Author's Note: Just a head's up! Naomi's character in this story is based on the angel character Naomi, from Supernatural, and Gracie Holmes amazing interpretation of her. I obviously don't own the character, just the story. Thanks for reading!

Tension Relief

Mycroft Holmes didn't usually find himself this busy.

There were days he was forced to stay at the office longer than he'd like, of course. And all too often there were decisions only he could make, that called for the full use of his carefully cultivated mind, his unparalleled diplomatic touch, his cool-headed delivery. But he was a man who knew how to delegate. And more importantly, he was a man who knew who to delegate to, so it wasn't rare that menial tasks would fall to others while he concentrated on world-shaking, regime-toppling, bigger-picture undertakings.

The last year had been something of a political anomaly, though. Unprecedented in recent political history, even he couldn't have predicted the amount of stupidity that would run rampant amongst the masses. Swamped at his desk with neatly arranged stacks of files cluttering the pristine wooden surface, he plowed through the aftermath, entertaining thoughts of violently assassinating recently elected political leaders.

He wouldn't, obviously. But he was tempted. So very, very tempted.

There were over a hundred e-mails in his inbox, too many phone calls to return, too many meetings to attend, and the tension he always carried in his shoulders was already mounting precipitously when there was a knock on the door. He leaned his elbows on his desk, scrubbed his hands over his tired face, wedding ring glinting in the dimming light of day coming through the window.

Any longer staring at the screen of his laptop, and he'd go blind, he was sure.

"Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft didn't bother looking up at the sound of his assistant's voice, just sighed quietly against his palms. Another top-clearance, highly-classified pain in his arse, surely. "Yes, Anthea?"

"Mrs. Holmes is here to see you."

Mycroft peeked up from his hands as Naomi slipped in through the open door, heels clicking on polished floors. She gave him a little wink, turned to Anthea with a professional smile. "Thank you, Anthea, I'll take it from here," she said.

They'd been married several years now, engaged and wedded shortly after college where they'd first met, but just the sight of those familiar blue eyes and those soft pink lips tugging into a smile, made his heart beat a little faster every single time.

Naomi reached behind her, locked the door with a soft click, and leaned against its wooden surface, smiling that knowing smile of hers. "Heard you were having a bad day."

"Dismal," Mycroft confirmed, pushing himself out of his chair to greet her. He closed the distance in three long strides, smoothed his hands over her hips as he moved in close. He tipped his head, closed his eyes, and caught her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. She curled her fingers around his tie as they broke apart, humming quietly at the loss of contact.

"Hello," he greeted quietly.

"Hello," she murmured back, licking her lips. She smiled again, giving his silk tie a gentle tug before she smoothed it out with careful fingers and peeked up to meet his eyes. "I thought perhaps you could use a distraction, if only for a little while."

"Mm, quite so." Mycroft ducked his head to kiss a path down her neck, holding her against the door with his hands on her waist, hips pressed flush against hers. He spoke against her skin, quiet words between warm kisses. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know," she breathed out, smoothing her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, lingering over the tightness there. She kneaded the muscle with the pads of her fingers, pressing a little harder when she made a soft noise against her throat. "I was thinking perhaps a game of chess might keep you busy while still providing a change of pace, but you're awfully tense, beloved," she said quietly. "Would you like a massage instead?"

Mycroft dipped his head lower, pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She let out a quiet breath and he lingered there, brushing his nose against her skin, breathing her in. Between her hands, her scent, her warmth pressed against him, he could feel the stress of the day already ebbing away, fading to the back of his mind.

"You're not busy?" he asked in a murmur.

"Not at the moment."

She was smiling again, just barely, he could hear it in her voice mixed in with all the worry. He pulled back to meet her eyes, tipping their foreheads together only for a moment. He flexed his fingers where they rested at her waist. "Where would I be without you?"

"Utterly lost, I'm sure," Naomi teased, pushing gently against his chest to get him back in his chair. "You'll make it up to me, darling, don't worry. Now, sit."

Mycroft stole another kiss before he let her go, rolling up his sleeves as he walked back to the leather chair behind his desk. He sunk into the cushion as she came behind him, felt her brush a kiss to the back of his neck as she began to knead.

Yes, he'd make it up to her, he thought as his eyes closed. Sooner than she thought, too, if he had his way.