AN: I must be on fire because here is another quick fix chapter. That isn't to say that I don't feel passionately about this pairing, and this scenario actually. I just put it together quicker than I normally would. ;) Please let me know what you think. Thanks, RF x


The Best Gift

Mycroft was sitting in the parlour when he heard the front door open, and a low hushed voice give instructions about taking off shoes and hanging up coats. He was nervous, and this was a different sort of nerves from the ones he carried going n his first date with Gregory. He had already had his alloted glass of cognac and sipped at the remnants of the bitter coffee he followed it with.

Gregory's children had only met him a small handful of times over the last six months of their relationship, at Mycroft's own behest to wait, but Gregory wasn't taking no for an answer this time. Not at Christmas.

"Mycroft? Myc?" Greg called out.

"In the parlour, Gregory."

Greg strolled in wearing his trademark grey charcoal suit - that Mycroft secretly adored - and gave him a peck on the cheek as the children settled themselves on the big sofa. Alex was on his phone – no change from the last two times they met – and grinned over his screen a hello. If mobile phones had been around when he was fifteen maybe Mycroft would have been the same. Hazel tucked herself up in the corner and rested her head on the arm.

"Hello Mycroft. You been alright?" Hazel looked at his with careful brown eyes - like her father's - and Mycroft felt lost. He couldn't exactly tell the ten-year-old about the perils of being in the government.

"Alex, Hazel... I am well, thank you. How is school?" Mycroft asked, knowing that Hazel loved to learn and indeed was very bright. Both the Lestrade children were, and Mycroft knew Gregory was so very proud of them.

Greg disappeared and found himself alone with two children. Hazel took out her books and started to talk about the Shakespeare play she was reading, ever-so animated, that Mycroft begun to relax into a conversation. Only when Alex put his phone away with a huff did Mycroft sense something was amiss.

"Mycroft, this is going to sound weird - being that I've only met you a few times - but I need to know when you are going to ask our Dad to move in with you." Alex's bluntness echoed Sherlock's direct attitude that he did not feel wrong-footed, exactly, more that the topic felt suspiciously like 'what are your intentions?' coming from a guardian to a potential suitor.

"I, I'm sorry. Why would you think that things are at that level?"

Alex sat forward in his seat and Hazel seemed to give a subtle encouragement because he forged on. "Well, you are obviously very serious about him. You've given him your house key, and considering the line of work you are in, I would imagine that a degree of security would need to be in place here. Dad walks around your place like he spends most of his time here...In fact, we happen to know that he does, as we only ever seem to get him on the mobile now. I know that you have a set of his house keys too, by the way. Even now, he is pottering around the kitchen making dinner for us all." Alex paused and smiled as he noted the Christmas decorations around the mantle over the fire.

"I bet Dad put those decorations there to feel more at home. He'd normally use them at his place, along with that angel on the tree that Hazel made five years ago, and has seen better days. Do I need to go on?"

Mycroft's mouth was dry, and for the first time in many years thought he had found someone who could possibly be better at deduction than himself or his brother. He picked up his cup of coffee now, only to find it dry.

"No, no need to go on. What do you suggest? What would you both like?" Alex and Hazel shared a conspiring smile then, and Mycroft felt he had been subtly tag-teamed.

"We would like you to let us pick our own rooms and colour schemes while you go and get all kissy with our Dad and get him to move in here. We promise that when we stay, we wont be severely loud, or disrespectful. We like this place, and well... we like you. You make Dad happy, which is all we want really." Hazel charged on winningly.

Mycroft felt his head nod of its own accord and Alex popped from his seat as though a fire had been lit under him and tapped Mycroft on the arm with a thanks, before shooting from the room, phone still in hand. Hazel was a great deal calmer, and Mycroft had the feeling that she saw just as much as her brother did, she just preferred to process it in greater detail.

"Thank you, Mycroft. To be honest, this is our Christmas wish for our Dad. After us, you are the best gift he could have." Hazel smiled and pecked him a kiss on the cheek before darting from the room and up the stairs.

Mycroft drifted through to the kitchen a little time later, listening to tinny music being played through a phone two floors up, and watched Gregory in his kitchen cooking. With his jacket off, he looked relaxed as he sliced and diced vegetables and added them to the pan to cook, and he hummed to himself.

It felt like a home rather than a house.

"Gregory, I don't want you to leave." Mycroft shocked himself at hearing his own gravelly voice full of emotion as he watched Greg turn with a smile on his face and laughter bubbling out.

"Okay, once we've all eaten I'll take the kids home and come back here, Myc."

Mycroft turned the sentence over in his mind, and tried again.

"What I mean, Gregory dear, is that I don't want you to leave here to sleep at your place anymore. Not just for Christmas, but for the indeterminable future. I want you in this house with me every morning and every night. I want your kids to come for weekends. I want you to move in with me. You are the best gift I could ever have in this lifetime. You are simply perfect."

Greg kissed Mycroft. He kissed him as though they were alone in the house. He kissed him with a murmured "yes" and peppered "I love you's" until he smelled the oil burning at the food and went to salvage their dinner.