Note: I do not own Sherlock or its characters.
This is just something that popped into my head as I was exploring the fandom. And as you can probably tell I started it after S3. Only a one shot for now.
So Mystrade Slash - don't like don't read.
Chapter One
Mycroft was trying to sleep, but as always it was elusive. He slept, when he could no longer keep his eyes open, so every couple of days. It wasn't good for him and he knew that, it didn't mean he could help it. Two years he dealt like this. Sherlock was back now, so could things go back to normal? He had broken off their relationship, left Greg because of the guilt he felt lying to him about Sherlock. He watched him grieve and he couldn't tell him it would be okay.
Now they were celebrating John's engagement and for the first time in two years, he didn't have to worry about slipping up or betraying confidences. All he could do now was look back on the past two years and wonder what could have been done differently. As his mind began wander he fell deeper and deeper into the memories, so deep he didn't hear the front door of his flat open or the heavy footfalls of someone who needed to sleep.
Greg leaned in the doorway amazed he had managed to get there unnoticed. He watched as Mycroft lay in bed his eyes focused on one point of the ceiling. He was deep in thought, very deep. Greg had not seen him like that for a while. Well a long while.
He understood now, why Mycroft had left, he said he was grieving and needed to do it alone but it wasn't that; he had to be careful. Mycroft was protecting his brother and felt guilty for doing so. He shouldn't, Greg would have done the same. He knew no matter what he would startle Mycroft, but he hoped to limit the damage, he knew he had some kind of weapon under his pillow.
"Mycroft?" he carefully inched towards the bed. No reply. "Mycroft?" he stopped two feet from the king size bed (it was huge) and Mycroft had still not replied. He sat on Mycroft's side of the bed and with what could only come with practice managed to grasp one hand that had gone for his head and pin the other to the bed. "It's only me sweetheart. It's only me." He soothed as he slowly released Mycroft's hands.
"Greg." Mycroft flopped back down a hand over his heart and the other over his face. "Did you have to give me a heart attack?" Greg ran a hand up Mycroft's chest carefully covering the one that was already there, resting it there to let Mycroft settle before talking to him.
"I tried calling your name twice, you didn't respond. I could see you were in one of your deep thought moods." He let his other hand stay on the bed so he was leaning over Mycroft a little perhaps preventing his escape. Greg wanted to talk to him not to have him run away.
Mycroft's heart slowly calmed down; as he relaxed he felt a thumb rubbing against his, fingers linked together with his. Feelings that he didn't think he would feel again.
"Why are you here?" he asked quietly, he had never realised Greg had never given him back his key.
"To talk, but I would rather be comfortable. I'll go make us some tea." Mycroft watched him leave. He was in a word stunned. His ex-lover entered his home, scared him out of his wits and is now making tea. He sat up, slightly glad he was wearing pyjamas although the fact they were a pair of Greg's might raise more questions. He switched on the bedside lamp rubbing his eyes, he needed to focus on what was happening. He couldn't mess up again.
"I hope that you take your tea the same." Greg called as he somehow carried a tea tray fully set on one hand and a go bag in the other. Dropping the bag on the floor he used his now free hand to put the tray on the bed without dropping anything.
"Of course I do. Not much has changed." Mycroft commented pouring tea into the teacups on the tray.
"Except your pyjamas maybe." Greg had left half his clothes there, and never bothered to come back for them. He didn't think that Mycroft would wear them. May be he hoped it would all work out but after a year the hope began to fade. "They suit you." He said as he poured milk into his cup, Mycroft still grimaced as he did. Mycroft didn't like milk in his tea. He blushed he knew Greg would notice. He lived a life of secrecy but here in this place with Greg he was always honest. Except the reason he broke it off, the only lie. Honesty is the best policy.
"They eased the pain, after you left, when I asked you to leave." Honesty Mycroft remember honesty, he told himself.
"Guilt makes people do silly things. Spending too much money on something that was broken or breaking up with someone because you helped your brother fake his death. Silly things." It took all of Mycroft's willpower not to choke on his tea. Greg was leaning against the bed post diagonally opposite Mycroft, giving them enough room if they needed it but close enough to remind them that this wasn't business. This was personal.
"At the time the decisions always seem better. And even after they seem right, until emotions come back and you realise just what you have done. I watched you grieve, I had to pretend to grieve, John Mrs Hudson, people were in pain and I caused it. If it wasn't for you these feeling would never have bothered me." Mycroft spoke into his teacup; he couldn't look up just yet. Greg knew he wasn't done he still had a few insults to throw but he was surprised by Mycroft's next words. "You changed me. At least here I could feel."
"I always knew you had feelings underneath that cold exterior. It's a defence mechanism you Holmes boys have because you can't see that there are people who love you for who you are. You just hadn't had that much experience with them."
"I had you." That bought Greg up short. Mycroft was very forward about his feelings up to the 'I love you' moments. That took longer, but it happened and he never let Greg leave without letting him know that. They both worked in a world where they may not come home.
"You always had me Myc that never changed." Greg moved the tea tray to the dresser as Mycroft digested that piece of information. He stripped off his suit and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Mycroft watched with wide eyes. Coming back into the room Greg picked up his suit putting it in the bin for dry cleaning, Mycroft had begun to relax in the familiar routine. He will admit that he was nervous; he didn't know what was happening Greg held all the cards here. Greg slid into his side of the bed like he had never left it. It had been cold for two years but at that moment it was like nothing had changed.
"Come on you; you need some sleep." Greg reached out and grabbed Mycroft's arm, tugging him down to him. Mycroft was hesitant and Greg could see that but he needed to know everything was going to be okay between them. "Turn the light out and come here Myc." He said softly. Mycroft did as he was told unable to do much else. As he felt familiar arms settle around him. All the stress, the tension over the pain of the past two years faded away leaving exhaustion in their wake. He collapsed the rest of the way into Greg's arms that held him tight.
"Sleep love just sleep." Mycroft curled against him pressing his face into Greg's neck, wrapping his arm around Greg's waist holding on so tightly as though he was going to disappear. "I'm not going anywhere just sleep." Greg whispered.
And for the first time in two years Mycroft fell to sleep easily and quickly feeling safe. Greg readjusted his grip until he was comfortable and let himself fall asleep back where he belonged.
Mycroft woke to an empty bed; the space next to him was cold. He knew last night was not a dream but why did Greg leave. Turning over he slid his hand over the pillow Greg slept on. Hearing the rasping of crinkling paper, Mycroft pushed himself up to see a sheet of his writing paper resting on the top. No wonder he didn't see it; it was out of his view. Picking it up he devoured the words.
Mycroft,
You're either panicking or thinking I left you. I haven't so calm down. I didn't want to leave our bed this morning but I didn't want to wait to get back to us before everything went down. I'm packing up my flat so I can come home to you so I expect a cup of tea or a fry up or both! when I get back. Keep your phone on.
G
Mycroft smiled keeping hold of the note as he got up, a fry up really? Greg knew Mycroft liked to watch his weight. To which Greg responded that he did not have to worry about his weight because he was perfect and that was that. Of course Mycroft disagreed with it, in his head if not out loud. Right now though a fry up sounded very good. He wondered if he had the ingredients in for it. He didn't eat at the flat much, since Greg left really.
He liked the sound of a lazy day, contemplating what he would do with Gregory after they had unpacked his belongings. No matter they would be doing it would be after he had a decent shower and brushed his teeth. He was glad his line of work paid so well; the top of the range shower did wonders to relieve the ache in his neck and wake him up.
He lost track of time letting the water wash over him, his focus was elsewhere. The grumbling of his stomach brought him back from his thoughts. Finishing up he leisurely got dressed and sorted for the day. A pair of faded jeans that he only ever wore when he was with Greg, and a light blue shirt were chosen. Barefoot he padded to the kitchen to see what he could put together. He doubted a fry up but he could see.
Staring into his full fridge he could see why Greg was confident that he could get a fry up. Shopping was something he rarely did on a good day, even when he was here with Greg, he never did shopping, Greg did. And it looked like he had done shopping before he left. He lined up the ingredients on the counter and sent a text to Greg informing him when breakfast would be done.
He got as far as prepping all of his ingredients when Greg fell through the door tugging two large suitcases. He knew there was probably more in the car and moved to help but was stopped when Greg dropped the suitcases and kissed him.
"That feels good; to come back home." Greg said as he pulled away.
"I'm sorry I ever asked you to leave. I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I'm sorry." Mycroft whispered, pressing his forehead to Greg's shoulder.
"I know sweetheart, you don't have to be sorry, you were protecting your brother and that's okay." Holding on to Mycroft. He knew he should be a lot angrier but Sherlock was back and he knew the truth now. He was a copper he understood sometimes you can't trust everyone; and with Sherlock you defiantly couldn't trust anyone. "Later you can tell me the whole story just so I know all the details. But you don't have to worry about being sorry." Mycroft nodded against Greg's shoulder and he couldn't help but chuckle and Mycroft's behaviour.
Here in this house he wasn't the hard demanding unyielding ruler, here he was just Myc. "Now how about breakfast?" Greg asked releasing his grip.
"Well most of its prepared but I have to cook it now. Why don't you get unpacked while I do that?" Mycroft pulled away. "It should be done by the time you're finished."
"Okay, I have to get the rest from the car." He kissed Mycroft softly. Mycroft didn't let go as Greg went to move, Greg didn't say anything just let Myc keep in him place. He understood it but he also had to get all of his stuff, he didn't want to leave it in the car, it didn't matter that this house was closely guarded it was still his stuff. "Sweetheart, you have to let go." Greg said after another couple of minutes. Carefully he pulled away out of Mycrofts grip. Mycroft didn't want to let go but he did very reluctantly. "After I've got my stuff and we've had that fry up your going to make, we can just lounge around and you wont have to let go."
Mycroft nodded heading back to the kitchen area as Greg headed out of the door. Why did he have to let go surely Greg understood that he was the most powerful man in England no one was going to steal anything. He could get his security to move Greg's things and Greg wouldn't have to lift a finger. But no Greg liked to do his own thing, and it was his stuff, he didn't like people handling his stuff. He sometimes wondered if he could get Greg to give up his job but his trail of though never got far, he knew it would never happen. No matter how annoyed, stressed or depressed he got. He also was not allowed to transfer Donovan out no matter how much he wanted too. He personally wanted her out of the force, her lack of empathy disturbed him. Even if it was turned only towards Sherlock, how was she meant to get ahead if anyone smarter than her was a target. But Greg liked her, so he was kept away. Putting the hob on he tried to quieten his rapid thoughts and focus more clearly on the man who walked back into his life.
Greg unpacked his things; he wasn't surprised to find his clothes where he left them, they would all need a wash though. He did not want to smell stale, he emptied them onto the bed replacing them with his clean clothes. He had a lot of washing to do, Mycroft would dry clean everything if he could but Greg didn't let him do that. The suits got dry cleaned but their other clothes Greg washed, he didn't even want to contemplate the state of the utility room. Preparing himself he grabbed the clothes bin which was as he suspected empty, Mycroft had gone back to his old habits. Despite Mycrofts fortune and he did have a fortune, this flat wasn't big, a kitchen living room two bed and two bath and a utility room. Okay so a little big, in a good part of London. Mycroft's home in the country on the other hand is big and Greg didn't really know why it needed to be that big. But then again this was Mycroft he was talking about.
Lugging the bin through the living he heard the hissing and popping of eggs and bacon in the frying pan. He grinned, Mycroft was always on a diet but Greg usually got him to eat something good everyday. In turn Mycroft got him to cut down on cigarettes and exercise a little more. But he guessed that both of those had gone out of the window the past two years. They needed to get back on track. Mycroft noticed him but kept his eyes on the frying pan, he didn't need to set the place alight. Greg was mildly surprised that the utility room was dust free and everything was still switched on. And he was more surprised to see a full washing basket full of clean dried clothes. Maybe some things did stick. He managed to put a load on before Mycroft called him for breakfast.
Settling back into his usual chair he admired the fry up Mycroft put in front of him. He knew it would feel good to he here again he didn't expect it to feel this good. They didn't talk, they didn't have to. Mycroft was happy that Greg was back. They savoured the moment and took their time instead of rushing to leave for work.
"I missed your cooking." Greg managed to say around a mouthful, Mycroft winced but didn't comment. Greg grinned apologetically, he really didn't care for manners at the point. "I tried to keep it up after..." he trailed off.
"So did I, some things stuck but not everything so I may need some help getting back on track." Greg told him scraping the last dregs of his fry up onto his fork.
"I have a reason to cook now, I suppose we will both get on track."Myc watched Greg cleared the table. "What would you like for dinner?" he asked as Greg started filling the dishwasher.
"Surprise me." Greg grinned. Myc couldn't help but smile back, it was like he never left. "Well why don't I get everything unpacked and then we can catch up on the last two years."
Myc got up to help, he had never filled the empty spaces that appeared when Greg left and he was glad he didn't it made unpacking so much easier. Watching each piece go back to its rightful place seemed to cement in his mind that Greg was here to stay. It didn't matter what he said later he was sticking around. That was what mattered right?
A/N: I started this 2 years ago so I decided it was time to finish it. Hopefully the ending wasn't too abrupt. Hope you like it.