So here it is yet another chapter to this fic! I absolutely love writing these! Remember to check Jess' accompanying fic on A03, just simply search "watson_to_my_holmes". This again is dedicated to my lovely friends Jess, Kanika and Bobbie 3

Sweet smelling smoke wafted gently through the air, as Mycroft dragged on his first cigarette in months, slowly, he worked his way down to the tip, each drag more satisfying than the last, and with every exhale of smoke released the fog of worry festering in his mind: it was 23:37, and Gregory still wasn't home. It was unusual for him to arrive any later than 7, if he was late by even a minute, he would drop his husband a text and send him a picture of the view from his current chair, usually the back of someone else's head, or a crime scene, but Mycroft often enjoyed deducing the location and on a scale of one to ten, how bored his partner was. Usually, it was an enjoyable game, but tonight, everything made him worry: no phone call, no texts, no funny picture. Not a single soul had heard from Detective Inspector, and Mycroft had started to worry. As the current cigarette was quickly coming to an end, Mycroft lit another one, and before he knew it, he was off to the Tesco to get another pack. After Olivia was born, they had both made a pact to stop smoking, and if, for any reason, that pact was broken, they would receive a fine of £50 (which would go towards their holiday fund) and they would have to go without sex for a week. It was safe to say that giving it up was easier than imagined, even though they both craved it, they knew it was for the best, for their wallets and their sex lives. But tonight, Mycroft ignored it, something from the deep pit of his stomach told him that something was wrong, that Greg wasn't home for a reason, and no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that he'd probably fallen asleep at his desk and no-one had woken him up, his mind quickly realised that it was an unlikely possibility. And soon, he would have to face the music. He stubbed out another cigarette and slowly fell into the viscous cycle of chain smoking: lighting a new one as each old one died out, and continuing to do so as piercing blue eyes locked onto the welcome distraction of paperwork. Each line was processed as he skimmed down the page, each letter read exactly and followed, until the ink hit the paper in an unlikely marriage, blue ink following a smooth curve over the crisp white paper, each loop was poised with precision and each word was written with the same grace as an artist. The rhythm was jolted when his phone started to move and sing, familiar music pouring out of the speakers: their song playing quietly for the whole room to hear, one word lit up the screen, a word that filled his whole heart with joy "Gregory".

"Gregory, oh my God, please tell me you're ok, what took you so long?" He pleaded with the technology, only to hear silence in reply, "Gregory, darling, please answer, what's wrong? I've been worried sick, I thought you had abandoned Olivia and I-"

An unfamiliar voice interrupted Mycroft's worrying pleas, "Is this Mycroft Lestrade-Holmes, speaking?"

Silence fell upon the room, with a heavy thud and a deafening sound of sadness, Mycroft croaked out the only words he could think to reply with, "Yes, this is he"

"Mr. Lestrade-Holmes, I regret to inform you that your husband has been shot, he's currently at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and nurses and doctors are trying to get him in a stable condition."

"Shot where?" Mycroft replied, eyes filling rapidly with tears, he had expected that one day this might happen, after all it was an occupational hazard, but he'd never entertained the possibility of it actually happening.

"I can't reveal that information without a doctor present"

"Shot where, and if you don't tell me, there will be an Mi6 squad willing to take you to a private room and dissect that information for me. So it would be easier if you could tell me where the love of my life has been shot."

"Heart"

All of a sudden, the world seemed to stop turning, and the tight grip on the government man's sleek black phone slackened, and the object fell to the floor. Once again, silence flung itself on the room, the eerie noise of near-death hung over him: with shaky hands he picked the smashed phone and dialled the first number he could think of.

•

At the brutal sound of the phone ringing, John Watson blinked rapidly to wake himself up, it was unusual that he would be asleep at 12, but Sherlock had woken him up at 3, so his day has been pretty exhausting. He chuckled as he rolled over to pick up the object, laughing at his husband who was sprawled across the bed in a half sleep complaining about the sustainability of watercress, he'd been moaning about various types of salad since they first started a case where the victim was murdered by a change in the growth process in her salad leaves, leaving Sherlock distrusting of any salad for the next three months.. With this thought in mind, he chuckled again and gently kicked the younger man awake, and picking up the piece of technology that lingered on his night stand.

"John Watson" The automatic reply poured out of the army doctor's mouth along with a stifled yawn.

"John thank god" a breathy voice answered, "It's Mycroft."

"Ahhhh Mycroft, Sherlock's asleep. I can wake him up if you want, but he will want to hurt you, I mean you know-"

"- It's not about Sherlock, John. It's Greg, he's been shot."

"Oh my God, are you at the hospital?"

"No, I've only just got the call, can you come over here and get Olivia ready and meet me at the hospital? I'm leaving her with a neighbour until you get here. Have you got your key?" Mycroft replied, working on autopilot now, taking a breath when he ever mentioned the hospital. "I'll meet you up there, can you make sure that Sherlock stays as far away from St. Batts as possible? I do not need his helpful comments"

At the sound of his name Sherlock awoke, "I heard that!" He pounced, "And I think that's rather rude, brother mine."

"Right I'll see you there" John replied, hanging up the phone. He turned to Sherlock, placing a kiss against his lips, and turning to leave, lacing up a hoody and throwing on a pair of old boots.

"Why were you calling my brother?" Sherlock questioned, a look of worry written across his face, "John, why?"

"Your brother called me."

"John, What's going on, are you in love with him or something, why are you all of a sudden dropping everything to be with him?"

"Jesus, Sherlock!" John replied, "Lestrade got Shot. Ok? By the sounds of it, it's not looking good, Mycroft is in bits, he could barely hold a sentence without sounding like he was going to cry. So for once in your life think about someone else, and think that you might be seeing a lot more of your brother if tonight goes badly."

"Why are you going?" Sherlock asked, it was rare that John was mad, but it was a flaw of his loyalty and having little sleep.

"Mycroft wants me to get Olivia and go to the hospital, he doesn't want you to be there." John climbed back on the bed and bought Sherlock into a deep kiss, "I'm sorry, and I'll be back before you know it"

•

Greg was in surgery for almost four and a half hours, and for every single second, Mycroft sat in front of the door, waiting for anything: a whisper or a suggestion that he might be ok, or a definite answer saying that he isn't. The operation continued, and it felt like days; months had gone past, and Mycroft barely had the energy to leave the edge of his seat.

"Is this seat taken?" A familiar voice asked, to which Mycroft shook his head and then looked up to see Molly Hooper, who dressed as if she was going out for the evening: her hair was flung around her shoulders in soft ringlets and she wore a plain black dress, that was simple, yet elegant: it came down to her knees and softly shaped the body it was placed on; the neckline was a tiny bit revealing, but not too much and the shoes were sensible, too sensible for a date, but too smart for work. Mycroft looked at her and smiled, "So, you're supposed to be meeting your boyfriend's parents tonight, any particular reason why your not?"

"How did you-"

"Powers of deduction work better under stress," He smiled, "Why do you think I'm in the government and not teaching?"

"Many reasons.. I mean.. You hate kids.."

"If Gregory was here he would slap you silly, even if he does have a rule about slapping females.." He smiled sadly at the thought, knowing that his beloved husband had rules for everything, but they all made sense at the same time, "I suppose you haven't met Olivia yet"

"I heard, about what happened to Greg.. Mycroft, I'm so sorry.." Molly replied, cupping a soft hand over his two, that were carefully fastened together in an icy grip, "But we have the best specialists and if anyone can pull through, I know it will be Greg, let's face it, he works with your brother, he can do anything"

"I appreciate the sentiment Molly, but some silence would be lovely" He replied, checking his phone, to see if something had happened to take his mind off things, but the only notification he received was the one he already knew: 48 year old detective inspector from Scotland Yard in surgery after being shot in the heart, police have arrested a 16-year-old girl in suspicion of the crime. Mycroft couldn't bear to think that a child could've thought of this, she was Annabeth's age, and now would probably face at least a large part of her life in a cell.

"I haven't met Olivia" Molly remarked after what seemed like hours, "Goodness, she must almost 3 months old now, how is it? Being a dad?"

Mycroft sat there tapping his fingers along his knee, "Yes, she's three months old, and she is quite the character already. She smiles a lot, grinning and clapping constantly, and she adores Greg," He felt a lump in his throat, "She spends a lot of time with John, he's volunteered to be our nanny for a while until he gets a permanent position as a doctor in St Bart's. It's strange being a dad, I miss her when she's not around, if it's quiet, I crave to hear her laughs and her screams, but when it's noisy, I beg her to fall asleep. But I love her, with every inch of my being"

"I can't wait to meet her." Molly replied, "Sherlock showed me pictures, she's stunning."

"She gets it all from Greg's side, I'm sure" Mycroft said sadly, "If the worst does happen, at least- at least she'll know that she was loved immensely"

"He doesn't have to die for her to know that" Molly said bringing him closer to the government man, allowing him to rest on his shoulder, "If you need me to do anything, Mycroft, I'll be here, if John needs a break from baby sitting or you need someone to cook you dinner. Just give me a shout"

Mycroft smiled, "I don't shout, but I will give you a call."

•

Two years ago

It was the first weekend that Mycroft had taken off in months, and it just happened to be a week before Christmas. It was rare that he woke up with another man, usually his affairs would be a brief encounter: no names exchanged and no life stories swapped, but this time, it was different, he woke up in the arms of his detective inspector. Gregory rolled over and kissed the government man, "Good Morning, gorgeous", blinking awake, his icy blue eyes latched onto the deep chocolate pools of Greg's and kissing him in reply, his arms hanging around the back of the elder man's neck.

"Good morning" Mycroft replied, in an illustrious haze, moving forwards to place a kiss on his forehead. "I've never done anything like this before"

"Like what?" Greg looked confused, but slightly relieved, it was the first time he'd been with a man before Karen, and he'd forgotten how enjoyable it could be. Realising that Mycroft wouldn't give him an answer without hesitation, he slowly unbuttoned Mycroft's pyjama top as he slowly peppered the younger man with kisses. "Like what?" He repeated himself again, mumbling against the soft warmth of his skin.

"You know.. Ermm.. Well, this"

"Myc, that really doesn't help me at all" He replied, starting to work his rough fingers into Mycroft's hair, playing gently with each small tuft.

"Well, waking up in someone else's arms." Mycroft said as he slowly bought Gregory's chin up to meet his, "my only experiences have been in seedy bars and once in a toilet at university. I have never done anything like this before. I've never been on a date and I've never had a relationship of any kind longer than a few days."

"Really?" Greg stretched back, looking slightly confused, "Why?"

"I've never had the time. At university we were told 'All lives end, all hearts at broken, all in all, caring is not an advantage.' You have to understand that in my line of work I have to make the decision if people live or die. It's not just a minor position in the government, I have to make decisions that impact the security of our country, I can't afford to have relationships" He looked down sadly, and then leaned into kiss Gregory, "But there is something about you, that makes me want more"

"Why?" Greg asked softly, "Why me?"

"Because you're different and interesting, you inspire me in so many ways that I didn't need even know existed. And yes, we've only been dating for a few weeks, and I'm still in a haze from last night, but I know there is something more to you than expected, and a small part of me believes that I might be falling in love with you"

Greg smiled and kissed him in reply, "I'm so glad you said it first, because since the moment you bought me a drink at that Christmas party I knew that this was something. Mycroft Holmes, I love you too"

They shared another heated kiss, before Mycroft fell back to the warm comfort of his pillows, his arms wrapped around Gregory and his kissed his back, before tracing the scars and moles along his chest: his finger circled around a nasty wound on his upper shoulder, "What's this?" He asked gently, placing a kiss on the mark.

"My first bullet wound," Gregory said sadly, "It was in my first year there, I was employed as a detective sergeant at Scotland Yard, and my first big case was the Abby Stephens case, heard of it?" Mycroft nodded, it was a case study at university, one of the most famous cases in the uk, about the mysterious abduction of a university student, "We had finally found the murderer, who had left a trail of hints, as if he wanted to be found. Finally, we located him in Plymouth, hiding out in a little chubby hole near the beach. We didn't know that he was armed, and he managed to take a lump out of my shoulder... It was a surreal moment, ya' know.. I could see the bullet hurtling toward me in slow motion, and at first, it looked like it was heading toward my heart, and as I moved, it hit my shoulder, but it was worth it. My first battle scar"

Mycroft smiled, "Do you not wonder that you could've died at the moment?"

"I used to when it first happened, but I had other things to think about" He smirked and kissed Mycroft softly, with a hint of passion, "I love you, Mycroft Holmes, and I won't be dying any time soon."

•

That was two years ago, Mycroft thought, when the love of his life made that promise. And he prayed and hoped that he would keep his promise, but with heart surgery, there were so many things that could go wrong: depending on where he was shot, shrapnel could move into the main valve or there is a possibility that the bullet could've hit an artery. The worries were endless and it was possible that it might not be the same Gregory on the other side, even if he does survive. "Please God" He pleaded, "I've never prayed before and I don't really have any intention to pray again, but I need a miracle, I need the love of my life to come back to me, to be the father to his children and the most amazing man I know. So, a miracle would be nice, I need him to come back to me, I can't do this by myself."

And as if a miracle had occurred, a nurse appeared to Mycroft and Molly, who both stood as she came into the corridor. "Mr Holmes?"

"Lestrade-Holmes," He corrected her, "And please call me Mycroft"

"Well, Mycroft, the good news is that your husband survived the surgery. The bullet hit a ventricle, meaning that the doctors have had to do some repair work, but it left hardly any damage. Your husband is very lucky to be alive, Mr Lestrade-Holmes, it will take him a few days to get back to himself. But if he makes it through tonight, his chance of survival is greater. Tonight, is really touch and go."

Mycroft took a second to process this, "What does he need?"

"Well, he'll be waking up from surgery soon, so some home things would be nice, to make the place seem less, well, hospital-like. We find that patients do better when they're surrounded by photos and memories of home. Toiletries, naturally: towels, toothbrushes, body wash, etc.. We can arrange carers, but you probably want to stay, seeing that you've been here since we called you. Do you have any children?"

"Yes, 4. Three live with their mother and our fourth is staying with my brother and his husband." Mycroft replied, a smile across his face when he thought about their small gaggle of children, all with lively characters and chatty personalities, all who had become excellent sisters to the new addition.

"Brilliant, so if you leave your..." She looked to Molly in a confused manner..

"This is Dr Molly Hooper; a close friend, and I believe she is heading home.." Mycroft explained, smiling at Molly.

"Of course," She replied, before leaning in to kiss Mycroft on the cheek and swiftly left the ward.

"So," The nurse continued, "If you follow me, I'll swiftly who you to Mr. Lestrade-Holmes' room and explain the equipment he's got attached to him. Please understand that he has been under very strong medication, and he will be under pain medication with a mixture of morphine and a range of others. Is he allergic to any medication?"

Mycroft shook his head, anxious to see his love; walking into the room, his heart shattered into tiny pieces, to see Greg, pale and exhausted with tubes and wires coming out all over his body. Catching his breath, the only word that poured out was "Greg", every second became more heartbreaking, as his nurse, Ella explained every single piece of equipment: from the heart monitor to the IV line, at every explanation, Mycroft thanked his lucky stars that Greg was still there, drawing in breath through his cannula. He sat with him, squeezing his hand tightly, chatting to him softly in the hope that he would wake up.

"... Olivia is with John," He continued, "I'm sure you won't mind, he spends so much time with her, he's practically her third parent. John tells me that him and Sherlock are thinking of starting a family, a part of this scares me, but I would love to be an uncle. The aspect of future Christmases also terrifies me: with our four and possibly more in the future, I'm sure we'll have Grace as well and they'll be two and possibly a few more. So that's at least 10-"

"Myc" a breathless reply came from the dying man's mouth, "I'm dying, can we not talk about Christmas"

Mycroft went up to kiss Greg on the lips, "There was a point where I thought you might never wake up... But I promise you, you're not dying, you are going to lead a long, happy life."

"Myc, I know that if I don't make it through tonight, I won't make it at all" He replied, "We both know that... Don't we? You're the smartest man I know, please don't lie to yourself."

"Talk of death one more time" Mycroft warned, "Or I will bring Sherlock in here, and set him onto talk mode for an hour"

"That, my love is an unfair threat" Greg laughed as he struggled to breathe, "Fine. It's a deal."

"I thought I'd lost you forever." Mycroft said sadly.

"I know, but I'm still here"

•

4 months ago

"Isn't it scary that one day we'll die?" Charlotte asked at breakfast, "Because when I die, I want my ashes to be scattered in the moat around the castle at Disneyland."

"Lottie" Greg scorned, "You're 7."

"I am 7, I'm glad you remembered, and as a 7 year old, I have the right to the freedom of speech" The blonde-haired child reported.

Greg raised an eyebrow towards Lottie and sighed to see Katie happily eating cereal. "Katherine Lestrade" He said in a low impatient voice, "I know you've been doing the human rights act, but you don't have to bring it to your sister."

"It wasn't Katie!" Charlotte screamed! "Papa Mycroft was complaining about the sodding human rights act, so I asked him what it was and he told me."

Greg sighed and shook his head, "OK, just don't bring it to the breakfast table"

"Ok" Lottie replied solemnly, before picking up, "At my funeral can I have a pink coffin?"

"What makes you think I'll be planning it?" Greg replied indignantly, realising that this conversation could take a while.

"Who else will?"

"Well" Katie tried to say politely, "The natural order is that we make the plans for Dad's funeral, and when you get older, your children will plan your funeral."

"I don't want children." Lottie said, "I'm going to die surrounded by cats."

•

Olivia-Grace cooed as she was held in John's arms, full focus surrounding him, her blue eyes locking with his in admiration. He'd gotten a call from Mycroft asking to see her when Greg remarked that he would like to spend time with his youngest daughter if these were to be his last hours on earth. She was a stunning child, with icy blue eyes and soft locks of curly auburn hair, as she slept, she crossed her arms and scrunched her body into a ball, keeping the warmth and love that she felt every day, as she was in John's arms, she started to crawl up and fall slowly into sleep, she'd been asleep since 12, but had woken up for the four 'o' clock feed, that the mention of this to any parent, any where would fill them with memories of sleepless nights and the bittersweet sound of their yowling child. He'd taken her up to Greg's ward, in the ICU, with special permission to visit him, because of Mycroft's status, otherwise it was immediate family only. Greg was halfway between sleep and consciousness most of the time, as the weight of the drugs pulled him down, and the weakness of his heart was now beginning to show. As John delivered a sleeping child to Greg's arms, all three men smiled, as if her small life bought joy to the whole world.m, this thought tickled the army doctor, who yanked the clipboard full of notes out from the end of the bed, simultaneously checking the heart monitor and all the fluids. Placing the folder back into it's holder, he tapped Mycroft softly on the back and looked at him sympathetically, it would only be a matter of hours if his heart were to give out; realising the significance of the moment, he left the family together, even if it was just for a few moments.

"I could die happy now" Gregory said quietly, staring into the eyes of his baby girl, "with you all here, knowing that you would care for my kids when I'm gone"

"Gregory, darling, please. Don't say that, I'm sure your mother always told you to be careful what you wish for..." He sighed, "Anyway, I need to talk about your other kids. About Karen... If you die, Karen gets full custody and I have no claim to your children, and I'm afraid that I wouldn't be able to care and protect for them as you would want. They can still visit but if you leave us, I cannot count as their guardian, unless you gain full custody and I adopt them, or Karen, for any other reason doesn't want them"

"Jesus, Myc, how long have you thought about this?" He smiled, tiredly looking up to his husband.

"You've given me too much time to think," Mycroft replied, extracting their daughter from his husband's arms and calling John to take her back home.

Greg was asleep when Mycroft returned, the younger man had fallen into a pool of unconsciousness, but Mycroft couldn't bear to shut an eyelid, just in case anything happened, but just after 5'o'clock, Mycroft's worst fears were realised when he heard the machine flatlining, his heart had given out, and his body had given up; with fear coursing through his veins, he shouted repeatedly for the nurse, his lungs burning with lit with a smoky fire, creating a deep hoarseness in his voice. Before he knew it, a group of nurses and doctors ran into the room, each one slowly pushing Mycroft out as they pushed down onto his chest plate, trying to retrieve a heartbeat, until one of them gave up, declaring his time of death as 5:35, and slowly but surely Mycroft's world began falling apart. Darkness fell across the room as tear after tear poured down his face, the only word that he could elicit from broken sobs was 'Gregory', the love of his life, who was cruelty robbed of his future.

A few seconds later, a shred of sunlight bounced gaily into the room, it's beams dancing around the bed with an uplifting movement. Mycroft looked over to his husband, who loved watching the sun set and rise every day, it was the reason he woke up early every morning and always went to bed so late, as he looked over, he saw a finger tap the cool, crisp hospital bedsheets.

"Greg?" He asked, a shred of hope as he waited anxiously for a response, and the finger tapped again, but twice this time, "NURSE" he screamed again, but somewhat more desperate, "Is he alive?"

A young nurse placed two fingers along his wrist and held her watch out, and nodded as she could feel the blood pumping through his veins.

"It's a miracle" She said, beaming, "He's going to survive."