Greg had honestly expected more from Mycroft's home.

Perhaps it's just his work flat? Surely he wouldn't chose to live like this always?

Greg pondered as he was shown the guest bedroom. The whole place was an odd mixture of posh upper class and dreary underworld. The bed was luxurious, as was the linen. The walls were dark, tattered exposed concrete. The lamps on either side of the bed, fixed into the wall, were of exceptional quality that spread warm light above and below - it did not, however, light up the whole room very well. The floor was hardwood; it was old, scratched, but not creaky. The door was of a similar condition to the floor: old, worn, but not noisy. It had an impressive lock on it, however. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel welcome here or imprisoned.

Mycroft appeared at the doorway, looking awkward as ever.

"I, um, hope that the room is satisfactory."
"Yes, it's just a bit… odd, I guess."
"I am aware it is not exactly how you imagined it."
"How do you know what I imagined?"
"It's a reasonable enough assumption. Most people who look at me would believe I lived in an expensive upper class mansion filled with servants. I believe many of my colleagues at the Diogenes would indeed live that way. While I do have property which more closely resembles that concept, this is my working residence in London. I am away far too long to require anything too…extravagant... on a day to day basis."

Greg nodded. He could understand that, since his flat was nothing special for the same reason. But there was plain, and then there was this.

"Yeah, I get that. It's just… darker, than I pictured. I mean living somewhere average I can understand, but this isn't average, Mycroft. It's… well, it's scary. Everything is dark, or covered in stark shadows from dull lighting. It's cold and harsh looking."
"Many would believe that suits my personality to a tee."
"Many, maybe, but I know you better than that. All that cold detachment is just an act."

Greg smiled at him, a little forced. The atmosphere wasn't helping his feelings.
"I am still mysterious, Gregory, and this flat suits such a concept. It is not much different to my office, in fact."
"You spend your day somewhere like this?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No… no, it's…fine. I get why you'd feel more comforted by it than I do."
"You're uncomfortable?"
"Well, honestly, yeah. I mean I feel like I'm a prisoner or something… like that lock, is that meant to try and keep me in here?"

Mycroft looked pained, and his eyes flickered to the large bolt lock in the door.
"Certainly not, Gregory. I apologise for making you feel that way; believe me, that was not my intention. Perhaps it might be better to stay with John for a while…" Mycroft trailed off in thought.

"No, John's a good mate and all, but I don't want to bring him down. He's going through enough and I feel like we mightn't do well for each other."
"Yes, that is very wise, Gregory. You have always surprised me with your selflessness and intelligence."

Greg noticed Mycroft's eyes looking away as he said it, and the faint red tinge to his cheeks. It caused something to stir in Greg's gut that was not unpleasant.

"If you like, you can redecorate to make yourself feel more at home?"

Mycroft was obviously trying hard to get him to stay. Others might not be able to see it, but he could tell that such an offer was born from strong consideration for him. Mycroft had a power complex, anyone could tell, and loved to be the ultimate authority on everything. Conceding to allow Greg to change his own home was practically a confession of love.

"Oh, um, yeah … yeah that might be good, thank you Mycroft. A little more light would be a good start."

Mycroft nodded gently, understanding Gregory's aversion to the darkness. He himself sometimes found it unnerving when he was struggling to control his anxieties (often making him retreat to his other house), and so could appreciate the difficulty of living in it while depressed. He wanted to offer his other place, the fancy manor he lived in while not being pressured to commit to work, but for some reason, he didn't. He would allow Gregory to visit, of course, but that felt more like his home, and when (if) he asked Gregory to live with him in a romantic sense, he'd want it to be there for the first time. Perhaps.

Mycroft was struggling to understand his emotions. When he thought about it logically, it didn't make a whole lot of sense. If Gregory would be more comfortable in the other place, shouldn't they go there? But what if that sends the wrong message and scares the detective away? He took a deep breath to quell the anxieties stirring in his chest.

"In that case, why don't you come with me and look at the rest of the place? You can think about other ways to 'brighten it up' so to speak. However I ask that you please consider my input as well."

"Well, duh, Mycroft, it's your house. Are you so used to people just following your orders that you don't think that when you let others make choices affecting you, they'll be considerate to you as well?"
"Most people usually aren't." Mycroft stated bluntly, with a hint of a sneer.

Greg could tell it was a sore spot for the man and didn't push it. He did find it sad though, that there wasn't anyone in Mycroft's life that he believed would want him to feel considered, even happy, about decisions made involving him. It must be a difficult life to lead. He was gaining more and more insight as to why Mycroft behaved the way he did - and the reasons were the opposite of what people seemed to think. He wasn't heartless… but he was hurt, and self protecting. Greg had been a DI long enough to be able to read between the lines, even if Sherlock had constantly exclaimed otherwise.

The remainder of the house had the same decor... high class luxuries in a dark and creepy flat. The kitchen was small, and the concrete walls still showed where tiles had been ripped off them. The tiles on the floor remained, however, and were unsettlingly white and black patterned. The fridge and freezer were a high quality stainless steel, stationed awkwardly in the middle of the wall. Greg hoped that there was at least better lighting over the benches so that one could actually see what they were preparing, or at least if they were going to be chopping food or fingers.

Mycroft only showed Greg the door to his bedroom, which shared a wall with the guest bedroom. It was similarly worn down, with the large bolted lock. Greg wondered if Mycroft had them installed so that he'd feel safe enough to sleep. He sighed sadly at the thought - the poor man feeling so anxious and paranoid that he needed to sleep in a cell before assured enough of his safety.

I hope to change that.

The bathroom was the same mix of creepy and fancy, with the same black and white tiles over the floor. It did have a separate shower and bathtub, which given the small space, seemed a bit unnecessary.

"I prefer to be either in a dedicated standing area or laying area, not some ambiguous mix." Mycroft said when noticing Gregory's confusion.
"Hey, that's fine." Greg mumbled.

The final room was the living room. By this stage, Greg had anticipated it to be dark and scary as well, and he was not disappointed. There was a modern luxurious looking couch spread out over the right wall, which was also concrete with hints of where wallpaper had once been. The lighting spread across the walls much like in Greg's room, and provided more stark shadows than warm glow. There was at least a telly, a reasonably sized flat screen, upon a wooden cabinet across from the couch. But apart from that, the room was uncomfortably bare. Greg never had much around in his flat, but it looked cluttered compared to Mycroft's (work) flat.

"Yes, I think we should definitely start with some lighting in here."

Mycroft nodded gently.

"And maybe some cushions and a blanket..." Greg continued, and chuckled when he saw Mycroft stifle a groan.