Greg was nervous. He has only spent two days at Holmes manor out of the two weeks he was supposed to be there for the Christmas holidays, and he already made a complete mess of everything. He consistently has been using the wrong silverware at all the meals, he knocked of a portrait off the wall of their great, great…somebody with a ridiculous posh name, and also knocked over the urn containing the remains of Tibbles, Mummy Holmes latest dog. After this latest fiasco, pouring his wine into the wrong glass during their Christmas Eve dinner, he was ready for a long shower and bed in his boyfriends old childhood room.

Greg loved Mycroft's room. It was a representation of the man Greg and grown to love and care for. The true being behind the ice cold mask he wore to face the rest of the world. Filled with books, handmade toys that Mycroft had made himself, and the greatest collection of music Greg had ever seen. He was hoping tonight to get more stories out of the man he loved regarding all his random treasures strewn about the room. Instead he was greeted by the man himself. Arms full of blankets and a thermos in his hands.

"Come along Gregory, I have a surprise for you." Mycroft grabbed Greg by the hand and pulled him out of the door, along the long corridor leading him outside. Greg was astounded, in front of them stood a magnificent horse drawn two-seater carriage, with lanterns to light their way at the front and two beautiful horses. Mycroft gracefully climbed into the seat and bent down to assist Greg to climb aboard.

When Greg got comfortable, wrapped up in blankets next to his beloved, Mycroft handed him the thermos of what Greg was sure to be some posh tea and took the reins. Mycroft expertly lead the horses into the woods on the estate and wrapped one arm around Greg and pulled him in close. Greg opened the thermos and took a sip to find his favourite hot chocolate, rich and creamy.

Greg leaned into Mycroft and sigh. "This is perfect My, what brought this on."

"I had noticed you were struggling, with Mummy and-"

"all the forks?"

"hmm… yes all the forks."

Mycroft smiled and leaned over and kissed Greg lightly on the cheek. He pulled on the reigns and stopped the horses in the middle of a clearing, snow glistening on the ground, sparkling in the moon and starlight. Mycroft slipped his pocket watch out of his pocket and checked the time. He pulled Greg in close and whispered against his mouth, "happy Christmas darling." Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft and closed the gap between them with a soft chaste kiss. He pulled back, eyes blown, and licked his lips. "Happy Christmas Mycroft."