Plan – Expansion

Chapter one

Greg nursed his third glass of whiskey, he is not normally so careless on a weekday, but this was special circumstances, after all, it is not every day he is having a fight like this on a scale like this. Disagreements were there, he and Mycroft didn't had smooth sailing from the get go. Oh no, that little ship was met with a closed gate at the harbour, an anchor that twitch and struggled to let go of the ocean floor, then there were winds…rough seas….oh so many other metaphors he could think of.

Then the ship sailed…and it was beautiful, it was free, it was wonderful and the best chapter of Greg's life, which of course was a universal invitation for the world to mess it up.

'The road to hell is paved with good intentions' that is the saying, the fall back on messed up plans and broken dreams. Greg knew it was only a matter of time before it all went bully up, or the ship would hit a glacier, never mind iceberg. How on earth was he supposed to know that things would get wrong, so fast and so big?

The amber liquid taunted him and he retaliated by swallowing it all in one big sip.

"Another….please…" he added as an afterthought as he pushed the glass to the bartender. One light spot was that the bartender was already playing shrink to someone else on the other side of the counter and filled Greg's glass before he went back to the session.

Greg blinked when his vision became bleary and noticed it was filled with tears, waiting to spill. He refused. It was a bit of a yin/yang phenomena or something, his life changed when he met Sherlock, and his life became mixing of good and bad and sometimes worse. The best part was Mycroft, until now….

Finally, something was to happen that made him wake up in the morning with a smile and expectation, not 'oh blah dee blah murder and paperwork and a pint with the boys…' and now he has no idea whether he is still in a relationship with Mycroft, hell he isn't even sure if Mycroft will ever look into his direction again.

Greg took another sip as he thought back to how it all went wrong.

It was supposed to be a surprise but of course nothing ever turns out the way it is supposed to when the Holmes's were involved. It was supposed to be their one year anniversary and as always Sherlock made a comment – the wrong one and Mycroft misunderstood and now they are fighting. Mycroft decided that he didn't feel like listening to Greg, and haven't spoken to him in two weeks.

Every time he calls, he gets the same message. 'Mr Holmes is unavailable.' How is he supposed to explain when he isn't given a chance?

Greg eyed the glass and took out his phone, he should try again, and then again, drunk dialling isn't really his thing.

Greg opened his contacts and dialled, he must explain…

"You have reached the voicemail of…." Greg hanged up the phone and drank the rest of the whiskey.

"Another?" Greg looked up towards the bartender then back at his glass.

"No….thanks…"

"Bill?"

Greg nodded and pushed the glass away as his other hand dug into his pocket for his wallet. As he took out the few bills he saw the small photo of him and Mycroft. A smile threatening to turn into a sob graced his lips. Mycroft didn't want him to take the photo but he did. Mycroft was looking at him and Greg was taken aback at the way Mycroft was looking at him. He can't remember the last time someone looked at him like that, and now it was gone.

Greg sniffs and cleared his throat and put the money on the counter.

"Keep the change." He uttered and walked out, focusing on keeping his stance, the whisky affecting his motor functions.

Once outside he took a moment to breath in the fresh air when his phone rang. He didn't even bother to get his hopes up that it would be Mycroft. He took out his phone. 'John' nope…not answering. He let it rang and switch over to voicemail. It stopped when the first ping of a message come through.

"Answer. SH." Greg growled. Piss off arsehole.

He hasn't even looked at Sherlock since that day, and just the mere mention of his name would make him shaking with fury.

The phone rang again but Greg didn't answer, he just lowered the volume and let it ring.

After the call another text came through but Greg ignored that one just like the other.

After the third call and text he was halfway home and angry. The whisky was making him brave and stupid and he knew if one of them calls again he will answer and say something he is going to regret. He really hoped they don't call again.

The phone rang…

Greg wasn't thinking straight, he wanted to take to a Holmes, but not this one.

"Fuck you." He yelled into the phone.

"It's me John." The subtle voice replied. It did nothing to calm Greg down.

"What do you want?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes Daad…you see your boyfriend fucked up the only good in my life, because well….I actually don't know why, maybe you can tell me….why is it that only the two of you can be happy together but the moment someone else is, he has to be his usual dick self and fuck it up?"

"Maybe we should talk in the morning."

"Of course your taking his side… precious Sherlock…ruining lives as far as he goes and you don't care, oh yes, because it was 'fun' you said once right….After everything I did for…." Greg trailed off.

"Listen mate…"

"He ruined my life you both can go to hell."

"I'll call to…"

"Don't." Greg hung up before John could finish and switched the phone off as he made his way home. He really wished that he could just explain to Mycroft, or that Sherlock would just get his facts straight.

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Mycroft on the other hand was hurt, he thought he and Greg would make it, then Sherlock made that comment about seeing Greg having dinner with another man and he lost all sense of sense really, he didn't even wait for Greg to explain, he just turned around and walked away.

That was three days ago, the whole incident happened nearly a week ago and he longed for the presence of Gregory, his whole body and soul ached for him, but by now Mycroft had no idea what to do. A part of him desperately wanted to talk to him, to give him the change to explain, another part wants him to walk away from it all and never make the same mistake again.

Mycroft stared at his image in the mirror, every hair in place, every part of his armour polished and shining, perfection, years in the making, years of preparation, except the eyes…the coldness that was there a year ago was gone, a softness had creeped up in the irises, the blue lost some the arctic ice and instead was filled with some soft oceanic blues. It was because of Greg, he knew it. This…he…can't…without a second thought he walked away. He still has his work.

At the door he picked up his phone and umbrella. His notification light was blinking, he had a message. It was Sherlock. Well he didn't feel like talking to his brother, he probably wants to gloat some more. He didn't have time for this. Work….he can do this…plus he had a meeting

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Greg was going through the motions at work, just doing his job day by day, John did try to call him the next day but Greg didn't answer, he hasn't tried again. It has been a week from hell that was the best way to describe. He knew he should probably apologise to both Sherlock and John, but not now when, he wasn't sure when, but he just knew that there's no way he can look at them, all happy together when he was broken and alone.

It was after another night of loneliness and falling asleep with the help of whiskey and beer that he got the idea. He just had to figure out whether it was vindictive or an apology, it was after the fifth whisky that he realise that he didn't care.

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Mycroft came back from Cambodia yesterday and the first thing he did was having a proper lunch in his favourite restaurant. He was sitting alone, in his usual seat and would refuse to look up, if he did that Greg's silhouette would fill that space and it would hurt. He was so in thought that he never saw the man approaching him.

"Mr Holmes?" He looked up to see young man, he was very handsome and he was looking at Mycroft as if he was unsure whether to approach him.

"Yes?" He replied, eyeing the man up and down.

"Oh good, wasn't sure but the picture was quite different."

"I'm sorry, what picture, I can assure you, my picture hasn't appeared in any paper."

"No, the one Greg showed me." Mycroft froze. His eyes turning into lasers as he looked at the man.

"Excuse me?" His voice was like ice, and the man visible trembled."

"Your partner, he showed it to me, when we had lunch to make arrangements." Mycroft was furious, how dare this man talk about arrangements he and 'Greg' made. This is the man, who was with Greg when Sherlock saw them.

"I don't know who you are, but I will find out, and you will regret it, how dare you talk to my face about your plans with Gregory? Was the deceit not enough?" Mycroft growled out. The man's eyes popped out in fear.

"It was meant to be a surprise, for your anniversary…"

"What?" Mycroft asked. The conversation was turning more peculiar by the minute.

"You're one year anniversary, he asked me to arrange for the planetarium to be closed, so you two could be alone."

A dreaded feeling overcame Mycroft.

"Tell me everything." He demanded.

"I'm Timothy Hastings, the director at the Planetarium, Greg helped me with a case a few years back and I said if he needed my help, he should just ask, a month ago he asked if he could hire the planetarium for one night, for his one year anniversary, he said he didn't had the money for expensive gifts and special treatment, so he made a plan to do something else, and he asked me to help. I agreed." Mycroft couldn't believe what he was hearing; this all was one big misunderstanding. He needed to fix this, and soon. He didn't bother with saying good-bye or finishing his lunch, he grabbed his umbrella and practically run out the place, he needed to fix this, somehow. He only hopes Greg would listen to him.

Sherlock made one comment and he flipped, and now oh God, how was he going to fix this?