You've got me, baby, are you mine?

by SunnyRea

Sherlock's return from the dead brings Greg and Mycroft back together after more than a year without seeing each other. Will the reunion be for better or worse, can they forgive and maybe start over? -Sequel to "Yours is the only ocean." Third and final in the trilogy-

1. Restart

Greg stands in the doorway to Mycroft's new office. The walls are gray and dark with lights just above eye height like the kind one sees in hotel hallways. Greg notices a fan on top of the same sort of gray filing cabinet he has in his office in the corner. Another ridiculous old nobility portrait hangs on the wall near the cabinet directly behind where Mycroft sits at his desk. The desk certainly has a more modern style compared to Mycroft's last desk and appears even sparser. However, the last office at least had windows.

"So your office is underground now?" Greg says.

Mycroft jerks his head up suddenly from his laptop. His mouth does not drop open in any codfish surprised fashion but his jaw clenches and his eyes widen enough for Greg to know. Possibly Mycroft has been too preoccupied to anticipate Greg.

Greg glances around and points at the bare walls. "Bit more 007 going on now?" He looks back at Mycroft. "Suppose that would make you M, would it?"

Mycroft breathes in through his nose and pulls his fingers off the keys of his laptop. "I take it Sherlock has seen you?"

Greg takes two steps in, watching his feet as he walks, and nods. "Couple hours ago." He looks up again, stepping in further. "Tried to give me shite for smoking."

One corner of Mycroft's lips quirks up. "Charming."

"Especially for a dead man."

"And now here you are."

Greg clicks his tongue. "Did you really expect me not to come?"

Mycroft only tilts his head as a response. For a moment neither of them moves, simply watching each other in silence across the empty air of Mycroft's nondescript office.

"Your hair," Mycroft says breaking the stillness, as he leans back in his chair.

Greg frowns. "Still got it, yeah."

"You cut it."

"That happens sometimes."

"It's... different."

Greg laughs. "Yeah, I knew you wouldn't like it."

Mycroft scoffs. "I do hope that is not why you cut it."

Greg has a very strong moment of deja vu. He blinks a few times then tilts his head. "We really going to talk about my hair?"

"You are the one who came to my office."

"Well, you see, your brother is back from the dead after more than two years and, unless his way of doing it was really that good, you've known he was alive all this time."

Mycroft pulls his arms back, threads his fingers together in front of his chest and breathes in deeply. "It was, in fact, my idea."

Greg huffs softly. "Of course it was."

"Have you come to ask why we did it; why Sherlock faked his death?"

Greg shakes his head. "No doubt all something to do with your Jim Moriarty; can tell that. The specifics don't really matter."

Mycroft frowns. "They most certainly do."

Greg tilts his head again and gives Mycroft a look. "Not really."

"What is it then, a need to soothe your emotions? Are you hurt and angry? Do you want me to apologize?"

"You sound more upset than me right now."

Mycroft huffs and drops his hands to the arms of his chair. "Just answer the question."

"I'm not angry."

"You?" Mycroft makes a derisive noise. "The champion of shouting?"

Greg crosses his arms. "Are you trying to make me angry?"

"Should you not be angry? I lied to you about a very serious event, life and death in fact. Is this not something which would cause most people extreme emotional reactions, especially when it comes from a romantic partner?"

"You've always put your brother first, Mycroft, why should've I thought that didn't cover me as well?"

Mycroft frowns. "Are you trying your hand at logical reactions now?"

"Look, I haven't seen you in more than a year, Mycroft. Maybe once I would have hoped you would trust me with something like that but you didn't and you certainly taught me not to expect any more from you after we split up." He shrugs. "Guess you proved to me you are just like Sherlock."

Mycroft frowns even more. "Just like Sherlock?"

"You don't care who you hurt."

Mycroft's jaw clenches again and he glares at Greg. "Did you come to give me examples of your capability for casual cruelty –"

Greg sighs. "It's the truth."

"Or is this some backward attempt to regain my affections now that you view the perceived emotional loss of my brother as removed?"

Greg breathes in slowly and swallows once before speaking again. "Did I really lose your affections?"

Mycroft looks away and speaks softly, "why are you here, Greg?"

Greg steps closer and touches the edge of Mycroft's desk. Mycroft looks at him and Greg sees some of that staunch righteousness ebb away. They stand for a moment just staring at each other again over the space of the desk between them. Greg breathes in and out and anchors his hand on the desk.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks quietly.

"I thought you said you were not angry?" Mycroft replies, voice just as low.

Greg shakes his head. "Do I sound angry?"

"No."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know why."

"No, not me as a police officer, not me of the Met, or even me as Sherlock's friend; I mean me as in me and you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Mycroft looks away. "How could I have done that?"

"You're the smart one," Greg says.

Mycroft looks back. "There was never a choice. Sherlock Holmes needed to be dead for everyone."

"Except everyone who knew."

"And you did not need to be one of them."

"It was you I really cared about, Mycroft. You I was worried for." Greg pulls his hand off the desk. "But looks like all that was for nothing after all."

Mycroft stares at the wall beside them. "I did what I had to."

Greg opens his mouth then shuts it again with a shake of his head. He slides his hands into his pockets, eyes on the floor and two years ago. Then he looks up at Mycroft, Mycroft still watching him. Greg nods. "Right. You did."

"Greg…" Mycroft licks his lip once then breathes in. "I did not intend for what happened."

"Just months of concern you decided not to notice?"

Mycroft's face falls. "I did not say that."

Greg sighs and he smiles a little. "Doesn't matter, been two years anyway now, right? Nothing to be upset over any more."

"I knew how much you cared," Mycroft insists quietly.

Greg smiles then backs up a few steps. "Just wanted to say, glad to see your brother is back and I suspect you've got a bit less to worry about now."

"Or more," Mycroft comments dryly.

Greg chuckles. "Yeah, right." Greg clears his throat. "Well." Then he turns and walks toward Mycroft's office door.

"Greg…"

Greg looks back at Mycroft from the door. He thinks Mycroft looks just as beautiful as the last time he said goodbye. Greg breathes in quickly then smiles again. "Good to see you, Mycroft." Then he walks out.

"Right!" Greg knocks the files in his hand on the conference room table twice to gain the attention of the room, the entire division filling the space as well as a few PCs Greg recognizes from intake. He waits a few seconds until people stop chattering then drops his files on the table. He puts his hands on his hips and breathes in deeply. "So, I suspect most of you know by now or at least suspect what I'm going to tell you."

A murmur shifts across the room and Donovan mutters, "unbelievable," under her breath. Greg sees Clipton and Bell shoot a look at each other across the table while Gupta puts a hand over her mouth to mask her wide smile. Matthews in the corner appears to be one of the few frowning with confusion.

"As of three days ago we have learned Sherlock Holmes is alive."

The murmur grows into actual comments, a few people who must not have heard the rumor gasping in surprise. Clipton breathes out audibly while Brooks groans and shakes her head.

Banks whacks Bradford – who winces and frowns – hard in the shoulder with a hiss of, "I bloody told you!"

"Unbelievable," Donovan says again and crosses her arms.

"All right, all right," Greg says, waving a hand in a 'silence' motion through the air. "It is not just a rumor; I have seen him myself. He's quite alive."

"Alive," Avery echoes quietly.

"You might have also heard about the bomb scare under parliament, some of you were involved, I know. Sherlock was instrumental in that discovery and a safe resolution of that situation. I know there were many opinions on him, good and bad, but we can't deny either way he's good."

A few people scoff while others mutter 'yes.'

Greg clears his throat. "The news should hit the press later today, so be warned. Any calls about him send straight to me, no other comments. Clear?"

The room responds with 'yes, sir' and 'clear.' Donovan sighs and nods her head at him.

"Right. That's the long and short. He faked his death, gone for two some years, now he's back. Any questions?"

About fifteen hands shoot up into the air. Greg frowns. "Yes, we might consult with him again but also, yes, we are going to clear him through channels if we do."

Half of the hands go down.

Greg frowns. "If you want to ask me how he did it, I don't know."

All but one of the hands go down and most of the room groans with disappointment.

Greg shrugs. "Sure he'd tell you all about it in detail if you want to know. Probably end up telling it all to the press anyhow."

Gupta snorts loudly and a line of PCs leaning against the glass laugh. Greg looks over at Brooks still holding up her hand and leaning back in her chair.

"Brooks?"

She drops her arm. "With Sherlock back this doesn't mean we have to worry about Jim Moriarty, does it?"

All heads in the room tick to Brooks then turn back to Greg. Greg shakes his head. "No. Moriarty well and shot himself. Think we only get one resurrection at a time around here."

Brooks smiles and a few people laugh. Greg claps his hands together. "Right, dismissed."

Everyone stands up from their chairs and slip out the doors, while Greg picks up his pile of papers glad that the announcement did not bring up more ancient history than necessary. Greg waits until almost everyone is gone before he heads out of the conference room toward his office.

Donovan falls into step bedside him as soon as he clears the doors. "So you saw him?"

He glances at her. "Yep."

"In the flesh, coat and all?"

"Actually yeah." She scoffs. "What did you expect, Donovan?"

"Maybe an apology."

"From Sherlock?"

"He faked his death! Does he know the people he hurt?"

"I'm sure he does know –"

"Really?" She cocks her head as they walk. "You think he does? Did he apologize to you?"

Greg opens his mouth but stops himself right before he says, 'neither of them did.' He stops walking and turns to face her. "Look, Sherlock is always going to be the way he is. May have been two years but you know he can logic out all the reasons why he did what he did."

"But how can he not think about the repercussions? I mean look at Anderson!"

Greg frowns. "Sally, why not just take what we can, all right? Be glad he didn't really kill himself on account of what we did."

Sally sighs and grits her teeth. Greg turns away and walks down the hall to his office. He shuts the door behind him and puts his files on his desk. He picks up his phone and dials quickly. It takes three rings but finally he hears the line connect.

"Um, yes?"

"Anderson, it's Greg, looks like I owe you a big apology."

There is a long pause then Anderson begins to laugh, high and shrill and manic and Greg has to pull the receiver away from his ear at the sound.

The moment Greg sits down at the table Claire latches onto his arm with both hands and David begins laughing into his pint glass.

"Are you kidding me?" Claire gasps.

"She hasn't stopped since we got here," David says.

"I mean, really!" Claire squeezes Greg's arm. "Faked his death? What is that? Who does that? I don't even understand how it's possible in real life!"

"Is this real life?" Greg asks.

"Is this just fantasy?" David quips.

Claire shoots a glare at David then looks back at Greg. "So you've seen him, right? I mean you must have? I almost called you when I saw the news and he was wearing that dumb hat again."

Greg purses his lips. "I suspect Sherlock wears it ironically now."

Claire rolls her eyes. "Because that's the point."

Greg shrugs. "Doubt I really know any more than you saw on the telly, Claire."

Claire groans. "Please." She lets go of his arm and leans back against the booth. "Did he see you before he went to all those reporters?"

"Well, yeah, he –"

"See!"

David snorts.

Greg smiles. "Snuck up on me in the parking garage when I was having a smoke."

David frowns. "You're still at those? She's stopped." Claire clears her throat and picks up her glass of water. David's eyebrows shoot up "What is that missy?"

"Didn't he say anything to you?" Claire asks Greg, ignoring David. "Did he tell you why?"

"Or how?" David adds as he picks up a chip from his plate.

"Did you guys not order me any food or drink?" Greg asks with a nod toward David's plate. "And, no, Claire, he didn't. Just called me Graham and told me I'd been 'letting things slide.'"

"Graham?" David and Claire say.

"He can never remember my name."

David frowns. "Because Graham is much easier than Greg."

"How can he forget your name?" Claire frowns to match David and puts down her glass. "He's known you for years."

"He didn't actually learn my first name until about three years ago."

"What?" David and Claire say with matching tones of disbelief.

Greg chuckles and picks up David's beer, taking a drink. "Yeah."

"Sometimes your life baffles me, Greg," Claire says.

"Oh, I look forward to every thrilling tale," David says as he takes his beer back from Greg. "Criminal cases, office flirtation –"

"That was one time –"

"On the job injury."

"Which you should stop," Claire amends as she stabs her fork into a piece of fish.

"Not to mention, faked deaths and secret government agent wooing."

Greg purses his lips. "And break up."

Claire elbows David in the side with no attempt at subtlety. He nearly spills some of his beer then glares at the side of her head. She does not acknowledge his look. David puts his beer down primly then turns back to Greg. "So, have you seen him?"

"Sherlock?"

David smiles slowly. "You know who I mean."

Greg rolls his eyes. "Come off it, David, I haven't seen him in more than a year."

"So, yes, you did?"

"Did he know?" Claire asks suddenly.

Greg clears his throat and peers to the side to see if there is a waiter he can grab a beer and sandwich from.

"Fuck," David says at the same time Claire says, "Oh wow…"

Greg looks back at them. "Yes, I saw him. Yes, he knew. Anything else?"

"Anything else?" David gasps.

Claire drops her fork onto her plate with a clatter. "Bloody hell!"

"Oi, both of you, relax."

"Relax!" Claire snaps. She turns her head to David. "He says relax."

"Greg, Mycroft let you believe Sherlock was dead all that time. He let you break your heart over him and what you thought he must have been going through. He let you think your friend was dead, his brother!" David leans forward over the table, props up his elbow and points at Greg. "Aren't you angry?"

"Look, he did what he had to."

"Did he say that?" Claire asks with a deep frown.

"But aren't you a bit angry?" David insists.

"All right, you both remember we're not together anymore, right?" Greg flings out both hands and waves them over the table. "Haven't been for a long time now."

"But you haven't been with anyone else either," David says tapping the table with one finger.

"What does that mean?"

"Yeah, what does that mean?" Claire asks as well.

David chews the edge of his lip and sighs. "Greg, you know I like Mycroft."

"Don't see why," Claire mutters.

"He made Greg happy," David says to Claire while still looking at Greg.

"Yes, until he didn't."

"But!" David continues with emphasis on the word to override Claire. "As I was saying, but, don't you think you deserve a better answer than 'because' or at least an apology from him?"

"I imagine that's very likely," Claire mutters.

"When did you become the fiery militant one?" David says finally turning to look at Claire.

She huffs. "When Greg's ex kept his alive brother a secret and caused our brother unnecessary emotional damage."

Greg sighs. "Why do you two need to be so interested in this?" David and Claire both turn to him. Greg raises his eyebrows and takes David's beer again. "Sherlock is back. I saw Mycroft just to see him and that's it, done, nothing more."

David crosses his arms. "Uh huh."

Greg takes a sip of David's beer. "Nothing more." He puts the beer down and slides it back toward David. "Now can we try and get me my own food and beer?"

Greg flips through the case file on his desk. The thickness of the file already has a headache growing behind Greg's eyes. The transcription pages of the initial altercation at the scene include so many expletives of creative variety that Greg will need to google a few of them. He closes that case and slides it to the side of his desk. He will deal with that one later.

At the moment Greg has to write and send an official complaint, more like report really, to his superintendent about some of the officers from city police. Fortunately they do not often have disputes with the city police as the lines are clear cut but every now and then there is the drop down, drag out fight of 'yours or mine.' Greg understands, he does; the city police territory is small and they want to protect what turf they have. However, Greg and his division usually take point when a murder is involved so city police can get bent. To be fair, however, Gupta did tackle one of their men and get in at least two good punches before Avery and Clipton pulled her off; all the more reason Greg needs to get their side down in writing first so he can avoid suspending Gupta and give her a warning instead.

"Sir?"

Greg looks up to see Avery at his door. "Got your account done?"

Avery nods. "E-mailed you and have a hard copy." He holds up it up.

Greg reaches a hand out over his desk for the papers. "Perfect."

Avery walks in and hands the two pieces of paper to Greg. Greg takes them and puts them on top of the case file which caused the whole territory dispute in the first place. Avery clears his throat and Greg looks up at him again.

"I left out the bit where you called their sergeant a wanker."

Greg smirks. "Guess you didn't hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Greg chuckles and Avery smiles. Avery nods then turns around and walks out of Greg's office again. Not a minute after Avery disappears and Greg types one sentence about priority jurisdiction, Banks knocks on Greg's open door.

Greg's eyes tick up as he keeps typing. "Yeah?"

"Phone call about Sherlock."

Greg frowns. "Which 'about?'"

Banks shrugs. "If we have any comments on his fake suicide and if he will continue to consult with our department."

Greg sighs and rubs his face with one hand. "Newspaper or television?"

"The Star."

"Great, transfer them to me."

"What are you going to tell them, sir?" Banks asks.

Greg frowns. "What am I going to tell them?"

"Will Sherlock still be consulting with us?" Banks smiles in a 'please tell me' way.

"To be determined."

Banks pouts for one second then nods. "Yes, sir." Then he pulls back out of Greg's door again.

Greg chuckles quietly and shakes his head. A few seconds later Greg's desk phone begins to ring. Greg picks it up on the second ring, better to get it over with.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, yes?"

Fifteen minutes later, Greg hangs up the phone having kept to the 'party line' stance on Sherlock's actions, future activity and did not use one swear word. Hopefully there is no creative way of reordering his sentences in print to make him sound like an idiot, fingers crossed.

"Sir?"

Greg looks up to see PC Cooper in his door way. He cocks his head. "Ah ha, welcome back."

She smiles and brushes her bangs to the side. "Thank you sir, quite glad to be."

"Did Somerset treat you well?"

She groans. "I suppose it depends what you mean by 'well.'" Greg raises his eyebrows but she just shakes her hand and waves a hand. "Never mind. Let's just say that nothing really compares to London policing and four years is long enough to be away."

Greg nods. "I'll agree to that."

"So…" She bites her lip. "Hear Sherlock's back."

Greg snorts. "You missed his 'leaving.'"

She smiles. "Well, I did read the papers. Is he going to be back here too?" She points to the floor.

Greg sighs. "Everyone is asking that today."

"Just today?"

Brooks suddenly appears beside Cooper. She grips Cooper's shoulder and shakes once. "Yes, yes, you have to answer Lisa. She's the sweet one we've been missing all this time. Give us a yes or no."

Greg rolls his eyes. "I called him on the one case already."

Brooks scoffs loudly. "Come on, because that farce counts!"

"What was it?" Cooper asks Brooks over her shoulder.

Brooks rolls her eyes. "Anderson being a twat."

Cooper suppresses a laugh and nods. "Oh right then."

"Would you both get back to work?" Greg says, crossing his arms. "Better things to do that dwell on Sherlock, yeah?"

"Yeah," Brooks says, "done that plenty."

"Welcome back, Cooper," Greg says again. "Now use that charm of yours to interrogate a witness or two. I'm sure we have some saved for you."

At that Cooper laughs and nods. "Of course, sir."

Greg twirls his pen around between his fingers twice then sits up straight and shifts back to his laptop.

"Sir, are we –"

Greg holds up his hand and looks at Clipton in his doorway. "Better not be asking about Sherlock."

"Uh…" Clipton tilts his head. "Not now?"

Greg narrows his eyes. "Go write your report about the city police."

Clipton frowns. "Should have let Parni get in a few more hits."

Greg forces down a smile. "Go."

Obviously this day is turning into a 'bother my superior' sort of day.

Greg spends the next half hour writing out a detailed account of the confrontation with city police. He takes as much blame as he can and suspects the superintendent will let all of them off with warnings, Greg's warning probably a bit sterner than his PC's what with rank and all. One minute after Greg attaches the statements from Clipton, Avery and Gupta to his own report and presses 'send' on his e-mail, Greg's mobile buzzes with a call. Greg glances at the mobile on the side of his desk and sees 'Mycroft' on the ID.

Greg picks it up, stares at the name for another buzz then clicks answer. "Hello?"

"Greg."

"Mycroft..."

There is a long pause so that Greg almost thinks the call was dropped then Mycroft breathes in so Greg hears it. "I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me."

Greg blinks and stares straight ahead at the blinds of his office. "You wanted to what?"

"After our meeting the other day I felt you deserved a further explanation regarding my actions and behavior with Sherlock's… temporary demise."

"Mycroft, you don't need to –"

"I want to."

Greg chews the edge of his lip. "So you want to have dinner?"

"You made the point that you cared…" Mycroft clears his throat. "Cared about me and, well, such a person has been rare in my life and perhaps you do deserve more."

Greg blows a slow breath out. "All right."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Just tell me when."

He hears Mycroft makes a soft, pleased noise. "I will send you time and place." Then the line cuts off.

Greg pulls his mobile away from his ear and stares at the face. He drops his hand down and places the mobile on his desk. He grips the arms of his chair and drums his fingers.

Greg breathes in and out. "Right..."

Greg sits at a table in the back of the restaurant Mycroft chose. The decor is sparse, cream colored walls veering close to yellow with red upholstery on the seating, and the lighting somewhat dim. It certainly seems like the place for serious conversations or illicit trysts. Mycroft is ten minutes late which for Mycroft is more like twenty. Greg's mobile sits on the table but has not buzzed since Greg sat down eleven minutes ago. He gave up and ordered a beer four minutes ago which arrived only a minute after. Two minutes ago he began to worry about his new propensity for keeping track of minutes passing.

"Apologies."

Greg looks up with a start to see Mycroft standing beside the table. He swallows and touches his beer absently. "You're late."

Mycroft smiles in his thin, professional way. "It could not be helped."

He sits down across from Greg, eyes ticking to the beer in Greg's hand then back to Greg's face. Greg picks up the beer and takes a sip. Even though he saw Mycroft a few weeks ago, Greg still feels unnerved to physically see Mycroft in front of him after more than a year's absence.

"So." Greg puts his beer down again and sits back in his chair. "You wanted to explain?"

Mycroft huffs quietly. "We have not even ordered yet."

"The eating's not really the point."

Their waiter stops by before Mycroft can counter and puts a glass of white wine in front of Mycroft. The waiter smiles and opens his mouth to talk but Greg waves his hand, no, for him to come back. Mycroft raises his eyebrows but does not try to stop the waiter as he leaves.

Greg points at the glass. "It's Chenin blanc. Hope that'll do."

Mycroft picks it up and takes a sip. He clicks his teeth then puts the glass back down. "Sufficient."

"Okay."

"You look well," Mycroft says quietly.

Greg shrugs. "I'm the same."

Mycroft smiles. "Of course."

"You did just see me a few weeks ago."

"I recall."

"Well then." Greg taps the table with one finger. "Here we are."

"Yes."

Greg sighs. "Mycroft, don't dance around the –"

"You have to understand, Greg," Mycroft interrupts. "You were never part of the plan."

Greg stares at Mycroft for two beats. "What?"

"The plan I had for Sherlock and I – for a great number of people involved – in terms of solving the Moriarty problem was very long in the making. From practically the onset of Sherlock's interactions with that man and his network of criminals we were planning a way to destroy the entire organization." He twists his wine glass by the stem. "It was not an overnight decision nor a simple one." He clears his throat and glances at Greg. Greg keeps his gaze without comment.

Mycroft purses his lips, takes a sip of his wine, then continues. "Sherlock and I both foresaw the outcome between the two of them would likely result in a life or death situation, thus we needed a way out when that eventuality came to pass, where ever and whenever it might be. We needed an ultimate plan, several in fact."

"So you had Sherlock fake his death instead of actually dying?"

"There is nothing on this earth which can stop me when it comes to preserving the life of my brother," Mycroft says, voice cold with the commanding tone Greg knows must send fear into the hearts of any subordinate or foreign leader.

Greg raises his eyebrows. "So?"

"You were not a factor in these plans."

Greg scoffs. "Real surprise."

"My point," Mycroft insists, "is that I did not foresee the effect you would have."

"On what?"

"On me."

Greg raises his eyebrows. "My effect on you?"

"Yes."

Greg presses his lips together, glances down at the table then looks up again. "And?"

"I believe I have made my point. You were an unforeseen factor."

Greg blinks and stares at Mycroft. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

"What more would you –"

"Oh right, sorry, Mycroft, but the whole part I'd like to know a bit more about was everything after. Think I've noticed Sherlock is alive and you had something to do with everything leading up to that but, you're right, that didn't concern me all that much."

"Yes, and I believe you recall perfectly well the time after when Sherlock was presumed dead. You were in fact there."

"Oh, I was, and maybe what I want to know, Mycroft is why."

"Why we needed to dismantle an international crime network or why I did not deign to let you in on the truth?"

Greg huffs harshly. "You are kidding. Mycroft, do you really not know anything about people at all?"

"I know far too much about people. Why do you think I avoid them?"

"Then I guess that makes me a big wrench in your whole works doesn't it?" Greg snaps.

Mycroft breathes in sharply and his hand clenches around his wine glass. He picks up the glass and takes a slow sip of the wine. Greg has the urge to chug his entire glass of beer.

Mycroft puts the glass down again and sighs. "I was the one who put you into 'the works' in the first place." He looks up at Greg. "Wasn't I?"

Greg feels tension in his shoulders ease somewhat and he rubs a circle with his hand on the table. "I wanted to be there, Mycroft, that's why I cared."

Mycroft nods. "And I did not foresee... I did not know…" Mycroft trails off and picks up his wine glass again.

Greg frowns. "Are you trying to tell me that you thought I wouldn't care? You didn't ever tell me the truth because in your plan you didn't expect me to care about how you would feel when your brother died?"

Mycroft puts his glass down without drinking any of the wine. He says nothing, looks somewhere over Greg's shoulder for a moment before he turns his eyes back to Greg. Every line on his face says, 'yes.'

Greg nods. "Right..."

"I imagine, knowing you, that any explanations I may have for you will feel insufficient."

"You always had trouble with the truth."

"There comes a point when it is too late for the truth."

Greg shakes his head. "That's not true."

Mycroft shrugs. "It appears that way now."

Greg picks up his beer and leans back in his chair. "We can't change the past, what either of us said or did." Greg drinks some of his beer. "Doubt you or I'd do much different if we went through it all again."

Mycroft clicks his tongue. "Likely not."

"But, well." Greg sits up again. "Glad you wanted to set it all straight."

Mycroft frowns. "Is that what I've done now?"

Greg shrugs. "About as much as you can."

"I see."

"Right." Greg takes another big drink of his beer then puts his glass down and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulls out a few pounds and puts them on the table. "I should go."

Mycroft sits up taller and leans forward slightly. "Without having dinner?"

"I don't think we need to have dinner." He closes his wallet and raises his eyebrows. "Unless you have more explanations and excuses you want to try."

Mycroft gives Greg a withering look. "Wanted to get in one last dig before you buried the hatchet, did you?"

"There's no hatchet, Mycroft, never was. Break ups aren't usually clean and they often have ripples." Greg waves a hand over the table between them. "Like now."

"I cannot decide whether I appreciate your metaphor or not."

"I think I got the habit from you."

"I do hope not."

"Well." Greg stands up then pushes his chair in up to the table again. "Good seeing you."

Greg walks around the table but Mycroft grasps his hand as he passes. "Greg." Greg looks down at Mycroft. "Perhaps we might have coffee another time then?"

"Coffee?"

"You do still drink it?"

"Yes, of course I –"

"Then perhaps we could both drink the beverage together."

"I…" Greg breathes in and looks down at their hands still together.

"It would only be coffee," Mycroft says quietly.

Greg looks up at Mycroft again, a look on Mycroft's face Greg always has trouble identifying: uncertainty. "All right."

Mycroft lets go of Greg's hand. "Good night, Greg."

Greg walks away from the table and out through the restaurant. On the street, Greg stands close to the kerb and watches the cars pass by. His hand tingles like he just burnt himself.

Greg breathes in slowly. "Shite."

"All right, where are we on the Smith murder?"

"Person or profession?" Clipton quips.

"Weren't you there, Ted?" Bell says with sarcasm. "It was Mr. Smith with the anvil in the blacksmith shop."

"I never liked Cluedo."

Bell snorts. "Who said anything about Cluedo?"

"Maybe it was a Smith and Wesson," Gupta says, flashing a grin at Clipton and Bell sitting across the table from her.

"Or Smith street," says Avery.

"Oi, you done?" Matthews chastises and points at Greg. "It's a murder!" He huffs and taps the case file in his hand. "We have all the witness statements and four sets of finger prints, two brought back known offenders."

Greg bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling then nods at Matthews. "Thank you, Matthews. Take Avery and follow up on the whereabouts of both the night in question."

"Yes, sir," Matthews and Avery say at once.

"Right." Greg turns over the sheet in his hand then looks up, scanning the room for Brooks. "How's it going with the solicitors and the MP assault from last month?"

Brooks breathes out audibly and shakes her head. "Like a house on fire except you're still inside."

Gupta frowns. "Isn't that metaphor usually supposed to be positive?"

"Not this time."

"Need more help?" Greg asks.

Brooks grimaces. "Well… I've got the documentation but they're asking about…" She sighs and scratches her head. "Maybe?"

Greg glances around the room. "Anyone got a few hours to spare?" At first no one moves then Cooper raises her hand. Greg nods. "Thank you, Cooper."

"Missed you, Lisa!" Brooks hisses and grins at her.

Cooper flashes a double thumbs up back at her.

"All right, all right." Greg waves a hand. "I believe the rest of you have cases. Donovan?"

She nods. "Moving along."

He points at Banks. "You're on CCTV review for Donovan, yes?"

"Four hours done so far."

"Perfect." Greg claps his hands around the meeting agenda paper. "Anything else?"

Bell raises her hand. "Are you coming to the New Year's party?"

"Yes!" Clipton raises his hand too and knocks it against Bell's. "Excellent question!"

"Oh yes!" Gupta grins. "You know that Banks offered to decorate."

"I did?"

"Mari is going to wear a dress," Clipton says, bumping his shoulder against Bell's.

"I am?"

Clipton grins in a pleading way. "Please?"

Greg sighs. "Well…"

Avery claps his hands together quietly. "'Well' followed by 'yes?'"

"Just insert something about staff morale and setting a good example!" Cooper says.

"I don't think this is what he meant by 'anything else,'" Matthews mutters.

"Shut up, Manchester," Bradford snaps.

"Oi!"

"All right!" Greg says over them all. "I'll give you a tentative 'yes.' Feel better?"

"Yes!" Most of the room choruses while Matthews rolls his eyes.

"Good, now back to work kids," Greg says with emphasis on 'kids.'

"Thanks, dad!" Gupta says as everyone files out of the conference room.

Greg purses his lips but decides not to reassign Gupta to assist the intake desk sergeant on the night shift. Greg shuts off the lights then walks down the hall back to his office. He has some staff reviews to write and he is strongly considering just writing 'Good.' on every single one. Greg walks into his office then around his desk, crumpling the agenda into a ball and tossing it toward his rubbish bin. He misses.

When Greg sits down he finally sees the can of fine coffee with a pale blue card sitting in front of it.

Greg's mouth gapes and about six memories flash through his head at once. Greg props his elbows on his desk and threads his fingers together. He breathes out slowly and presses his thumbs against his lips. He shakes his head slightly as he stares at the can and card.

"You can't be serious…" he whispers.

Greg growls back in his throat, drops his hands and picks up the envelope. He opens the flap at the back and pulls out the matching card, MH embossed on the front. He opens the card and inside it says:

Thank you for our dinner the other evening though perhaps in the future we could eat as well.

-Mycroft

Greg closes the card and stuffs it back in the envelope. He looks at the coffee, feels a smile trying to form, and sighs. "Damn it, Mycroft."

The New Year's party for the Homicide and Serious Crime division of the Met is fortunately lacking in any dead bodies or major crimes of note. Someone did make a 'chalk' outline with masking tape around their coffee pot and caution tape features in some of the decorations. The conference room has been changed into the party room with the tables pushed back against one wall, two focusing on food with a third full to the edge with drinks. Greg wonders absently as he drinks a beer if university parties look anything like this now or would they just be substantially messier?

Most of the division opted to attend the party, a few PC's of newer status offering to be the sober ones in case some call should come through. Greg knows they will be rewarded later for their sacrifice. Music plays from someone's ipod on a docking station. Greg suspects Bell or Brooks, probably Brooks what with the jazz theme. Avery and Cooper are seated in one corner having a heating argument over what is probably football while Matthews keeps darting around people to avoid Sergeant Parker and PC Davis who want to debate the merits of Manchester versus London policing. Clipton and Bell stand alone together near the exterior wall looking out the window. Greg smiles at the pair.

"Detective Inspector!"

Greg turns to Brooks suddenly beside him. "Sergeant?"

"So," Donovan taps Greg's shoulder on his other side, "you came?"

"Said I would."

"No," Bradford says and he walks over from Donovan's other side, "you said 'tentative yes.'"

"Which is not the same thing," Gupta finished as she comes around in front of him.

Greg frowns. "Are you ambushing me?"

They all start laughing, exclamations of 'no, no' and 'of course not' until Gupta says, "maybe."

Greg frowns. "Oh boy."

"Is it true Peters asked you out before he left?" Gupta asks.

Greg's eyebrows fly up.

"Is that why he left?" Bradford adds.

"Is it true you actually went on the date?" Brooks asks with a smile.

"Social climber that one," Gupta says with mock airs.

"Bold social climber," Bradford amends.

"No, no, and no," Greg grumbles to each of them in turn.

"Is it true your wife is getting remarried?" Donovan asks.

"I – what?"

"Is it true your wife is getting remarried to you?" Bradford asks.

"Is it true you're growing your hair back out a bit?" Gupta asks and leans in a little. "Like it by the way!"

"If the four of you do not turn around and walk away from me right now I will find four very intricate individual murder cases that need immediate, all night attention."

Brooks and Bradford turn around instantly while Donovan sighs loudly. Gupta flashes a grin before she also turns around and walks in the direction of Cooper and Avery. Greg turns his head to Donovan still standing beside him.

She shakes her head. "Dry spell?"

"Really?" Greg frowns. "Trying to ruin my night?"

She shrugs. "So yes?"

"You can talk."

"You sure about that?"

Greg humphs. "Misery loves company."

"Yes, because all women need a man to be complete."

Greg rolls his eyes. "Right, on the nose there."

Donovan takes a sip of her beer and cracks a smile. "Or that more your line now, eh?"

Greg frowns. "Maybe I enjoy being single and maybe it's better my staff stay out of it."

"Why, you worried Brooks will try to match you up?"

"I am now."

Donovan just smiles. "Relax, Lestrade." Then she turns and weaves through the people again.

Greg sighs and drinks down the rest of his beer. He thinks perhaps he should have just had New Year's with David and Claire, even if Jane and Colin came too. At least there he could get completely pissed without setting some sort of bad example. What was he thinking?

Greg pulls his mobile out of his pocket and dials Claire. It takes two rings then she answers with an obviously champagne affected giggle, "hello big brother number two."

"It always sounds odd when you say that."

"It's accurate."

"I do not deny that."

Claire laughs again and Greg hears her saying something to someone in the background. "So, how's your New Year going? Party at the yard, isn't it?"

"Is it too late to come to your party?"

"Probably."

Greg sighs. "David there?"

"Nope. We siblings are separate this New Year's."

Greg frowns. "I thought he and Jane were coming to yours along with all your fashionable friends?" Claire snorts and Greg hears her glass clink against something then the sounds of a door opening. "Are you outside now?"

"I swear I'm not smoking," she says even though Greg is pretty sure the sound he just heard was a lighter. "As for David," she continues, "he and Jane were going to come then they got a call from Rory."

"Oh no."

"Not as bad as you'd think, someone took his keys from him at his party since he got too drunk, already." Claire makes a 'tsk' noise. "So David had to go pick him up in Greenwich."

"Right."

"Disgrace to the Lestrade line, not even midnight yet."

"It's close."

In the background on Claire's end Greg hears a door open and someone else speaking; he thinks it sounds like Colin. Claire says 'right' and something else back.

"Greg, must go, time for the big toast," Claire says.

"Get a bottle for yourself."

"Ha ha. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Claire." Then Greg hangs up.

Greg drops his arm then looks at the empty beer bottle in his hand. He wanders back to the drink table, tosses his empty bottle then grabs himself a new beer. He picks up a plastic cup to pour the beer into, change it up a bit. He looks up at the clock and sees it is less than a minute until midnight now. He turns his wrist over and sees his watch says one after. He will have to fix that.

Across the room someone turns on the telly and the sound of crowds mixes with the music. Everyone turns to look at the screen.

"Count down time!" Bradford cries. "Come on now!"

A few people chuckle then the clock hits ten and everyone starts to chant together. Greg puts down the empty bottle in his hand and takes a drink out of his cup. He thinks New Year's feels particularly odd this year and rather wants to blame the family Holmes.

"Five, four, three –"

Then again, New Year's is supposed to be about new beginnings and second chances.

"Two!"

Greg smiles and shouts with everyone else, "one!"

Noise makers go off all over the room and someone throws what must be a bucket of confetti over everyone. Avery and Bradford high five in place of a kiss while Gupta grabs Cooper by the back of her neck and kisses her much to Cooper's surprise.

"Parni!"

Gupta just laughs.

In the same space by the windows they occupied before, Clipton and Bell kiss, her hands in his hair and his fingers clutching her back. When they stop kissing they do not pull back from each other. Greg sighs and turns away.

He takes another large gulp of his beer, gazing out of the window to see people in the streets below. He reaches into his pocket without really thinking about it then pulls out his mobile again. He looks down at it in his hand then stops because he is not sure why he took it out. Then he realizes he was thinking about having someone to kiss. Greg shuts his eyes and puts his mobile away.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"It is just coffee, Greg."

Greg shakes his head. "You always say 'just' but it never just is, is it?"

Mycroft sighs. "And now you sound paranoid."

"Not paranoid, experienced."

"With me?" Greg gives him a look and Mycroft shrugs. "Fine, Greg, be paranoid but decide, do you want to have coffee right now or not?"

Greg chews the edge of his lip and glances at the café across from them. Mycroft tilts his head and taps the sidewalk with his umbrella.

"Might I make an observation?" Mycroft asks.

Greg turns back to Mycroft. "What?"

"If you really did not want to see me and have coffee, would you have left your office and come here in the first place?"

Greg smiles instantly then chuckles. "Who's the detective now?"

"That would still be yourself and Sherlock, shall we finally go in?"

"All right, all right, don't get tetchy."

Mycroft frowns. "Tetchy?"

Greg only smiles then steps over to the café and opens the door. Greg finds them a small table by the window while Mycroft orders their coffee. He wonders as he sits down if Mycroft arranges for one of his people to make a clear table by the window ahead of time whenever he is planning to meet Greg for coffee or dinner.

Greg sighs and rubs his forehead. "Yeah, paranoid."

A few minutes later Mycroft sits down across from Greg and slides him a tall paper cup. "Milk and sugar."

Greg frowns. "Sugar?"

Mycroft tilts his head. "You take sugar."

"Not so much recently."

Mycroft frowns. "You most certainly take sugar."

"Have you been monitoring my coffee intake?"

Mycroft opens his mouth then shuts it again. He clears his throat, "apologies for the sugar then. Would you like another?"

Greg shakes his head. "It's fine."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Mycroft, it's fine!"

"Fine." Mycroft picks up his cup and sips some carefully. He grimaces slightly then puts the cup down.

"Hot?"

Mycroft raises his eyebrows but refrains from any sarcastic retort. It makes Greg smile.

"So," Greg says, "here we are having coffee, new year and a new start, is that it?"

"The change of years is a manmade –"

Greg holds up a finger. "Don't."

Mycroft clicks his teeth together and picks up his cup. "Perhaps a 'new start' is apropos."

"Right." Greg takes the plastic top off of his coffee and blows on the liquid inside. He looks up at Mycroft as he puts the top down on the table. "About the card…"

"Please, Greg, try not to read a thousand different meanings into it."

"What am I supposed to read into it?"

"That I simply wish for us to maintain a real relationship now. Yes, we have a past with certain aspects and faults but, as you said, it is a new start."

"You're saying you want us to be friends?"

"I…" Mycroft clears his throat. "I am not fond of that word."

Greg laughs once. "You don't like the word friend?"

"It does not seem like a proper description."

"Not to mention we're exes."

Mycroft frowns and groans. "So many ridiculous words people find necessary to use as a means of definition for other people. It is unnecessary and idiotic."

Greg picks up his cup and takes a sip of his coffee. "How's that?"

"It is whittling down language and history into generalizations to make conversation easier."

"You know you call Sherlock your brother all the time, isn't that term 'whittling down?'"

"It is a familial title."

Greg grins then laughs, putting his cup down before he spills his coffee.

Mycroft cocks his head. "What is so amusing?"

"You." Greg shrugs. "I guess I forgot how well you can split hairs."

"I wouldn't call…" Mycroft trails off when Greg begins laughing harder. He sighs then smiles. "Well, I suppose I am pleased I can still amuse you."

"Just shows you might have a point."

"That we may still be able to converse without you shouting?"

Greg snorts and picks up his coffee cup. "Oh well, when you put it like that I may swoon."

Mycroft flushes for one instant then he sighs. "I see your humor has remained resolutely intact during my absence."

Greg grins and takes another drink of his coffee. "Would you rather it hadn't?"

Mycroft looks down at his coffee then back up at Greg with a smile. "Certainly not."

Greg smiles right back, "good."

As Greg stands in the witness stand he already knows this trial is going to shift and not in the way he wants. The solicitor for the defense smiles far too much as she stands; the solicitor for the prosecution, looks nauseated behind his supposedly confident face; Greg's superintendent sitting directly behind the solicitor grits his teeth and Greg can see one hand balling into a fist. Greg stands stiffly and refuses to let his expression falter because, God damn it, everyone knows the Walters are guilty!

When the solicitor steps around her table, black high heels visible under her robes to match her black hair under the wig, Greg fears he can already see the end on the edge of her lips.

"Detective Inspector, you found evidence that the Walters family…"

Greg stays calm, calm and in control, succinct answers and the truth.

"And the bank security system never responded?"

"Well, it did, just not –"

"Did it or did it not?"

"That's not –"

"And the evidence suggested…"

"Not suggested!"

Calm. He has to stay calm and not let this run away from them again.

"But in terms of an alibi?"

"They did not have a credible –"

"Credible? Are you the judge?"

"Your honor!"

"Where is the actual proof?"

"Proof. You have all the bloody proof you –"

"Circumstantial, possibly planted…"

"Now wait!"

"And where has the money gone?"

"That's not –"

"What about video recording?"

"We have it!"

"Unclear and not factual."

Greg feels his head swimming and he wants to jump out of the box and strangle the woman as she walks back and forth in front of the court on her high black heels. She smiles and points her finger making holes in every argument the prosecution has, every piece of evidence, every single thing he says, provides all the 'reasonable doubt' to make the jury turn against the obviously idiotic police.

And when the judge finally says, "you may step down," it is all Greg can do not to tackle the closest member of the Walters family to the floor and make them bleed. The one brother smiles slowly and winks at Greg as he walks back to his seat in the audience. Greg very nearly shouts 'fuck you.'

Greg sits back down next to Donovan. He glances at her and she shakes her head, jaw tight.

"Damn it…" Greg whispers.

"We don't know yet," she whispers back.

"Bloody hell we don't," Greg hisses.

"There's still a chance." She looks at him. "We have the evidence."

"You heard her." Greg breathes in slowly and grumbles, "reasonable doubt."

Donovan huffs. "Reasonable doubt they're not paying her off to turn this?"

"Shh," Greg hushes her.

The superintendent glances back at Greg and Donovan. He frowns in a grim way then turns back around. Greg and Donovan look at each other then back at the judge speaking to both solicitors at his podium. Greg imagines he sees a noose hanging over their solicitor with the rope in the defense's hand.

The jury deliberates for two hours while Greg paces out in the hall. He flips his mobile around in his hand as he paces. He wonders if Mycroft has read up on the trial, followed the past bank robberies at all. It might be important enough for Mycroft to care about but Greg thinks more likely not. What are a few banks to the whole of England? Sometimes Greg wonders if Mycroft actually cares about England or if he just enjoys the cloak and dagger.

Greg pulls Mycroft's number up in his phone. He clicks it into text and stares at the empty white text box.

How was your new year?

It's nearly February, time flies.

Your new office working well? Could use windows.

Thanks for coffee. You made me laugh. Do you want to get coffee again?

I swear I don't miss you.

I didn't miss you before.

Do you want to get coffee again?

Greg clicks out of text without typing anything and clicks the screen to black, putting the mobile back in his coat pocket. He stares at the wall then glances down the hall. He sees Bell and Clipton talking, arms crossed, probably waiting to hear about the outcome of the trial as well. Bell glances at him and smiles in a worried way. Greg smiles back.

"Greg?"

Greg turns to see Donovan beside him. "Time?"

"Yeah, back in."

They turn and walk into the court room again.

Two minutes later the foreperson stands up, reads the jury's verdict ending with, "not guilty."

The superintendent stands up immediately and stalks down the center isle out of the court room. The Walters family members whoop and clap each other on the back, one shaking hands with their solicitor as she grins. The solicitor for the prosecution slowly pushes his papers into a pile as his aid beside him whispers animatedly in his ear. Donovan breathes in and out deeply twice then shakes her head. Greg just keeps staring at the Walters, their smiling faces, their pleased solicitor, their hands clapping and suits buttoned up again. His teeth grind together and his knuckles are white from fisting his hands so hard.

Greg wants to kick the shite out of something.

"We already tried that!" Donovan snaps. "The point is the security systems failed. It's not enough."

"They don't fail." Bell flips through the stack of papers in front her. "No, the company proved they didn't fail."

"But there was no –"

"The point is –" Bell holds up a finger and reads. "'The reported incursion at the premises was tracked by the security system but not properly routed to the company response team.'"

Clipton frowns. "What?"

"The alarms didn't go off," Donovan translates and holds up a hand, "failed."

"Partially failed," Bell adds.

"On the take for security team you're so pleased with their work, are you?"

"Oi!" Bell smacks the table and starts to stand up. "What the bloody hell did you –"

"Enough!" Greg snaps loudly enough that everyone around the table turns to look at him. He slices his hand through in the air in a cutting motion. "Not helping here. Calm down."

Bell breathes in and sits back down in her chair. Donovan shoots her a look then crosses her arms. Clipton pats Bell's forearm twice then shoots a look at Banks across the table. Banks' face remains stiffly neutral.

"Look, we're all frustrated by the Walters." Greg huffs. "I'm right there with you."

"He kicked his car," Donovan mutters.

Greg flashes a look at her then continues. "They've gotten away from us enough times. The point is how do we catch them in the act? Forget about blame for now and figure out for me," Greg taps the table with each word, "in the act."

The other four officers around the table nod back at Greg.

Greg breathes in and leans forward. "Bell, go over the report from the security company and figure out what went wrong. Want their alarms going off properly, don't they?"

Bell chuckles. "I'll do what I can, sir."

"Find something. They're supposed to be the best and if bastards like the Walters can muck them up, well…" Greg shrugs. "Rather that be the exception." Greg turns and points at Donovan. "Donovan, you and Clipton go back through the last robberies, work on the pattern and evidence at the scene. We know they don't leave much but anything can help. They're not going to stop."

"On it," Donovan says as Clipton says, "yes, sir."

"And Banks." Banks sits up straighter as Greg turns to him. "You are the one with the law background. Need you to look at the transcripts from the defense's case. She managed to poke holes in everything we had. I want to be able to shoot back or at least anticipate what she might fight with when the Walters do this again."

Banks nods. "Happy day."

"Right, on to it." Greg make a swooping motion with his hands at he stands up, the others following him a second after.

The five of them leave the conference room in a line, Greg second to last with Banks behind him. Banks turns off to the right while the rest of them head left. Greg stops at Brook's desk on his way.

"How is the double murder coming, that suspect you were on?"

Brooks sighs. "Dead end. She had a solid alibi."

"Unless someone is lying?"

Brooks smiles. "If only. Got her on video smoking outside of a restaurant during the exact time. She's out unless we have some Doctor Who time travel magic going here."

"Doubt that. Isn't it on a break now?"

Brooks just shakes her head and holds up a piece of paper. "Do have a request for a warrant to the sister's flat, however."

Greg nods and takes the paper. "I'll send it up, priority."

"Thank you."

Greg keeps walking back toward his office. At his door, Cooper appears with a case file in her hand. He raises his eyebrows and she holds it out.

"Witness statements all in and evidence back; looks like five suspects for the deed."

Greg frowns. "Which is this?"

"Tenth floor flat, made to look like a suicide."

"Right." Greg sighs and rubs his forehead. "Coordinate with Matthews."

Cooper nods, "will do, guv."

Greg raises his eyebrows. "Guv?"

She shrugs. "Don't know, bringing back the classics?"

Greg frowns. "Right. Been away too long, have you?"

She snorts. "Maybe."

They both turn away and Greg walks back into his office. Greg sits down at his desk and notices two new case files sitting in the middle. He blows out a breath of air and groans.

"Can't people just stop murdering each other?"

He rubs the middle of his forehead then sits up straight and picks up the top file, sliding the other to the side. As soon as Greg opens the case file he feels his mobile buzzing in his suit jacket pocket. Greg leans back and pulls the mobile out. The screen reads 'Mycroft.'

Greg clicks 'answer' and puts the mobile to his ear. "Hello."

"I hear you were in court recently."

Greg huffs quietly and smiles, turning a page. "Not for myself."

"No, you were not the one on trial though, from what I read, it must have felt that way."

"Didn't know you were following the case?"

"I am not."

Greg frowns, picking up his pen. "Then why bring it up?"

Mycroft makes a quiet 'hmm' noise. "Conversation?"

Greg bites the edge of his lip. "Don't you usually call with a point?"

"I apologize if I am a blight on your day for wishing to speak with you."

Greg sighs and puts the pen back down. "You know that's not what I meant. You don't do small talk. So what is it?"

Mycroft clears his throat. "Fine. I have a question I wish to ask you."

"All right?"

"Valentine's Day is next Friday."

"That's your question?"

"Greg," Mycroft grumbles.

"Right, okay, Valentine's Day, yeah it is. So?"

"So." Mycroft clears his throat again. "Would you…" Mycroft is silent for two beats then Greg hears him breathe in deeply. "Would you have dinner with me?"

This time, Greg does not need to wonder if it is a date or not.

"Greg?" Mycroft says after Greg has remained silent for ten seconds.

"I… I'm here."

"Should I take your silence as a 'no?'"

"No, I…"

"'No' as in you wish to say yes?"

Greg stares out through his office windows, the blinds open with Cooper walking by, Matthews beyond her and Donovan just turning a corner, a red exit sign like a beacon beyond. "Yes."

"'Yes' you will come to dinner?"

"Yes, I will."

Mycroft laughs once quietly in a shy way Greg rarely hears from him. "Good."

"Don't send a car."

Mycroft huffs but it is an amused sound. "As you wish."

"Valentine's Day?" Greg asks as he pushes the pen back and forth over his desk.

"It is an amorously themed holiday, is it not?"

"It is."

"Well then. I shall send you the details and see you next Friday."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Greg." Then the line clicks off.

Greg pulls his mobile down from his ear and places it on his desk beside the open case file. Greg shifts in his chair and pulls up his email on his laptop. He opens the calendar and clicks into the fourteenth. He types, 'date with Mycroft,' then saves. The note appears for the day at the top of that Friday in blue.

Greg leans back in his chair and smiles.

"So, Mycroft asked me on a date."

David gasps so high Greg almost thinks the sound came from Claire a second before she spits out her wine all over David's kitchen island hitting Greg and David. David grits his teeth and closes his eyes, wiping both hands down his shirt.

"Jesus, Claire, don't people only do that in movies?" Greg admonishes as he grabs a dish towel off the hook on the end of the counter.

"I just did it," Claire says as she puts her wine glass down and wipes her chin.

"Lucky us."

"Are you serious?" Claire snaps, smacking her hand on the counter top and shifting forward on her stool. "I mean, seriously serious?"

"Would I joke about this?"

"Maybe," David says.

Greg glances at David then back to Claire. "I'm not."

"Do it!" David says clapping his hands together once.

"Don't do it," Claire counters, pointing a finger at Greg.

"No, do do it."

"He's wrong, don't."

"Psh, I am not."

"I've already said yes."

"Perfect!" David cheers at the same time Claire gasps, "Cancel it!"

David and Claire turn to look at each other then both turn back to Greg. Greg smiles then tosses the dish towel between David and Claire into the sink behind them.

David glances back at it then frowns at Greg. "You know that should go in the laundry right? It's not a dish."

Greg rolls his eyes.

"Focus!" Claire snaps. "You are going on a date with bastard Mycroft?"

"Claire, you're doing that thing where you've got the negative nostalgia. Everything is ten times worse is Claire memory."

Claire scoffs. "I don't do that."

"You do," David and Greg say together.

"I'm not wrong," Claire says pointing back and forth between David and Greg.

"Claire..."

"To be fair Mycroft was a dick," David says as he walks around Claire toward the refrigerator.

Greg flings up a hand then drops it on the counter. "Weren't you on the 'I like Mycroft' team?"

"They're teams now?"

"When did you get back on that team?" Claire asks.

"Okay!" Greg waves his hands. "I take it back. There are no teams."

David laughs as he pulls a block of cheddar cheese out of the refrigerator. "Oh, there are teams."

"Then come back to my team, David, and tell Greg this is a bad idea." Claire holds out her hand toward the cheese.

David shrugs, ignoring her hand. "Why is it a bad idea?"

"Why is it a good idea?"

"Why is it any of your ideas?" Greg insists.

David frowns as he walks backwards past the refrigerator and opens a drawer on the other side.

Claire purses her lips. "You might have phrased that wrong."

"Yeah."

Claire reaches to the center of the counter and picks up the bottle of wine. She pours some more into her glass then puts the bottle back down. Behind her, David picks a cheese knife out of the drawer then closes it with his hip.

Greg cocks his head. "Is this a wine and cheese party now?"

"Is this a party now?" David says as he puts a piece of cheese in his mouth.

Claire takes a gulp of her wine. "Can we stick to the point? Why did you say yes?"

"'Yes' to coming over here or 'yes' to Mycroft?"

"I didn't ask you," David singsongs as he puts a piece of cheese into his mouth.

"We would have gone to my house but Kate and John are sick," Claire hisses.

David chuckles. "Worst mother ever."

Claire picks up the wine opener and throws it toward David's middle. David dodges but the wine opener still clips him on his side.

"Ow! All right, ow!"

Greg sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "I need more friends."

"Not when you have us." Greg drops his hand from his face as Claire pushes her glass of wine across the table toward him. "So, you were going to tell me why you said yes to the man who dumped you and lied to you about his brother being dead?"

"The Sherlock thing wasn't really the point in the break up."

"Wasn't it?"

"Only a small part."

"So?"

David sits down beside Claire on a stool and puts the cheese down in front of Greg. He flips the knife around and lays it down, handle out toward Greg.

Greg chuckles. "You know it's just one date, right? I'm not up and moving into his house."

Claire's eyes widen. "Was that ever an option?"

"No."

David frowns. "It wasn't?" Claire shoots David a seething glare and he puts his hands up in surrender. "Whoa, kidding, definitely kidding on that one!"

David puts his hands back down on the counter and turns to Greg. "Look, Greg, you can do what you want. Obviously I like Mycroft and I think you two had a lot of good points. I guess you just need to be more careful this time."

"Careful?"

"It's one date, yes, but you're bringing a year's worth of a relationship memories and fights on the back burner to it as well." David reaches across the counter and takes the cheese back. "Could easily veer into some emotional mess."

Greg sighs. "Doubt that."

"You can be a shouter," David says.

"That's true," Claire adds as she takes back the glass of wine.

Greg rubs his forehead. "I shouldn't have even told you two."

David and Claire laugh at the same time. Claire takes a big gulp of her wine and David bites off a chuck of cheddar straight from the block.

"You haven't answered my question," Claire says as she puts her glass back on the counter. "Why?"

"Why does anyone say yes to a date?" David answers for Greg.

"Shagging?"

"Yes," Greg and David answer.

All three of them begin to laugh. Greg picks up Claire's glass of wine, takes a drink then points at the cheese in front of David. David picks up the cheese knife again and cuts off a piece from the end he did not bite. Greg slides the wine back to Claire, takes the piece of cheese from David then bites off half.

"You both know my answer to the 'why.'" Greg puts the other half of the cheese in his mouth. "Do you really need to ask me?"

"He has a nice arse?" Claire guesses.

"You like his suits?" David tries.

Greg gives them both a look.

"You're a sucker for punishment and heart ache?" Claire asks with a half serious look into her wine glass.

David reaches out and fluffs Greg's hair. "You still like him and think maybe you two can get it right this time?"

"Better than therapy you two are." David and Claire smile. "Don't you two do anything else in your lives?" Their faces fall at the same time and Greg chuckles.

Claire sighs and twirls her wine glass around on the counter. David picks it up out of her hands and takes a sip. While he's holding the glass Claire snatches the cheese away from in front of him. David glares at her and she grins, biting the end of the block. David cocks an eyebrow then downs the rest of the glass of wine. David puts down the empty glass and Claire puts down the cheese. They both turn back to Greg.

Greg smiles. "I'll let you know how it goes."

"Please," they say.

"Did I mention the date is on Valentine's Day?"

"What?" David and Claire gasp together.

When Greg arrives at the restaurant, gold trim and some marble though the ceilings are a normal height this time, Mycroft is already seated at a table in a corner by the window. (Maybe Greg is not so paranoid about the window seating arrangements). Greg slips around two tables then sits down to the left of Mycroft with the window in front of him. Mycroft turns his head and smiles. Greg looks Mycroft up and down once, cream colored suit with a light plaid pattern similar to pinstripes, red tie though Greg does not see any pocket watch chain.

"You look nice," Greg says, "though you usually do."

"I imagine it is the suits."

Greg chuckles. "Oh, well that."

"You look splendid as well."

Greg glances down at his white shirt and black tie. He shrugs and straightens his suit jacket. "No three piece though."

Mycroft smiles. "Wouldn't do to match too much."

Greg smiles back. "True." He picks up his menu. "So, what have we got?"

Mycroft makes a 'hmm' noise. "A great deal of seafood as a matter of fact. I hope that does not disappoint."

"I can handle fish."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, looking over the menu, until the waiter comes to take their order. Greg sticks with the fish of the day while Mycroft pulls his usual fancy card and orders salmon. The waiter fills up their water glasses, takes their menus then leaves Greg and Mycroft with only each other.

"So…" Greg touches the end of the fork in front of his hand, inching it forward then pulling it back again. "A date."

Mycroft sucks in a breath. "Yes…" He clears his throat. "Much like the last time."

Greg looks at him. "Except you did not rent out a floor of the restaurant."

Mycroft frowns. "Are you –"

"Disappointed?" Greg laughs once. "More like relieved."

"Ah." Mycroft raises both eyebrows. "I suppose something could be said about not using the same trick twice."

"Was it a trick?"

"No."

Greg smiles. "No 'trick' this time then?"

Mycroft cocks his head. "Unless you would consider the holiday a trick?"

"I'd consider the holiday a surprise."

"Surprise?"

"Don't peg you as the holiday type."

Mycroft licks his lip and glances at the window. "It was convenient."

Greg purses his lips but decides to let that one lie. "Okay." Greg slides his palms over the table in front of him and sits up straight. "Sherlock back, John getting married, us on a date, quite a few change ups going through now."

Mycroft looks back to Greg. "None of much consequence."

Greg raises his eyebrows. "None?"

"I suppose this one is most relevant but it is more a return than a change."

Greg nods. "Yeah, you could say that."

Mycroft smiles. "It is certainly the one I am most pleased about."

"So am I." Greg smirks. "But to be fair, I think a wedding might be a bit more important than us on a date."

Mycroft breathes in through his nose. "If you care for that thing."

Greg raises both eyebrows. "You remember who you're talking to, right?"

"Exactly. You are divorced."

Greg chuckles. "I see your point."

"Additionally, as I said, the most pressing to me right now is you."

Greg clears his throat and hopes he does not blush. "Some might think that was romantic to say."

"I…" Mycroft smiles. "Purely accidentally."

"Because you've never been romantic."

"I have tried to be… attentive at times."

Greg smiles, brushes his fingers against Mycroft's on the table. "And you were."

"Greg, I…" Mycroft stares at Greg's face then reaches out and touches Greg's hair. He smiles. "Growing your hair back out?"

Greg's eyes tick up to Mycroft's hand. "Well, wasn't sure about the shorter cut."

Mycroft chuckles once. "Is that so?"

"Some people didn't like it."

"Some people?"

Greg purses his lips and looks at Mycroft's face. "One."

Suddenly Mycroft's leans forward, shifts his hand down to cup Greg's cheek and kisses Greg all in one motion. Greg breathes in through his nose in surprise and kisses Mycroft back. Greg closes his eyes, touches Mycroft's arm, presses his lips harder into Mycroft's and remembers exactly how this felt before, shifts his lips, kisses more, does not break – remembers the first time, briefly on a street saying goodbye – tastes scotch, touches Mycroft's neck with his other hand then Mycroft abruptly pulls away.

Greg opens his eyes, hands still up now in empty air, and looks at Mycroft in confusion. "What?"

Mycroft stares at Greg, shifts his eyes around the restaurant behind Greg then looks at him again. Mycroft puts a hand over his mouth – eyes far too wide – and props his elbow on the table.

"What?" Greg repeats.

"This was a mistake," Mycroft says quietly around his hand.

Greg drops his hands and grits his teeth. "A mistake?"

Mycroft shakes his head. "I should not be doing this. Nothing has changed."

"Everything has!" Greg insists.

Mycroft scoffs and drops his hands. "No, it hasn't, it is exactly the same and I cannot maintain relationships." Mycroft huffs. "What was I thinking?"

"Yes," Greg insists with anger in his tone, "just what were you thinking?"

"Nostalgia." Mycroft looks away off into space to the left of Greg. "Sherlock returning must have triggered some ill-advised emotional response what with the reconciliation of himself and John." Mycroft shakes his head, still staring somewhere beyond Greg. "Utterly ridiculous. I must get these impulses under control. Irrational!"

Greg smacks the table so Mycroft turns abruptly and looks at him again. Greg points to his own face. "I am right here, Mycroft, talk to me."

Mycroft frowns. "What would you have me say, Greg? There is something about you which causes me to act completely contrary to what I know is best."

Greg leans back in his chair away from Mycroft. "What is best? Mycroft, don't you ever listen to yourself talk? You always try to logic emotions and you can't do that. It never works when you try.

Mycroft shakes his head and growls sharply, "If I sound so offensive to you then why did you say yes to this date?"

"Because I still like you, Mycroft! Why did you ask me?"

Mycroft shakes his head again. "I thought… I…"

"Thought what, Mycroft, what?"

"Thought this might be worthwhile but it cannot lead anywhere."

"Oh my God, Mycroft. You're a bloody idiot!"

Mycroft sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "I must be completely out of my mind. It is insane!" He drops his hand again and stares accusingly at Greg. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Why do I –" Greg huffs sharply. "Why do you do this to me?"

"I would wish to stop!"

"You've got to make up your mind!" Greg gestures between them. "It's been two years and you can't jerk me around like this!"

"It is not easy for me!" Mycroft says with a gasp in his tone.

"What do you even want? What do you want from me?"

Mycroft huffs in frustration. "I don't know!"

"Exactly!" Greg bangs his fist on the table. "You don't know. You never have!"

"And you always have to make everything so dramatic!"

Greg scoffs. "Mycroft, your 'dramatic' is everyone else's normal."

"You are a liability!" Mycroft snaps.

Greg's arms tense and he stares at Mycroft, face flushed and the deepest frown across his face. "Are you telling me or yourself that?"

Mycroft grits his teeth. "I cannot be in a relationship."

"Why? Too dangerous? National Security? Secrets? What?"

"Yes."

Greg snorts, crosses his arms and shakes his head. "You know something, Mycroft, for being so smart it is amazing how much you can blind yourself to simple things."

Mycroft sighs. "Like what, Greg, like you?"

"No, like you."

Mycroft frowns. "That does not –"

"You can't even tell how you really feel about someone!"

Mycroft stands up abruptly and walks around the table. He stares at Greg as he straightens his suit jacket. "I feel the need to leave."

"Run away," Greg spits back.

Mycroft's jaw clenches but he turns around and marches away without another word. Greg fists his hands against his sides and stares hard at the table, a thousand reasons and a thousand words all circling around his head. Then Greg uncrosses his arms quickly and hits Mycroft's water glass off the table so it smashes against the wall then kicks Mycroft's chair so it follows suit, knocking into the wall and toppling over. People at the tables around him jump in surprise though really how could they be so surprised after that shouting match?

"Sir, you need to leave." Greg turns to see their shocked looking waiter beside him with their dinner in his hands and what must be the manager behind him. "Or I will have to call the police," manager adds with an attempt at intimidation.

Greg stands up and pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket. "I am the police." He flashes the badge.

The manager's mouth gapes and he tries to form words while the waiter looks back and forth between them. Greg folds up his wallet again, puts it back in his pocket then walks past the pair toward the restaurant door. Greg bangs through the double doors and stands on the sidewalk. He shakes his head hard then puts up his hand to hail a taxi.

"Idiot," Greg hisses to himself with no idea which of them he is talking about.