Guys, thanks so much for reading! You're all the sweetest. :]


"What are you doing at Lestrade's?"

Mycroft was waiting for Gregory to return to the flat with their dinner. He had been presented with a stack of DVDs and instructions to pick one out for them to watch while he picked up the takeaway. He selected a film quickly and decided to use some of the 22 minutes he estimated remained before Gregory returned to check in on his brother. He now feared that he would regret that decision. He would not have guessed that Sherlock could identify the flat by the background noise. Gregory did have an unnecessarily loud clock on the wall though. And he supposed the noise of the heater had taken a while to get used to.

"That is not relevant, but Gregory and I are friends."
"Since when do you have friends?"
"Sherlock, please."
"So defensive, brother dear. Since you asked so nicely, yes, I am still clean. No, John has not come to his senses and moved out. As you already knew."
"I don't know everything, Sherlock."
"You may as well. Hanging up now, Mycroft. Don't enjoy your dinner too much."

Sherlock considered calling out for John to tell him what he now suspected. His brother fancied Lestrade? He was calling him by his given name now, not referring to him by title as he had any other time Lestrade had come up in conversation. That would be expected if they were friends, but the fondness with which he said the name was less expected. And there was something in Mycroft's voice as he said 'friends'. Something that spoke of a longing that Sherlock preferred to pretend his brother was incapable of. So he wanted them to be more than friends. Maybe he didn't even know that himself, and doubtless was unaware that it was being revealed in his tone or he would have masked it. Or tried. Sherlock was quite good at deducing his brother—he had practice, after all.

Mycroft returned his mobile to his pocket with a groan he would not have permitted himself had he not been in private. His conversation with Sherlock went about as well as every conversation with him went, but it was still frustrating. He wondered what Gregory's conversations with his brother were like. He went into the kitchen and grabbed the dishes they would need for dinner, setting them up on the table in front of the telly and replacing the DVDs that he didn't choose and inserting the disc he did choose in the player. He checked his email twice. When he heard Gregory's key in the door, he returned to the kitchen and pulled out two lagers, opening them both.

Greg was grinning when he walked over. "My, I could kiss you. I remembered that I was out of beer just when I was walking in the building. You, sir, are fantastic. How did you know?"

"Perhaps I just fancied a beer and wanted to ensure I would have one?"
"Uh huh. I'll just pretend to believe that then." Greg took his place next to Mycroft on the sofa and did peck him on the cheek. "Thank you." He grabbed one of the beers and took a swig.

"You are welcome. But as I said. I bought them for me. Thank you for getting dinner"
"Mmhmm. So, what are we watching? I hope it goes with Thai."

Mycroft just raised an eyebrow and pressed the play button.

"Interesting choice." Greg told him around a mouthful of noodles as he recognized what film Mycroft had started playing.
"I'm sorry, I haven't seen the film adaptation. Is it not good? We can watch something else."
"No, this is good."
"Then why interesting?"
"Because I felt like I had to comment on your choice?"
"Well, I found it interesting that you own The Importance of Being Earnest."
"Really, why?"
"Because I felt I had to comment on your selection."
"Okay, point taken. But I really don't know."
Mycroft stared at him for a moment, after which Greg was sure Mycroft knew even if he didn't himself. But he said nothing and they returned focus to the movie and dinner. At some point after their plates were set aside, the two shifted so that they sat flush to each other and by the end of the movie Greg's head was on Mycroft's shoulder.
"Another beer?"
"No, Gregory, I have to be going now. But I've stocked my refrigerator as well as yours, so next time at mine?"
"Yeah, I look forward to it."

And he had been looking forward to it. But after saying that, he walked Mycroft to the door, exchanged goodbyes, and hasn't heard from him since. That was 9 days ago. They had been in the habit of communicating in some fashion at least every two days, usually daily. And for the past two months they had met up once or twice a week, every week. They both had busy jobs, but it was unusual that Mycroft wasn't responding at all to texts. A "sorry I'm busy" would have been welcome. Well, annoying, but less annoying than being ignored.

[Have you heard from your brother lately? GL]
[Thankfully, no. Lost your new friend already? SH]

Well, at least he knew he wouldn't be revealing his friendship to Sherlock. He thought about asking how he figured it out, but decided to just accept it and be glad to not have to think up a reason to be asking after the man's brother.

[Seriously Sherlock. It's been more than a week.]
[He does that sometimes. SH]
[Should I be worried?]
[Mycroft is the most dangerous man I know. Be worried for whoever is keeping him. SH]

Greg waited another week before asking again. Sherlock was working a case with him and he barely managed to wait until after they had caught the killer.

"Anything?"
"Lestrade, I am quite certain that he favours your company over mine. You will hear from him before I do."
"Okay. Uh, if you do hear something though?"
"I will probably ignore him."
"Sherlock!"
"And contact you immediately."
"Thanks. You're really not worried?"
"He is often out of the country for work. He is often unable to communicate during those times. I have no reason to believe this situation is different from any other time."
"Okay… Thanks."

Greg sounded about as sure as he felt, and he knew Sherlock probably thought he sounded pretty pathetic. But he wasn't used to friends dropping off the face of the Earth. And Mycroft was there for him when he needed it, so if he wasn't okay now, Greg wanted to return the favour. After Lestrade walked away, Sherlock tapped out a text to his brother. It seemed that Lestrade was just as fond of Mycroft as Mycroft was of Lestrade.

Three days later when Mycroft was finally home he turned on his personal mobile to find 17 text messages and two voicemail messages from Gregory. With the exception of the first two which suggested times for their next movie night, they were all variations on "Where are you? Are you okay?" He had finished all his paperwork on the plane and would not be expected at the office tomorrow, so he sent text response.
[I'm sorry, Gregory. Work took me out of the country. Are you available for dinner tonight?]

He was also surprised to find a single text message from his brother.

[Mycroft, we need to talk. SH]

Assuming that Gregory responded in the affirmative, he would still have time to drop by 221B Baker Street for a chat with Sherlock before dinner. He took a car there immediately to see what was so important that his little brother was coming to him.

"Please tell me you have contacted Lestrade."
"Hello to you, too, Sherlock. Now what is this about?"
"He has been pestering me the whole time you've been gone. He hasn't been sleeping well. Worried sick, quite literally."
"Why?"
"Oh, this is good. You haven't noticed yet? I do believe that the inspector returns your feelings."
"And what feelings would those be, brother?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Mycroft had previously avoided analysing his feelings for his friend, because he couldn't imagine them being returned and because he was quite happy with the status quo. Now that Sherlock had brought it up, he was replaying his last few encounters and found that Sherlock's supposition was perhaps not as baseless as he would have first thought. That did not stop him from glaring in response. He felt uncomfortable in his brother's presence, knowing that Sherlock knew every thought going through his head. He was glad to get the text he could use as an escape.

[Where and when?]

"As lovely as this has been, I'm afraid I must be going now. Goodbye, Sherlock." He turned and walked out of the flat as quickly as possible. Sherlock spoke up before he was out of earshot.
"Please be careful with him. He's the only one at Scotland Yard worth working with."
"The only one who will work with you, you mean?"
"Irrelevant!

Mycroft hurried out to his waiting car and spent most of the ride home planning dinner. He couldn't read Gregory through his messages, but he anticipated that he would be upset. That, combined with two and a half weeks away from home, made him decide to stay in. Takeaway or something he could quickly cook, then.

[Whenever you are available. My home. I'll pick you up.]

[No I'll meet you there in 40]

Now that he knew that Mycroft was okay, Greg was peeved. He had gone between feeling ignored (maybe he was being annoying to Mycroft) to being worried (Mycroft wasn't responding because he couldn't respond because something was wrong) over the past three weeks and now that he had heard from Mycroft he settled on Mycroft didn't respond because he didn't want to. If he thought logically he could almost convince himself that that was a ridiculous notion, but he couldn't shake it. So he refused the ride and hoped that walk to the tube station would calm him down.