A little 221B Mystrade to celebrate the birthday of my good friend Daffidil, because I know what she likes! Happy Birthday Daffy!
Disclaimer: Still don't own!
Their offices were not that far apart, one in Broadway the other in Whitehall, yet they rarely travelled together.
An ugly murder scene, a crisis abroad with a foreign government, these were the meat of their work, yet it never came home with them.
Once through the door of their house, they shed their personas as Government Men, and just became an ordinary couple.
But tonight it was late, and the atmosphere was strained,
"Greg for goodness sake, stop pacing and sit down." Mycroft reached up and caught hold of the other man's hand.
"Myc…"
"No." he pulled the older man down onto the couch beside him. "No more Gregory. You'll wear yourself into the ground."
The detective looked unhappily at the hand still holding his, while the man sitting next to him gently stroked the knuckles of his free hand along his stubbled jaw in a soothing movement,
"I wanted it to be special, not another cancelled dinner and take-away at home." Greg sounded so desolate that the stroking hand caught his chin, firmly turning it upwards.
Leaning in, Mycroft captured his lover's lips for a deep and loving kiss, finally easing him down so that he could stroke the head that rested on his lap
"Don't you know by now that you are all I want for my birthday?"