Sherlock groaned from underneath the covers on his bed. Another migraine from another all too bright day.
Mycroft wasn't feeling well that day either, thanks to some questionable oysters he'd consumed the night before on his first date with Greg. No one to comfort Sherlock today, then. Mycroft understood that it would be counterproductive to sit there with Sherlock vomiting into a bucket. For one, it was rather undignified; but it would cause Sherlock more distress. If an ordinary person could not stand the acidic, putrid smell; how could little Sherlock?
There was a soft knock on the door before it was carefully opened. It couldn't be Mycroft; so who was it?
"Hello Sherlock," the visitor whispered. It was Greg Lestrade. He must have come to see how Mycroft was; but why was he here?
"Too bright…" Sherlock mumbled. There was the sound of the door closing and the curtains being drawn.
"Myc asked me to come and check on you. He's sorry he can't look after you today, but in his defence, he's pretty bad… Y'know, not dying, but not very happy…"
Brunette curls began to show themselves and were soon accompanied by big glasz eyes. "I want to see him; I wish I could…" Sherlock frowned.
"He said you'd say that," Greg smiled, "he also said that you really shouldn't see him because it would make you feel worse."
"I know. I just wish I could tell him it's ok and help him…" Sherlock sighed.
"I was helping him but he told me to come in and look after you instead. You both love each other a lot, don't you?"
"Yeah. He loves you a lot too. He thinks a lot of you; thinks you're smart and handsome and perfect…"
"How do you know that?"
"He told me."
"He talks about me, does he?" Greg raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. He even gave you a part in the story he wrote me. You're a detective inspector with Scotland Yard."
"Am I, now?"
"Yeah, you're my boss. I'm a detective in Mycroft's story. I have a best friend, an ex-army doctor who assists me on cases called John. John sounds interesting…"
"Is Mycroft in the story?"
"Yeah, but he's ill; really ill; more ill than he is today. But he starts to get better after he meets you…" The little boy smiled.
"Does he?" Greg's interest was piqued. Such romance and fairy-tale coming from someone like Mycroft.
"Yeah. You talk about him to John at a crime scene; but I didn't know about you two and I over react and give you a black eye. Mycroft doesn't know though; he'll probably figure it out and get mad at the fictional me…"
"Did he think you'd give me a black eye?" Greg laughed softly and quietly.
"I'm older in his story and the detective is only based on me, apparently. But I saw you kissing and it didn't bother me –"
"When did you see us kissing?" Greg blushed.
"I saw you in the drawing room…" Sherlock frowned, he knew that he'd said something a bit not good.
"You should have been in bed…" Greg smiled softly. This little boy was innocent and sweet, Greg didn't want to be too harsh.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It's ok. I better get back to your brother… Is there anything you need?"
"Could you pass me my sunglasses; they're on the table…" Sherlock asked. Greg handed them over and exited the room to get back to his very sick boyfriend.
…
Mycroft was in the exact place Greg left him; hunched over the porcelain toilet bowl, breathing heavily. "G-Greg…" he mumbled.
"I'm here, Myc. It's alright," Greg stroked Mycroft's back as he reached for a cloth to clean his face.
"S-Sorry about this. We're never eating there again…" Mycroft groaned.
"It's alright; you can hardly help food poisoning..." Greg ran the cool flannel along Mycroft's forehead.
"How's Sherlock?" Mycroft managed to haul himself away from the toilet and against the white tiled wall.
Greg continued to clean his face. "In his room, under his duvet, wearing sunglasses. I drew the curtains for him; so he should be a little better now, with any luck."
"I wish I could be in there with him…"
"He wishes he could be with you. You two really love each other; it's nice," Greg smiled.
"I'm glad to hear that. Sherlock doesn't have any friends; he can't go outside all that much and the children his age are far too loud. I'm glad he appreciates my efforts…" Mycroft smiled weakly.
"He said that you think a lot of me. Told me about the little story you were writing," Greg smiled.
A pink hue descended on Mycroft's cheeks, "how much?"
"It was beautiful, Myc," Greg pressed kiss on the top of Mycroft's head, "It was truly beautiful…"
Hey guys! I'm cruel, aren't I? Making you wait for Mycroft to get a bit better. I just had this idea pop into my head and thought 'why not be a little mean, making them wait to know what happens on London bridge... Mwahahaha!'
So, hey, review an tell me what you think, I love reviews! PLEASE?! :)
(Don't worry, Mycroft will be better in the next chapter and he'll tell you the story and all)