I seem to be doing a lot of Mystrade lately. Oh well! Again, nothing belongs to me, everything belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and ACD. Enjoy!
Mycroft paces back and forth. He's worried. Greg hasn't come home yet, and he's usually home by this point. He can't check the CCTV, he promised Greg when the relationship started that he wouldn't keep an eye out on him like he does with Sherlock. It has been a very hard promise to keep. Mycroft flops dramatically into the living room chair, lost in thought. Just as he begins to contemplate checking the CCTV, he hears a set of keys jingling. Mycroft automatically runs to the door and flings it open, revealing a battered-up and slightly bloody Lestrade standing in front of him.
"What happened! Are you hurt? Are you okay?" Mycroft immediately takes Greg into his arms, holding him close. Greg flinches at the touch.
"I'm fine, Myc." Greg says as he tries to pull himself out of Mycroft's arms. "Can you let go of me so I can go to the bathroom?"
Mycroft let go of Greg, turning to watch him leave. He immediately follows after him. Greg closes the bathroom door behind him.
"Are you not gonna tell me what happened?" Mycroft says to Greg through the bathroom door. Mycroft hears nothing but the muffled sounds of the cabinets being opened. Mycroft tries to open the door, but it turns out to be locked.
"Greg, open the door. Please?" Mycroft jingles the doorknob. No answer. He leans his head against the door and sighs. Greg has always been a stubborn man, Mycroft knows that, but he never thought Greg could be this stubborn. After a few minutes Mycroft hears the sound of the lock clicking. Greg has finally unlocked the door.
Mycroft slowly opens the door to see Greg sitting on the floor, blood and dirt askew on his face, holding an opened first-aid kit in his lap. Greg is looking quizzically at it, like he doesn't know what to do with it.
"Do you need some help?" Mycroft asks as he kneels down beside Greg.
"What do you know about first-aid?" Greg asks as he closes the first-aid box and looks up at him.
"A lot more than you think I know. Come on, go sit on the bed and I'll fix you up." Mycroft takes the first-aid box from Greg as he stands up and motions towards the bedroom. Greg reluctantly stands up, walks into the bedroom and sits down on the bed. Mycroft follows him, holding the first-aid box and producing a warm cloth out of nowhere. Mycroft sat beside him, depositing the first-aid box on the bed and taking Greg's jaw into his free hand, turning it to face him. He looked over the damage; there was dirt all over his cheeks, a not-so-deep cut on his forehead, and he had a black eye. "Is that all that happened to you? Or was there more?" Mycroft asked, concerned.
"I'm pretty sure this was all that happened."
"Why didn't you let a medic clean you up?" Mycroft says as he begins to lightly clean the dirt and blood off Greg's right cheek. Greg flinches at first then relaxes.
"I was too busy filling out a report to get cleaned up."
Mycroft tuts as he begins to clean Greg's other cheek. "You really can be stubborn sometimes."
Greg smirks, flinching from the pain in his lip. "I wasn't stubborn, just busy."
"Either way. Lower your head for me, I need to clean that nasty cut on your head." Greg lowers his head as Mycroft releases the grip on his jaw and begins to slowly run his hand through Greg's hair. Mycroft takes his hand out of Greg's hair and begins to wipe around his cut with the warm cloth. Greg flinches and shuts his eyes close, trying to forget the pain.
Mycroft gently rubs his forearm, in an effort to soothe him. He stops cleaning the cut, putting the cloth down and taking out the antibiotic ointment from the first-aid kit. He takes the cap off, squeezing some onto his hand before gently applying it to Greg's cut. Greg flinches and takes a sharp breath, holding it in then releasing it quickly. He clenches his fists in pain, his knuckles turning white. Mycroft takes his time, making sure to get every inch of the cut covered in the ointment.
Once the cut is covered in ointment, Mycroft rummages through the kit to find a moderately-sized bandage. After a few minutes of rummaging, Mycroft finally finds a perfectly-sized bandage and some medical tape. Greg watches Mycroft silently, as Mycroft begins to cover the cut in bandage, wincing whenever too much pressure is put on it. After a few minutes of struggling with the medical tape, Mycroft finally manages to bandage and clean up Greg's cut on his head. Greg gently runs his index finger over the bandaged area. "I'll have to replace the bandage every few days, but you'll be fine. That black eye should go away soon." Mycroft says as he begins to put everything away, closing the first-aid kit and taking it back into the bathroom.
"Why do you even have a first-aid kit if you don't know how to use it?" Mycroft yells from the bathroom. He doesn't get a response. Mycroft comes back into the bedroom to see Greg silently shrugging out of his clothes. Mycroft walks over to help him, taking his clothes from him and immediately putting them in the laundry hamper.
Mycroft comes back to the bed and sits beside Greg. Greg yawns, silently resting his head in Mycroft's lap. Mycroft places his hand on Greg's head, quietly running his thumb over the side of Greg's head.
After a few minutes of complete silence, Mycroft purposely coughs. Greg turns his head to look up at him.
"We should take a holiday. Maybe get away for a few weeks." Mycroft lightly stroked his hand through Greg's hair and looked down at him. "We could go to Canada." Greg chuckled lightly.
"You can't be serious, Mycroft." Greg absentmindedly ran his hand over Mycroft's thigh, looking up at him with a confused face.
"I'm dead serious Greg! We could go up to Canada, see some moose, have some maple syrup. It would be a great holiday." Mycroft says as he smiles brightly at Greg.
Greg yawns and sits up to properly look at Mycroft. "Maybe later. I've got too much work to do, and if I'm not there at Scotland Yard while Sherlock is there than half the police force may just go insane."
Mycroft chuckles and places a kiss on the top of Greg's head. "Just think it over. Come on, you need some sleep." Mycroft pulls back the covers on the bed as Greg gets up to lie in it. Greg gets into the bed, pulling up the covers close to him. Mycroft places another kiss on the top of his head. "I'll be in a bit, just need to send a quick message to Anthea."
Greg nods as he starts to drift off, curling up onto his side. Mycroft smiles at him before leaving the bedroom in peace.
After sending a few quick texts to Anthea (he doesn't want to call, he fears he might wake up Greg), Mycroft makes himself a quick cup of tea, sipping at it silently. He stares into space, drinking his tea while thinking about nothing. After finishing his tea, he walks into the bathroom to clean himself up and brush his teeth. He silently walks into the bedroom to grab his pyjamas, tiptoeing along the floorboards so he doesn't wake up Greg. He knows Greg is a light sleeper, so he always has to be silent while he sleeps.
He goes back into the backroom to change into his pyjamas when a thought occurs to him; he never found out what happened. He decides not to worry about right now, but he'll be sure to ask Greg about it in the morning. After slipping into his pyjamas, Mycroft folds his dirty suit and places it in a bag for Anthea to take to the dry-cleaners. He walks into the bedroom to see Greg, still sleeping, folded up on his side and drooling a bit. Mycroft smiles at him as he walks towards the bed, sliding into his side of the bed. Greg absentmindedly curls up next to Mycroft, placing his head on Mycroft's chest. Mycroft wraps his arm around Greg and pulls him in tightly. He smiles into Greg's hair before placing a kiss on the top of his head. Mycroft begins to drift off to sleep, still holding Greg tightly in his arms.
Sometimes Greg can be stubborn, and Mycroft can't get through to him. But sometimes, only sometimes, Mycroft manages to get through to him. And when he does, it's a wonderful moment.