Note: This takes place the direct morning after Part 2, before the scene with Sherlock and Mycroft.

Mycroft was up early, at four in the morning. He was habitually an early riser, albeit not quite this early. He wanted, needed, time to get ready and his routine would be calming to his mind that was still a whirlwind after the night before. Carefully he slid out of the bed and went to the adjoining bath, closing the door so that the light didn't wake the other sleeping occupant. When he finished with his shower, he pulled out the freshly pressed suit and began to get dressed.

As he pulled on his shirt and pushed the buttons through the holes, he looked down at Greg. The man was sprawled on his stomach on the bed and somehow it just seemed to fit the man he knew so much. When they'd fallen asleep, Greg had cuddled up to his side, much to Mycroft's apprehension. He was not accustomed to such things, but the detective had told him he'd best get used to it. Somehow the snuggling against his side had, in the night, turned into him sprawling an arm and leg over the taller man and snoring into the pillow.

It was…cute. Clearly Greg had gotten used to sleeping alone and hadn't had to fight someone for space for awhile. Not that there wasn't enough space; his bed was quite large. Mycroft shook his head at how lenient he'd become with Greg and focused on his clothes. As he was about to tuck his shirt into his open trousers, there was movement and a mutter of, "Where ya goin'?"

That amazing accent was only thicker with sleep and a hand fumbled, but grabbed onto the tail of his shirt, tugging him closer to the bed. "I have to go to work, Gregory," he said with an indulgent smile.

Those eyes rolled to the bedside clock. "S'four in the morning…" was the protested moan.

"Some of us do still work at such times," Mycroft pointed out, but leaned down to kiss him softly. "Go back to sleep. I've set the alarm for you."

"Need to stay with me…"

He almost did when Gregory rolled over onto his back, the sheet falling away, and looking absolutely delectable. He wanted to ravish him completely, but knew he didn't have time. "I would love to, but I can't."

The sleepy inspector was not going to be dissuaded. Those eyes were growing a bit more awake and he slowly sat up before nuzzling his lips into Mycroft's groin. He moaned a little, just a little, and rested his hand in that spiky hair. "Gregory, please. I have to be at work."

"Can't give the government a blowjob?" Greg mumbled and lightly tugged down his underwear to kiss at his soft length.

"Not right now," he said, but was doing an impressively poor job of resisting, he noted. That tongue was swirling around his flesh, making him shudder, and when he inadvertently reacted, that evil mouth wrapped around him. "Gregory," he moaned, half a warning and half in pure desire.

His partner pulled back enough to mutter, "Wanted to do this with you in a suit for weeks."

Mycroft flushed in embarrassment as Gregory returned to sucking him softly. He was already responding, feeling himself harden quickly. "I don't have time, Gregory. Not for this, or to reciprocate."

Yet all of his protests yielded no different result. He was summarily ignored and soon his own brilliant mind departed for its mini-vacation as pleasure began to increase his base instincts. His fingers tightened in that salt-and-pepper hair, gently rocking his hips. That tongue was performing wonders and he moaned, gasping and his toes curled through his socks to grip the carpet tightly. "Gregory…" he groaned in warning and the detective sucked hard, enough to push him over the edge. He couldn't pull away, Greg wouldn't let him, and he released his orgasm into that hot mouth.

A still slightly sleepy grin was flashed at him and Greg dropped onto his back, seeming to ignore his own hard arousal. Mycroft would have loved, loved to stay and take care of it, but he really didn't have the time. He could hardly make Spain wait!

"Love you," Greg moaned.

"…And I love you," he whispered in return, leaning down to kiss him fiercely before he quickly finished the rest of his dressing and headed out.

-0-

Anthea looked up from her phone as he walked into the office, umbrella in hand. In fact, he was getting a lot of stares today and he began to wonder if he had failed to correctly tie his tie or if there was a stain on his suit. He resisted the urge to look at himself in his reflection to fix whatever it was because his mirror had said his clothing was correct at the house.

He held out his free hand and his PA gave him a pile of folders, but followed him when he entered his office. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at her once he reached his desk. "Is there a problem?"

She studied him. "Did something happen with the Detective Inspector, sir?"

"Why do you ask?"

Anthea gave him a look, but at least answered promptly, "You seem…relaxed."

"Is that your way of asking if I had sexual relations with Gregory?"

"It's the polite way."

"I don't pay you to be polite, Anthea."

"Very well. Did you have sex with the Detective Inspector, sir?"

Mycroft smiled indulgently at the thought of the man he'd left behind in the bed. "Unexpectedly, yes." He eyed her. "I do hope you're not going to ask me details regarding the night."

She smiled so brightly that it almost hurt to look at her. He had never honestly seen a real smile out of her, she was far too professional for that, but this time she seemed…so happy for him. "No. I don't need to."

"Good. If you did, I'd have to fire you." He shifted. "Is this something that is…obvious? I've been stared at since I arrived."

"It's…noticeable, but not bad, sir."

Mycroft nodded. "Then I suggest we get to work."

"Shall I make some time free in your schedule for…?"

He thought about it. He really shouldn't, he had a full day, and the British government needed him. "Yes, make some time for Gregory."

"Yes, sir."

-0-

Greg cursed Mycroft up one wall and down the other as he tried to sit down and felt the soreness run up his spine and legs. His lover was not exactly small and despite their age, their passions had kept them at it for quite a bit. So far, despite the stares from his coworkers, no one had brought up what had happened the day before. To be honest, he felt as if he had a sign over his head that was flashing and saying 'completely ravished'.

He finally managed to lower himself to his chair, a cup of coffee in his hand. He'd just taken his first sip before the door was tossed open and Sherlock stalked in, John following behind. He at least had the decency to close the door after them. Greg groaned. He was not up to dealing with this within the first ten minutes of being at work and without even coffee fully hitting his system yet. "What do you want, Sherlock? I don't have a case for you."

Sherlock stalked up to his desk and crossed his arms. Those eyes were raking over his slightly rumpled form, at the fact that he'd had to rush home to get changed, at probably a dozen smaller details that he wasn't even aware of that would give away his state of ravishment. John nudged at Sherlock and Greg muttered, feeling the need to say something since clearly the younger Holmes wasn't going to, "Yes, we had sex, Sherlock."

"That was abundantly obvious by the—"

"Sherlock," John interrupted, a tad urgently. "Remember that talk we had about stating 'deductions' about when someone had sex?"

"Yes."

"That applies here. Greg doesn't want to hear all the ways you know that. Some things are private."

He flashed a grateful smile at John, feeling an odd kinship with the man because of anyone else in the world, the one who could understand the most about what it was like to date a Holmes, it was him. "Back to the original question. What are you doing here, Sherlock?"

Sherlock seemed to hesitate for a moment, something that surprised him. "You and Mycroft had sex. What does that mean?"

"It means we're dating," he said, ignoring the chance to make a snide comment. Sherlock didn't open himself very often to questions about his brother and he most emphatically did not want the young man to stop. If he could somehow, even a little, facilitate a better line of understanding between them, that was worth all the money and power in the world. "We talked about how relationships work and what we both expect and want from it." Did he think that Greg had taken advantage of Mycroft's uncertainty to get him into bed? "I asked him if he wanted me to leave, but he said stay."

The consulting detective rolled his eyes as hard anyone could. "I was hardly suggesting that you raped or coerced my brother into sex, Lestrade."

"Then you want to get to the point of your visit, Sherlock?" He glanced in distraction as John slid over two paracetamol for his soreness.

"What did Mycroft do after?"

"He fell asleep." Greg honestly didn't know why he was answering any of these questions, but this was Sherlock and Sherlock knew Mycroft better than anyone alive. If he was asking questions, the answers might give him greater insight into the man that still remained a mystery to him. "He got up at four this morning to go to work."

Sherlock nodded absentmindedly. "You clearly didn't make a bad impression with sex."

"How do you know that?"

"Mycroft wouldn't have let you stay until four in the morning if you didn't. As personally repugnant as it is to me to imagine Mycroft having sex, I suppose everything sounds fine."

"Did you honestly think I could break his heart in the first five minutes?" he asked in exasperation.

"I don't know. That's why I was asking," Sherlock told him with the same tone he used when he thought Greg was being particularly dense and stupid.

Greg swallowed the pills belatedly. "Anything else you want to know?"

That ice blue gaze flickered between John and Greg. "Yes. I need information. How are you feeling in comparison to how John was a month ago after the first time we had sex?"

He stared, unable to believe what he was hearing. John was turning red as a cherry. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock ignored his partner's outraged cry. "Well?"

"Uhh…I don't know…"

"I know you and John talk."

"We don't talk about that!"

"Lestrade, I must have information—"

"Why?" he growled in confusion.

"You. Out. Now." John all but shoved Sherlock out of the room and closed the office door.

"What was that about?"

John took a deep breath. "All I'll say is that it's another little 'childish feud' about…" The doctor coughed a bit before stepping out and Greg's brain finally caught up. If he hadn't been so sore, he'd have rushed out and beat Sherlock to death with his own coat for even asking such a stupid thing! Whether it was about who was better in bed, or who had a bigger cock, he didn't care!

Lunch couldn't have come quick enough and by that time, the painkillers had taken effect and he sighed, leaning back in his chair. A knock attracted his attention and he yelled, "Come in."

He grinned brightly as Mycroft walked through the door, perfectly put together with his umbrella. "Hey."

"How are you feeling, Gregory?"

"Eh, better. Had a close encounter with Sherlock and his grilling about our sex life this morning."

Mycroft frowned heavily as he sat down in the chair opposite Greg's desk. "Do I have to have a talk with him?"

"Nah, it's fine. Sherlock is just Sherlock and he's your baby brother. Of course he's going to get overprotective of you with a new boyfriend." The eye roll was a mimic of Sherlock and he could only grin wider at how similar they really were. "So…lunch?"

"Quite."