This was written for my friend Sara who came up with the prompt during one of our conversations. :] Enjoy!

"Hullo?"

Greg should have been upset at being woken up in the middle of the night, but it was a common enough occurrence that it no longer fazed him.

"Hello, Gregory."

The man at the other end of the line sounded exhausted, which wouldn't be surprising at this hour if he were anyone but Mycroft Holmes.
"Can you talk about it?"
"Talk about what?"
"You sound awful. Whatever's making you sound like that."

Mycroft exhaled loudly. "I don't even want to think about it. But it's over now."
"Okay. What can I do, then?"
"I don't… you don't have to do anything."
"Cor, Mycroft. You're my best friend. I want to help."

Greg would have thought that their connection died if he didn't hear Mycroft's steady breathing.

"Mycroft?"
"I'm sorry, Gregory. I should let you get back to sleep."

Greg sighed. "Are you going to be able to sleep?"
"I might be able to."
"Sleeping pill?"
"I would rather not."
"I know."

Mycroft sounded much weaker than he'd ever allow himself to around almost anyone else. It was painful for Greg to hear. He started planning.

"Mycroft, do you have to work tomorrow?"
"I always have to work. But nothing I can't do remotely. Did you want to do something?"
"Mmhmm. When can I have you?"
"Whenever you like."
"Turn your alarm off."
"What?" He sounded honestly confused.
"Turn it off. And then come over to mine whenever you wake up."
"Gregory."
"Don't 'Gregory' me, Mycroft. Just do it. You'll probably wake up earlier than is healthy anyway."
"And if I should wake before you?"
"Won't be the first time you've broken into my flat."
"I did not break in. You left your door unlocked."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Holmes. Come over anytime. Ring and I'll let you in. If you're going to show up before half eight, bring me coffee."

Mycroft didn't disagree which was as close to agreeing as Greg could expect.

"Mycroft?"
"Thank you, Gregory. Go to sleep. I will see you in the morning."
"G'night. No alarms. Please sleep."
"I will try. Pleasant dreams."

Greg was up before his own alarm, and hoped that Mycroft's absence was because he was sleeping. Something had been very wrong lately. Mycroft hadn't been able to confide in Greg, which wasn't anything new, but he also hadn't been able to hide the fact that there was something he wasn't confiding. That was new. He might not ever know what had made the past week so hellish for Mycroft, but now that it was over he was keen on making his friend feel better. He had to phone three bakeries before finding one could fit them in at the last minute, but he found one and it was walking distance from his flat.

After pressing the end button, he saw that he had received a text while he had been talking.

I am leaving now. Should I bring the lockpicks or are you awake? MH
Awake but need to shower. Leaving the door unlocked for you.

Greg was just out of the shower when he heard his door open. He started dressing quickly and left his bedroom, pulling on a jumper. Mycroft had made himself comfortable in the front room's armchair which Greg had at some point stopped trying to argue was his chair. He walked over to Mycroft with a grin.

"Is that for me?"

Greg perched on the arm of the chair and grabbed the mug out of Mycroft's hand. He took a sip and made a face. "How can you drink this?"

"Good morning, Gregory. Yours is on the table."

Greg handed the offensive beverage back to Mycroft and collected his own.
"Mmmm. Now I remember why we're mates. Did you sleep?"
"I did."
"Would I be able to function on how much you got?"
"You would."

"Would I be cranky?"
"Undoubtedly. Did you have me come over to check up on my sleep habits?"
"Yes. I'm also going to cheer you up." Greg looked very pleased with himself.
"How do you intend to do that?"
"You'll see. We have an appointment in about 45."
"Do we? I seem to recall you refusing rather adamantly the last time I suggested you come with me to the spa."
"And I still refuse. Not that kind of appointment."

Mycroft forced a look of disappointment to his face, but Greg knew him well enough to not believe it. When their coffees were gone, he grabbed Mycroft's hand and pulled him out of the chair.

"Okay, let's go."
"Shall I call for a car?"
"No, we're walking."
"Why?"
"It's not far the weather is mercifully pleasant and you'll be glad you walked."
"Whatever you say, Detective Inspector."
Greg swatted him on the arm.

"Are you planning on telling me where we are going?"
"You don't want a surprise?"
"Gregory."
"Fine. Bakery a few blocks over. We're going cake tasting."
"Cake tasting?" The inflection offered more doubt than question, but Greg was not deterred.
"Yes. You know, like before you order a wedding cake?"

Mycroft stopped walking and turned to his friend in shock.
"You're getting married? If I truly am your 'best friend' as you say, I should be alarmed that I have not met or even heard mention of her. Or him."
"You haven't met them, because I'm not getting married."
"Why wedding cake then?"
"Because we get to go try a bunch of different cakes. It's fun. And I know you like cake." Mycroft hmphed, but started walking again.

They soon reached the bakery and were greeted brightly with a "Hi can I help you?" as they walked in the door.

"Hullo, Yes, Lestrade. I have an appointment for 10:30."
"Wedding?"

Greg nodded. They were led to a table and a cheery middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Gloria came over with a book of designs. Initially Greg was the only one interacting with her. He explained that no, there wasn't a date selected yet and no they hadn't picked colours. When she began showing them the portfolio of cakes, he prepared polite yet noncommittal responses to the enquiries that would follow. He was rather surprised when Mycroft responded instead. Enthusiastically.

Something traditional, with a hint of modern. No those colours are garish, everything should be cream. No, no, certainly not that artificial white. It's awful. Square would be preferred to round. Yes, that piping is lovely. No, absolutely no flowers. Oh, I agree, the fondant makes for a handsome cake. You know, you may have sold me on the gold.

By 11:00 Mycroft and Gloria had three sketches in front of them and a list of requirements.

"Gregory, do you care to add anything?"
"No, what you've got looks nice."

Gloria gave him a knowing look, but what exactly it was that she knew, Greg hadn't the foggiest. Finally the cake samples were brought over and Gloria left them to taste and discuss in semi-privacy. There were twelve flavours in total, though they were told that they could pair any of the fillings with any of the cakes. Mycroft speared a bite of the vanilla with hazelnut filling while listening to Greg's commentary on the strangest wedding cakes he had ever seen. He reciprocated a moment later, but Greg barely heard him as distracted as he was by the dark chocolate with raspberry. They continued the alternation, with Mycroft retaining much more from their conversation than Gregory could hope to do.

After they tasted the final cake (almond with lemon curd), Gloria was back to get their impressions. Mycroft and Greg both agreed that all the cakes were delicious and thanked her. As they left she told them that they made a beautiful couple and wished them well. Greg was laughing as he walked out onto the pavement.

"You have fun?"
"I did. Thank you, Gregory."

Anthea stared at her mobile in confusion. It wasn't that uncommon that Mycroft didn't answer when she called. He was often in meetings or otherwise occupied with work. But she knew that he had no formal obligations today—not after wrapping up that last diplomatic nightmare yesterday. It was uncommon he texted her instead of calling her back, but her blackberry buzzed a moment after she hung up.

I am cake tasting with Gregory. If this is an emergency that only I can deal with, phone again and I will answer.

She reread the message a few times before deciding that it wasn't in a code she couldn't remember. Cake tasting? She organised more of Mycroft's schedule than he did himself, so of course she knew that he spent a not insignificant amount of time with the Detective Inspector. But she had believed him when he told her that the shift of address from title to Gregorywas due to friendship, not courtship. When did that change? For a moment she questioned her observational skills, but dismissed the thought. If Mycroft wanted to a keep a secret, it was unlikely that anyone but a Holmes would find him out.

"Mycroft, why did Anthea just text me 'Congratulations Detective Inspector'?"
"I do not know."
"Is it for being able to put up with both you and your brother? Is there anyone else who isn't a Holmes who has to do that regularly?"
"I suppose there is not. But I hardly think that is her message was about."
"You know I wasn't being serious, right? Nobody is making me put up with you or anything."
"No, I know. But I received a similar message from Anthea. It seems we both have done something worth of congratulating."
"Odd. Well, maybe we should celebrate whatever it is that we've done. How long do I have before I have to give you back to Her Majesty's government?"

Mycroft checked his watched and made the humming noise Greg associated with him thinking. Probably of all possible outcomes of him leaving at each possible moment and determining to the second when he needed to be home or the office or the club or wherever the best outcome took him.

"I should take care of some emails and calls before evening. If I left now, would you meet me again for dinner?"

Greg made a show of thinking it through before he agreed. A black car pulled up to the kerb outside Greg's flat just as they walked up to it. Greg waved before walking inside and Mycroft climbed into the car.

Sherlock was pacing and ranting when John got home. John was cautious in his approach.

"But how did he keep it a secret? I can understand other people not seeing it, but how did he keep it from me? Mycroft could keep a secret from me, but not Lestrade."
"Sherlock, you talking to me or the skull?"

Sherlock looked up with a pensive expression. "Have you been here?"
"Just walked in."
"Skull then."
"You going to fill me in?"
"Lestrade's marrying my fat lazy arse of a brother."

John tried not to look surprised, lest his apparent idiocy be pointed out.
"Really? Didn't know he was gay."
"Mycroft? Of course Mycroft's gay."
"I meant Greg, but I guess now that I think about it, it is a bit surprising to have both sons in a family gay. How'd your family take that?"
"Lestrade isn't gay and that doesn't matter. What does matter is how they kept it a secret." Sherlock was pouting now.

"Maybe you deleted it. Did they tell you today? And if he's not gay why are they getting married?"
"No, of course not. They were picking out a wedding cake today." He didn't dignify the second question with a response.
"And you know this because…"
"Mycroft isn't the only one who can spy. They were seen leaving the bakery with traces of several different cakes on them. Mycroft was holding a stack of papers—the top one had a sketch of a wedding cake and a list, most likely a list of notes about design or flavour. Come on now, let's go."
"Go where?"
"To see my brother. No, to see Lestrade. It will be easier to get something out of Lestrade and easier to get into his flat."
"If you rang, I'm sure Mycroft would let you in."
"If Mycroft lets me in Lestrade's, I'm going to be ill." John cursed under his breath but chased after Sherlock.

"John, go in first. If I see my brother copulating I will have to gouge my eyes out." He motioned for John to go in as soon as he finished with Lestrade's lock. John noted that he should probably warn Greg that he could use better locks as he walked in slowly. Sherlock trailed a few paces behind.

"Greg, I am so sorry. Sherlock doesn't know how to knock."
"Uh, hi John. Sherlock. What are you going on about? Do you want"

Sherlock cut him off before he could offer whatever he was trying to offer.
"How did you keep this a secret?"
"Keep what a secret?"
"Your fiancé."
"What?" Greg was accustomed to Sherlock showing up unannounced, but usually he was demanding cases or offering evidence. Rarely did he make accusations about his personal life, and when he did they were at least true.
"How could I not know that you were my brother's boyfriend?"
"Because I'm not your brother's boyfriend."
"Okay, partner, if you prefer."
"Sherlock, why are you here?"

Sherlock stormed out leaving his partner to mutter an apology to a confused Greg. John refused to follow him to Mycroft's. He claimed it was because he had things to do, but Sherlock suspected that John was afraid of being caught by Mycroft. Greg sent a text as soon as they were gone.

[Mycroft, your brother thinks we're getting married. Why?]
[Please don't marry my brother, I enjoy visiting you without seeing him. MH]
[Don't be daft. We=me and you. He just broke in my flat.]
[I do not know, but it sounds like I am about to find out. He's stomping in at mine now.]
[Need the police?]
[Very funny. I will try to have answers for you at dinner. MH]

"Sherlock. You do know that I have a doorbell, don't you?"
"What are you doing with Lestrade?"
"Nothing, at the moment." Mycroft suspected that he knew where this was going.

"How have you kept your relationship a secret?"
"I haven't. Many people know that he and I are friends."

Sherlock tried again. He knew that his brother was unlikely to lie to him, but he would deceive him if he didn't ask the right questions.
"How have you kept the nature of your relationship a secret?"
"Please, brother, I haven't the time for redundancy. What do you want to know so badly that you have broken into both mine and DI Lestrade's flats?"
"You're marrying him. And I didn't know. Why?"
"Sherlock, why do you think I am marrying him?"
"You were looking at wedding cakes with him today."
"And yet he and I have no plans for a wedding."
"You're marrying someone else? I should have known that, too."
"No, Sherlock. I am not getting married. And before you ask, neither is Gregory."
"Gregory? What happened to DI Lestrade."
"As I have told you, Gregory and I are friends. It is not uncommon to use a friend's given name."
"Why the wedding cakes?"
"He wanted to cheer me up. It worked rather well until you got involved."
"You would tell me if you were dating someone, right?" Mycroft was reminded of the little boy his brother had been. The one who hated secrets and more than anything wanted to be a part of Mycroft's life.
"Yes, brother."
"You do fancy him."

Mycroft didn't answer.
"I knew it!" Sherlock was smug as he returned to Baker Street.

"Did you find anything out?"

Greg and Mycroft were sitting in Mycroft's kitchen, just starting in on the takeaway Greg had insisted on for dinner.

"Yes, it seems that my little brother knows about our cake filled morning. I suspect this may be what Anthea was congratulating us on, as well."
"Oh"
Greg paled. He hadn't thought about other people finding out about it, but if they did find out he would have assumed that they would just think that Greg was bringing his friend for opinions. Maybe that wasn't something men did. The ladies working at the bakery certainly assumed that he and Mycroft were marrying each other, but he didn't much care what strangers thought. If he thought about Sherlock finding out, he would guess that Sherlock would know something was off since Greg wasn't getting married. But there was no reason for Sherlock to guess that Greg was getting married to Mycroft. Unless Sherlock could tell that Greg kind of maybe fancied Mycroft. In that case he was surprised that he hadn't been mocked for it sooner.

"I'm sorry, Mycroft, I shouldn't have suggested we do that. I didn't think about what people would think."
"It is of no concern."
"No, it is. I should have thought about our reputations. I could have just bought a few slices of cake and this wouldn't have been a problem."
"I doubt anyone else knows."
"But anyone else could have seen us. It was careless!"

Mycroft did not know how to react. His brother was right—he did fancy Gregory. He knew that Gregory was not strictly heterosexual, and he had gathered that the inspector cared for him. He had almost had hope that their friendship might deepen into more than just a friendship. But if this was the reaction he had to the idea of people thinking they were together, there was no chance that Gregory would want anything more. If he knew Mycroft's feelings, he probably wouldn't even want to be friends anymore. He pulled out his mobile and pretended to read a Very Important text message.

"I'm sorry, Gregory. I must attend to something. Please, stay and eat. Let Anthea know when you are ready to go home and a car will take you."

Mycroft would have preferred for Gregory to be the one to leave now, but even hurt he would remain polite. Gregory would not stay long after he left, so by the time he had a drink at the Diogenes he come back to an empty house.

Greg was startled by Mycroft's icy tone and stricken expression. He opened his mouth to begin apologising—he hadn't yet placed what he had said wrong, but he knew to tread carefully with the Holmes brothers and apologising for being an idiot was usually justified around them. Before he could get any words out, the front door slammed and Mycroft was gone. If he left that fast, he probably wouldn't react well to being followed. Greg cleaned up their dinner, no longer hungry, and resigned himself to waiting for Mycroft to get back. Hopefully that would be sometime tonight.

It was, depending on opinion as to when a day ends and the next begins, still tonight when Mycroft returned. Anxiety turned his one drink into three and a pile of paperwork kept him busy for hours. The first thing he noticed was that his television was turned on. Why would Gregory have stayed to watch something? And why wouldn't he have turned it off before he left? He didn't notice that it was because Gregory hadn't yet left until he walked over to turn it off himself. Greg was curled into the side of the sofa and snoring softly. When Mycroft approached he saw evidence of tears on his face and Mycroft had to choke back a gasp.

"Gregory?"

No response. Mycroft sat down next to him and rubbed his back.

"Gregory, wake up."
"M'awake."
"I'm sorry I left."
"I didn't mean it. Not how it sounded." Greg sat up now, but kept his gaze down, carefully avoiding looking Mycroft in the eye.
"Are you uncomfortable because I'm gay?"

Greg did look up at Mycroft now. There was no way Mycroft believed that.
"What? No? Why would you think that? It's not like I didn't always know. And I'm not exactly heterosexuality's poster boy."
"Then what is the problem?" Mycroft tried not to let his exasperation bleed into his voice. He mostly succeeded.
"Honestly? I was pretty chuffed when that lady told us that we made a beautiful couple. I liked the idea that people thought I fit with you. I didn't expect that. But when people who mattered were making assumptions, I was horrified. Thought you'd be mad or embarrassed."

"Sherlock likely would not have thought we were engaged behind his back had he not observed that I am attracted to you. I am at fault, not you."
"No, it was my fault. I took you there."
"I have difficulty being upset that you did. I rather enjoyed myself."
"Good. Wait. You're attracted to me? What do you mean by attracted?"

"I do not understand the question."
"Like 'my friend is an attractive bloke, I just happen to notice' or 'I want to shag him senseless' or 'I would like to be in a committed relationship with him'?"
"All of the above." Mycroft's cheeks were bright red when he spoke.
"Oh. Would now be a good time to tell you I'm attracted to you, too?"
"A few hours ago would have been better."
"When you were storming out of here without even having your dinner first you mean?"
It was Mycroft's turn to avert his eyes and study the floor. Greg is almost certain he heard a muttered 'sorry'. The smallness of it reminded him that he was supposed to be concerned, not upset.

"Did you ever eat? You need to. You've lost at least half a stone this month. If you lose any more it'll be from nowhere but that fat brain of yours."
"Do you need your senses to talk?"
"What?" There was definitely reason to be concerned. Mycroft was making no sense.

"If I drag you into my bedroom now and fuck you senseless as you suggested, will you stop talking?"
"Oh!" Greg was pinned to the sofa before he could answer and having Mycroft's tongue in his mouth was quite effective at shutting him up. Perhaps they would be ordering that cake after all.