11:00pm
Mycroft was stuck in the office on a phone call that was dragging on and on. Why must politicians be so damn argumentative, he thought for the thousandth time that day. He had called Greg a few hours earlier to apologise for being late and not to stay up, only to find that the detective was also still stuck behind a desk, swamped in paper work.
Fortunately this dynamic worked for them, the fact that they were both very devoted to their work just meant that they understood each other better, and there were no rows about 'You're never home for dinner' and more compromises like 'Would you like to do brunch, because I am out of meetings from 11 to 12'. Today was no exception and they had met for a hurried lunch, but Mycroft didn't mind, he knew that when he returned there would be someone waiting for him, and that was good enough. Oh no, look at how soppy I've gotten, he said out loud to himself.
11:30pm
Greg was so tired, he'd been on the job since 7am and it was really taking its toll, not to mention the fact that he had had to pop to Sherlock's this afternoon, having been persuaded by John, to drop off some cold case files. He had then rushed back to the office and continued with the paper work. He began to nod off and then Sally came into his office.
'Sir, I'm going home, it's New Year's Eve and I don't wanna be here, see you tomorrow, alright'
'Right okay, bye.'
He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, blimey, it was almost 11:40 on New Year's Eve, he hadn't even realised, was that really what his life was coming to now?! He pushed the paperwork away from him and stood up. I'm not staying here all night. He grabbed his phone and jacket and left the room, flicking off the light as he left. On the way home he called Mycroft, no answer, damn.
11:59pm
Mycroft stepped out of the car and sighed, home at last. He unlocked the door to the flat and walked in, all the lights were off, he guessed Greg must still be at the office. Ah well. He sat down in his favourite arm chair and began to wait, picking up his book from the coffee table.
Greg pulled his key from his pocket and unlocked the door, the hall light was on, that meant Mycroft was home, good. He dropped his coat in the hall and rushed into the living room.
'Myc'
'Greg, finally managed to escape the office then!'
'I've been ringing yo— Oh forget it, Happy New Year!' He held out a bottle of Champaign.
'You know, we've got Champaign in the fridge?'
'Oh shut up.'
Putting the Champaign down on the side Greg walked over and pulled Mycroft up into a kiss, Mycroft pulled Greg down into his lap and then Big Ben struck midnight. They had been together for New Years after all.