Mycroft was pacing back and fourth on the other side of the room. Greg watched him quietly from where he was sitting in a chair. Mycroft never paced like this. He needed to go home. Sighing, he pushed himself to stand, and glanced over at the bed containing a much thinner and much paler Sherlock, asleep, before walking over to his partner. He came up behind him and reached out to grasp his biceps gently, coaxing him to halt.

"Let's go home," he whispered. Mycroft sighed through his nose, turning to face him.

"I'm fine," came a clipped response. The politician's face was the picture of emotionless; the mask he wore when he couldn't afford to be open. Greg knew it all too well. He gazed up at the taller man empathetically. He was not so easy to fool.

"Let's go home," he repeated, tugging him towards the door. "He'll be asleep for hours, and John's coming back. Come on."

Mycroft said nothing, but he allowed himself to be led through the hospital and down to where a black car was waiting for them. As always. Opening the door, Greg made Mycroft climb in first, before joining him, and they were driven home.

The ride was quiet. Mycroft stared out the window for the majority of it, back rigid, hands plastered at his sides. Greg remained a constant presence next to him, reaching out to place a hand on his knee and squeezing gently. Mycroft made no motion to acknowledge the touch. Getting out of the vehicle and inside their home was very much the same. Though, instead of allowing Mycroft to vanish somewhere in the house after hanging up his jacket, Greg caught his hand and threaded their fingers together, tugging him into the sitting room and onto the sofa.

"He'll be okay, Myc," Greg finally said after a moment, wrapping his arm around slender shoulders. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

"Sherlock hasn't been this bad off since…" the younger man started, but faded off. It was uncharacteristic, but when it came to Sherlock, Mycroft tended to be. At least, in a way he allowed Greg to see after their years together.

"Since the last time he overdosed," Greg finished for him. "I know. I was there."

"I know you were," Mycroft nodded, closing his eyes. His brow was furrowed, yet he said nothing else.

"C'mere," Greg beckoned, nudging Mycroft to lean against him. He started stroking his hair gently, in attempts to soothe him. After a moment, he could feel some of the tension seeping out of his figure. "It's okay to be scared, you know."

"I am not," Mycroft huffed stubbornly. Greg just smiled.

"I'm just saying," he commented. He purposefully did not bring up the fact that he knew otherwise, or that there was no use lying to him. But he kept his mouth shut. There was no need to voice it when they both knew it. Mycroft sighed.

"It… It's uncomfortable. Seeing him in such a state. Besides, the doctors are all rather incompetent, and he would honestly be better off in this house, in my care."

Greg continued to stroke his hair, nuzzling the top of his head gently, letting Mycroft get this off his chest. It was the way he showed how much he cared. He could see through the front he was still putting up, and see that he was absolutely horrified. This was out of his control, and Mycroft didn't do well when things were out of his control.

"We've gotten through just as bad," he said. "In the early days, this kind of situation was more normal than not. And look how it turned out. John came along and he understood what it meant to be happy. He'll push through this. He has reasons to."

Silence. Both men were still, letting the words that had been spoken sink in. Eventually, after what had to be at least half an hour of not speaking, Mycroft lifted his head and turned to look at Greg. Those sharp blue eyes were filled with worry. His face was smooth as ever, but he could see the panic in his partner's features. However, it was mixed with slight comfort.

"You are right, I'm sure," he said softly, sighing.

"Of course I am," Greg smiled, leaning in to kiss Mycroft sweetly. He cupped his cheek, stroking the skin, and brushed the tips of their noses together before parting. "We'll go back tomorrow, okay?"

Mycroft nodded, and leaned in for another comforting kiss.