Thanks guys, you're the sweetest! :] And a special thanks to Sara for making a banner for this story! Next chapter will be out in a couple days.

Elaine Lestrade was pleasantly surprised to open the door to find her youngest son on the other side. She recovered quickly and ushered him inside with a hug and a kiss. Greg didn't often visit, but he had two days off in a row and yesterday had been spent doing every chore he could think of around the flat and he couldn't think of any way to spend today other than fretting over his upcoming date. He hadn't been on a date in over a decade! Sure, he and Mycroft had already been to dinner and shows and coffee and lunch and tea and anything else that they could possibly do on their date. But they had never called it a date and so now that it would be a date, he was allowed to be nervous.

"Hi Mum, sorry I didn't phone first. If you're busy I can go."
"Gregory Lestrade. Don't you dare leave. I'm finishing up lunch, and I'm putting out an extra setting for you, so you're staying. Now go find your father and tell him it's ready."

Greg collected his father and the three of them sat down to eat. Elaine made sure there was constant chatter—she chided Greg for not taking care of himself ("You look tired, Greg. Have you been sleeping? Have you been eating?") and updated him on the goings on of their neighbours and distant relatives. It was all very normal and that normalcy felt wrong. He ate quickly and wondered if maybe he should have not come.

When they finished, Greg started to take care of the dishes. Elaine tried to take the job from him, but he refused. He needed to feel helpful as much as he needed the mindless task to relax him. Elaine shared a glance with her husband. He walked over to the sink and put a hand on Greg's shoulder to get his attention.

"I'm going to the other room to read, but when you're done here would you join me?"
"Yeah, sure."

Greg wiped his hands on his jeans and headed to the living room feeling like he was a little kid in trouble.

"Da?"
"Come on in, Greg."

Charles Lestrade set down the book he was reading and folded his reading glasses on top of it. He was seated in the large armchair by the window and just enough light was still coming in that he hadn't yet turned on a lamp. Greg walked a few paces closer but remained standing. Charles tried to make eye contact, but Greg avoided it.

"How have you been holding up?"
"Fine." Greg's response was sharper than he had intended.
"I know what you've been through. It's okay to not be fine."

"No, you don't! You and mum are happily married. You've been together forever. You don't know at all." Greg was nearly shouting now, and his eyes were wet.

"Gregory, get over here." Charles spoke firmly and shifted over in the chair so that there was now room for another to sit next to him. He motioned for Greg to do so. After a moment of defiant stillness Greg walked over and fell into the spot. He was sobbing before his father's arms could wrap around him.

When the tears stopped, Greg tried to pull away, but the arms holding him tightened. "Da, I'm too heavy, I'll move."
"You are not. You'll always fit in my arms. No matter how much you thought you outgrew it when you were a teenager. "
"I don't deserve it." But even as he said it, he relaxed again and leaned into his father.
"I don't care if you do. But for what it's worth, I think you deserve it."

"Sorry for snivelling all over your shirt."
"Son, I've been worried at how little you seemed to react. I was afraid she had completely broken you. I don't like to see you in pain, but I'm glad to see that you're still feeling. That's worth having my shirt mussed up a bit. Now, why don't you try answering my question again. How are you holding up?"
"Honestly, I'm mostly fine now."
"You don't seem fine."

Greg didn't respond to that. Instead he focused on his breathing, matching it to the rise and fall of the chest he was leaning against. Eventually with some prompting he revealed what had been occupying his thoughts.

"Help me out here, Greg. What are you worried about?"

"I've got a date Tuesday. Is that too soon?"
"Too soon after ending things with Lydia? Well, as you kindly reminded me, I don't know what a divorce is like so…"
"Da! I am so sorry I didn't mean it really."
Charles shook with laughter. "I know, I'm just teasing you. Does it feel too soon?"
"Not really. I really like him."
He tensed when he realised he had said "him." His brother knew just about everything about him, but he hadn't ever had reason to come out to his parents.

"Gregory, why would you think I'm going to get upset about you going on a date with a man? I don't want to think about my sons having sex and that's the only time it matters what bits your partner has or doesn't have."
"And mum?"
"Loves you the same as I do, son. Now tell me about this chap. Am I going to get to meet him?"
"Yeah, I think you will. If you promise to not scare him away you can come over for dinner next weekend? Unless I have to work a case."
"You haven't been on the date yet and you're already setting up a time for him to meet the parents. He must be special. Do you remember how long it took for you to bring Lydia around here? I barely met her before the wedding!"
"Yeah. Mycroft and I are pretty close already. He's been there for me through the divorce and everything. It's more like this is the first date we're calling a date."
"Good. I hoped you had someone around since I know you weren't talking to any of us. I look forward to meeting him. And it sounds like you don't need to be worrying."
"I'm scared I'll mess things up." He didn't say 'again', but they both heard it.

Meanwhile Mycroft sat in his office worrying over his plans for Tuesday. He had to be in for a meeting, but had more than enough free time to sit at his desk and torment himself. He had promised a 'proper date', but had no idea what that meant. He did a web search but found more results arguing for the proper format for recording the temporal date (this was absurd, of course, because it simply made sense to go from smallest increment to largest: day, month, year) than advice for romantic dates. Most of the ideas he had been able to come up with himself, he quickly dismissed as things they had done without it being a date, proper or otherwise. He let a whole pot of tea go cold before he came to the decision that the time of the meeting—no, date—necessitated a meal. So even though that was on the list of non-dates, he scrawled dinner on the leaf of thick paper labelled neatly at the top, Proper Date with Gregory. When Anthea came in an hour later with a fresh pot of tea and to tell him that the afternoon's phone call had been rescheduled, there was still nothing else on the page. She left with a gentle suggestion that he stop overthinking. As though he could."