September 2009

Gregory Lestrade took a deep breath and nervously pushed open the rusted security door at the rear of the derelict shop. It wasn't that he feared what he would find; he just recalled the stench of stale urine and worse from his last visit four months ago. This was the third of Sherlock's hidey-holes he'd visited, and this time he was sure he was on the right track because he'd seen a tall thin wild haired figure in a sweeping coat weaving up the street far ahead of him with one arm casually slung around a skinny youth who appeared to be in a similar unsteady state.

The door squealed loudly on its corroded hinges and he made as much noise as he possibly could when moving through the building to alert its occupants. The last time he'd crept inside he'd had the misfortune to encounter Sherlock in an intimate encounter with a young man, and he had no desire to walk in on that again. When he rounded the corner however they were clearly still oblivious to his presence, though at least they were fully clothed. The younger man had just pocketed a small bundle of notes and was about to press a baggie into Sherlock's hand.

"If your fingers so much as brush that coke I swear to god I'll arrest you Sherlock." He growled loudly into the room making both men startle. "Your bloody brother has had me trailing round half of London looking for you so I know I have his blessing to bang you in a cell for the night and charge you with possession."

Sherlock turned glazed eyes on him, obviously on something but not his usual slightly manic stare when on cocaine. Heroin maybe? He had the slightly languorous movements that might indicate that he'd shot up a while ago and was still drifting. Fuck, that wasn't good, he'd have to report that back to Mycroft and the older Holmes would get mad with him for not keeping a closer eye on him. It shouldn't really be his problem, but you didn't say no to Mycroft-bloody-Holmes, not even if you were a long standing friend and former lover. Apparently a year of fucking almost two decades earlier meant a life-long obligation to look out for a junkie younger brother. That, and the fact Mycroft Holmes had saved his life when he'd been attacked by the same fucking werewolf on the streets of London that had turned the other man six months earlier. Their sexual relationship didn't last, but together they formed a Pack that bonded closer than family.

The junkie brother in question was smiling lazily at him, apparently unconcerned that a Scotland Yard DI had just caught him red handed in the middle of a drugs transaction. At least this time it was actually cash he'd been handing over, not kneeling in the dirt with a guy's dick in his mouth - cash bought more cocaine than a blow job would but sometimes he was a little short of ready money.

"Good evening Lestrade, nice to know my brother's pet policeman is still on call. Don't bother charging me - we both know Mycroft won't allow it - but by all means arrest me and allow me to make use of a cell. I don't have a bed for the night unless your sofa is free?"

Lestrade scowled at the cocky curly-haired man who was swaying slightly on his feet and gripping the shoulder of the wide-eyed youth beside him. "Who's your friend?" He sneered. Whether he was Sherlock's dealer or a quick fuck for a share of drugs he wasn't worthy of the DI's respect, but he got a shock when he realised how young the boy was... Eighteen, maybe nineteen at most, too young to be running his own supply, so probably a runner for someone higher. That meant he would be paid in cash only - can't hand sexual favours back to your boss - and would probably have drugs and money on him. Oh well, if he couldn't nick Sherlock he could probably get this one and his supply off the streets for 24 hours. "What's your name kid?"

The boy looked terrified, weird tilted green eyes staring at him from an exotic looking delicate face. His shaggy dark brown hair was a tattered mess and he could do with a good wash but he was a good-looking lad. Lestrade dragged his eyes back to the smirking younger Holmes, irritated by the knowing look in his still slightly unfocused eyes. He slid an arm around the boy - who was marginally taller - and grinned. "This is Gabriel. Pretty isn't he? Sure he'd suck you off in exchange for pretending he was never here." The boy swallowed nervously but gave a weak grin and a half-hearted nod.

"You're a sick man, Sherlock, and living dangerously if you think you can pimp your boyfriend out to get you both off a fucking charge." He pulled his phone from his pocket and hit a speed-dial, waiting a moment for it to connect. When it did he said roughly "Yeah, I found him. Tanner Street shops. You are? Fine, I'll leave him to you." He shoved the phone back in his pocket and smiled sweetly at the dark haired man. "Your brother is right outside in one of his fancy cars waiting to whisk you off to one of his very expensive rehab places. I'm sure he's wasting his time but for some reason the idiot always seems to give you another chance. Now run along..." He shooed him back towards the door, the skinny man suddenly a lot less sure of himself. Mycroft wouldn't shout or scream at his younger sibling, he would just smile in a way that made Sherlock know how deeply disappointed he was in him, and while the younger Holmes would swear and possibly even get violent, in the end he'd go meekly for the simple reason that Mycroft had plucked him off the street yet again, once more demonstrating that he actually cared. Sherlock needed Mycroft's attention from time to time - better to do it before the stupid younger sibling decided an OD was the best way to achieve it.

Once Sherlock had skulked out the only exit Lestrade turned his attention to the youth who was still standing exactly where Sherlock had left him, fingers curled around the small plastic packet. "Put it back in your pocket kid," he nodded and the boy nervously slid it out of sight licking his lips.

"D-do you want me to...? W-will you l-let me go if...? What he said...?" Lestrade stared at him for a moment confused at the boy's stammered question. It was only when he slowly dropped to his knees and reached out a skinny hand towards him that the policeman registered that the kid was offering to blow him as Sherlock suggested.

"Fuck off!" In two strides he was looming over the terrified teenager hauling him to his feet, his fingers biting cruelly into his arm. "Get up!" He snarled shoving him roughly into the wall behind him, one strong tanned hand coiling around the kid's skinny neck and pressing him to the peeling paint. Inside his head sharp teeth were bared and he was growling deep in his throat as his entire body pinned the little outsider to the wet grass. Something about the youngster was off... It was male but it aroused him like a female... Cautiously he bit down on its neck and the boy in the room whimpered in fear of the muscular policeman imprisoning him against the wall. His head was starting to swim from the lack of oxygen and he could feel the older man's erection pressed against his stomach. The brown wolf bit harder, confused by the conflicting instincts until it tasted the hot familar coppery tang of blood on his tongue. Lestrade groaned and released his pressure on the boy's throat making the sweet hot life trickle that little bit faster. He lapped at it and rubbed himself against the warm body that was growing heavier as it tried to slide down the wall.

Greg... Greg! I'm coming back! Stop, just stop for fuck's sake!

Mycroft was in his head telling him to stop,but this wrongness felt so good. This outsider that had challenged him would know better than to come around and stand up to the Third. There was a screech of tyres as a car pulled up, another as it left just as rapidly and then expensive leather clad footsteps were pounding into the room and surprisingly strong arms were tearing him from his prize. He dropped into a crouch to face the newcomer and was shocked to see his Alpha facing him down. Mycroft was still in human form, a dark red stain across the sleeve of his hideously expensive suit, and breathing heavily as he watched his third-in-command and good friend. "Are you with me Gregory?" He asked softly. Mycroft's wolf shifted restlessly behind his eyes looking assertively at the weaker brown wolf that paced restlessly behind the DI's own. "You need to get control. The boy is bleeding out."

With effort Greg forced his wolf away, slowly coming back to himself. Boy? There was a boy, and he was injured? Slowly he turned and saw a gangly body slumped on the floor, his grubby grey jacket stained dark with blood. He could taste it now and the flavour and sudden memory made him retch until he vomited up the blood he couldn't digest as a human. When he moved he felt the sticky wetness cooling in his pants and the damp mark bleeding through the thin fabric of his cheap suit trousers that evidenced his ejaculation. He vomited again, falling to his hands and knees and spewing until his stomach only had bile to give. Mycroft was crouched over the boy administering to him, his phone clamped awkwardly under his chin as he issued instructions.

Less than thirty minutes later they were striding through the corridors of the Thames-side property they called the Haven, Gabriel cradled in Mycroft's arms and Greg hurrying behind them. From the outside it was similar to many other former industrial properties that had been converted in the eighties to yuppie apartments and sold for millions to young men in red braces who worked the stock market, but inside it was entirely different. Mycroft had bought the building twenty years earlier and he and Lestrade had overseen it's interior development into a hospital, home and hostel for werewolves. To the general populace werewolves were a myth, but both men had discovered to their distress they were anything but. The Haven was exactly as it's name would suggest... A place for the small number of wolves in London to find a place to rest, recuperate and live if they had nowhere else to go.

The hospital was the most important area and consisted of two windowless sterile rooms with reinforced walls and doors. Each was fully equipped with medical equipment and had its own small en-suite bathroom and an impressive locking mechanism on the door. They were staffed by a small hand-picked team that weren't wolves themselves but had impressive training and security clearance to work with them. Whatever Mycroft's job actually was over the last twenty years, it had given him contact with all kinds of useful people who understood the requirement for absolute discretion and secrecy. It also allowed him to pay them very well to ensure they kept it.

Mycroft lay the comatose youth on the bed and stepped back to let the medical team make their assessment. The boy was alive but had lost a lot of blood and the wound would need treating. It was inevitable he would turn, and the whole process would be carefully managed by the medical team and members of the Pack unlike their own transition so many years ago which had been brutal and uncontrolled. Mycroft pulled the shaking DI from the room, one arm around his shaking friend's shoulders as he tugged him along the corridor towards the large communal lounge stuffed to the walls with all kinds of seating, a huge dining table and a small kitchenette. Lestrade fell heavily against the counter staring into space until the tall red-haired man pressed a glass into his hand and he took a long swallow, almost choking when the whisky burned its way down his throat.

"Better than sweet tea, in my humble opinion," the Alpha said. "Want to tell me how that happened?"

Greg scrubbed a hand through his short spiky grey-brown hair fluffing it in all directions. "Um… I lost it… Lost control… I don't know why." He stared down at his shoes feeling his wolf push at his boundaries and trying to ignore the soft brush of fur beneath his skin. Too long since he'd changed. Eight days, was far too long and he knew it. Four was pushing it when he was working so hard, but eight was suicide. Or in this case, potential murder… Christ! What was he thinking? If Mycroft knew he'd gone after Sherlock in that state he'd rip him limb from limb knowing the way Sherlock could push his buttons. He watched the smart dress shoes step into his personal space and didn't resist when Mycroft prodded a narrow finger under his chin and used it to raise his eyes to meet his icy-blue stare.

"I can feel you Gregory. You know that I know, so why lie to us both? How long since you changed?" He still considered lying to Mycroft but the man would bloody know. A combination of human genius deductive skills and the Alpha-Pack bond meant there was no hiding anything from him.

"Eight days," he said softly.

"Eight! Why so long for god's sake?"

"A triple homicide, an important date with my new fiancée, and three nights trying to find your stupid junkie brother at your request when I should have been sleeping," he snapped and Mycroft took a step backwards at the venom that dripped from his friend's tone. "Sometimes I put every bloody thing first but me, ok? And sometimes I get caught out. Pretty damn spectacularly on this occasion, I think you'll agree." It was only the shocked look on Mycroft's face that made him realise he'd finished his outburst at top volume. His yelling had drawn an audience too, the lean figure of Marcus Pinder stalking into the room like a smug, self-satisfied ginger cat.

"Well, well, the perfect DI Lestrade is capable of fucking up like the rest of us mere cubs. I see you had a little fun with this one," he smirked pointedly at Greg's semen-stained crotch. "You enjoyed him a little too much for a soon to be married man. Congratulations by the way. I'm sure being married to a gay man will make her very happy."

"Fuck off Marcus, it's not like you never messed up." Greg growled.

"I never mess up darling. Every wolf I've turned has been deliberate, and every one I've killed has been too. I accept what I am and relish it."

"Marcus, please…?" intervened Mycroft. "Now is not the time. Would you leave us?"

"I just came to say goodbye Mycroft. I have an assignment in the Far East. I'll be gone a while."

"Good fucking riddance," Greg muttered, but Mycroft laid a calming hand on his arm and turned to the thin ginger haired man.

"Take care. If you need anything… If I can help… let me know." Something unspoken passed between the two men that Greg didn't understand and frankly didn't care about. Marcus and Mycroft were in the same line of work so it was probably something to do with that. He was privately rejoicing that Marcus was going to be gone for a while, the man was a fucking liability to the Pack and life was easier when he was away doing whatever the hell he did. He gave the pair an insincere smile and left, shouldering through the door and almost knocking a small blonde woman flying.

She glared at his narrow retreating back and hurried to the greying man slumped by the counter. "Greg honey, you ok?" She smoothed his hair back from his brow and looked deep into his brown eyes. He gave her a weak smile and dropped his forehead onto hers, eyes closed.

"I'm sorry Mary; I screwed up big-style. There's a kid in there… I don't know what happened…" Mycroft snorted and he shot him a glare. "I didn't change often enough and I lost control, and now there's a kid in there… Oh god… he's going to have parents and a family… What do I do?" She allowed her small hands to fall onto his shoulders and give him a gentle shake.

"Yep, you made a mistake, Greg, and we have a new wolf because of it, but you're not the first, and you won't be the last. We'll look after him the way we've looked after every wolf through the doors. Been a while, but the team is prepared and the boy is already stable. I've got Daniel trying to identify his family so we can discuss with him what he wants to do once he's changed. Were you close?"

He glanced uneasily at Mycroft who could always read him uncomfortably well. "Um… I only met him tonight… "

"Gregory was looking for my brother, Mary. The boy was with Sherlock when Gregory found them, but I'm not sure what transpired after that…"

"It doesn't matter now, what's done is done. Did you keep the knowledge from Sherlock?"

"Yes. I managed to send Sherlock off to his destination without alerting him to anything being amiss. He'll be detained for a couple of months at least, so you have my full attention between visits."

She nodded and gave Greg an encouraging smile. "We'll sort it honey. You don't cause me too many headaches Greg, once in a blue moon is pretty good. What do you know about him?"

"His name is Gabriel and he's a drug user and dealer. He and Sherlock were completing a transaction when I found them and my intention was to arrest him but… Things went sideways. He looks young… possibly still in his teens. Other than that, I know nothing."

"Ok," she smiled at him again, but Mycroft frowned.

"I'm making him handler," he said shortly and Mary gave him a sharp look. "What? It's how we usually work."

"Yes but… Well, he's getting married in three weeks... How is he supposed to look after a teenage junkie kid and steer him right?"

Mycroft glared at his hopeful look. "Not my problem. Decision stands." He walked out without looking back and Greg wilted against the kitchen cabinets.

Ten nights later Mary was at Greg's elbow as she encouraged – or rather pushed – him into the hospital room with Gabriel. The skinny exotic looking youth was crouched on the bed, watching the pair warily as they entered. He was dressed in cut-off jeans and a black vest that just made him look even more bony and lanky than when Greg had first seen him with Sherlock. Mary, who was skilled at appearing mild and unthreatening, approached the bed, Greg trailing behind him still dressed in his rumpled DI work suit.

"Hello Gabriel, I'm Mary. How are you doing?" she asked softly.

He scratched at his arms where there were healing track marks. "I'm… I'm ok. When can I leave?" He stared wide-eyed at the DI hovering nervously behind the petite blonde woman desperately trying not to meet his tilted green eyes or to stare at his golden skin. Greg had spent a lot of time sitting by his bedside, first while he was unconscious, and later while he was sleeping, just staring at the gorgeous young man and hating himself for attraction he was feeling. He always left when the boy woke up, usually because Gabriel looked so terrified to find him there.

Greg had known he was bisexual since the age of sixteen when he experienced a drunken heavy make-out session at a party with a guy from the Upper Sixth called Danny Miller. He spent the rest of that summer fantasizing about Danny, and Danny spent it avoiding Greg, but it made Greg certain that he liked boys as well as girls. Over the years he had many more male partners than female but he always assumed he'd marry a woman and have kids one day but he never found the right One. When Jenny came along he was forty-six and feeling his time was running out for a family so his proposal was an act of desperation. She was a good woman, and put up with his job and his unusual dedication to his 'volunteer work' at the Haven, but he wasn't absolutely sure he loved her. And now he was mooning around lusting after a nineteen-year-old kid who was twenty-seven years his junior. Christ, if it was anyone else he'd say it was creepy and wrong.

"You need to stay with us a while Gabriel. Did the doctor explain that to you? Explain what was happening?" Again the boy nodded, staring anxiously at the greying broad shouldered man in the room who couldn't look at him. "I'm going to leave you with Greg, ok? He won't hurt you. He's going to teach you what you need to know to keep yourself safe." The boy gulped and shuffled to the head of the bed. The blonde turned to the man, tugging him forwards toward the bed. "Greg?" she questioned.

"Um… yeah." The boy's eyes were vivid green and fixed on Greg's deep brown ones, but he stepped forward and cleared his throat letting his eyes roam over the skinny boy's body. He was scrubbed clean, his longish dark brown hair brushed back from his face, and he was stunning to look at. Greg dragged his eyes back to the almond shaped emeralds and ignored the tug of desire in his groin. Fuck but this kid was… well to all intents and purposes he was a child, and shouldn't be looked at in that way, and he was practically a married man for Christ's sake… "Um…" he said again, and moistened his lips, aware that the boy was staring at his mouth rather too intently. "I, er… I'll take you for a run next week, but I know you'll have questions. It's my job to answer them as best I can. Have you erm… have you changed? Know what you're doing with that?"

Gabriel scowled at him and gave a quick nod. "I learned quickly," he bit out, and the anger was a stab to Greg's gut. At some point Mary had sneaked from the room leaving the two alone.

"Look kid, I'm sorry ok? Things went… well what happened was an accident, I didn't intend for you to end up here, but now you are, I'll help you in whatever way I can. If you want to stay here…"

"I don't. I want to leave as soon as possible."

"Um… ok… Well, when you're ready, I'll help you get settled somewhere…"

"I've looked after myself since I was fourteen. I don't need your help."

"Yeah, but…"

"Just take me on a run, like the boss lady told you to, and then let me get on with my life ok? I hate you, we won't ever be friends and I need you to get the fuck out of my life as soon as possible so I can forget about this." The kid had bared his teeth without realizing it and was crouching on the bed in classic defensive posture. Greg could see he was afraid of him but trying not to show it and he was impressed with the boy's bravado.

"You can't forget it. It's going to rule your life forever and if you don't control it you'll have a slip up like I did with you." He gritted his teeth and made the offer he should avoid because it was going to screw his love-life up good and proper. "Come home with me and I'll take care of you until you can manage yourself."

"Take care of me? Are you hitting on me?"

"What…? No!" Greg flushed bright red and headed for the door before he could embarrass himself any further. "I'll pick you up on Friday night, 9pm. Be ready."

The run itself went without incident but Greg found their changes excruciatingly embarrassing. Normally he was comfortable stripping off and being nude around other wolves before and after the change. He may be in his late forties but he was still pretty fit and had maintained a sporadic gym routine to combat any softening around the middle, and the higher metabolism of the wolf meant he burned off the regular take-aways before they could do much damage. Unfortunately his body seemed determined to embarrass him in Gabriel's presence, so he loitered behind a bush until his wolf flowed over him and tried not to stare at the golden skinned vision in front of him. Gabriel wasn't shy and happily stood waiting for the older man to change and Greg wondered sourly if he was taunting him. Afterwards they walked back to Greg's car in awkward silence both casting sidelong glances at the other. Greg didn't usually have trouble talking to anyone but this kid - or rather the memory of what he'd done to him - had him tongue tied.

"I want to come back to yours. Just a few nights till I get in touch with a mate and find a place to stay. I don't like it at the Haven, everyone is always watching me." Gabriel sat tensely in the passenger seat waiting for his response. Greg shouldn't have been surprised - he'd made the offer after all - but he hadn't expected the boy to take him up on it. Jenny would have a fit so close to the wedding but he couldn't rescind the invitation and… he didn't want to.

Greg stared at him drinking in the tilted eyes, the full lower lip that permanently pouted and the pink flush that stained his cheeks. For a junkie kid he looked healthy, no red eyes or dark shadows, and his skin was smooth and clear apart from the track marks on his arms. The pink tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his delicious lower lip and Greg felt himself start to grow hard when he imagined sucking on it, maybe biting gently... For fucks sake Lestrade get a grip, he wants to sleep on your sofa, nothing else. Jenny will be there. Remember your fiancée who doesn't actually know you used to shag blokes? Jenny, who you are marrying two weeks today! He felt sick and nervous as he slowly nodded. "Ok... Let's go back and get your stuff..."

It was after eleven when they got to Greg's flat and it was all in darkness indicating Jenny wasn't home from work. Greg checked his phone to find three unread messages from her, firstly berating him for inviting 'another no good junkie kid' into their soon-to-be-shared home, then telling him she was doing a double shift and would go back to her own place instead. She was clearly pissed off and he couldn't blame her, but he was secretly pleased she wouldn't be there interfering. He pulled Gabriel's small bag from the back seat and the youth trailed up the stairs after him.

"I thought you said your girlfriend would be here?" He asked suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the older man once they were in the dark sitting room.

"Um, yeah... She had to work. She's not coming home tonight. Look… I'm not going to… you know… jump you or anything, ok? I'm not interested in you that way," he lied, hoping he didn't look as scarlet as he felt. He busied himself flicking on lights and digging around in the small airing cupboard for a couple of spare blankets which he dropped onto the sofa then he entered his bedroom to fetch a pillow snatching up his own. When he returned Gabriel stood bare chested and was sliding his jeans down over his lean thighs and kicking them off the rest of the way.

"C-can I take a shower?" He asked, coming to stand a pace in front of Greg. He was so close the policeman had to look up to meet his eyes, and if he just reached out he could…

"Fresh towels on the shelf, shower is easy to use. I'll be in the bedroom if you need anything," he choked out and dashed for the sanctity of the bedroom closing the door firmly behind him. Christ when did he get so coy? He'd never been shy or nervous around people he fancied, male or female, but this was ridiculous. He knew it was down to guilt, but it didn't bode well for his impending marriage that he felt guiltier about the age gap than potentially cheating on his fiancée.

He shoved a hand through his hair and dug around in the bottom drawer for pajamas. Normally he slept naked but that didn't seem appropriate with Gabriel in the flat. He changed quickly and lounged on the bed hoping for, and dreading, a knock on the door. The shower went silent, and a few minutes later foot falls sounded along the corridor, pausing outside his door, but after a moment they carried on towards the living room. He waited twenty minutes, watching the LED numbers on the bedside clock change agonizingly slowly until he dared leave his room and head to the bathroom.

The flat was so quiet he could hear the kitchen clock ticking from down the hall, and then another noise reached him. He stopped to listen and it came again – a soft moan from the living room. Silently he stepped down the short corridor and stood framed in the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. By the light from the streetlamp outside he could see the shape of Gabriel prone on the couch, his head thrown back, eyes closed and low moans issuing from his throat. The blanket pooled over his upper thighs and his underwear was pushed down exposing his long, thick and very hard cock and the eager hand that tugged enthusiastically at it. His other hand rolled and pinched at his left nipple, squeezing, tweaking and stroking.

Greg leaned heavily against the door frame and watched unable to drag his eyes from the delicious sight of the groaning young man pleasuring himself so freely. Unconsciously his own hand drifted to his erection that was tenting his pajama shorts, quickly stroking himself to fullness through the thin fabric until he needed to feel his hot flesh in his hand. He thrust his hand inside his pants and gripped himself more tightly, sliding his thumb through the slick pre-come oozing from the tip and spreading it all over the sensitive head. He let out a small gasp and immediately shot Gabriel a panicked look to see if he'd heard, but the boy was lost to his pleasure. Greg looked more closely and realized his ear buds were stuffed in his ears so he wouldn't know Greg was there unless he opened his eyes.

Taking a risk Greg resumed his touch, letting the soft moans of pleasure from the sofa turn him on. As Gabriel's pumping grew faster and more vigorous Greg's eyes focused on his cock. He was bigger than Greg in length and girth and he allowed himself to fantasize about how it would feel in his hand, his mouth, his arse… Suddenly Gabriel's hips were jerking as he thrust up into his own hand and he was coming over his stomach in quick glistening bursts, milking his orgasm until he started to soften in his hand.

Greg darted back along the corridor as quickly and quietly as he could with a raging hard on and softly closed his bedroom door just as he heard the footsteps heading towards the bathroom. He leaned heavily against the wood hardly breathing until he heard the door lock then he crossed to his bedside cabinet and found a bottle of lube. He barely needed it, he was leaking so much, but he drizzled some over his palm and warmed it before flopping onto the bed and taking himself in hand again, reliving the scene from the living room with added tongue until he was coming hard over his fist and pajama top. "Fuck!" he groaned out loud as the hot mess spilled over his skin. It was the best orgasm he'd had in months, and that was just tragic.

He pulled the top over his head and used it to clean himself up as best he could, tossing it into the linen basket. He'd have to remember to wash that tomorrow before Jenny came back. He fell back onto the pillows with a sigh at the thought of his pissed off fiancée and realized he hadn't called her as he'd promised so he picked up his mobile. Two missed calls from her. Shit! It was almost one in the morning, too late to call now, so he fired off a quick text, deliberately adding 'ILY' to the end even though it was the last thing he felt like telling her. When he rolled onto his side and pulled the pillow to his chest it wasn't his fiancée he was thinking of as he fell asleep.

Greg's alarm sounded at 6.30am and he flapped a hand over it to turn it off. His first thoughts were of the kid on the sofa and he swung his legs out of bed with far more enthusiasm than he normally displayed. The flat was still silent, so he took a minute to visit the bathroom, before padding down the hall to the living room. The sofa was vacant, the blankets neatly folded, and a quick glance around the tiny flat showed that Gabriel was gone, complete with his small bag of belongings. A note was on the coffee table in spiky hand 'Don't look for me; I'm fine on my own.' Greg sighed miserably. Well that, he supposed, was that.