"Gregory!" Mycroft sounded rather too please to see the older man, "How splendid to see you again."

Was it? Okay. Um.

"Yeah," Greg said gruffly, "You too?"

"Yes well I should think so," Mycroft grinned, oh my god he can grin folks, yes you heard it here first, "I wanted to thank you for taking care of my dear brother earlier, he's not best pleased but it's rather better that way wouldn't you agree?"

Greg had to admit, the man was right. From what he'd seen, making Sherlock happy was damn near suicidal at times.

"I…yes?" Greg said, "Well you're welcome at any rate." He smiled as best he could and turned towards the car.

Oh well this was grand. Greg didn't want to be here, ready to leave already. Great. Well. Sod it, he couldn't make it worse could he?

"Gregory," Mycroft called, "I said I was going to thank you. Dinner should suffice don't you think?"

"I uh…" Oh good lord Holmes, you have indeed made it worse. You idiot, "sure." Greg said after a moment's pause.

Mycroft beamed, "Get in the car then Detective Inspector."

Greg didn't particularly want to go to dinner with the man for a multitude of reasons.

He was deathly dull.

He was insanely hot and Greg didn't know if he'd be able to control himself.

He was dressed entirely inappropriately.

Torchwood was on. Although he'd missed half of it already so that doesn't really count.

On the other hand,

He was insanely hot and Greg didn't know if he'd be able to control himself.

So that was that. He climbed into the car after Mycroft and resigned himself to his fate.

Mycroft however, had done his research; he knew what to talk about with the man now: TV, a number of bands from The Beatles to Fleet Foxes, and sports.

"So Gregory," he said as they pulled out of the car park, "do you have a favourite Beatle?"

Greg looked surprised at that, success then? "Oh uhm, McCartney, possibly a clichéd answer but have you heard the man?"

Mycroft mulled this over, he had a soft spot for Paul too, he was a simply lovely man. As he told Greg so, the man's jaw dropped.

"You…you've met Paul McCartney? I…how?" Ah. Yes. This might be tricky.

"Well we met a while ago after a concert of his that he needed some very tight security on. Apparently we can't refuse such a national treasure." Mycroft lied quickly, thinking that telling Greg that he'd been Paul's best man would have been more than a little alienating.

"However, I have to say that George was always my favourite," he said, changing the topic slightly, "have you heard the man?" he teased gently.

After half an hour's lively debate about the pros and cons of various Beatles, Greg had to admit he was enjoying himself. This was much better. But oh gosh would the man be hard to resist now.

Greg stood aghast as he looked at the building they had pulled up outside, an airport? Really? Oh this was so stolen from a bad romcom. Or possibly an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. He chuckled at the idea of Mycroft watching such things.

Hold the bloody phone. Romcom. Romantic comedy. Romantic. Oh? Splendid.

This took far longer than I intended it to, I've been busy with exams. Sorry guys.

Seriously though, thank you for reading this, it makes me damn happy that people do.

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