Disclaimer:I do not own D: All rights go to ACD, and Moffatiss, if they didn't then I'd be dead.
A/N: OMG, I'm back… Twice in one day :O This probably won't happen often btw, I am feeling inspired today so there will be days where I post two or more chapters and then there will be days where I…. Don't :') So lazy, God I am so bad at motivating myself. Annywaaay, thank you so much for my two reviews, I came back from food shopping and there they were :D I come bearing tea, Oreos and a slightly longer chap full of Mystrade! Enjoy!
As always both reviews and crit welcome :D I won't beg but like I said I have Oreos :P
Emm xx
Chapter Two
Greg Lestrade blinked his dark eyes awake sleepily, as he felt the bed shift underneath him. "Murghwha?" He mumbled and was rewarded with a low chuckle.
"Not quite Gregory," Lestrade's eyes opened wider and he was greeted with the amused expression of Mycroft watching him with an open fondness that he had only experienced a handful of times when the elder Holmes brother let his ice guard down.
"You're home." Lestrade grinned as he reached for his lover, then frowned and whacked his arm. "You could have let me pick you up from the airport you idiot, I haven't seen you in almost five bloody weeks."
Mycroft chuckled again as he lowered them back into the pillows and wrapping the arm that Lestrade wasn't gripping onto, around the detective inspector's shoulders. "That wasn't necessary Gregory, I have my own cars as well you know. Besides-" He continued stroking the silver hair at the nape of Lestrade's neck absentmindedly, "I hear Sherlock has been making you run around in resemblance of a headless chicken these last few weeks."
Lestrade hummed quietly, letting his eyes fall shut again at the gentle caress. "It wasn't that bad, we got the Hound- Well not a Hound actually, more of a deranged psychopathic power fiend- Hah sounds like you." He joked and laughed as Mycroft poked him in the rib in mock indignation. This was proof how much Mycroft had evolved from the 'Iceman' that the Adler woman had labelled him as to the more caring almost human that he was now.
"How is my brother?" Lestrade had been calling Mycroft every other day with updates from London, and he had been shocked to discover how much he had missed the city and his life there, Moscow was lovely but it wasn't where Gregory was.
"Eh, crazy as usual. John said that he harpooned a pig before they went to Dartmoor. Did you get the photo I sent of him in the deerstalker?"
"I did indeed, it was very amusing."
"Yeah I don't think Sherlock found it that funny though."
Mycroft smiled tiredly in response, he hadn't realised how deep his need for sleep had become until he had put his head down on his pillow.
"Mycroft." There was a hesitancy that he had never heard from Gregory before. "Mycroft, is everything alright? I feel like... Like you're holding something back from me. You know you can trust me, you always can."
Mycroft lifted his head up back up to look at his other half who was staring at him now. "Of course, I am fine Gregory. I just have a few matters to think over, that is all." He laced their fingers together and squeezed Lestrade's hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
"Okay, if you're sure." The uncertainty eased a little as Lestrade shifted closer and laid his head on the shorter man's chest, smiling as he felt a kiss being pressed onto the top of his skull and allowing darkness to overcome him once more. Mycroft waited until he could hear the gentle even breathing that indicated Lestrade was asleep; then let out a long, resigned sigh. He hated lying to Gregory, but he knew… It would save his life.
