Set after our lovely pair moved in together. From here on out I think I'll stick to writing after the whole hospital incident, I'm only confusing myself (and, I suspect, a few of my dear readers) by jumping back and forth. So unless I say specifically otherwise from now on just assume they're living together and whatnot. Thanks!

This chapter based on columbine-and-asphodel's prompt: "Mycroft and Lestrade at the zoo. After hours. Just enjoying each other's company and talking about their favorite animals and why they like them."

~Brooke

Greg flopped down on the couch.

Mycroft eyed him from over the top of his paper.

"Bored," Greg mumbled.

"Read a book."

Greg snorted.

Mycroft turned the page of his paper.

Greg rolled onto his side so that he could watch the politician. "We should do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, anything."

'Gregory, it's nine o' clock in the evening. Where do you suggest we go?"

"I don't know, but you're the British government. I feel like our options are wider than others. Mind if I look through the contacts in your phone?"

Mycroft flipped his paper down and gave Greg a stern look. "No, not that again. Remember last time?"

"Okay, give me some credit. I didn't think you actually had the Queen's mobile number. Why does the Queen even have a mobile?"

"Not for Detective Inspectors to prank call her, that's for sure."

"If I promise not to call or text any members of any royal family will you let me look through your phone so that I can find something fun to do with you? I mean, I want to grow old with you My, but we don't exactly have to get a head start on it."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he dug his Blackberry out of his pocket and tossed it to his lover on the couch.

Greg eagerly began scrolling through the contacts, sucking in his breath from time to time, and occasionally commenting on them.

"Please tell me that this is not actually Kim Jong Il's home number."

"Why on earth are you just sitting here reading a paper when you've got David Tennant on speed dial?"

"When it says B. Obama does that mean…"

After several minutes he found one that made his eyes light up. He highlighted the number and handed the phone back to Mycroft. "This is what we're doing tonight."

"Good evenin' Mr. Holmes sir, good ta see you sir," the tiny old man in the coveralls said.

Mycroft nodded politely. "Good evening."

"All the keepers 'ave gone 'ome for the night, so you'll 'ave the 'ol place to yerselves," the man said, giving them a nearly toothless grin.

"Thank you. We'll be sure to lock up after ourselves."

The man nodded and handed Mycroft the keys. "'Ave a good night you two!"

The pair walked through the gates and looked out at the park.

"You know, when I handed you my phone I can honestly say that this is not what I imagined. I would have thought you would have leaned more towards grabbing a pint with Stephen Fry, not going to the London Zoo after hours," Mycroft grumbled. "Really Gregory, are you five years old?"

"You bet," Greg said with a grin. "Come on you cradle-robber, let's go see the tigers." He laced his fingers with Mycroft's and set out in search of the large cats.

They strolled hand in hand through the abandoned park, stopping here and there to see the various animals on their nightly escapades. By the time they reached the Sumatran Tiger exhibit, Greg could have sworn that Mycroft was enjoying himself.

"Oh, look at that," Greg breathed, leaning on the guardrail outside the exhibit.

One of the felines was stalking around the perimeter of her enclosure, her eyes glowing in the moonlight.

"Tigers were always my favorite," Greg said quietly, continuing to watch the animal pace in her enclosure. "I don't even know how to explain it. They're just so mesmerizing, you know? Like, they demand your attention. You can't even look away from them, they're so powerful."

Mycroft nodded thoughtfully.

"Over the years I've found myself drawn towards the wolves personally," he said thoughtfully.

Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes. I've always admired their fierce loyalty to one another, their families and partners." He smiled wryly. "I've learned to appreciate that sort of fierce loyalty after years in a minor government position. Although," he chuckled, "I do enjoy watching the otters play."

Greg laughed and rested his head on Mycroft's shoulder. "Oh, the prices people would pay to hear the great Mycroft Holmes say that."

Mycroft laughed out loud. "You're really quite rotten, you know that?" He turned his head so that he could gently nuzzle Greg's silver hair.

In the darkness, a pair of luminous eyes watched over the detective and the politician as they began to stroll towards the wolf enclosure.