Chapter Text
Greg kissed Mycroft gently, still half asleep himself. They were still in that strange space between Christmas and New Year where no one really knows what day it is. “Morning,” he mumbled, not even sure if it was morning.
Ever since the incident with his siblings, Mycroft hadn’t wanted Greg to stay at his own flat. So here he was, in Mycroft's large, plush bed enjoying being wrapped around his gorgeous redhead.
“Morning,” Mycroft groaned back, keeping his eyes shut. “What time is it?”
“Mmm, I don’t know… does it matter?” Greg hummed as he kissed the freckles on Mycroft’s back.
“Hmmmmmm,” Mycroft hummed back in appreciation. “When you put it like that…” He turned over slightly and reached up to pull Greg in for a proper kiss. “I like waking up beside you,” he admitted.
Greg hummed happily and kissed Mycroft back. “I like it too. Not sick of me being here yet?”
“Jury’s out,” Mycroft teased, but kissed Greg quickly before his partner could argue. “It’s new. I’m used to being on my own. It’s just been me. All the time. So I won’t promise to know how to do this all the time. But yes, I like it: having you here. So far. And you aren’t going back to that dive. No partner of mine is living like that. As an added benefit, now your family can’t find you. And my security detail won’t let them anywhere near us.”
“My…” Greg chuckled and smiled. “Are you a protective boyfriend?” he teased as he ran his nose along Mycroft’s.
“Well, I am an unbearably protective older brother, so I suspect so. You’re going to have to get used to it.” He pulled Greg in tighter. “I know you’re used to busily protecting everyone else but I hope you’ll let me focus on you now.”
Greg blushed and hid his face in Mycroft’s neck. “You’ll have to be patient with me. I’m not used to being taken care of.”
“You’ll have to be patient with me for everything else. Seems like a fair trade, don’t you think?” Mycroft kissed the side of his face.
“Very fair.” Greg smiled and kissed at Mycroft’s neck. He groaned as his phone started ringing. “For fuck’s saaaaake.”
Mycroft couldn’t help giggling at his frustration. “Get it,” he said gently, giving him permission. He pushed Greg away from him gently. Once he had reached for his phone, Mycroft pulled Greg backwards and snuggled his face against his back, planting kisses on it quietly as he let Greg pick up the call.
“Lestrade,” Greg said as he answered the phone. “What?” He frowned. “Where?” he asked and listened. “Christ on a cracker. Yeah. I’ll be there. Don’t let anyone touch anything and put up privacy screens so the public can’t see,” he growled and hung up.
Mycroft let out frustrated sigh. “I guess that’s the end of our fun, then,” he said in a sulk.
“Someone killed Father Christmas and left him in the shopping centre for the kiddies to see.” Greg groaned and rubbed his face.
“Good lord. That’s a bit extreme. I’m not a fan of Christmas but that seems a bit unnecessary,” Mycroft replied. “I guess someone didn’t like their gift this year. You better get to it before half of London’s youth are traumatised.” He twisted Greg around and pulled him tighter in for a squeeze before releasing him. “Towels are in the bathroom cupboard. Feel free to steal a fresh ironed shirt from my wardrobe. I’ll go and sort us some coffee. You’ll need it by the sounds.”
“I wanted to stay in bed with my red-headed freckled Adonis,” Greg whined and pressed his face to Mycroft’s chest again. “Stupid Santa Clause going and getting himself murdered,” he grumbled and got himself up, shuffling to the bathroom.
Red headed freckled Adonis? Mycroft was confused, looking at himself in the mirror. He was still completely unsure what that gorgeous man saw in him. He had a late meeting today. Originally he he planned to cancel, but should probably attend now that Greg was going to leave. He decided on his silk robe and some boxers with slippers to trudge down to the kitchen first. He would sort Greg and get him out the door and then get on his own way afterwards. He decided to rustle up some toast and coffee for them both while Greg got ready. Maybe he could get used to this more permanently. Or maybe he should find Greg his own place close by? He would set Anthea to the task of inquiring with the usual agents first and see what he could arrange. Greg would want space. It was too early to simply move him in surely?
Greg made quick work of showering and getting dressed - wearing one of Mycroft’s shirts as he had suggested, was a nice way to keep him close, as if Mycroft would be there, pressed to his chest all day. Once he made himself presentable, he joined Mycroft down in the kitchen. “You have great water pressure here. Oh god, coffee, you’re a dream, My.” He smiled and kissed Mycroft’s cheek before grabbing desperately for his coffee.
“Toast too,” Mycroft offered. “I haven’t sent off my shopping list yet and I wasn’t sure what you’d like so you have some choices. Marmite, jam, marmalade and honey. Take your pick.” He blushed. “I might have gone overboard. But we can get some more options in for you for next time.”
“It’s perfect. You’re wonderful.” Greg pulled at Mycroft’s dressing gown tie to pull him in and kiss him tenderly. “You’ve got work today, yeah?”
“Yes. But not for a bit. You can take the car. Anthea will be here shortly to take you where you want to go. Then they can come back for me.” He chewed on some toast. “Shall we… meet up for dinner? I… don’t want to presume…”
“Dinner sounds great.” Greg smiled and nodded. “Want to go somewhere? Or we could order in? Or we could cook?”
Mycroft’s phone buzzed and he looked at it. “Out I think. Let’s eat out.” He looked at Greg to check his interest. “I have something to show you anyway.”
Anthea had already come through with an apartment option for Greg. They could eat after he showed Greg the apartment and see if he’d like to move in there. Surely he’d be excited by that?
“I’ll text an address to meet me.”
“Okay great.” Greg nodded, finishing his toast.
Mycroft put his coffee down and pulled him in closer again. “Thanks for staying. Not that I gave you any choice in the matter.” He kissed Greg tenderly.
“Mmm, it’s working out pretty great for me.” Greg held Mycroft to him and kissed him back.
Before he could settle into things, Mycroft’s own phone started going off too and the spell was broken. “I guess I have to get to it as well,” he sighed, giving Greg a peck on the cheek before whisking himself away to have private calls and when he got back to the kitchen, Greg had already gone.
______________________________
The crime scene was just about as bad as he thought. The Father Christmas display was still set up in the middle of the shopping centre and there, atop the throne of presents, was the dead man dressed as jolly old Saint Nick.
“Bloody hell.” Greg sighed and put protective booties over his shoes as there was quite a bit of blood. Too much blood. More than one human could hold, in fact.
“Not what you expect to see after such a lovely Christmas,” John leaned over Greg’s shoulder to say with a heavy sigh. “Greg.” He gave a professional nod at his friend before stepping back.
“John.” Greg nodded back. “Hell of a wake up call back to the real world.”
Sherlock was swanning around the crime scene, taking everything in.
“You’re not wrong,” John moaned. “I was perfectly snuggled up in the warmth with my new fiancé. Not that he seems bothered by it. If you ask me, he’d rather be here!”
Greg snorted. “All stir crazy after the holiday fun, huh? Can’t keep him all pent up. You two started planning yet?”
“God, we just got back, Greg!” John exclaimed in shock. “We spoke about it briefly. I feel like Sherlock will either take ten years to get around to it or he has a secret binder with planning. There’s going to be no in between. I’m a bit scared to find out which way he’s going to go. Between him and his mother…” He sighed. “I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”
“I’m pretty sure Sherlock is just going to text you an address and a time one day and when you show up it’ll be the wedding.” Greg laughed and laughed.
“That’s not even funny. You know that’s possible!” John crossed his arms looking at the crime scene. “So what are you thinking? I haven’t even tackled Sherlock’s brain yet. I need my caffeine to sink in first.”
“I don’t even know. There’s enough blood here for at least five or six people.” Greg sighed.
“Five and three quarters, actually, but a good estimation.” Sherlock nodded as he came over.
John raised his eyebrows. “So what’s the theory then? Is this some sort of mass murder performance art for Christmas?” John asked sarcastically.
“Not sure yet. We’ll have to take samples of the blood to see if it’s all human first and then check for any matches. The really odd thing is that the corpse has no brain,” Sherlock added calmly.
Greg blinked. “The…? How the hell does he not have a brain?”
“Are you sure, Sherlock? You say that about most people.” John couldn’t resist being a smartarse. They were meant to still be on holidays.
Sherlock smirked in a way that said: I’m going to kiss you senseless later for that. “I’m sure. It’s been removed through the nose,” he replied simply and nodded.
“Through his nose? Wouldn’t it be easier to just… I don’t know, cut his head open?” Greg asked.
“It would, but this is part of the killer’s signature. Removing the brain through the nose is an ancient Egyptian technique that would happen during the embalming process. I’d bet money that the stomach, intestines, liver, and lungs are removed as well,” Sherlock added.
“Lovely,” John sighed. “Very glad you told me to skip breakfast for now.”
“Indeed.” Sherlock hummed as he looked around. “Now where are the jars…?”
“Jars?!” John exclaimed. “You think they’ve left everything in jars for us to find?!”
“If they’re following the mummification ritual.” Sherlock nodded. “There are probably other bodies still waiting to be found if the blood is anything to go by.”
John shook his head in shock and shared a horrified look with Greg. “Tell me something mildly pleasant to counteract that. “You and Mycroft… got back okay last night? Things all still… good?” he asked awkwardly.
“Good. Really good. He’s not letting me stay at my place.” He looked at John, and seeing his expression rushed on with more information. “When we got hom, my siblings ambushed us outside my place. It wasn’t great. But I’ve been staying at Mycroft’s ever since.” Greg chuckled.
“Oh wow. What exactly…? Never mind. Probably not my business. I know you’ve had trouble with them. I didn’t realise it was that bad. Mycroft the protector, huh? I have to admit it’s annoying when I’m on the receiving end of the bluster, but it’s probably pretty nice if you’re the recipient of the protection.”
“It is actually.” Greg chuckled and smiled.
“So… the family isn’t thrilled that you’re already moving on? Or is it the person you’re moving on with that they take issue with?”
“Both? I’m sure they’ve tried to call or text me since, knowing them, but somehow, Mycroft has rerouted the calls so they don’t go to my phone,” Greg said.
“Well that is impressive.” John was surprised. “Maybe I’ll have to get him to do some of that for my family. You look… good, Greg. It’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea of Mycroft Holmes being the source of your happiness. But you look good.”
“I’m still getting used to it too.” Greg chuckled. “But it’s… it’s like feeling springtime sun rays on your face for the first time after winter thaws.” He sighed dreamily.
“Good god, you’re head over heels for my brother.” Sherlock pretended to gag. “I’m happy for you but do you have to be so mushy?”
“I’m sorry… What was that thing you said to me last night? After I, ah—“ John stopped himself deliberately teasing Sherlock. He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow cheekily at him. “Don’t listen to him, Greg. Sherlock has enough sop in him to outdo the two of you combined. I guarantee it.”
“And with that we’ll be off.” Sherlock turned on his heel and headed out.
“Let me know if you find the jars!” Greg called after him.
John raced after Sherlock. “Oi!“ he called out. “Wait!”
Sherlock slowed his pace a bit so John could catch up.
When John caught up he wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s waist. They walked slowly in silence for a moment before John said, “Sorry,” under his breath. “Just teasing. Because I love you so much.”
“Sorry for what?” Sherlock asked, leaning in to him. “I don’t think you said anything warranting an apology.”
“Okay. Good. I’m just not used to… us. At work. In the open. I don’t want to overstep,” he explained.
“John, you’ve been inside me. I don’t think you could overstep any further.” Sherlock snorted.
John laughed openly. “Well this is true. So where are these jars then?”
“Somewhere here in the shopping centre,” Sherlock said, moving to a nearby centre map and studying it. “I just hope we find it before someone else does.”
“Oh god…” John felt ill at the idea of someone else finding it first. “Well then, lead the way, Detective,” John said in a low growl.
“Considering they left the body out for children to see, I expect they’ll target places children would go. A children’s clothing store, arcade, wherever else children frequent.” Sherlock hummed in thought. “Where do kids go?”
John thought for a moment. “There’s a… god there’s a toy store just…” He started to point in that direction right as they heard a blood curdling scream.
“Damn.” Sherlock sprinted off towards the screams.
John followed close on his heels, the screaming spreading to more customers and the noise of general chaos ensued. A couple of security guards started running from off to their left, heading in the same direction.
Sherlock skidded to a halt and pushed his way through the crowd that was gathered in a large circle around a young girl. The girl was holding a jar away from herself and blood dripped down the sides.
Sherlock quickly pulled on gloves from his pocket. “Hello, young lady,” he said in the calmest, sweetest voice. “You’re not in trouble. Can you carefully hand the jar to me?”
“I…I… I thought it was a toy!” She sniffled. “I opened it!”
“It’s okay. It’s alright.” Sherlock picked up the jar lid that was lying on the ground.
John moved quickly to pull the girl aside as soon as she handed the jar over.
“You’re a very good girl for holding onto that and not dropping it. Aren’t you super brave? Where’s your mummy? Or daddy?” He put his arm around her carefully, leading her away from the onlookers and throwing Sherlock a glance to check in.
Sherlock nodded and carefully closed the jar after looking inside.
“Abby!” A woman pushed in through the crowd.
“Mummy!” The girl cried.
“She’s all right,” John rushed to say. “She was very brave and helpful and we just might get her to the bathrooms to clean her up a bit. Could you help her with that and then come back? The police may want to just ask a few questions, work out where she found it and if she saw anyone. But right now, she needs her mummy and some soap and water I suspect. I think we can release her to clean up without compromising anything.” John checked with Sherlock one more time as he helped guide them away from the crowd and out the exit towards some nearby bathrooms. He followed for a moment to ensure no one got in their way. “I’ll wait right over here,” he said gently. God he hoped they didn’t run off.
Sherlock inspected the jar as the police got the onlookers out of there. It was an excellent recreation. Someone with a high amount of skill and knowledge of the ancient world.
John finally brought the mother and daughter back and passed them over to a female police officer onsite who was happy to work with them so he could find his way back to Sherlock. “So? What are you thinking?” he asked, watching Sherlock. “The girl didn’t see anyone. It was already here when she found it. Any clues?”
“Someone must have come in in the middle of the night. Placing the body and blood as well as the jars.” Sherlock sighed. “This is the intestines. So the stomach, liver, and lungs are still out there.”
“Great,” John sighed. “I guess that kills the romance I had planned for tonight,” he teased. “I can see that excited twinkle in your eyes already. You want to wait for Lestrade or are we going to keep hunting for the next one?”
“Hunting. I don’t want any more children getting scarred for life.” Sherlock shook his head and handed the jar off to the police for evidence collection.
“Well, this is true. Traumatising children is not what we’re about.” He sighed. He did want to enjoy celebrating their engagement in their home together a little longer before reality set back in but it seemed a life with the mad detective always centred around danger and chaos and The Work. John knew it was part of the draw for him too, though. He needed it almost as much as Sherlock. It was why they worked as a couple, why they had been drawn to each other. “You know before… Before you knew how I felt, I mostly followed you around because… because it was fun and because I was crazy about you, so I wanted to be in your orbit. To soak up all of the excitement and the mystery. And now… well now, I know you’ll come home to me regardless. But I still want to be here. And I hope that’s… I hope you still want that too? I can stay home if you want sometimes. If I’m slowing you down, I mean.” John was babbling and he looked up to see Sherlock staring at him. “Am I overthinking it?”
“You’re overthinking.” Sherlock nodded, discarding his soiled gloves and then leaned in to kiss John. “I’ve told you before that your place is by my side. I meant that then and I mean it now.”
John sucked in a relieved breath and let it out. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “You just may need to remind me every so often. I’m glad.” He smiled. “I’m here to do your bidding, my prince,” he added in a silly voice, bowing low with a comical hand gesture.
Sherlock grinned. “My knight in shining armour.”
“You know it,” John grinned. “I’ll whisk you off your feet later. If you’ll let me. Although, I don’t like my chances. You’re in work mode now. So come on, let’s go. I was thinking there’s a children’s playground down the other end, if I remember correctly,” he suggested.
“Good idea.” Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and dragged him off.
John squeezed it. In the time they had lived and worked together, Sherlock had grabbed his hand a number of times to drag him along, often in a platonic, impatient way before they had even discussed their feelings. Back then, John was conscious of avoiding it at all costs. Once they were together, and he was trying to keep it secret, he refused to let Sherlock touch him in public. But now, being pulled along, now that they were making things public, he finally smiled to himself happily.
“If you were a murderer where would you hide a jar of or hands for a child to find?” Sherlock asked when they arrived.
“Hmm, somewhere not instantly visible. For maximum impact… So more people might be around before it’s found… later in the day… probably… inside?” John suggested, as he noticed the little cubby house over to one side. A young boy was moving unsteadily towards the cubby, looking excited and John raced over, grabbing him. “Hi there little buddy. This bit of the playground is out of order I’m afraid.” He threw Sherlock a look as he spotted the edge of the jar just inside the door, sitting on a shelf, and gave a nod. Knowing Sherlock would race ahead, he steered the boy away.
His mother came over looking terrified that John was about to kidnap her son. John raised his eyebrows over the head of the mother who he was apologising to, trying not to give anything away. He managed to pry himself away quickly to join Sherlock, as the slightly unhappy mother took her son, grabbing her bag and leaving the area swiftly. She threw John a couple of disbelieving looks as he vanished into the distance.
Sherlock pulled on another set of gloves from his pocket and gently opened the jar. “Stomach,” he said and quickly closed it again.
“Perhaps I should call Lestrade, let him know to send a crew here to dust for prints?”
“Yeah, that would be best. And see if they got into the CCTV cameras yet. The doors are locked after hours but they work on a keycard system. We need to know who was the last out last night or first in this morning.” Sherlock nodded.
“Can’t be that simple,” John said. “Something tells me that a stolen keycard is in the mix then.”
“Or… someone with programming knowledge.” Sherlock looked around, seeing all the cameras conveniently turned in the other direction.
John followed Sherlock’s eyes to see where he was looking. “Right…” he commented with interest. “Your brother might have some leads for who could be tapping into that, surely?” He grabbed his phone and called Lestrade, giving some instructions.
Sherlock nodded. “Definitely.”
“Lestrade’s on his way,” John said once he hung up. “I supposed we have to wait with the jar and hope no children recognise it as actual blood,” John said with a heavy sigh. “ And hope that no one finds another jar in the meantime. There’s a bookstore at the end of the other level. I thought maybe… in the children’s section?”
Sherlock nodded. “Well done, John. You’re being very insightful today. Would you like to go and check? I can wait until Lestrade arrives here and then I’ll meet you.”
“Are you… sure?” John frowned. He didn’t like leaving Sherlock alone. “We just don’t know… who is doing this.”
Sherlock could see John’s hesitancy. “I’ll stay. It’s alright.”
“Ok.” John looked at him sternly for a minute then reached out and touched his arm. “Be careful,” he warned and then he ran off to the bookstore.
______________________________
He could see, in the distance, quite a collection of children heading for the store and he had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.
“Oh god.” He ran faster. He dialled Greg and barked orders to send backup to the bookstore as he got nearer. He pushed past the crowd of mums and dads and excited children, spotting the signage now for some sort of book event, as he ran to the counter.
“You need to empty the store!” he whispered loudly. “There’s a situation.” The young lady behind the counter stared at him like he’d grown two heads.
“Now. You need to clear the store out now.”
“We have Bethany Standridge here. She’s doing a reading,” the lady said in a whine, as if that excused her inaction.
“I don’t know who the bloody hell that is but I promise you, there will be parents suing you for their childrens’ therapy bills if you don’t listen to me. And move, right now. The police are on their way.”
The girl made no move, glaring at John so he pushed into the store, shoving through the crowd and ignoring the complaints from within. Around a corner, further inside the store, in the midst of the children’s section, was a beautiful red-headed lady, seated beside a little table. On the table, there was some large-ish object, covered in a dark star cloth. It looked magical. The children were understandably buzzing with anticipation. But John knew better. He wanted to rush over and remove it, but the lady had already begun to speak.
“Shit,” he sighed under his breath.
The mother standing near him flashed him an unimpressed look for his bad language. But John knew what was coming. If he were a psychopath, choosing a dramatic reveal like this would be considered perfect. A crowd. An excitable crowd with innocent minds.
“Are we ready to see what I’ve brought?” The author asked brightly.
John felt his stomach drop. It was too late to launch forward and make a scene. The author lifted the cloth slowly. Her face looked surprised at the item underneath and everyone in the crowd looked equally confused as John finally leapt forward.
“Sorry everyone. Sorry. We just had a bit of a mix up with the props,” he said boldly.
“Wait. Is that… blood?! ” one of the older kids finally said loudly, and then all hell broke loose.
John threw the cloth back over it and lifted it up as a few of the mums and children started to gasp and cry. The author stood in shock, not able to recover from the interruption.
“No, no. Dye. It’s fake,” Sherlock said as he walked through the crowd confidently. “Red dye. Mix up with the props. Sorry about that, everyone. The reading is over.” As if on cue, the evacuation alarm sounded. “If you’ll kindly move out to the exit please. It seems there’s also a gas leak coming from the café on this level, so the whole centre is being evacuated. Right this way.” Sherlock ushered people out of the store.
John stood there relieved at Sherlock’s arrival. Clearly he and Greg had come up with quite a genius plan. Now if they could just get everyone evacuated, perhaps they could find the rest of these blood filled jars, without traumatising anyone else. John said a few placatory words to the confused author who also quickly removed herself from the store, while complaining to the store manager about her interrupted event. Lestrade flashed his badge to the passing crowd, assisting to get everyone out of the building.
John got out of the store, jar still in hand and slumped against a nearby wall outside the bookstore, the pressure of running after this lunatic upsetting him. He wasn’t scared. They had chased many a dangerous lunatic before. But trying to ensure that all those lovely young minds were safe, that there wasn’t anyone unnecessarily caught up in the trauma of it all. Once the bookstore was empty, Sherlock came back to John.
“He’s getting a kick out of making us chase him,” John said angrily. “He’s traumatising children and finding it funny.”
“He’s getting a kick out of.. OH JOHN! You’re brilliant!” Sherlock shouted. He went and kissed John deeply.
John looked a bit shell shocked. “Thank you…? I think? Why exactly am I brilliant?” he asked. He was confused, not to mention a little embarrassed. He glanced to the side and saw a few shocked police crew nudging each other with mouths gaping.
“He’s getting a kick out of it John! This is all very public and showy. He wants to watch these children’s innocence stolen from them. He’s watching,” Sherlock said quietly.
John looked around immediately. “The cameras… or is he… here?”
“No. He’s watching us. If you and I get close to him he’ll flee. We need to make a show of searching for the last jars. We need to look frantic,” Sherlock said.
“Sherlock, don't you go chasing after murderers,” John said, grabbing for his hand but catching air as Sherlock already started moving at pace. John had no choice but to chase after him.
“Just… be careful, alright? There will be hell to pay if you…” He let the thought trail off as he flashed a crooked grin at the officers watching them. John followed his partner without arguing. “Sherlock,” he sighed out of breath already as he began falling behind. “Where next, then?”
“Children’s clothing store,” Sherlock said, dragging John behind him. “We’re going to make a mess looking for it. We’re buying Lestrade time, ” he whispered.
John followed. “Do you think… Can he find the killer? How much time are we trying to buy? And where’s your brother? He has to be able to help. Surely he won’t want Greg in danger.”
John realised he was being annoying but this was the first serious and slightly worrying case since he and Sherlock had officially been seeing each other, and were getting married now. He was suddenly acutely aware of not wanting to lose his partner. More so than ever before. Danger had been his friend, his kink before. And now, Sherlock was his kink and he wanted danger as far away from his partner as possible. Far, far away. He didn’t like this situation one bit and he was getting very nervous watching Sherlock run from crime scene to crime scene excitedly. What if the killer was waiting for them at the next location?
“It’ll be fine. The killer is watching from somewhere safe. It’s all about the show, John. The discovery, the horror, the loss of innocence,” Sherlock assured him.
“Right, well I will follow your lead,” he said confidently. “But I reserve the right to be pissed if you get hurt,” he added in a whisper.
“Ditto.” Sherlock nodded
__________________________
Mycroft had been working, trying to focus and then he had received a notification. Breaking news at a nearby shopping mall. He couldn’t resist looking at the security cameras and his heart sank as he saw Greg there. Of course he’d be there… and his idiot brother dragging him into it as usual.
He dialled Greg’s phone anxiously.
Greg picked up as he walked along a corridor. “Hey, My, what’s up?”
“What the hell are you doing?” Mycroft whispered loudly and urgently into the phone.
“Just taking a walk. Seeing the sights. What’re you up to? How’s work?” Greg asked brightly, peeking into rooms as he passed.
“Don’t play coy with me. You’re at the shopping centre. I know it and you know it.” Mycroft could hear his voice get all high pitched and huffy and he couldn’t stop it. He did not like his new partner being at risk. “Would you at least walk around with another officer for back up?!”
“I can’t. It would be suspicious,” Greg whispered.
Mycroft shook his head and wiped his free hand over his forehead. “You better make it home tonight…” Then he coughed awkwardly… “I mean, assuming… when I say home, I don’t mean… But just… to my…” He stopped and let out a heavy sigh. “I want to see you tonight. In one piece. With me please. If you can get away? Otherwise, I’ll worry too much.”
“Of course I’m coming home to you. Where else would I go?” Greg chuckled softly. “What do you want to do for dinner?”
“I… I can’t think straight knowing you’re out there like that. Bring something with you when you’re done. Just… be safe,” he sighed.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve got my stab vest on and everything,” Greg told him.
“Your…? Did you just say stab vest?! I swear to god, my constitution is not built to date someone who owns a blessed stab vest!” He sat heavily back into his chair.
“My, need I remind you that a building you were in was the target of a terrorist bombing last week, and you only missed it because you left at just the right time by the grace of god?” Greg hummed. “A stab vest is standard equipment for me. I’ve tried to get your brother to wear one but it’s like trying to hold down a greased piglet.”
Mycroft scoffed. “That’s beside the point. It’s entirely different now. You’re… more important now.” He didn’t know how to say it properly but it was true.
“And so I’ll be more careful,” Greg said as he heard typing noises from a partially open door. “Hold on one second, My…” he whispered, and put his phone in his pocket leaving the call on.
“Gregory!” Mycroft called out before he heard muffled sounds and then the phone being dropped into a pocket.
“Hands up!” he shouted as he flung the door open, seeing a man sitting in the dark at the command centre, sitting in front of the security screens. “Show me your hands!”
Did he hear hands up? Was Greg confronting someone? Oh God! Mycroft leaned forward in his chair, unable to hear clearly, as if leaning forward would improve his hearing ability. “Gregory…?! Greg?!” He got no reply and the suspense was killing him. He looked at his computer where he had some of the building available for viewing but apparently not the section Greg was now in. “Greg?!” He called out again, panicked.
There were sounds of a scuffle and shouting. After a few moments Greg pulled his phone back out. “Still there, My?”
Mycroft let out a huge breath. “Oh my god. What are you doing to me? What happened?! Are you alright?”
“Just nabbed a killer. He’s unconscious and cuffed,” Greg said proudly. “Ahh… damn it. He nicked my arm. I liked this jacket too.” Greg frowned as he saw a slice in his arm from the knife the killer had.
“Greg. Is it bad? Where the hell is John? I’m calling John. This is ridiculous. I’m coming down there,” Mycroft said, angrily, as he started to work his coat back on.
“My, I’m fine. Barely a paper cut,” Greg told him. “I can already hear back-up coming,” he said, to reassure him.
Mycroft paused and huffed loudly into the phone. “You’re going to be the death of me, Gregory Lestrade.”
“I’m sorry. How about I make us dinner to make it up to you?” Greg smiled.
“That’s going to need stitches,” Sherlock announced as soon as he walked in and saw Greg’s arm.
“Shhh!” Greg hissed at him.
“Put my brother on,” Mycroft said bluntly.
Greg sighed and handed the phone over.
“Mycroft,” Sherlock said.
“Brother. I see you’re gallivanting about a shopping mall like a hero. May I please remind you that while you are fortunate enough to be engaged to Doctor Watson and therefore have a medical professional on standby, you may have a different assessment of risk than I am comfortable with. My partner is not so fortunate and I would very much appreciate him making it home in one piece tonight. Where’s John? Get him some help please. Now!” he barked angrily and hung up before Sherlock could argue.
“What was that about?” John asked, as he entered the room.
“Oh nothing. Just Mycroft being an overprotective boyfriend.” Sherlock snorted and gave Greg his phone back. “Will you stitch up Greg’s arm? It looks like it’ll only need two or three.”
“I’m fine.” Greg rolled his eyes but his sleeve was already bloodied.
“Sounds like Mycroft will have my backside if I don’t, and I really don’t want to test the full reach of his powers over a couple of measly stitches. Come on. The rest of the team can manage the arrest.” John grabbed Greg’s good arm and marched him away from the room.
Greg sighed and followed John out while the suspect was led away.
“The plan worked rather well,” Sherlock said cheerily.
John flicked him a stern glare. “You don’t need to be so happy about it. People are dead, Sherlock. There are still some jars of human remains to locate. Not to mention the traumatised children.”
“Well at least he won’t do it again.” Sherlock pouted.
“Why don’t you take a couple of officers and find the rest of those jars – get them working on the crime scenes, while I clean up Greg and make sure he’s okay?” John suggested more gently.
“Fineeeeee.” Sherlock huffed before he left.
Greg chuckled and shook his head.
John laughed as well as he guided them to a station inside the shopping centre that had already been set up with medical gear, ready for any injured workers or shoppers. He grabbed a set of rubber gloves, giving the paramedic nearby a grateful nod and started inspecting the injury. “So, I guess Mycroft is finding out the joys of dating a man who runs into danger, instead of running from it?” He didn’t look at Greg. He just focussed on the arm, starting to clean the wound up.
“Yeah…” Greg sighed. “I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up yet, honestly.”
“Give him another ten minutes. I think he’s probably trying to show restraint.” John chuckled gently. “It’s sweet. Seeing his protective side, as an onlooker, instead of being the brunt of his angry warnings. I can see it now. I feel the same way about Sherlock. It’s different… when you love someone who is in danger.” John looked at him then. “You two probably haven’t… said that to each other yet, but you know what I mean.”
“It’s nice having someone that cares that much.” Greg nodded. “So what do you think, Doctor? Stitches?”
John hummed to himself in thought. “Yes, sorry. I think so. Just a couple. I’ll make them small and we can just put a big plaster over it. Mycroft won’t even need to know—“
A stiff throat clearing came from behind him and he winced. “It’s him isn’t it?” John asked as Greg looked up.
Mycroft already pushed John out of the way with his shoulder as he grabbed at Greg’s arm and held it, hissing angrily.
“My, I’m fine, really. A few stitches and I’ll be good as new,” Greg told carefully.
Mycroft just held his arm and looked at it, not making eye contact. “I thought… when my brother said… I thought…”
“He’s going to be okay. Just a gash. I’ll stitch it up nicely,” John added, gently releasing Mycroft’s hands from the arm. “If I can just…”
Mycroft flashed him an angry glare but stepped aside, moving close to Greg, protectively crowding him.
Greg took Mycroft’s hand with his uninjured one. “I’m okay. I’m right here,” he said softly and kissed Mycroft’s knuckles.
John flashed them both a tight smile despite the intense look Mycroft was giving him. “Thank you, for catching him,” John said.
“It’s not like it’s my job or anything.” Greg snorted. John nodded in reply. “So what do you want for dinner?” he asked Mycroft, trying to seem as normal as possible.
Mycroft was looking a little pale as he swayed slightly, then leaned closer to Greg.
John paused what he was doing and grabbed Mycroft’s arm. “How about we just pop you over here?” he suggested, leading Mycroft to the side and sitting him on a sturdy nearby bench. “You’re looking a little unstable. Not a fan of blood?”
Mycroft slumped quietly on the bench without a word, seemingly using all his energy to not pass out.
John went back to finish off Greg’s arm. It didn’t take him long to put in a few little stitches and patch him up properly. “I think probably getting his blood sugar up sooner rather than later would be a good plan, by the look of him,” he said quietly. “A mix of the blood and the shock I suspect.”
“Yeah. Come on, My. Let’s go and get some dinner.” Greg walked over and rubbed Mycroft’s leg to get his attention.
John took off the gloves and disposed of his stuff. “I’ll make sure my other half hasn’t gotten into trouble. Just keep an eye on him,” John said gently. “He’s looking a bit shaken.”
Greg nodded and watched John leave. “My? You okay? Talk to me, please?”
Mycroft grabbed Greg by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “You scared me,” he growled fiercely, his eyes suddenly burning into Greg.
“I’m sorry.” Greg caressed Mycroft’s face. “But I’m okay. I’m right here.”
Mycroft leaned into the touch. "I only just got you. I don't want... I don't want to lose you already."
“I’m not going anywhere. Let’s go back to your place and we can order in and cuddle. Okay?” Greg smiled softly.
Mycroft nodded frantically. "Please," he sighed.
“Did your driver bring you here? Where’d you get dropped off?” Greg asked him, leading him to the closest exit.
Mycroft nodded. “Yes, my driver is just around the corner. I'll message him.” Mycroft grabbed out his phone and typed a short message. He grabbed carefully at Greg's other arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure.” Greg promised. He gently held Mycroft’s face and kissed him tenderly. “I’m okay .”
Mycroft gave him a stern look. “I want to lock you in a tower and not let you out. So I know you’re safe. I’m starting to see merit in the witch who locked Rapunzle away,” he said as he walked onwards to the car.
Greg chuckled. “I know. It’s not usually this exciting, though.”
Mycroft threw a glance over his shoulder at Greg. “I’m not an idiot. You and my brother have been chasing danger for years. I just…”
“Usually it’s your brother in the thick of it and by the time I arrive it’s all done with,” Greg said.
“Well Sherlock was always my focus and now I have to worry about you both. More so you, because I know John is overprotective, even though he likes danger himself. I’m not sure my heart is built for so much stress,” he sighed as he waved away his driver so he could open the door for Greg himself.
Once they were inside, and the door was closed, Greg unbuttoned his shirt, showing Mycroft the vest he wore underneath. “I wear this so I can come home to you.”
Mycroft stilled. He felt the firm fabric under his hand and let out an audible breath. He nodded slowly, feeling reassured. Then, he leaned his head down and put his ear to the fabric over Greg’s heart. It was muffled but he could faintly hear the thud of the beating. He hadn’t realised how much the idea of Greg being hurt would affect him but it had really thrown him into chaos. He reached out and gripped onto Greg’s back and held him there for a moment just feeling the sensations. When had he become so needy? “I’m in love with you,” he whispered and then pulled back in fright at his own words. “I know it hasn’t been very long and things are still new but Gregory, if I don’t tell you now and something…” He shook his head. “I’m in love with you. You own me completely. Anything you want, you can have. It’s yours.” He closed his eyes. God, he was making an idiot of himself.
Greg gently cupped Mycroft’s face. “Anything? Because I’d really like a kiss.”
Mycroft smiled gently and nodded, leaning his weight towards Greg and letting his lips connect to his partner’s. The relief at the contact, at feeling that delicate skin against his delicate skin, breathing in the air surrounding him, it was exactly what he needed. Greg kissed him back deeply.
Mycroft suddenly pulled back out of the kiss again to speak. “Now, I don’t want you to feel trapped and I have lined up some estate agent viewing appointments – or at least I had done. It was meant to be a surprise with dinner, to show you some possible apartments. So you don’t have to go back to your old place where your family can find you. And I didn’t want you feeling pressured to stay with me and I didn’t want to… That is, I didn’t want to put too much pressure on either of us this early on. I don’t want to ruin our relationship before it has time to grow. But right now, tonight, I need to know you’re safe and I just want you at home in my bed with me, where I can keep an eye on you. We can worry about the rest tomorrow.” He didn’t even take a breath to see how Greg was responding to all of his words. He just barrelled forward without thinking.
Greg smiled softly, rubbing his thumb over Mycroft’s cheek. “That sounds like a great plan.”
“It does?” Mycroft asked, finally pausing for a breath. “You’re… okay with that idea?”
“More than okay with it.” Greg nodded.
“Excellent.” Mycroft messaged Anthea, to cancel the appointments and settled against Greg for the rest of the trip, comfortable in the knowledge he was safe and happy. He gently stroked at Greg’s thigh as the car travelled through the streets of London, his mind deep in thought, but relieved.
Greg smiled and finally relaxed, holding Mycroft’s hand and thinking to himself. He watched Mycroft, who had seemed to have slipped into a trance-like state, almost like Sherlock’s mind palace moments. Except, of course, for the thigh rubbing which was really nice. It was as if he was in a trance entirely related to their contact and their safety, together.
“Italian,” Mycroft finally said. “I feel like having some Italian food. I know a place.” He pulled out his phone and typed another quick message and then settled back down. All arrangements made in a few clicks.
Greg chuckled and kissed Mycroft. “You’re adorable.”
“What?” Mycroft blushed. “What did I do?”
“Nothing. Just all of you. You’re perfect.” Greg smiled.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You’re entirely biased and ridiculous.”
“Me? Biased about you?” Greg scoffed and kissed Mycroft again.
Mycroft couldn't help breaking into giggles and letting himself get swept away in the kisses.