Gregory Lestrade stood at the window in 221B Baker Street rocking his three-month old son from side to side. It was three o'clock in the morning and Greg just wanted to sleep but little Mycroft-James was refusing to sleep.
It had been down to Mycroft that Sherlock and Greg had managed to have a child that only held their DNA. It was raining when MJ (what Greg calls his son) was fertilized into an embryo to be planted into the womb of the woman. Mycroft was in his car driving to the clinic to see if it the procedure went accordingly. The driver skidded on a patch of ice and the car had swung around. A truck smashed into the side of the car where Mycroft was sitting. He died a month later in hospital. He had hung on enough to hear the sound of his nephews heartbeat. Sherlock had been devastated but Greg and John had been there for him. That of course made the decision on what the two were going to call their child if he was a boy.
It had hit Sherlock hard when MJ was born because he looked like Mycroft did. The boy had dark red hair that looked brown (which had been Greg's hair colour until he went Grey) but it was curly like Sherlock's. MJ also had light blue eyes which were almost grey. But this just made Sherlock even more protective over MJ. Further more MJ had been born on Mycroft's birthday.
Greg was pulled out of his memories when he felt arms around his waist. "Is he not sleeping?" Sherlock asked.
"No," Greg sighed. "I've tried everything. I've fed him, burped him, changed him and rocked him. But he just wont sleep," Greg sighed.
"You know what day it is?" Sherlock asked. Greg shook his head and looked at the calender. It had been a year since Mycroft's death. A whole year since the oldest Holmes had been gone.
"Oh Sherlock I'm so sorry," Greg whispered.
"Don't be. I just feel that maybe part of Mycroft's soul is inside of Mycroft-James," Sherlock whispered. "It would explain his pain tonight," Sherlock added. Greg sighed and nodded. Sherlock held out his arms and Greg passed the baby to him. Both men sat down on the sofa and Sherlock began to sing a lullaby:
"Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest;
sleep is upon thy.
Sleep my baby brother,
and when the morning sun rises, by the white clouds
you will see me again;
and we will play out loud.
Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well safely rest;
sleep is upon thy.
Sleep my sweet little Mycroft-James
for daddy and papa love you, more then life can say
we shall be with you till your old;
even if you can not see us," Sherlock finished the lullaby and MJ's eyes dropped. Sherlock kissed the baby's head and then laid his own on Greg's shoulder. Greg soon felt the tears on his shirt.
"Mycroft used to sing that too you didn't he?" Greg asked.
"Yes. But I changed it a bit," Sherlock sniffed.
"I miss him too Sherlock," Greg whispered and kissed his husbands head.
"I just thought he'd be the one to stand with me at the altar," Sherlock cried.
"I know," Greg sighed. Sherlock and Greg had married three months after Mycroft's death. Sherlock had no-one stood at the altar with him as he said it didn't feel right. Greg had John. As the two had said their vows they looked into each other's eyes and than looked up and smiled. After they kissed, Sherlock whispered into the sky, "I did it Myc. I made myself happy. But I miss you so much," Greg had cried then and hugged his new husband close.
Greg looked at his now sleeping husband and son and looked up at the ceiling. "He needs you Mycroft. He misses you. We all do. I'm so sorry," Greg whispered and then fell asleep with his family, thinking of the future with his family who would always be missing one.