This is the beginning of a continuing story, with shifting perspectives from one to the next. I'm posting these 10 at a time, longer (read: over 1000) prompts, are posted individually. You can find them all here, they will be clearly labelled. This is Mystrade, and it does include porn. I promise. All prompts are from the fanfic100 challenge table on Livejournal. This will be regularly updated. Please enjoy!

001. Beginnings
Their relationship is strained. Neither one can take time off - Greg because of an impending promotion, Mycroft because well, the British Government never takes days off. They meet often, spend the night together, and get up at all hours to deal with crises. There are stretches of days where they can't see one another. Greg doesn't leave the Met if Mycroft isn't home; Mycroft hates leaving the country, especially when it's unexpected. He's grown used to sleeping next to Greg, and it's unbelievably hard to sleep when he's not there.
In the beginning, it's rough, but it's worth it.

002. Middles
Mycroft works hard to keep his waistline in check. With Greg's rich cooking (and a penchant for pasta), however, often he doesn't achieve that goal. Since Greg started cooking at home more often, they've both put on a few pounds, although Greg doesn't notice it on Mycroft. However, Mycroft does. He works diligently to maintain his weight – which has always been a sore spot (particularly because of the teasing) – and often, it is hard to find the time. Greg notices Mycroft's efforts, and makes a conscious effort to cook lower calorie foods in an effort to save his sweetheart's middle.

003. Ends
If asked, Mycroft's favorite physical attribute of his lover is his arse. The way it feels when he puts his hands on bare skin, the way jeans cup it perfectly, the way he shakes it while dancing and making dinner when he thinks he's not being watched. It tastes delicious, loving to run his tongue up and down the soft flesh, nibbling here and there. He loves to lift Greg by it, hoisting him onto a countertop or the table. Out of character for the normally stoic man, sure, but where his lover is concerned, there's nothing he won't do.

004. Insides
He has to believe it was an inside job. There's just no other explanation. He leaves the Met exhausted, ready to just leave the horrible case behind at his desk, but he can't stop thinking about it the whole way home. The DI from another division, gunned down in her office, after hours. There's no one else that could hack the security cameras, and enter the building without drawing suspicion. When he arrives home, Mycroft is there, waiting, and takes one look at him, and pulls him inside the circle of his arms. He is safe and home at last.

005. Outsides
The umbrella goes everywhere with him, no matter the weather. It could be snowing, and he'd still have it. During summer, when the heat is at its worst, and there are people dying in their houses from it, he still carries it. Greg is convinced that there's a weapon inside it, but never gets the chance to check his theory. When Mycroft comes home, it is nowhere in sight. Greg asks after it one night. "It's in the car," Mycroft replies easily, as if it were no importance. Greg often wonders if Mycroft would feel naked walking outside without it.

006. Hours
When Mycroft announces he's going out of the country, and doesn't know how long he will be gone, Greg asks him to spend the night before he has to leave. The time they have is spent in each other's arms making love. Greg tells him of a case, Mycroft talks politics. Greg knows Mycroft's work is secret, but wished that sometimes he would just tell him. Just once. Tell him where he will be, so he can stop worrying. Instead, he stays up, watching Mycroft sleep, the last few hours ticking by, and wonders when he will see him again.

007. Days
Days drag on, oppressive heat dragging him and the entire squad down. Greg has a hard time going into one of the murder scenes – a particularly nasty one that has been sitting in the London heat for days. The sight alone is enough for him to march quickly outside, dragging in fresh air through his nose, and checking his phone for any messages from Mycroft – still out of the country. He clears his head, and marches back into the scene, giving orders, no longer affected. The long summer days pass by slowly, and Mycroft has been gone for 12 already.

008. Weeks
-Incoming Message- When are you coming home? Greg
-Incoming Message- Please contact me. I need to know you're alright. Greg
-Incoming Message- It's been 10 weeks now. I need to hear from you. Greg
-Incoming Message- What is going on? 14 weeks is extreme. Greg
-Incoming Message- What is going on? Anthea's not answering either. Please call me. Greg
-Incoming Message- Please come home. Please. Please be alright. Greg
-Incoming Message- 20 weeks. Hope you're coming home soon. Greg
-Incoming Message- I miss you. Come home for Christmas. Please. Greg
-Incoming Message- Gregory. Be home soon. Can't talk now. M

009. Months
"Six months you were gone! Six, Mycroft! And you couldn't be arsed to pick up the phone! I was worried sick thinking you got yourself kidnapped or worse! I had no clue where the fuck you were! Six months I prayed for you to come home. You waltz in here like nothing even happened. Guess what, you're going to explain. And if I'm satisfied, then we can go to bed." All Mycroft could do was to sit there, head in his hands, and recount the story of how a five day trip to Paraguay turned into a six month one.

010. Years
In all the years he'd been in public service, he'd never had a trip go as wrong as the trip to Paraguay. He was fed properly, the food having little nutrition, causing his dramatic weight loss. He was being held for ransom by some guerilla Paraguayans that had members in the country's prison system. He begged for a phone but they just laughed at him. His only saving grace was Anthea – she'd managed to escape, and it took her four months to get home to inform the proper authorities. He'd never been that scared before, so scared of losing Gregory.