, it was one of Sherlock's pet peeves, so most of the time he purposely did it to annoy him if he had insulted anyone on a case. He did know how to be silent, but he just didn’t want to right now. He didn’t want to interrupt anything else. The sitting room door was shut but opened easily, unlike the time it was locked and he used the kitchen door instead. He'll never fully rid the memory of the scene he had interrupted from his mind. "Sherlock, I swear-" Greg's voice died in his throat when he realised the tall, handsome man looking at him inquisitively, eyebrow arched was not in fact Sherlock. "Uh..." He glanced around the room quickly, "They're not here." He glanced at the man who was sporting an amused smile on his face. Greg glanced at his watch then back at the man.
"If you're really pointing out the glaringly obvious, and you're the best New Scotland Yard has to offer, I can understand Sherlock's frustration.” The man’s voice was soft and gentle, he sounded kinder than he looked. Greg could feel the hairs rise on his arms and redness steep into his cheeks as the man refused to look away from him. “I’m Mycroft Holmes by the way.” He said casually, leaning on an umbrella. A look of recognition cross Greg’s eyes. This must be the brother that Sherlock had mentioned in passing sometimes. Greg stepped towards Mycroft, closing most of the distance between then and holding out his hand. “Greg Lestrade. Nice to finally meet you.” He shifted awkwardly before Mycroft took his hand and shook it. “Enchanté Inspector.” Mycroft held his hand for longer than really proper and when he noticed Greg hesitate, he let go of his grip and Greg dropped his hand to his side, glancing around the room again. Anything to avoid eye contact with the elder Holmes.
“Coffee Gregory? We may be waiting a while.” Mycroft’s voice was sleek and the way he drew out Greg’s name made him feel something twist in his chest. “Gregory?” His name, again, in Mycroft’s mouth. He merely nodded, too distracted to actually reply coherently. From the curious glance that Mycroft threw his way, Greg knew Mycroft had observed the change in his demeanour. He was almost one hundred per cent certain that he saw Mycroft smirk to himself as he left the room. Greg dropped down heavily into the sofa, watching as Mycroft carried out two mugs from the kitchen. When Mycroft handed Greg his mug, Mycroft’s fingers brushed against his for a brief second, and Greg swallowed as he tried to play it down as mere happenstance, but he could feel Mycroft’s bright blue eyes on him. Greg absently wondered was Mycroft as observant as Sherlock, or did he just guess that he was with the police? For all Mycroft could know, Greg could have been anyone.
When Greg glanced down into his mug, he realised that the coffee was black, just how he liked it and he glanced at Mycroft curiously, his eyes questioning. Mycroft sat down beside him, closer than necessary and threw him a placid smile. “I saw.” Was all he said and Greg had to drag his eyes away again.
“You’re like Sherlock?”
The other man nodded, “Quite so.” Greg noticed him staring at his lips and it made him feel
suddenly warmer than before. Greg knew his cheeks were reddening again. He also saw that Mycroft was staring at his left hand carefully when he thought Greg wasn’t watching him. Greg glanced at his hand, knowing that the elder was staring at the tell-tale mark of pale skin on his ring finger which contrasted against his darker skin, a reminder of a long worn wedding ring, no longer resting in that space.
“I should thank you sincerely for looking out for Sherlock.” Mycroft’s smile was small but genuine, while Greg nonchalantly shrugged it off. “Really though.” Mycroft mumbled, still watching Greg intently as he placed his free hand ever so gently on Greg’s knee. “Would you care to join me coffee at some point?” When he saw Greg pointedly glance at their mugs he laughed quietly. “I meant proper coffee.”
At that moment they both heard the key twist in the front door and the sound of Sherlock’s voice. Mycroft carefully moved his hand so that he was holding his mug with his two hands, as though trying to keep the warmth. Greg glanced at him, a small smile blooming on his lips. “I would like that.” He whispered just as Sherlock and John walked in the door.
Sherlock stopped still in his tracks, a look of confusion on his face. “What the hell do you think you’re up to?” he asked without greeting them. Sherlock’s glance was focused on Mycroft, who was sitting only inches away from Greg, his body turned towards him. “Just came to drop off the case Her Majesty has requested.” Mycroft’s voice was confident.
Greg almost laughed, absently wondering who the person, obviously a drama queen, that he was referring to was. It was then that Sherlock caught his eye. “The actual Queen, Lestrade. Mycroft is all Queen and Country.”
Lestrade cast a look of confusion at John who merely shrugged, clearly used to this.
“What are you doing?” Sherlock directed the question at Mycroft again. Before Mycroft got a chance to reply Sherlock spoke again. “Difficult divorce, infidelity on the wife’s side, rebound included men. But you, Mycroft? Really?”
“Sherlock.” John warned from behind him and when the realisation hit Greg that it was him Sherlock was referring to, he cast him a glare. “Oi!”
Mycroft merely smiled placidly as he stood up, picking up his umbrella. He dropped a rather thick file onto the coffee table before throwing a warm smile Greg’s way. “I’ll message you about the coffee.” He made a point of ignoring the groan that he heard from Sherlock in the background. As he was walking out the door, he looked towards Sherlock and John. “Goodbye dear brother. John,” He said with a quick nod of his head. “Glad you enjoyed the holiday.” And with that he closed the door behind him. Greg shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Sherlock’s weary expression. As he heard the front door close, he muttered “I never gave him my number,” beginning to stand up. Sherlock snorted before walking into the kitchen and Greg could only cast a confused glance at John who smiled sympathetically. “He definitely has your number, I wouldn’t worry.”
Greg breathed in the cold London air deeply, feeling the fresh air in his lungs as he finally left 221B. He needed a cigarette. Part of him believed that he was never going to get out of 221B, but he finally had, and the relief was palpable.
He had carefully spent the last two hours avoiding Sherlock’s judgemental looks as he tried to get Sherlock to focus on the case. Sherlock agreed with him about it being a double homicide, and even praised him for noticing the signs compared to the rest of the force. When Sherlock had left the room for a few minutes, Greg had tried to ask John about the illustrious brother and had just received a shrug with the confusing, ‘He kind of runs the government.” At which Sherlock returned, frowning, clearly making a trying effort not to add to the conversation about his brother.
As Greg lit his cigarette, he visibly relaxed as he breathed in. He had decided to get a taxi, and as he strolled down the street he could feel his phone begin vibrating in his pocket. When he saw it was a private number, he smiled despite himself. “Greg Lestrade.” Upon realising he sounded nervous he wanted to kick himself.
“Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice was soft and the way he said Greg’s name, it sounded the best it had ever been. No one called him Gregory anymore, but it seemed right with Mycroft.
“I was thinking about the coffee.” He was silent for a few seconds, “How about tomorrow?” He sounded hesitant, but there was an unmistakable note of hopefulness in his voice. Greg nodded before realising Mycroft couldn’t actually see him. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”
“Terrific. I’ll pick you up at lunch. I do hope Sherlock wasn’t too hard on you.”
Greg laughed, “I’ve had worse.” He was grinning now, “Where will I meet you?”
“I’ll find you, don’t worry. Until tomorrow then.” Mycroft’s voice was quieter now, more gentle, slightly amused as though he had just told a private joke.
Greg hesitated, confused but decided it was better not to ask. “See you tomorrow.” He then heard a hum come from the other end of the phone until the line went dead. Greg slid his phone into his jacket and hailed the first cab he saw.
Greg was uneasy. Nervous really. He tried dismissing himself, after all he wasn’t a lovestruck teenager. It was going to be a perfectly respectable coffee date. It might not even be an actual date even. He managed to finish the pile of paperwork he had been meaning to do, it was a great distraction. When he saw it was half past midday, half an hour before his lunch break, he felt his stomach churn. He bit his lip, how would Mycroft know when his lunch break was? Surely he couldn’t deduce that? His hand danced over his phone before picking it up.
How will your brother know when my lunch hour is?-GL
Please. He probably knows what colour underwear you’re wearing. -SH
Greg chucked his phone on his desk, dropping his head into his hands. He could feel the heat in his cheeks. He felt unnecessarily embarrassed, immediately chastising himself over thinking that Sherlock would have actually given him a straight answer anyway.
He started pacing around his office, trying to arrange all the various documents around him so his office didn’t look like a bomb had exploded. He tried to check was his shirt alright, that he hadn’t spilt a drop of coffee earlier, or that there was no trace of crumbs on his jacket. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard three light knocks on his office door. He took a quick glance at his watch. He still had fifteen minutes to go. Greg opened the door and was met by the elder Holmes brother, a professional, cold smile on his face. “May I?” Mycroft asked, nodding towards the office and Greg stood aside. He caught Mycroft quickly glance around the office and Greg caught the confused expression of Donovan, her head raised above her computer, neck craned. When Greg closed the door and turned to face Mycroft he was instantly taken aback by the change in his expression. Mycroft was now smiling genuinely, a warmth in his eyes as he watched Greg, “Hello Gregory.” Mycroft held out his hand and Greg took it, instantly feeling the warmth of Mycroft’s skin. It wasn’t much of a handshake, they just held onto each other for longer than normal and when Mycroft made to let go of Greg’s hand, his thumb gently traced the back of his hand. “Do you have any preferred coffee shops?”
Greg was silent for a minute. Any place that he could think of didn’t seem right for Mycroft, everything was too casual. “Uh no, I don’t think so.”
Mycroft’s smile grew now, “I know the perfect place. Let’s go.” When he saw Greg quickly glance his watch, he chuckled. “Time doesn’t matter right now. Leave it to me. It’ll be fine.” Mycroft placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder, his touch soft and Greg felt he had to look away, a blush appearing on his cheeks already. He broke away to get his coat, hands shaking slightly.
Greg was surprised when Mycroft gestured to a black Mercedes and opened the door for Greg. The car ride was mainly silent and when they pulled up outside a quaint cafe, Mycroft mumbled something to the driver before he opened the door for Greg, standing by as he stepped out.
“Very gentlemanly of you.” Greg remarked, earning him another smile from Mycroft. The cafe was quiet, piano music playing in the background and only a few people sitting at different tables. “Mister Holmes!” Greg glanced towards the voice and was met by a grinning barista from behind the counter. “Hello Lucy.” Mycroft touched Lestrade on the arm, gesturing to a free table in the corner by a full length window. “Americano?” He questioned and Greg could only nod dumbly, glancing again at the barista who winked at him before he moved to the table, trying to hide his reddening cheeks.
God, he thought, will I ever stop blushing around him?
He sat down in an armchair, sinking into it and he turned his gaze towards Mycroft. He was at the counter talking quietly to the barista who cast a glance at Greg before giving an enthusiastic thumbs up to Mycroft who dropped his head, shoulders shaking with laughter. Greg couldn’t help but to smile to himself. When Mycroft returned to the table, he took in Greg, before focussing on Greg’s face again. “They roast their own coffee here.” He said quietly, “By far the best in London.”
“I’m impressed.” Greg admitted.
“Wait until you taste it.” As Mycroft was about to say something more, they were interrupted by the barista named Lucy. She placed a tray on the table. “Americanos!” She sung as she placed two large mugs of coffee in front of them. Then she unloaded two plates of chocolate cake. As she stood up again she grinned, “Enjoy! My treat for you cuties!” She left them then, giggling to herself. This time it was Mycroft’s turn to blush. Greg laughed, “Well if the customer service here is anything to go by, the coffee will be amazing.”
“Truly heavenly, do try.” Mycroft murmured, gesturing to the coffee. He watched carefully as Greg took a sip, closing his eyes and savouring the taste. He hummed in approvement and Mycroft looked unbelievably proud and satisfied. “It’s wonderful.” Greg admitted.
“Much like yourself.” Mycroft’s voice was low, but his accompanying smile was nervous, blushing slightly. Greg was momentarily taken off guard by Mycroft’s forwardness.
“You’re not so hard on the eye yourself.” He was flirting like a teenager, he bit his lip, smiling at Mycroft’s expression.
“How have we not met before? I’ve known Sherlock for years and he’s only mentioned you in passing. I’ve always been curious.”
Mycroft took a sip of coffee, “We have crossed paths many times, but have never talked directly. Unfortunately. I’ve trusted you with many cases. You are very good at your job. Sherlock is quite fond of you.”
Greg raised an eyebrow, “John said you work in the government. Or rather you run it. What did he mean?” When he saw Mycroft moved to pick up his plate of cake, Greg mirrored him. Mycroft let out a small chuckle. “That’s one way to describe it. I’m very involved in the government.”
“How come I’ve never heard of you before? I mean, publicly.”
Mycroft smirked, “The best way to stay out of trouble is to hide in plain sight.”
Greg shifted in his seat, “You’re very vague.” He grinned, “The mysterious air around you is…is- I like you.” Greg blushed, looking down suddenly paying extra attention to his coffee. He wanted to see how Mycroft reacted to what he had just said but he was too nervous.
“You’re very much an open book, Gregory.” When Greg looked up at Mycroft, he saw that he was smiling fondly. “It’s refreshing.”
Greg had no idea how to reply to that. He had been told this before, almost as though it was a bad thing. The way Mycroft said it though, it sounded like a compliment.
“I was wondering,” Mycroft mumbled, “If it would be too forward of me to ask you to dinner?”
Greg raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. “Sounds good.” His attention was diverted when a tall brunette woman pushed into the cafe, the door slamming shut after her. Lucy saluted the woman and when Greg saw her survey the cafe, her gaze fell on them both. Mycroft had his back to the door, and when he noticed Greg’s distraction the woman had already walked over to them. She stared at Greg carefully, her expression not allowing any emotions to show. He smiled uncomfortably in response.
“Anthea, this is Gregory Lestrade.” Mycroft said gesturing towards him.
The woman merely nodded in his direction before leaning down to whisper something in Mycroft’s ear. Greg watched as Mycroft’s expression fell. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as Mycroft glanced at him before turning to Anthea and whispering. She pointedly glanced at her watch and sighed. “Literally two minutes. That’s all I ask.” Greg heard Mycroft murmur.
Anthea nodded once and waved her hand at Lucy before drifting over to the counter where Greg saw Lucy hand her an espresso. Greg cast a questioning glance at Mycroft.
“I’m truly sorry Gregory, but I have to attend to some business.” Greg could clearly hear the annoyance in Mycroft’s voice. “Do forgive me.”
Greg waved his hand, “You’re a busy man, it’s understandable.”
Mycroft moved forward in his seat. “Dinner, tomorrow evening?” Mycroft’s eyes were wide and open, the bluest that Greg had ever seen. He nodded enthusiastically and he saw Mycroft’s posture soften. “There will be no distractions tomorrow, I can assure you.” Mycroft reached across the table and rested his hand on Greg’s. “So I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” Greg smiled warmly at him in response. When Mycroft made to stand up, Greg blurted out his name, also standing up. Mycroft watched Greg and Greg could see the look of utter surprise that crossed Mycroft’s face when he kissed him on the cheek. “See you tomorrow Mycroft.” Greg murmured, moving to sit back in his seat. Mycroft looked delighted, a genuine smile crossing his face, instantly looking younger. “Goodbye Gregory.” He uttered, before turning around to join Anthea who was standing by the door, arms crossed across her chest. Mycroft nodded towards Greg as he was ushered out of the cafe.
Greg finished his coffee and then approached Lucy, who smiled widely at him. “Everything good?”
“The best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”
Lucy clapped in excitement, “Finally! Another converted!” Greg laughed as he leaned on the counter, “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“You sound like you’re a policeman.”
“That’s because I am one.” He said smiling apologetically when he saw a look of confusion on her face. “Questions about Mycroft, don’t worry.” He clarified. Lucy visibly relaxed and her smile returned, “Ah, the fabulous Mister Holmes.”
“Does he come here often?”
She nodded, “Every day.”
Greg smiled, “Would it be weird to pay for a week of coffee for him?”He bit his lip nervously as Lucy laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the other customers. “Yes of course. That’s adorable! He’ll be incredibly happy.” Greg chuckled in response.
“What do you know about him? Has he ever…had other dates here?”
“No. I believe he keeps very much to his own company. You must be special.”
“I only met him for the first time yesterday.” He mumbled. At this her eyes widened, surprise written on her face. “Wow.”
“And we’re going to dinner tomorrow,” Greg continued.
She shook her head. “He really likes you then! That’s pretty cool. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be like that.” She shrugged, “You’re clearly bringing him to life.”
“And Anthea, who is she?”
“Anthea’s awesome! She runs on coffee though, business is always booming when she’s around.”
“She didn’t seem to like me.” Lucy frowned at this.
“She’s Mycroft’s PA. She is never…friendly is not the right word…When she opens up, she’s very lovely. She’s over-protective and doesn’t really give out a friendly energy. I wouldn’t worry though. If Mycroft trusts you, she will too. Eventually.” She grinned. “Hope that helps.”
Greg nodded, “Yes it definitely does. Thank you.”
“I really hope you enjoy your dinner tomorrow.” She winked at him. “You make him happier and it’s only been a day.”
Greg had only been in his office for two minutes when Donovan barged in. “Freak was in. Looking for you. Something about someone trying to recreate murder scenes.”
“His name is Sherlock.” Greg’s voice didn’t mask his annoyance. He glanced at his phone and saw he had five missed calls from Sherlock and grimaced. Sally shrugged, “He wanted to know where you were, so I told him you’d gone out for lunch. He muttered something that sounded like ‘Mycroft”, and then stormed out. That some code for something?”
“It’s a name, Sally.” Greg muttered, “Did Sherlock leave anything?”
“This.” She said, handing over a USB key. “You okay, boss?”
Greg looked up at her, confusion across his face. “Yeah, grand. Why?”
She shook her head, “That man you were with earlier, he looked…official and annoyed?”
“It’s nothing.”
Her forehead creased, “If you’re sure?”
Greg forced a smile. “Certain.”
At lunch the following day, Lestrade’s phone lit up as he walked to the nearest coffee shop outside the yard. He needed air. Sherlock had almost solved the double homicide, they were both on the right track.
I believe I have to thank you for a week’s worth of coffee. -MH
Greg glanced at his phone as he sat down with his coffee and couldn’t help a small smile spread across his face.
My pleasure.-GL
I’ll be sure to thank you later. Wear a suit. I’ll pick you up at 7. Until later. -MH
Greg felt a blush flooding his cheeks. He had known Sherlock for years and he had never had any concept of flirting or understanding innuendo until he had known John for a while. Greg found it surreal that Sherlock’s older brother, a straight laced, important government figure would be the complete opposite.
Greg watched as people walked by and couldn’t help but to think of Mycroft. What was it like dating a Holmes? Was it difficult or was it like any other relationships? He played with his phone before opening a new message.
Hey John. What’s it like being with Sherlock?
His phone lit up within seconds.
Amazing!!! The best thing that’s ever happened to me!!! The sex is mind-blowing!!!
Sherlock?
=D
Piss off, Sherlock. I text John’s phone for a reason.
Later that evening, Greg stared at himself in the mirror. He had dressed and hoped he looked presentable. He had no idea where they were going for dinner and his stomach churned nervously. His phone rang and when he saw it was Sherlock, he picked it up hesitantly. “Sherlock?”
“Baker Street. ASAP. Solved the case.” Sherlock’s voice came through short and to the point.
Greg grimaced, “Can we do this tomorrow?”
Sherlock was silent for a few seconds, “Seriously?”
Greg sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Okay. I’ll be over.” While he was leaving his flat he sent a quick message to Mycroft, telling him where he would be. The response was almost immediate, Mycroft would pick him up at Baker Street.
When Greg walked into 221B, Sherlock was lying on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling. John was in his chair, newspaper in hand. He smiled warmly at Greg, while Sherlock, having noticed Lestrade’s presence jumped up from the sofa. When he looked at Greg, he frowned immediately and moved closer to him, and Greg could have sworn that Sherlock had sniffed him.
“Did you just smell me?” He asked in disbelief.
“Please tell me that’s not your best suit.” Was Sherlock’s reply. Greg just stared at him blankly.
“Oh god it is.” Sherlock muttered, almost to himself.
“What the hell is wrong with it?”
Sherlock snorted. “You are going on a date with Mycroft, yes?” Greg nodded dumbly and Sherlock sighed. “You are going to look like a tramp.”
“Sherlock!” John shouted, standing up. Greg just stared at Sherlock in disbelief.
“Come with me.” Sherlock ordered as he walked towards his bedroom. Greg hesitantly followed, John trailing behind him, giving him a small squeeze on the shoulder, as if to apologise for Sherlock.
Sherlock pulled open his wardrobe and frowned at the clothes hanging up. “You need a tie.” He uttered.
“You don’t even wear ties.” Greg grumbled.
“Lets not get into that.” Sherlock picked out a few ties and held them against Greg’s shirt.
“Why are you doing this?” Greg asked.
“Because Mycroft does not eat in restaurants that do not have at least one Michelin Star. Thus, I am saving you embarrassment.” Sherlock picked out a deep blue tie, dropping the others on the floor. “John? Judgement?” Sherlock asked, getting John’s attention.
“Dashing.” John said from where he was sitting on Sherlock’s bed. “That’s Mycroft’s favourite colour isn't it?”
Sherlock nodded, “it is indeed,” as he began to tie the tie for Greg, doing it perfectly the first time around and then brushed off the shoulders of Greg’s suit. He stepped back and nodded once. “It’ll do.”
“What are your intentions with my brother?”
The question took both John and Greg off guard.
“Uh…I-I don’t…”
“I believe it is my obligation to tell you that if you hurt him, I’ll make your life very difficult.”
John snorted, “I think you already make his life difficult.” John said jokingly, until a glare from Sherlock silenced him. “Mycroft rarely does…this.” Sherlock said waving his hand at Greg. “Don’t hurt him.” Greg shifted awkwardly, unsure if he should even reply.
“What’s about the case?” He questioned, embarrassed.
Sherlock shook his head, “It can wait until tomorrow.” At the look of surprise on both Greg and John’s faces, Sherlock shrugged. “Greg’s too busy being nervous right now.” Sherlock glanced at John who nodded once, encouragingly. “I-I hope you enjoy this.” Sherlock’s voice was hesitant and embarrassed but his face softened when Greg pulled him into a hug. “Mycroft is a good person.” Sherlock whispered.
Greg glanced at John out of the corner of his eye only to see John looking up at Sherlock as though he was the only person in the world. Sherlock’s phone began to ring and he frowned at the screen, he didn’t get a chance to say hello, all he got to say was ‘Okay”, before he put his phone back in his pocket. “I do believe I am keeping you from a waiting Mycroft. He’s outside, you’d better go.”
When Greg came out into the street, Mycroft was standing by a car and when he made eye contact with Greg, he began smiling. Mycroft opened a car door for Greg and hesitated for a second before kissing Greg gently on the cheek, like Greg had done the day before. “Glad to see you again, Gregory.”
Mycroft cast a glance up at the window of 221B and let out an awkward laugh when he saw Sherlock and John standing in the window, watching them intently.
They arrived outside a Georgian style hotel that Greg instantly recognised from a robbery case a few months ago. He’d narrowly avoided being shot. He decided to not mention that to Mycroft, not really appropriate first date conversation. The building was lit from outside, the bright lights reflecting upon the white facade. It was honestly going to be one of the fanciest places he would ever eat in. “You recognise this place.” Mycroft observed, it was not a question so Greg merely nodded. “You could say that.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice which caught Mycroft’s attention but before he could take the conversation further, they were greeted by a concierge who brought them face to face with a man at the reception of the restaurant.
The assistant beside them took their coats and Greg suddenly felt very self conscious beside Mycroft. He could have sworn the receptionist had pointedly stared at his suit before turning his head back to Mycroft. However, Mycroft seemed to notice the exchange and he very lightly rested his hand on the small of Greg’s back, stunning him.
Greg didn’t hear anything that was said, all he knew was that Mycroft was leading him into a huge, chic dining area towards a table that was nestled in a corner.
“If it’s worth anything, I think you look very handsome.” Mycroft’s breath was hot as it ghosted by Lestrade’s ear.
When they sat down, Greg’s attention was immediately taken by Mycroft. He looked impeccable. He was wearing a clearly specially tailored suit, the dark colour complimenting his skin. His waistcoat was a dark grey and his tie a deep emerald green. Greg felt a warmth run through him and Mycroft grinned at him waving away the waiter and pushing Greg's glass closer to him. "Try it." Mycroft watched him carefully.
Greg took a sip and forced a smile, wine was not his drink. "It's good." He lied.
"You prefer beer, don't you?" Mycroft was smirking now, amusement dancing in his eyes. Greg blushed in response.
"I'm very glad you agreed to meet with me." Mycroft’s voice was quieter now and he gave Greg a searching look.
Greg shifted uncomfortably, “Sherlock said you don’t date.” He could see he'd visibly surprised
Mycroft.
“Sherlock would be right.” Mycroft glanced around them pointedly, “Yet here we are.”
“Why?”
Mycroft smiled, “There can always be an exception to rules.”
“And would I be your first exception?” Greg queried, trying to observe how Mycroft reacted.
Mycroft shook his head, “No, but the first exception in five years.”
Greg was silent for a second, slightly confused. “Why me?”
Mycroft made a point of examining his hands, which were sitting on the table as Greg watched. “I am not usually a forward person in matters concerning my private life.” Mycroft paused, “I have known of you for quite a few years. You have saved my brother’s life many times. I have wanted to approach you for some time. There was never an appropriate moment. It was purely coincidence that we met in Baker Street the other day. A sign even, if we were going to begin with poetics.” Mycroft waved his hand through the air dismissively, “Then you said yes, thus here we are.” Mycroft glimpsed up at Greg, “I find myself attracted to you. I didn’t know if I would get an opportunity to speak with you alone like that again.”
Greg he couldn’t help a smile cross his face. “So this isn’t some sort of cruel Holmesian sibling experiment?” He asked jokingly, immediately observing Mycroft’s face soften. “I have to admit I was very impressed when I saw you first.”
Mycroft let out a chuckle. “Yes, I did notice your interest.”
“Of course you would.” Greg grinned, “Would I be right in saying that you probably know a lot about me already?”
Mycroft grinned, “It’s possible.”
The waiter came over and looked at them expectantly for their orders, Greg glanced at Mycroft and Mycroft seemed to understand. "The venison is excellent." Mycroft murmured so Greg went for that, ordering the same as Mycroft.
“Sorry, I'm not used to eating in restaurants like this." He waved his hand towards the other diners, some of which he recognised from parliament and others from TV.
"I understand. Due to the nature of my job I tend to find myself in places like this regularly"
Greg snorted, "well I can't say the same, my job usually brings me down dark back alleyways."
"I hope your dates don't end up like that." Mycroft purred, sitting forward.
Greg began coughing, choking on the wine that he had just drank, earning him reproaching glares from other diners. Greg had turned a deep red and all Mycroft could do was smirk, eyes shining with mischief.
"Can't attest to having had many actual dates lately." Greg muttered with embarrassment. "And you're a proper respectable government official, so I doubt that will happen."
Greg could have sworn he felt Mycroft's foot brush against his leg. "I can be quite unpredictable."
Before Greg could reply, the waiter brought them their food and Greg glanced down at it. "This isn't food, it's art." He murmured, causing Mycroft to laugh quietly.
"This'll cost me a month of rent" Greg said quietly causing Mycroft to frown. "This is my treat."
Greg shifted uneasily. "Certainly not."
"It really is. I insist." Mycroft smiled at him, "it's not often I indulge in personal pleasures. It can begin to fill the gap of those years I never approached you.”
"Why didn't you?" Greg queried
Mycroft suddenly looked very sad, and hid it by tucking into his meal.
"You were always taken."
"Maybe it's just me but a marriage that was a lie and a series of one night stands after the divorce came through wouldn't really describe me as taken."
"You were hurting." Mycroft said simply. Taking Greg completely off guard, "it wouldn't have been fair."
"And why now?"
"You seem happier."
Greg regarded him for a minute. "How long have you been interested in me?"
"Since you started working with Sherlock." Greg inhaled deeply. "That's been four years.” He stopped for a minute, "is that why you haven't been on a date in five years?"
"Not quite. There are a number of reasons. I work a lot." He said simply.
"That makes both of us then." Greg smiled as he began eating, humming appreciatively, making Mycroft grin. "Bon appetite."
They ate in a comfortable silence, and when their plates were taken away Mycroft suddenly leaned in closer to Greg. "I find you very attractive Gregory."
"Says the man who isn't forward." Greg joked, and when he saw Mycroft blush he grinned, "you're not so bad yourself."
"Out of curiosity, what did you think when you first saw me?” Mycroft’s eyes were curious, searching for the answers he couldn’t come across from mere observation.
"Damn, he's attractive."
This made Mycroft laugh, "So I didn't misread the situation?"
Greg smirked, giving his best flirtatious smile. "Would we be here and would I be thinking of kissing you if you had have?" He purposely brushed his leg against Mycroft’s under the table. "You're far too far away."
"We should probably do something about this little problem."
"I agree wholeheartedly."
"Would you like dessert?"
"I would like you instead." Greg said daringly, immediately seeing Mycroft's face change, his eyes darken. "Then I guess we should get out of here." He murmured, catching the waiter's attention to pay the bill.
"Preferably not in a back alley." Greg grinned when Mycroft laughed out loud. "I mean I don't know about you but I think my flat would be better. I live near here" when Mycroft chuckled Greg glanced at him, "but you knew that already."
"I did indeed."
"How much do you know about me actually?" Greg asked as they walked out into the cold air, Mycroft's hand rested on the small of Greg's back. He could feel a warmth that he hadn't felt for a long time.
"I should think quite a lot."
"And I know next to nothing about you, we need to change that."
As Mycroft hailed the familiar black car he winked at Greg. "Oh Gregory, I intend for you to get to know me very well tonight.”
Greg blushed, feeling a familiar warmth, the unmistakable flush of arousal. Mycroft was mainly silent in the car and when they pulled up outside Greg’s building, he caught the driver glance in the rearview mirror at them and Greg shifted slightly. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” He asked awkwardly but Mycroft grinned at him.
“That would be delightful. Alfred, you may leave, I won’t be needing a lift tonight.” The man nodded once, pretending that he did not know what was going to happen.
As they walked into Greg’s building he snickered, “Alfred? Really? Are you secretly Bruce Wayne or…? Mycroft cut Greg off by kissing him deeply, catching Greg completely off guard. When Mycroft broke away, Greg just stared at him. “I suggest you lead us to your flat before we get arrested for public indecency.” Mycroft’s breath was warm against Greg’s ear as he placed a light kiss on Greg’s neck.
Greg lived on the third floor. He was grateful for small mercies, as they could walk the stairs. If he was being honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t have lasted in the confines of an elevator for more than ten seconds, what with the way Mycroft was staring it him now.
“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not a palace.” Greg mumbled as he fumbled with the keys to his flat, hands shaking slightly. Once he got the door open and they stumbled into the apartment, Mycroft shut the door and at the same time, pushed Greg up against it.
“About that drink…” Greg’s voice was strained as Mycroft’s lips were just a few millimetres away from his own. Mycroft smiled, “I think I have a better idea.” He whispered, “What do you think?”
Greg closed the distance between them and kissed Mycroft once, gently. “If we’re having the same idea then yes.”
“Wonderful,” Mycroft breathed as he kissed Greg again, this time with more need. He bit Greg’s lip lightly and Greg opened his mouth, allowing Mycroft in. Greg moaned when Mycroft pressed up against him and he could feel an unmistakable hardness and from the small moan that Mycroft made, Greg knew that Mycroft could also feel his erection.
“You’re wonderful.” Mycroft breathed, placing light kisses across Greg’s cheek, trailing down his neck.
“Seriously, you should have approached me before.” Greg whispered breathlessly.
“Good things come to those who wait.” Mycroft cooed before Greg grasped his face, guiding their lips together again. Greg’s hands trailed down Mycroft’s back and when his hands were at the base of Mycroft’s spine, he pulled him closer and smiled against Mycroft’s lips when he let out another slight moan. “You’re wearing entirely too much clothing.” Mycroft breathed as they broke apart and he untied Greg’s tie within seconds, as his hands began dancing down Greg’s shirt buttons.
“Says the man in the three piece suit.”
Mycroft pushed Greg’s shirt off his shoulders along with his jacket and as they fell to the ground, Mycroft began kissing his chest, sucking at a spot beneath Greg’s collar bone, so as not to leave any mark that would be seen while wearing a shirt. One of Mycroft’s hands was brushing against Greg’s hip, while the other trailed down Greg’s chest, through the sparse amount of hair and stopped at his belt. Greg inhaled deeply, his breath shaky, “Bedroom, now.”
Mycroft glanced up at Greg, his eyes dark and Greg threw a pointed glance at Mycroft who was still fully clothed. “We need to get you out of those.”
They stumbled into Greg’s bedroom, fumbling and discarding each others clothes. Mycroft cornered Greg so that he fell onto the bed and Mycroft straddled him. “I would like to fuck you tonight.” Mycroft’s voice was close to his ear and Greg felt the hairs on his arms raise.
“Please.”
“Do you-“
“Top drawer, there.” Greg turned his head as if to gesture to the bedside table. Mycroft moved across him. Greg briefly noticed two small puckered scars on Mycroft’s chest but his questions were instantly put out of his head when Mycroft took his cock in his mouth. Greg’s breath caught in his throat as Mycroft bobbed his head and hollowed his cheeks. He could only manage to moan Mycroft’s name.
When Mycroft released him, he began kissing Greg’s thighs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Mycroft’s voice was quiet and he waited until Greg nodded. Greg heard Mycroft open the bottle of lube and he motioned for Greg to spread his legs.
Mycroft was incredibly gentle, he pushed in a finger, waiting for Greg to relax before he started moving. “More” Greg breathed and Mycroft followed his commands. When he was sure Greg was ready, he pulled out his fingers and got himself ready with a condom and some more lube.
When Mycroft glanced at Greg, Greg was grinning up at him. “C’mere” He whispered, pulling Mycroft closer to him. They began to kiss again and Greg wrapped his legs around Mycroft, breaking away from the kiss to make eye contact. “I’m ready. I want to see you.”
A brief look of surprise crossed Mycroft’s face before he grinned at Greg, a look of utter fondness in his eyes. He carefully aligned himself with Greg, before pushing in, feeling Greg’s warmth and tightness around him. Mycroft’s thrusts started slow and gradually picked up pace, both men moaning and whispering the other’s name.
When they had finished, Mycroft collapsed into the bed beside Gregory, both of them fighting for breath. Greg threw his arm around Mycroft’s waist, snuggling into the crook of his neck. “That was amazing.” Greg mumbled into Mycroft’s ear,a note of sleep already in his voice. Mycroft smiled up at the ceiling, placing his hand over Greg’s as he listened to Greg’s breathing even out and until he himself fell into a deep sleep.
A series of loud beeps woke Greg with a start. Mycroft’s warm arm around Greg’s waist impeded his movements, but he managed to catch a glimpse of his bedside clock which stated it was four AM. When the beeping continued, coming from what Greg guessed was the place where Mycroft had discarded his trousers, he tried to wake Mycroft. “Hey,” Greg whispered, running his hand along Mycroft’s arm which only resulted in Mycroft snuggling closer to him and muttering something completely incoherent. Greg relaxed slightly when the beeping stopped but it didn’t stay silent for long, the beeping returned, this time with the sound of the phone vibrating against the hard wood floor. “Mycroft?” Greg was face to face with Mycroft and when Mycroft opened his eyes, Greg could clearly make out the alarmed expression change to confusion and then to a content smile at Greg. “Hey there.” Greg brushed his free hand across Mycroft’s cheek, “Your phone is going crazy. It’s probably important.”
Mycroft instantly froze, becoming aware of the beeping noise that only seemed to be getting louder and then he moved to get out of bed, stumbling slightly as he tried to feel his way towards the phone. Greg flicked on the bedside light to help him and watched as Mycroft answered his phone. Mycroft and himself were both still naked and Greg sat up in bed, running his hands through his hair. Memories of the previous night floated before his eyes and he grinned. Greg’s brief moment of happiness swiftly turned to confusion and worry when he heard Mycroft mutter the words ‘North Korea’ and ‘missile launch’. Was Mycroft involved in world politics on a grand scale too? When Mycroft finished the phone call he came back to the bed, moving close to Greg. “I apologise, Gregory.” Mycroft caressed Greg’s face and kissed him gently. “I need to leave. Duty calls.”
“Would you like breakfast? A shower?” Greg queried. He was tempted to ask about Korea, but it really wasn’t any of his business. Mycroft shook his head, “I need to go back home first, clean clothes and all, I’ll be able to shower there. A car is outside for me.” Greg bit his lip and nodded.
“I enjoyed last night very much.” Mycroft’s voice was quiet as he made unwavering eye contact with Greg, his smile genuine. “I do hope we can see each other again. If that would appeal to you?”
“Of course it would.” Greg said grinning. Mycroft laughed quietly before he kissed Greg deeply and then got out of the bed and started dressing quickly. When he looked semi-presentable once again he leaned in to kiss Greg once, briefly. “Goodbye Gregory.”
When Mycroft had left, Greg glanced at his clock again and decided he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep and decided to just arrive at the Yard early, after a well deserved shower and whatever he could throw together for breakfast. He cringed slightly when he realised he would see Sherlock whenever he chose to turn up with the solutions for the case, hoping that would keep all his attention.
Greg was one of the first people to get to the office. His floor was still dark and he flicked the lights on as he passed through. He glanced at his watch again, frowning at the fact it was half six; this had been the earliest he had ever come in to the Yard voluntarily. He had been here at that time before but they were mainly due to cases that never seemed to end. He turned his key in the door of his office, absently hitting the light switch. He was in the middle of taking off his coat when he heard somebody cough behind him. Greg dropped his coat and tensed as he swung around to be met with Anthea leaning against the front of his desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Jesus fuck Anthea, how did you get in here?" Anthea stared at him sourly for a few silent seconds, which felt like hours for Greg. "Mycroft stayed with you last night." Her voice was as cold as her gaze and Greg shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "Yes, and? He's a grown man." He tried to sound more confident than he felt.
"If you hurt him-"
Greg interrupted her by holding up his hand. "Sherlock gave me this speech already."
Anthea shook her head, "No. Sherlock would never do anything to hurt you. He sees you as a friend and relies on you for cases. I, on the other hand, have no ties to you."
"So what exactly are you trying to say?"
Anthea took a few short steps towards him and Greg shrank, he hadn't guessed she would be taller than him. "I promise that if you do anything to hurt Mycroft, I will purposely find you and you will wish that you’d never been born."
Greg raised his head slightly, "is that a threat?"
Anthea's eyes narrowed, "it's what you want it to be."
Greg just stared blankly at her "Who are you really?"
"I'm someone who will make your life hell if you ever hurt that man." She squeezed his arm tightly, her nails digging into his suit as she passed him and shut the door behind her as she left. Greg was left standing there, trying to process what had just happened. Why on earth would he ever purposely hurt somebody? He swallowed uneasily as he made to sit at his desk. He glanced at his phone and thought of texting Mycroft before quickly dismissing the idea.
Greg had just finished signing off on a case when his office door burst open and Sherlock strolled in. “Thanks for knocking.” Greg muttered sarcastically before glancing up at Sherlock who had just slid a case file across his desk. “So double homicide?” Greg noticed that Sherlock was staring at him differently. He shrugged it off as he flicked through the folder, “So it was the taxi driver-“
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” There was a note of something in Sherlock’s voice that Greg couldn’t grasp, was it disappointment, disgust?
Greg shifted in his chair as Sherlock looked down at him. “He’s a grown man who makes his own choices, Sherlock.” Greg felt a sense of unease as he remembered repeating the same thing to Anthea a few hours earlier.
“Is Mycroft okay?” Greg frowned because Sherlock genuinely sounded worried. Greg had only ever seen Sherlock like this when John had been abducted at one point a few months back. “I’m sure he is. I mean he left early for work but he seemed fine then.” Greg said shrugging. Sherlock was silent for a few seconds, eyes narrowed, carefully analysing Greg.
“Mycroft doesn’t do relationships, Gavin.” Sherlock paused, “It just doesn’t work.”
“Greg.” Lestrade emphasised, purposely ignoring the rest of what Sherlock had said.
Sherlock waved his hand through the air dismissively, “I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Who said I was going to hurt him?”
Sherlock frowned at him, “That’s what happens!”
Greg sat up, he was trying to break through the confusion but also trying not to show how insulted he was getting. “Is there something I should know?”
Sherlock glared at him, “I don’t want him to get hurt, it’s pretty simple Lestrade.”
“And do you think I would hurt him?” Greg asked in disbelief. When Sherlock hesitated, Greg stood up, almost coming to eye level with Sherlock. “Do you honestly think I would hurt your brother?” When Sherlock took a breath to speak, Lestrade shook his head. “If you really think that low of me, please get out of my office right now.”
“What about the case?”
Greg squeezed the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. “The case doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is how you think I’d be capable of hurting your brother, or anyone really. There are many times I could have swung at you Sherlock these past few years, but I didn’t. That’s not the type of person I am. I was always there for you. Hell, Sherlock, you would have died if I hadn’t found you when you overdosed.”
“I know, but-“
“Get out.” Sherlock gazed at him, a confused look across his face and when he realised that Greg was serious, he took a few steps back and hesitantly left, while Greg collapsed into his chair, resting his head in his hands.
Is there anything that I should know?-GL
Greg felt stupid, would Mycroft even answer?
Ever since Anthea’s visit this morning he had felt uneasy and Sherlock’s visit had him completely on edge. He kept replaying last night and this morning in his mind, had he done anything wrong? He couldn’t pinpoint any part of the date. He knew he would never voluntarily hurt someone, emotionally or physically, it just wasn’t in his nature. But if that was true why had two people threatened him today?
“Boss?” Sally’s voice rang through Lestrade’s head as he came back to the present, she was staring at him with a worried expression on her face. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” He said halfheartedly.
Sally moved to sit down in front of him, “What did the freak do?”
Greg stared at her blankly.
“The freak, he left suddenly, quietly and without his usual ‘lah di dah I solved the case, here’s where you idiots all went wrong’ show.”
When Greg didn’t answer she frowned at him and reached out to hold his hand across the desk. The warmth of her skin was jarring for Greg and he tried to come up with some sort of answer but failed. “What’s on your mind?” Sally’s voice was gentle now, usually a side that Greg only rarely saw.
“Do you think I would ever hurt someone?” The words came out of his mouth without much thought and Sally was clearly taken aback. “What?” She glowered, “Greg.” She rarely addressed him by name and when he made eye contact with her she looked…sad?
“Did he say that to you? I swear- No.” Donovan took a deep breath and tried to keep the anger out of her voice, “You have arrested scum of the earth and you never once hurt any of them like the other officers would. You’ve arrested murderers who’ve spat in your face and you only ever treated them with dignity. You’ve worked with the freak for four years now and you’re probably the only one from the Yard who hasn’t tried to knock him out.” She squeezed his hand, “Please don’t listen to the freak. He’s not always right.”
Greg watched her for a second and then nodded, “You’re right.”
“Damn fucking right I am.” Sally stood up and picked up the file that Sherlock had left on the desk. “Go home early. I’ll deal with this, if there’s some particularly brutal murder in the next few hours I’ll call you, okay?” When Greg glanced at his watch he realised that it was a lot later than he had thought, basically sign out time anyway, so he nodded standing up and clearing his desk. “Thanks Sally.”
“No problem boss.”
Greg called John when he was on his way to the tube, it was getting dark out already and the cold was not improving his mood. “Hey mate.” John’s voice came through the phone and Greg took another drag of his cigarette. “Would you like to come over for a drink tonight?”
“Everything alright?” John sounded concerned and Greg absently remembered that it was the middle of the week and not their usual Friday. “Yeah great, just an idea.”
“Did everything go alright last night?”
“I thought it did.” Greg muttered, glancing at his watch, “Look sorry John, I’ve got to get the tube.”
“I’ll be over about eight then. Chinese or Indian takeaway?”
“Chinese would be good. No Sherlock.”
John laughed slightly, “No Sherlock, alright see you later mate.”
On the tube Greg decided that last night did in fact go really well, and this morning even better. Usually on his one night stands, either him or the other person would leave without saying much, never mind actually kissing, and he and Mycroft had kissed numerous times. There had even been a goodbye kiss. Even in the later years of a marriage that was crashing and burning there had never been morning affection.
By the time he walked into his flat, it was already six in the evening. Greg poured a small bowl of cereal for himself to tide his hunger over; he had been so distracted all day that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Before he went to have a quick shower and change into his more casual and comfortable clothes he glanced at his phone. No messages.
Greg had fallen asleep on the sofa and was awoken by the message tone on his phone. He glanced at his watch, he’d been out an hour. John would be over soon. Greg wiped the sleep from his eyes and took up his phone, opening the message as another one came through.
Lestrade. Greg. Sorry. -SH
Greg stared at the screen for a second in disbelief and opened the next message hesitantly.
What I said and implied this morning was an error. You are a good man. If you had have given up on me all those times I wouldn’t be alive today. Thank you. You make Mycroft happy and I hope he can do the same for you. -SH
Greg reread the text and almost considered calling Sherlock but he knew Sherlock wouldn’t answer him right now, not if it was going to involve talk of feelings. He felt some of the day’s tension drain from his body. The chime of his doorbell took him off guard, it was eight exactly, but John was often late. Also he always buzzed up first to get into the building. Greg shrugged it off, obviously someone had recognised John and let him in.
When he opened the door, instead of John, Mycroft Holmes was standing in front of him. Mycroft was smiling nervously, but looked tired. Greg just stared at him, the man was holding a bouquet of red roses and a takeaway bag from Greg’s favourite Chinese.
“Hello Gregory. I believe I owe you an apology.” Mycroft’s voice was quiet and the nervous expression on his face softened drastically when Greg grinned at him, stepping aside to let him into the flat.
“Shot in the dark but I’m guessing John won’t be gracing us with his presence tonight.” Greg joked as he helped Mycroft out of his coat, and when he came face to face with Mycroft, he was holding out his arms, “These are for you.” Mycroft whispered, handing Greg the flowers. Greg smiled appreciatively, “This is unexpected but thank you.” Mycroft followed him in to the small kitchen, watching as Greg filled the sink and carefully placed the roses in it.
“I believe I have your favourite dish.” Mycroft announced as he placed the takeaway on the counter. As Greg took down two plates from the press, he watched Mycroft. “You look tired.”
Mycroft shrugged, “I don’t sleep much, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Greg lead the way to the sitting room where he sat on the sofa, consciously keeping a small distance between them. “I-“ Mycroft’s voice died in his throat and he shifted awkwardly, “I apologise for this morning.”
Greg shook his head, moving the noodles around his plate. “Work is important, I get that.”
“No-I believe you met Anthea.” Mycroft’s voice was strained.
Greg paused for a minute, hesitant about what to say next but just went for the truth. “I’ve been threatened by many people during my time in Scotland Yard, but I knew the threats didn’t mean shit because they came from people who were going to be behind bars for a pretty long time. This morning was different, Anthea made it pretty clear that she would gladly come after me if-“
Greg stopped talking when Mycroft took both their plates and put them on the table before them. “If you hurt me.” His voice was quiet, but his hand was warm where it rested on Greg’s thigh. Greg just nodded, the hurt clear in his eyes. Mycroft shifted closer to him so that their legs were touching. “You need an explanation.” Mycroft bit his lip, “Anthea is very protective.”
“So is Sherlock.”
Mycroft looked confused at this, “Sherlock?” and Greg just nodded, letting Mycroft put the pieces together. “Would you like to continue this…relationship?” Mycroft asked, taking Greg off guard.
“Definitely. I’d just like to know that you know I would never willingly do anything to hurt you, I’m not that kind of person, but it appears that people who care deeply about you think I am.”
Mycroft grabbed Greg’s hand, squeezing it tightly, “My last relationship nearly killed me.” Mycroft whispered trying to keep his voice level.
“You may have noticed that I have scars on my chest last night.” Mycroft mumbled, his eyes searching Greg’s face and saw a look of understanding flash across it.
“They were bullet wounds, weren't they?” Greg asked, running his thumb across the back of Mycroft’s hand. He felt slightly sick at the thought.
“Yes.” Mycroft breathed, “It turned out that he was a spy and his records were all fake, thus how he passed our security screenings.”
“You don’t have to tell me this if it hurts you.” Greg murmured, squeezing Mycroft’s hands reassuringly.
Mycroft shook his head, “You need to know.” Was his simple answer. “Things went well for a few months, then things took a turn for the worst. I caught him when he was in the process of copying my private computer’s hard-drive, bringing in the fact that he was never meant to know where my office was. It surprised both of us.” Mycroft closed his eyes, and Greg wrapped his arm around Mycroft. “Anthea found me. He had narrowly missed my heart. If it hadn’t been for her and Sherlock’s distrust of my partner, I would have died.”
The colour had drained from Greg’s face as he visualised this faceless man nearly take Mycroft’s life in his mind’s eye.
"And did he get arrested?" Greg questioned
"He's dead." Mycroft replied bluntly as he watched Greg in order to examine his reaction but Greg just nodded once as though it was the answer he was expecting.
"Anthea?"
Mycroft nodded once, "so surely you would understand her being as protective as she is. While my political and work decisions have prevented quite a few wars and have kept this country together, my personal choices have not always been so...wise."
Greg smiled sadly, pulling Mycroft into him, "I understand. I'm glad you have people that care about you. Maybe I could be added to that list too."
"Yes."
Greg nodded once, relief relaxing the tension from his body. "Thank you for trusting me." He whispered into Mycroft's hair.
They ate in a comfortable silence, and Greg stopped when he noticed Mycroft yawning. “Would you like to sleep here tonight?” He asked quietly and when Mycroft sent him a questioning glance he smiled, “Just sleep, I mean. You look done in.”
Mycroft chuckled quietly, reaching out his hand to caress Greg’s cheek, “I would like that. Thank you.”
Greg kissed Mycroft’s hand, “Would you like me to run you a bath?”
“Are you just trying to get me out of my clothes?” Mycroft teased. Greg chuckled as he played with the lapels of Mycroft’s suit and looked up at Mycroft beneath his lashes as he untied his tie for him.
“Wouldn’t really be the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
Mycroft leaned in and kissed Greg lightly, “I definitely won’t complain.” Mycroft hummed, running his hands down Greg’s front, resting on the waistband of his jeans. Greg chuckled when Mycroft tried and failed to cover the fact that he was yawning. “I’ll go run that bath.” Greg whispered as he kissed Mycroft on the cheek. When he came back to the living room a few minutes later, Mycroft was almost asleep and when Greg touched his shoulder he looked up at him sleepily. “I left pyjamas in the bathroom.” When Mycroft stood up, he pulled Greg into his arms, kissing him deeply. “If I wasn’t tired-“ Greg placed his finger on Mycroft’s lips, cutting him off.
“There’ll be plenty of other times. We don’t want the British government collapsing now, do we?”
Mycroft’s returning smile was so genuine and beautiful that it caught Greg’s breath.
“You’re bizarre.” Mycroft confessed as he walked away from Greg.
Greg was sitting back on the bed, eyes skimming a book he had been reading for what seemed like forever, when Mycroft returned. “You’re very thoughtful, my own toothbrush?” Mycroft asked smiling. “After one night?”
Greg shrugged nonchalantly, “No one likes morning breath.” he said jokingly, his smile widening at Mycroft’s reddening cheeks. He gestured to the space beside him. “Sleep.” he said gently as he left to go get changed.
When Greg returned Mycroft was on his side under the covers and his breathing was even and slow. Greg smiled to himself as he climbed into the bed and turned off the bedside light. He was pleasantly surprised when Mycroft turned around, wrapping his arms around his bare torso and pulling him closer. “Goodnight Gregory.” Mycroft whispered in his ear.
Greg fell asleep listening to Mycroft’s even breathing, a smile on his face.
Greg woke up suddenly, not from the small amount of light shining under the curtains, but there was something else. He felt like he was being watched. When he turned around, he found that Mycroft was leaning on one elbow staring at him intently. “Good morning, Gregory.”
Greg blinked a few times, running his hand across his eyes. “Mycroft.” He grinned.
“You still have an hour to spare before your alarm.” Mycroft murmured, “And I am wide awake.”
Greg groaned quietly, “You’re going to kill me.” He dropped his head back on the pillow. “I’m not a young man anymore.”
Mycroft chuckled as he caressed Greg’s face, “Nor am I, but here we are.” He purred.
“C’mere,” Greg ordered, pulling Mycroft down by his night shirt, until he could reach his lips. Mycroft kissed him eagerly, biting his lip and allowing him into his mouth. Greg moaned softly underneath Mycroft and Mycroft grinned against his lips. He moved to straddle Greg and when he began kissing down Greg’s neck he chuckled, “What about morning breath now?” He whispered as he sucked on a sensitive piece of Greg’s neck, causing another soft moan. “Never even noticed. You’re kind of distracting.” Greg panted, as Mycroft moved against him.
As Mycroft moved down Greg’s torso, he pressed against the hardness in Greg’s bottoms and delighted in the resulting sounds that came from Greg. When he had kissed down to the waistband of Greg’s bottoms, he heard him catch his breath.
Mycroft pushed Greg’s bottoms down, freeing Greg’s erect cock and Mycroft smiled before he took the tip in his mouth, hearing Greg breathe his name. Mycroft could already taste the pre come on his tongue. Mycroft slowly trailed his tongue up the underside of Greg’s cock, delighting in the sounds that it was resulting in, he then took Greg deep into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks before starting to bob his head. Greg had a fist of the bedsheets in his hand as he tried to keep still and the other hand found itself on the back of Mycroft’s head, as he tried to buck his hips. He was attempting to keep quiet but Mycroft was incredibly skilled with his mouth and as a result Greg was between moaning and quietly cursing Mycroft’s name alongside minor profanities. “I-I’m close” Greg breathed and Mycroft took him even deeper and all Greg could feel was the warmth of Mycroft’s mouth as he came and the stars behind his eyes as Mycroft took him through the aftermath of his orgasm.
Mycroft had a car waiting outside and he kissed Greg softly on the lips before leaving, smiling back at him as he left the flat, leaving Greg with a promise of seeing him soon.
Greg arrived at the office around his normal time and was somewhat glad to find there had been a particularly gruesome murder that demanded all of his attention and strength. Mycroft had been occupying his thoughts and it made Greg slightly concerned that he had fallen so deeply for the elder Holmes in such a short amount of time and he couldn’t manage to ignore the thought that if Mycroft knew what he really felt, he would leave and put Greg down as an obsessive.
The past week had been eventful. Greg had been working flat out on the case of a cannibal, his first and hopefully his last. One of Sherlock’s plans had gone slightly awry and Greg had ended up almost being seriously stabbed, but he got away with a slight flesh wound. He hadn’t heard from Mycroft for days, except for a text saying he had to travel to North Korea and would be unable to stay in contact. Admittedly, this worried Greg and while Mycroft was often in his thoughts, he was beyond grateful that the cannibal case had kept him distracted for the past week.
When he had come into the office this morning after a few well deserved and needed hours of sleep, he noticed the office was subdued, everyone was exhausted and regretful that there had been four victims of the cannibal before they caught him. Nevertheless, Scotland Yard had been heralded and congratulated by the Queen.
The pile of paperwork that was on Greg’s desk made him long for his bed, but he told himself it was better to be distracted.
The very moment that Greg had decided to take a break and go out for some air and a cigarette, his office door burst open and Sherlock bounced in, followed by an exhausted looking John.
“The day you actually knock a door, I’ll buy you a drink.” Greg muttered.
“I need you to agree with me and tell John that the case name he has chosen for his blog is stupid.”
Greg stared at Sherlock blankly and took a quick glance at John who just rolled his eyes. Sherlock sighed, “He wants to call it ‘The Carless Cannibal’.”
Greg shrugged, “Okay. And?” He caught John throw a smile at him. “From what I remember he was pretty fucking careless. I think it’s perfect, John.” Greg tried to hold back a yawn.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Greg sighed, “I’m tired, I almost got stabbed, and I really don’t care what John names the blog.”
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, “Mycroft?”
“What about him?”
“Have you seen him?”
Greg sat back in his chair, “Well unless I’ve found a way to fly to Korea and work on a case non-stop in London at the same time, of course I have.” He muttered sarcastically.
“As far as I know, the situation in Korea has cooled down.” Sherlock mumbled.
“Since when have you ever paid attention to international politics?” John questioned.
Sherlock shrugged, “I was bored.”
“Sherlock, you’ve been on a case for the last week.”
“Shut up John.” Sherlock hissed, his cheeks becoming red.
John chuckled, “I understand now.” When he winked at a confused Lestrade, Sherlock gave him a warning look. “Anyone want coffee?” John asked with a smile on his face.
“Please.” Greg groaned as John left and Sherlock sat down in front of him and clasped his hands together.
“What do you want?” Greg uttered. “I’m too tired for riddles, Sherlock.”
“Did he take you to the cafe?”
Greg shrugged, “He took me to a cafe he said he liked.”
Sherlock bit his lip, then stared at Greg. “You like him?”
“Of course I do.” Greg watched Sherlock carefully. “He told me what happened to him.”
At this Sherlock could not manage to hide his surprise. “Mycroft…” His voice faded as he struggled to decide what to say. Greg just sat quietly, hoping that John would come back. “Mycroft is serious about you.” When Sherlock saw Greg smile, his posture relaxed.
“I know that I barely know him, and I know that the idea that he might get hurt again is there in your mind. That’s completely understandable.” Greg paused, “You know me, Sherlock. To be honest, I’m pretty serious about Mycroft too.”
The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched, threatening a smile. “You have my blessing.”
Greg snorted, “Sherlock, we’re both grown men, I don’t think we need your blessing.”
“You really did.” Sherlock retorted seriously. John walked through the door at that moment with two paper cups. He smiled at Sherlock as he handed the coffee over to Lestrade and kept the tea for himself.
“Thanks John.” Greg beamed as he took a sip. Sherlock jumped up, catching John by the arm,
“We should go back to 221B.”
John glanced at Greg and then Sherlock. “Okay? I guess?”
Sherlock leaned in to John and whispered something in his ear. John’s eyes widened and he stood up straighter. Sherlock took the cup of tea from John’s hands and took a sip, a satisfied look upon his face. “Goodbye Lestrade.” Sherlock nodded as he waited by the door for John.
“Meet up soon, yeah?” John asked, his cheeks red as he moved towards Sherlock and Greg smiled in response as Sherlock took John’s hand and left the office.
Greg didn’t know how long he had been asleep for, but he vaguely remembered finishing his last piece of paperwork and had decided to rest his head for a bit. However, sleeping with his head on his desk may not have been the brightest idea, he now had a pain in his neck as a result. A darkness had crept into his office and when he checked his watch he saw that it was well past time he should have gone home at. He gathered his things together and pulled his coat around him before leaving the office. No one paid any attention to him, and he was grateful. It meant getting outside into the fresh air without much trouble or delay. Greg had just lit up a cigarette before beginning his journey to the tube station, his head in a complete other world.
“Detective Inspector Lestrade.” A woman’s voice caught Greg’s attention and he turned around to see who it was that had called him. He wasn’t expecting to see Anthea leaning by a black car and he could feel the colour drain from his face as he failed to come up with a greeting. He could have sworn he saw a glint of a smile cross her face at the obvious terror she was causing Greg but she held it well. “You need to come with me.”
Greg stood on the butt of his cigarette and walked over to the car, “Is Mycroft okay?” At that moment, Greg didn’t care how worried he sounded, what was worse were the numerous terrifying scenarios that were passing through his mind.
Anthea nodded, a small smile of what seemed like approval crossed her face for a second. “Mr Holmes is fine, he’s waiting for you.” She motioned to the open car door and Lestrade followed dumbly. Anthea was silent for the car journey, too busy typing on her phone to speak. Greg sat uncomfortably, anxiety pulsing through him as London’s bright lights fled past. Greg glanced at Anthea warily a few times, and even though she never looked his way, he could have sworn there was a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
The car came to a stop outside what Greg recognised as the cafe that Mycroft had taken him to. Greg glanced hesitantly at Anthea, who was watching him carefully, eyes narrowed.
“I-“ Greg’s voice died in his throat, and what he had wanted to say to her had fled from his mind.
“Don’t keep Mr Holmes waiting.” Anthea’s voice was softer than earlier and there was an unexpected kindness in her eyes. “You are both good men.”
The driver opened Greg’s door before he could reply to her and when he glanced over at her, she was busy typing on her phone, completely oblivious to his presence.
Greg took in the sight of the little cafe. The blinds were drawn, but through the glass in the door, there was a soft light shining out, and he could see a few candles flickering on the counter. He hesitantly walked to the door and took a calming breath before pushing it and entering the cafe. The first thing that met him as he walked in was the overwhelming smell of cinnamon, confused he cast a glance around the cafe until his eyes fell on Mycroft, who was standing beside a small table that was set romantically, and smiling nervously.
When their eyes met, they couldn’t help the smiles that crossed their faces. “Hello, Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice was quiet but Greg felt a shiver run through him at the sound of his name in Mycroft’s mouth. Greg quickly closed the distance between them, eyes shining. “Hello there.”
Greg drew Mycroft into him, and placed a light kiss on his lips. He grinned against Mycroft’s lips as Mycroft deepened the kiss, his hands resting on the base of Greg’s back. When they separated, there was a deep blush in Mycroft’s cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”
Greg chuckled, caressing Mycroft’s cheek, “I missed you quite a bit too. You’re okay?”
Mycroft cast a confused glance at Greg before motioning him to sit down. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well you didn’t exactly travel to the safest place on earth. Guess I was overthinking it.”
Mycroft shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a shadow falling across his face. Greg caught the change immediately and he felt his stomach drop. “Are you alright?”
Mycroft forced a smile as he nodded once. He reached across the table to hold Greg’s hand. “I should have addressed this before.” He paused and glanced around the empty cafe. “The thing is, nowhere is really one hundred per cent safe for me.” Mycroft frowned deeply, “and it was not fair of me to not explain that fact first, especially with the other issue I told you about.”
Greg smiled slightly, “Mycroft, you’re basically the British government. I had figured out that there would be a lot of possible threats against your safety. Mine too, if I were to be associated with you.”
Greg smiled as he saw some of the tension relax in Mycroft’s shoulders. “You also have to understand that in my line of work, there is always a chance I will get hurt or injured. It’s what happens to people like us. We can’t wrap ourselves away like glass.” Greg took a deep breath and tried to make eye contact with Mycroft, “The chance of being with you outweighs the danger that we might be in. It wouldn’t be us if there was no danger, our jobs are part of who we are. It’s just the way this works.” He squeezed Mycroft’s hand, “I know it’s early, and I don’t want to scare you, but I…I am willing to be committed in this and we’ll deal with the safety issues as they come along.” Greg relaxed and laughed quietly at Mycroft’s expression of shock and amazement and waited until the other man was able to speak. “I never thought-“ Mycroft’s voice caught in his throat, and he coughed to cover the fact, “that I’d find someone who understood.”
“You have me now.” Greg murmured, his thumb tracing a pattern on the back of Mycroft’s hand.
The comfortable silence that had fallen over them as they held hands across the table was soon interrupted as the barista that he remembered was called Lucy appeared behind the counter, bursting out from somewhere in the back. She was carrying a tray of food and Greg raised an eyebrow at Mycroft who shrugged, a smile crossing his features.
“Hello, Loverboys!” Lucy’s voice filled the cafe and Greg could feel himself blush as she arrived at the table. She was grinning widely, eyes shining with excitement. “Delighted to see you again!” She sang as she winked at Greg, who blushed even more than he thought was possible. “So the menu tonight is very special.” Lucy hummed as she set down the identical plates in front of Mycroft and Greg. “Mycroft Holmes himself is quite the chef!” She grinned as she took away the covers off the plates to reveal what looked like an elaborate spaghetti bolognese. “It’s his specialty,” She whispered as he leant down to Greg’s height. Greg caught Mycroft blushing furiously but before he could say anything, Lucy interrupted them again. “So! Will it be coffee, or a nice red wine?” She asked as she stepped back and watched them. Greg shrugged, biting his lip. Did he want a shot of caffeine at 9pm and risk not sleeping tonight, but maybe getting to spend it with Mycroft. Or did he want nice food with what was probably a wine that Mycroft had chosen specially to go with the exact taste of the bolognese. He cast a questioning glance across at Mycroft who seemed to have read his mind. “We’ll take the wine with this course, thank you Lucy.”
“You cooked this?” Greg asked, a smile tugging at his lips. When Mycroft nodded, Greg shook his head, “You’re full of surprises.” He waited until Lucy returned with the wine and Mycroft raised his glass in a toast and Greg followed suit.
“Oh! I meant to say but Sherlock gave us his ‘blessing’” Greg used air quotes and Mycroft laughed quietly, the sound filling Greg’s chest with warmth.
“Ah, you also had an angry Sherlock visit?”
Greg nodded, “He was very…serious?”
Mycroft smiled, “He rarely approves of people in general. Sherlock wants to scare them away to see if they’ll stay. As much as he hates it, he does care.”
“I can see that between him and John.” Greg mumbled, scraping the last of the spaghetti from his plate. “I also think Anthea wants to kill me a little less.” He tried to pass it off as a joke but failed.
Mycroft smirked, “That’s more important than Sherlock’s approval, if we’re being honest.”
“I’m glad.” Greg reached across the table and moved to hold Mycroft’s hand. “You’re an amazing chef.” When Mycroft looked proud, Greg chuckled, “Never thought I’d say that to a Holmes.” He shuddered, “I’ve heard John’s horror stories.”
“It’s a good thing we’re not alike then.” Mycroft smiled, “Would you like some coffee?”
Greg smirked, “Plans for tonight?”
A deep blush crossed Mycroft’s face. “Perhaps.”
“Good.” Greg hummed as he brushed his leg against Mycroft’s beneath the table. Mycroft took a breath before calling for Lucy, who made their coffees without any fuss and brought them over. As she was taking away their plates, she leaned down closer to the both of them, “I’m so happy for you both.” Her voice was quiet and she quickly disappeared.
Greg looked at Mycroft with confusion clear in his eyes. “Lucy is very enthusiastic.” He said in explanation. He quickly took a sip of coffee and relaxed back into his chair. “This is amazing.” Greg sighed, taking another sip from his coffee. “How did you manage to get this place for the night?”
Mycroft shrugged, “I own it.” He grinned at Greg’s obvious surprise. “Lucy runs it. It’s safe here. The coffee is significantly better than anywhere else I’ve ever set foot in in London.”
“I definitely won’t disagree with that.”
Mycroft smiled proudly, drinking the last of his coffee. “Would you like to come home with me tonight?”
Greg grinned, “I thought you’d never ask.” He and Mycroft both stood and went towards each other. Mycroft kissed Greg slowly and delicately. When he pulled away, Greg was breathless. “We should take this somewhere more private.” He purred into Greg’s ear and smiled innocently when Greg threw him a glance that told him he had left Greg in a state far from put together.
As they moved to leave, Mycroft placed his hand on Greg’s lower back and they drifted towards the counter where Lucy had her back to them and was whispering animately with someone who was hidden by the coffee machine. Mycroft coughed once and Lucy swung around, a smile on her face. “I hope you both had a lovely night.”
“It was wonderful, thank you Lucy.” Mycroft’s voice was soft and his smile kind. Lucy waved her hand dismissively in the air, “Anything for you.” She sang, then she grabbed the person who was behind the machine. Greg tried to mask his expression of shock when he saw Anthea, who he hadn’t noticed enter the cafe. Her smile was tight and her cheeks reddened slightly when Lucy pulled her close to her side. “The car is waiting outside, sir.” Anthea announced, her voice softer and her eyes kinder than Greg had ever imagined possible. “See you tomorrow, sir.” She added, smiling fondly at Mycroft. Anthea merely nodded at Greg, but Lucy winked at him as they left.
Greg sat close to Mycroft during their car ride, Mycroft’s hand resting high on Greg’s thigh. The car ride was short, thankfully, Greg thought. He had been gradually become more impatient to get Mycroft alone. Mycroft helped him out of the car. It was dark, and he could tell they were surrounded by many trees, a shelter of sorts. The only source of light came from a small lamp above the front door. Greg couldn’t see the house properly, but he knew it was bigger than average. Mycroft let go of Greg for the few seconds it took him to unlock the door and disarm the alarm, and ushered him in. “Here we are.” Mycroft’s voice echoed in the wide hallway.
Greg leaned in to press a kiss on Mycroft’s lips. “You say that a lot.”
Mycroft watched Greg carefully, “It’s a reminder of sorts.” Mycroft drew Greg closer, “I like the fact that I can live in the moment with you, Gregory. I rarely get the pleasure of doing so.”
A smiling Greg pressed Mycroft against the nearest wall and began trailing light kisses from Mycroft’s cheek and down his neck. When he went to glance up at Mycroft under his lashes, he placed a brief kiss at the point where Mycroft’s shirt met his neck. “Bedroom?” He asked suggestively. Mycroft moaned quietly as he grabbed Greg’s wrist to lead him towards the stairs.
The early morning light spilling through the light curtains had woken Greg. It took him a brief moment to remember where he was, the warm arms around his torso was a helpful clue. Greg smiled as he watched Mycroft sleep peacefully, his head resting on Greg’s chest, breathing even and his face peaceful. He would have ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, had the other man not been in a position challenging Greg’s mobility. Greg couldn’t help but smile to himself. He’d once been married for over ten years and he had never felt so impossibly close to someone like this before, and it amazed him. He could feel a warmth in his chest that was not related to Mycroft’s head resting on him. It was jarring to think he barely knew the man beside him, but also that he felt a deep connection to him. Mycroft had trusted him, and in turn it had allowed Greg to see a Mycroft that was rarely, if ever, shown. Looking down at Mycroft now, so peaceful and quiet, Greg found comfort to see the relaxation in Mycroft’s face; worry lines and slight wrinkles smooth. Countless facts, observations and political secrets held safe within the man.
“I know you’re awake.” Mycroft grumbled quietly, words slightly slurred from sleep. He didn’t make any effort to move and when Greg placed a gentle kiss on Mycroft’s head, Greg saw the hint of a smile appear on the man’s face. “Here we are, My.” Greg declared, his voice quiet.
He understood now; what it felt like to live in the moment, with someone he loved.