5. An old photograph
Mycroft and Greg were in the living room, an open box on the coffee table. Mummy sent over some of Mycroft's old books and stuff he had at university and Greg thought it be a good idea if they placed the books with the others one the shelf.
"The catcher in the rye, 1984, you had a certain taste there My." Greg said as he picked up two books to give to Mycroft.
"I found it a great method to prepare for my career in politics, an eye opener for what could happen if you're not careful." Mycroft replied as he placed the books in the shelf in his specific way. Greg laughed as he looked through the box.
"Why doesn't that surprise...oh hello, what is this?" Mycroft turned to Greg who was removing something out of the box, his face betraying the glee he felt. It was a photo.
"Gregory?"
"Is this you?" Greg turned the photo so Mycroft could see. Mycroft's eyes widen as he realised what it was. He was young, in his first year, wearing glasses and was sitting at a table with his study material; Sherlock was sitting next to him, his face dirty a dog between them and their faces happy. He stepped towards Greg who held out the photo. He took the photo and Greg could see he was getting lost in a memory.
"It was my first Christmas since I left; Sherlock was spending most of his time either with the dog or experimenting. He showed an interest in one of my subjects so I told him about it, one of the last times we got along."
"I'm sorry My." Greg softly whispered as he looked at the two boys. Sherlock was still a child and innocent and Mycroft looked like a real nerd, still learning his place in the world. Mycroft smiled and looked at Greg.
"Thank you. I can't believe my mom sent this."
"It's a great picture. You were handsome even back then."
"Gregory, it's an old photograph, and I would hardly call myself handsome."
"Well I do. I also call myself very lucky to have you in my life. I love you more and more each day."
Mycroft's pulled Greg close and when he let Greg go he handed him the photo.
"I want you to have it."
"What? Me?"
"You like is so much, so I would like you to have it." Greg took the picture with shaking fingers. Promising himself he would take care of it.
When Mycroft came home the next day, the photo was framed and hanging in their living room with the other photos Greg had been hanging of them and their families. Mycroft would look at the photo every time he walk past and remember that who he was may not define him, but that he and Sherlock can be happy again.