Sherlock sullenly glared at Greg across the table. He hadn't forgiven Greg for punching him in the face during the drugs bust, and he had acted like a stubborn child all night.

As if Greg wasn't uncomfortable enough. Holmes Manor in itself was intimidating, but meeting Mr. and Mrs. Holmes was proving positively nerve-racking.

Mrs. Holmes was a pleasant, very well dressed woman who loved her boys more than anything. Mr. Holmes was cold and distant, with a handshake that had nearly broken Greg's wrist. He hadn't said more than three words to anyone since dinner had begun, while his wife hadn't paused for breath since Greg had arrived. Greg was eerily reminded of his police academy training when the instructors had taught them the "good cop – bad cop" tactic.

"Oh, it's so nice meeting my boy's friends! " Mrs. Holmes exclaimed a little too loudly after an awkward lull in the conversation. Greg winced, that was the other thing. She kept referring to Greg as Mycroft's "friend", like they were schoolmates or something.

Greg smiled and nodded as politely as he could.

"And Gregory, darling," she said, reaching for Greg's hand. He let her take it, while shooting a small panicked glance at Mycroft, who looked just as perplexed as Greg. "I just can't thank you enough for giving my Sherlock a job at Scotland Yard. He has such…unique talents, I'm so glad he gets to put them to good use." She smiled warmly at Greg. He took this as a good sign.

Mr. Holmes made an irritated sound. "Yes, running through dark alleys with a handicapped doctor. Great use of his caliber of intellect."

Sherlock looked pained at this statement, he looked down at his lap and didn't say anything in response. Greg felt pity for the sociopath. Sure, his job wasn't exactly the type parents loved to brag about, but there was nothing else he could possibly do that would keep him sane.

"Well with all due respect sir, I think that's pretty harsh."

All eyes turned towards Greg. Mrs. Holmes dropped his hand as if it had burned her. Sherlock's head jerked upwards.

He looked around and cleared his throat. "Well yeah, it's unusual. But I mean, he uses his deduction powers or whatever they are to save lives. Did he tell you about last week, when he saved a bus full of schoolchildren from an international terrorist? I can't even make this stuff up. London would be much worse off if it weren't for your son Sherlock."

The room was silent. All eyes had gone from Greg to Mr. Holmes, who was staring at Greg hard. Greg swallowed hard, he had totally blown it.

Mr. Holmes furrowed his brow. "Bus full of schoolchildren?"

Greg nodded dumbly.

Mr. Holmes pondered this for a moment. He looked at Sherlock. "That's not bad son. Not bad at all."

Sherlock gaped a little. "Thank you," he said to his father shyly.

He glanced at Greg and quirked the corners of his mouth upwards in thanks.

"Well," Mrs. Holmes said, expelling the breath that she had been holding. "Shall we adjourn to the living room for coffee or brandy?"

"Yes dear," Mr. Holmes replied. "Then Sherlock can tell us some of these cases he's worked on. You never told us anything about them. At least Mycroft has the excuse where if he told us about work he'd have to kill us, but you on the other hand have no such luxury." He clapped Sherlock on the back as they walked to the living room.

Greg got up from his chair, flabbergasted. Mycroft came around to his side of the table and waited until the others had departed before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"That was astounding," Mycroft said. "I have never seen anyone take on Stavrick Holmes before in my entire life."

"I didn't mean to – Stavrick? Jesus Christ, where do you all get your names from?"